Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Fienvillers, France
THE STEADY BEATING OF Warren’s heart beneath Elliot’s ear should have been soothing.
He ought to be enjoying the fact they were lying in their bed together, not a stitch of clothing between them—other than Warren’s socks—Warren’s chest hair tickling his cheek with every breath.
They, like the others, had turned in early in anticipation of their mission, which would begin a few hours before dawn.
They’d stripped down and crawled into bed, fallen into one another’s arms, and held on.
It was the kind of simple pleasure Elliot longed for.
If only he could stop worrying quite so much.
Undoubtedly Warren could sense the mood Elliot was in, the fears that were playing on his mind.
Moonlight filtered weakly through the window, touching everything with a blue-gray winter glow.
Elliot watched Warren’s large work-roughened hand trace up his forearm before sliding out of sight to smooth over his back.
“You ought to rest,” Elliot finally whispered.
“Would if I could, but you got us both too keyed up. Didja want to tell me what’s happening in that pretty head of yours?”
Inching closer, Elliot closed his eyes and exhaled.
He rubbed his foot against Warren’s sock in a self-soothing bid for time to think before speaking.
“After Ollie died and I saw your folder in that pile, I thought it would be easier, safer if you were here, and I could watch over you. I thought it would ease my mind, and I knew you would excel with us, but it isn’t easier at all.
Before I worried you might be in danger.
Now I know you are. Not only that, but I’m the one leading you into it. ”
Warren let out a slow sigh that dipped his chest. “I can take care of myself, Elliot. For what it’s worth, this is a damn sight better than the trenches.
There’s a real bed for one. No one’s sending me back out into the field on a few hours sleep every day.
I could’ve died a thousand times over in the time I’ve been here.
Might’ve died the night you came for me.
Stuck behind the Germans advancing like that. ”
“And you might’ve died when I put you in the position of having to go on a mission without proper rest in days, when that bastard had his pistol pressed to your skull.”
“And I could drop dead tomorrow of no apparent cause,” Warren countered. “You can’t stop it if my time’s up, Elliot.”
“The hell I can’t,” Elliot said hotly, pushing up onto one elbow and glaring down into Warren’s face. He softened at the sweet lopsided grin Warren gave him. Instinctive anger melted into something less sharp, more aching.
“You can’t. All you can do is make the most of the time we got. It’s all anyone can do. And it’s got to be enough even when it can’t be.”
A knot formed in Elliot’s throat. He gave his head the slightest shake before capturing Warren’s lips in a kiss that tore him to shreds.
It started gentle, the soft pressure of lips meeting, tongues coaxing.
Warren sighed, and Elliot pressed harder, needing to taste and touch until they were quietly gasping into one another’s mouths.
Elliot tangled his fingers in Warren’s hair.
He tugged gently to angle him the way he wanted, trailing worshipful kisses down his neck, salty skin warm under his tongue.
He paused over Warren’s pulse and sucked, listening to his breath hitch, wishing he could do it harder and leave his mark.
The thought made Elliot’s cock throb and swell.
Lower, beneath the blankets, he scraped his teeth along Warren’s hipbones, soothing with a flash of tongue.
Bit kisses into his inner thighs. Warren’s hand found his head, gently held him over the same spot.
Elliot took the hint. Here he could leave a mark.
Warren’s legs trembled under his mouth and hands, necessity etched in the way he tensed as Elliot released the skin he was sucking in favor of shifting closer to Warren’s jutting cock.
Consumed by the powerful desire to show Warren no matter how long they had together, it would never be enough, Elliot devoted his full attention to pleasuring him.
He gripped the wide base of Warren’s shaft.
Pressed the softest kisses along the velvet underside, slowly inching toward the head, and when he got there, he delicately traced it along his open lips. Warren’s soft whimper was music.
Elliot wished he’d thrown the blanket off so he could see Warren’s face, but the room was cold. Besides, not seeing was arousing in its own way. He was utterly focused on the heady salt-bitter taste of the fluid he slicked his lips with, darting his tongue out to gather more.
“God, Elliot,” Warren whispered, voice shaky with desire. “Please.”
Breath stuttering, gusting over the damp tip, Warren’s cock jumped in Elliot’s grasp.
How could he deny him anything? Closing his lips around the head, Elliot sucked him slowly, made him feel every inch of his mouth sinking down, holding his hips still with a firm grasp as Warren’s cock pressed into his throat.
Fingers curled in his hair, holding, not forcing.
Elliot’s own arousal begged for attention, but he focused on the slide of Warren against his lips, curling and pressing his tongue against the hot flesh filling his mouth.
Every calculated movement he’d ever learned all turned to one purpose. Christ, he tasted good.
Tremors wracked Warren’s body. His hips pressed up into Elliot’s restraining hands on each downward stroke of his mouth.
Under the blankets it was humid and musky with the scent of arousal.
Elliot panted, the intense desire to make Warren spend for him overpowering.
He needed this to be memorable, the best Warren ever had.
So desperate, his eyes pricked with warmth.
