Chapter 14 #5
“You’ll come as many times as I want, sweet boy.
” He toed the head of Blake’s cock, pressing his boot in just enough so Blake could hump it.
“Because only I can make you cum when you think you can’t.
When you’re shivering with oversensitivity, when you think pleasure is really pain, I can make you cum. Only me.”
Blake nodded, eyes watering. He relaxed his jaw, tongue swirling around Gabriel’s shaft as he humped his leg, chasing pleasure from both ends.
His scrabbled, blunt nails hissing across the thickened fabric around Gabriel’s knees. He was whimpering—muffled, wet little sounds that made Gabriel’s balls draw up and his fingers press into the back of Blake’s head, guiding him with more force than he’d ever used before.
Gabriel’s cock twitched, and he thrust deep, pressing Blake down until his breath tickled his skin and the zipper bit into his chin.
Blake was making soft little uh uh uh sounds, eyes rolling back as his throat spasmed around Gabriel’s dick.
He came with a keen, his entire body jumping like a live wire. Wet heat splashed onto Gabriel’s pants.
It sent Gabriel over the edge. He gasped, curling over Blake as he finally came. The orgasm felt like it was pulling galaxies through a straw. Stars exploded behind his eyes, pleasure contracting through him like a whirlpool.
He fell back, head thumping against the wooden rails. Blake shifted back, Gabriel’s softening cock resting on his lower lip as he licked cum from the corner of his mouth. He’d swallowed.
Forcing his spine to solidify, he sat up so he could pull Blake into a messy kiss. His lips felt hotter than usual, and they were limp. Like they were too worn out to reciprocate. He tasted like Gabriel. Like his skin and the salty tang of his cum. It made him smile.
Blake wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s waist, fingers fumbling as they tried to find purchase.
He stroked Blake’s head, trying to smooth his hair back. “I’m sorry if that was too much.”
Blake shook his head. “Nuh uh.”
“That’s it? Nothing snarky to say?”
“Can’t,” he whispered, burying his face into Gabriel’s abdomen. “You fucked it out of me.”
Gabriel pulled Blake onto the bench, swinging his legs over his lap.
They were messy, half undressed, covered in bruises and jizz.
He would need to clean Blake up. Tuck him into some covers, make sure he stayed warm tonight.
Probably threaten Phin to keep his mouth shut about their obvious nighttime activities. Especially around Judd.
But for now, he just wanted to bury his nose in Blake’s hair, breathe in his scent, and rub his back. Hold him while they both came down. Press soft kisses to that ticklish spot behind his ear. Enjoying this moment, he had to survive hell to find.
“What is your book about?” Gabriel asked as he folded the final blanket, shoving it into his bursting backpack. “You never told me.”
“Something came up,” Blake said dryly, looking up at Gabriel from under his lashes as he packed his own bag.
“Something pretty big and important.”
“Eh.” Blake shrugged. “It was all right.”
Gabriel snagged his belt, dragging Blake close so he could lean in for a kiss that turned into a bite. Blake wrinkled his nose and shoved him off, his cheeks red and eyes bright.
“It’s the usual.” He waved his hand as he hefted his backpack.
“The female main character is not like other girls and was promised to the tall, dark, brooding male character. But she runs away into the arms of another equally tall, dark, and brooding male character. Only for it to turn out that her betrothed wasn’t actually a bad guy, but she might like the second guy, so…
” he twisted his hand, laying the back of it on his forehead as he pretended to swoon. “She’s conflicted.”
Unable to keep from smiling, Gabriel asked, “What’s the difference between the two male characters?”
“Chest hair, mostly.”
Shaking his head, Gabriel took Blake’s bag. “Chest hair: good or bad?”
Blake’s eyes dropped to Gabriel’s chest. “Good. Very good.”
They walked past the cooling embers of last night’s fire. Judd had put it out—no one asked how, they were afraid of the answer—and were gathering beside the helicopter. Tommy and Victoria were still going over things, their cheeks grease-smudged and eyes red-rimmed from being open too long.
Phin caught Gabriel’s eye and pointedly looked at the marks on Blake’s neck. He raised a brow. Gabriel flipped him off.
“We won’t be able to fly it far,” Victoria said, her brows drawn. “The fuel you found will get us to DC, but not much more.”
“That’s all we need.” Gabriel used his commander’s voice. “The plan was always to fly it from here, anyway. It’s closer. On the day of we’ll truck the team here. You can fly them to DC, then set her down somewhere safe.”
Victoria nodded, chewing on her lip. “It won’t be a comfortable ride.”
“We just need success.”
Alarmingly, that was the easy part of the plan. The most difficult part was getting the helicopter out of the museum.
While the Huey was still airworthy, it had been a long time since it had taken to the skies.
The museum might have had specialized equipment for moving the big exhibits, but they were almost certainly inaccessible to them now.
The helicopter weighed five thousand pounds, way too much for them to move on their own.
“Why don’t we just back the truck in, hook it up with chains, and haul the bitch out?” Judd asked, crossing his arms as he looked at the helicopter’s landing gear.
“No way. Even if the truck could pull it, we’d rip the landing gear off. Probably ruin the tail boom, while we’re at it.” Tommy was adamant. “I did not spend all this time agonizing how to get this thing to fly for you to destroy it because you think you can just muscle your way out of everything.”
Judd held up his hands. “I’m just saying. It’s not that far. Concrete is slick. Could work.”
“The concrete could be an ice-skating rink. It doesn’t change gravity!”
“I could fly it out.” Victoria’s voice was calm; it cut through Judd and Tommy’s bickering. They stopped to stare at her.
She turned her cool gaze to Gabriel. “It’s not as if we have to worry about the wash destroying the hangar—doesn’t matter. This is a one-way trip. Fumes will be a problem, but it’s only a hundred yards or so.”
Gabriel eyed the industrial-sized roller door at the end of the museum. It was a repurposed airplane hangar. The doors were plenty big enough.
“It’ll be tight,” he thought aloud.
She pressed her lips together. “I’ve done it before.”
Of course, she had. Gabriel couldn’t forget watching her zip a billion-dollar plane through the streets of DC. Not to mention the split second she had to get into the faltering shield. There was no question she could do it.
“All right, Lieutenant.”
After further discussion, they agreed to wait until the day of the mission to take the helicopter out. They had no idea if the aliens were watching the skies or if they would notice a military craft suddenly appearing. It seemed safer to leave it where it was.
They did move all the vehicles and larger exhibits out of the way. Most of them had enough gas to move to the other side of the hangar. The older vehicles worked, too. Shielded from the EMP by antiquity and concrete.
If Gabriel thought having sex with Blake in the back of an M35 was a goal, then driving one was a close second. When the big engine turned over and the entire bench seat vibrated under him, he groaned in pleasure. Maybe he could come back for this truck after everything was over with.
Jumping down from the M35, he looked around to see the mess they’d made.
It was sad. Someone had curated this museum.
They’d spent years, maybe even a lifetime, collecting and restoring these things.
Researching and gathering funding. Putting it together just so they could share it with people.
Not for money. Not for fame. But for passion. For love.
Now it was in disarray. Any vehicle that could be moved had been. A jumble of military green and boxy carriages lined the walls around the Iroquois. A lane had been created down the center of the hangar between the helicopter and the door, a redneck runway.
Swallowing back the unnecessary emotions, he dove back into helping.
It was well past midday when they finished, the splotchy light from the sky lights their only illumination.
Shadows coalesced in the corners of the hangar.
Blake said they were creepy. Gabriel agreed. He felt like he was being watched.
Shouldering his and Blake’s bag, he refused to look back as they filed out of the museum. Tommy and Phin emerged from the gift shop, a few toys in their hands.