And yet all it took was a quick, sharp tug on his hair to pull him up short, drag him away from the taste of imminent climax and back up to claim Warren’s bitten-dark mouth with his own. Cool fresh air on his sweat damp skin and hair made him shiver.
Warren licked into his mouth with abandon, sucked on Elliot’s tongue as if he couldn’t get enough. A small whine escaped Elliot’s throat. Keeping quiet was already claiming an inordinate amount of concentration and it was only going to get harder.
Christ, he wanted Warren so much it hurt, wanted him so much more than he could ever remember wanting anyone.
Already loved him so fiercely it swelled in his chest with every frantic pulse of his heart.
He wanted Warren in every manner imaginable and then multiplied in a thousand different ways.
Most of all, right now, what he wanted was…
Elliot broke contact enough to whisper, “I want you to make love to me,” against Warren’s open mouth, need thick in his voice.
Warren bit down on Elliot’s bottom lip, muffling a soft moan.
Pleasure surged hot in Elliot’s groin, tingled in his balls.
He stifled his own desperate sound, kissing Warren quiet. “Please,” he murmured. “Please.”
Warren nodded, still kissing him. Elliot was the one who had to tear his mouth away, casting his mind about for what they could possibly use to ease the way. He was about to ask for ideas when Warren beat him to the point.
“There’s petroleum jelly in my pack,” he said softly. “If that’s what the inner struggle you’re feeling is about.”
Elliot couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of him. “Of course you have some.”
“Shut up. It’s got all kinds of uses that aren’t deviant, you sap. Chapped lips, prevention of trench f—” Elliot cut him off with a kiss, then scrambled to dig through the pack on Warren’s side of the bed.
“Where, pray tell, might I expect to—oh, I’ve got it.
Did you place it on top or was that a coincidence?
” Warren’s sudden silence was proof of the former and Elliot grinned, climbing back over him.
He only got to enjoy the position for a moment before Warren rolled them over in a fast movement that left Elliot breathless, the bed creaking noisily.
“Have to be mindful of that,” he panted.
“If we don’t want to alert the entire house. ”
“Mmm,” Warren agreed. “Or I could conceal the noise.”
“Wasteful,” Elliot retorted. “And besides, I’d rather retain your full concentration. I’m sure we can work around it.”
After that they lapsed into silence broken by Elliot’s gasps.
It wasn’t long before he was writhing under Warren’s touch, thick fingers sliding into him, Warren’s beautiful mouth hot on his throat, his tight nipples, wherever he could reach.
Christ, he might go off prematurely if Warren kept rubbing that spot with his clever, strong fingers, sending bright sparks of sensation through him in jolting waves.
Too many feelings crowded into Elliot’s chest. Warren had to be overwhelmed with them. He tucked his face into the curve of Elliot’s neck and shoulder gasping as he withdrew his fingers.
“I need—” Warren’s voice caught, and he fastened his mouth on Elliot’s shoulder, breathing heavily. The prickle of his sharp incisors digging in shot shivery pleasure down Elliot’s spine.
Smoothing his palms over the broad muscles of Warren’s back, and lower to squeeze his arse, Elliot lifted his legs from the bed, angled himself, drawing Warren closer, silently asking for what he wanted.
The blunt tip of him pressed against Elliot, smooth and burning, and—and waiting there for something. Permission?
“Please,” Elliot sighed into Warren’s hair, not caring how he sounded. “Go on.”
And then Warren was pushing into him, sinking inside slow and determined and everything that mattered while he held Elliot’s thighs open with huge, wonderful hands.
It was so, so much. The crushing, sweet, tender feeling in Elliot’s heart.
A fragile-strong, immense, clawing longing soared within him.
Above him in the moonlight, Warren was beautiful, his head bent, plump lip trapped between his teeth.
Expression an exquisite cross between tortured and blissful.
Warren’s long black lashes fluttered open, his fierce eyes focused on Elliot’s as he slowly rolled his hips in sinuous grinding motions that tingled to the tips of Elliot’s toes and fingers.
Warren was inside him. Connected so intimately, Elliot’s entire body quivered.
Warren fucked him slowly, mindful of the noise, and the slow sweetness of it felt amazing.
Deep thrusts as they kissed, made them both tremble.
Damp skin gliding together, Warren’s chest hair tickled Elliot’s nipples.
He combed his hands through Warren’s thick hair, pulling gently as he sucked at Warren’s lip, and echoed his quiet moan.
His heart swelled, and eyes pricked with unshed tears as he slipped a silent hand between them to stroke himself. He sucked on Warren’s lip and tried desperately to keep quiet as they neared the inevitable release coiling tighter and tighter.
Elliot wanted to whisper all sorts of filthy, loving things to Warren but couldn’t risk being overheard, so he kept them in. Instead, he felt them fervently somewhere deep in his chest as if Warren understood.
Christ he wanted it to never end.
But he knew better. He knew.
No matter how good or right or wonderful, love always had an end. One way or another. Always.
Later, when euphoric tremors had shifted to warm boneless satisfaction, after they cleaned off, the window cracked to air out the scent of sex, Elliot let Sully cradle him against his chest once more. They pretended neither of them could feel his sense of impending doom.