“For the kid,” Phin groused, making a pained face.
Tommy beamed up at him. “My dad always brought me toys when he went on work trips. Made me excited for him to come home rather than sad he left.”
Phin grunted and put the toys in his bag.
“Really getting domesticated, isn’t he?” Blake asked, watching the two step out the broken door. Phin hovered around Tommy in case he slipped on the glass shards. “Think that’s what wolves looked like the first time they discovered belly pats?”
Blake was teasing, but there was a fond look on his face.
The wind whipping through the door tousled the curls hanging out from under his hat.
His nose was red, cheeks winter-bitten. There were deep wrinkles around his eyes, but not his mouth.
A lifetime of someone laughing behind their scowl.
Of vulnerability hidden behind sharp words.
Even now, dirty and trodden. A little too thin.
Heart aching and soul bruised, Blake was lovely.
And not just his pretty face. It was his contrasts—the same mouth that tore someone to shreds was the same one that would breathe for them.
The man whose hands were balled into fists were the same ones he cried over when they couldn’t save a life.
His apathy was a front. The wall of a storm designed to protect the eye, the calm. The true center of a storm.
In the military, Gabriel got used to focusing.
Not on the big picture—geopolitical ideations and borders drawn on a map—no, he focused on what he could see.
What he could touch. At first, it was the idea that he was doing the right thing.
That, despite its flaws, he loved his country and was proud to fight for it.
To stand on the line, defend those who couldn’t.
To protect what he had. To carry on for the thousands who had done the same.
Then, when even that became difficult to grasp, he held onto something smaller.
The men beside him. The guy snoring in his ear at night.
The one who was born and raised only twenty minutes from Gabriel, but it took thousands of miles and a lot of sand for them to finally meet. He fought for that guy.
And later, when he took command, it became about responsibility. About the dirt-encrusted faces looking at him from under their helmets. He owed them. He owed their families.
When everything seemed overwhelming, he would focus on the next right move. The thing that would get them to see another day, another hour, another minute.
Now, it was Blake.
Maybe it had been from the moment he demanded the truth. It didn’t matter. There was a part of Gabriel who knew, without a doubt, that hell on earth be damned—even if they had met in a coffee shop on a regular Tuesday afternoon, he would still be here. Making Blake his mission.
He could argue with himself about it. How they didn’t fit the ‘correct’ timeline. How falling in love in a time of heightened emotion wasn’t real. It was lust. Adrenaline. He could make all those points, and he would be right.
But it didn’t matter. He didn’t meet Blake in a coffee shop. He didn’t agonize over buying him the first Valentine’s gift or taking him to meet his parents. They didn’t argue over whose apartment to move into or if they should get a dog or a cat.
They survived together.
No, they lived together.
In a time when everything was uncertain, he had Blake. The man who called him dramatic and risked his life even when Gabriel was the one with the gun. It wasn’t about the big picture. It was about the now. About them. About what he could hold with his two hands. The next right move.
“I love you.” His voice was steady in truth.
His lips spoke a truth his mind hadn’t quite caught up to, but it was true.
Gabriel loved Blake. And had for a long time.
Perhaps it shouldn’t have been such a revelation, and in many ways, it wasn’t.
Not really. Not when saying the words felt as natural as kissing him. As just existing beside him.
Blake’s eyes were wide, lips parted. He inhaled quickly but didn’t speak.
“You don’t have to say it back,” Gabriel said, taking Blake’s hand. His fingers were cold, but they curled around Gabriel’s hand. “That’s not—I didn’t say it to hear it. I said it because I wanted to. Because it’s true and I promised to always tell you the truth.”
The silence curled between them, but it wasn’t stilted. Gabriel squeezed Blake’s hand before pulling it to his lips, kissing his knuckles.
“Thank you,” his voice was hoarse. “For always telling me the truth.”
Without taking his eyes off him, he brushed his lips against Gabriel’s knuckles.