Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“What about Giles’ current workload at The Facility?” Emmett asked, shooting nervous glances between Bryn and Giles.
“The work can be picked up by others. There are no augurs in need of specialized training at the moment. Other staff can handle routine processes.”
Bryn looked around the room, at Emmett, who was clearly torn between excitement and worry; at Gunnar, who looked resigned rather than pleased; at Warden, whose mind was made up. “Fantastic,” he said. “Because what this team needs is more complicated history and awkward silences.”
“Bryn,” Gunnar said, “maybe we should…”
“Should what? Pretend this is a great idea? Pretend we’re all one big happy family now?”
Giles’ remained serene. “If my presence here is going to be a problem…”
“Your presence is always a problem,” Bryn snapped. “The question is whether it’s a useful problem or just a painful one.”
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Gunnar’s hand found Bryn’s shoulder again, a steadying pressure.
“What about it, Giles?” Warden asked, ignoring the byplay. “Are you interested?”
Giles was quiet, probably assessing the level of Bryn’s hostility. “I accept,” he said.
Emmett looked relieved. Gunnar nodded once, accepting the inevitable. Bryn wanted to throw something, and would have if his ribs didn’t hurt so much.
“Excellent,” Warden said, standing. “Welcome to the team. We can pick up the details tomorrow. Emmett, I need you to come with me. There are some admin matters we need to discuss.”
Emmett’s cheeks flushed. “Yes, sir. Right now?”
“Right now,” Warden said, and there was something in his tone that made Emmett straighten.
“Yes, sir.”
As they headed for the door, Warden paused. “Get some rest. All of you. Tomorrow we consider our next moves regarding Dr. Templeton.”
The door closed behind them, leaving an uncomfortable silence.
“They aren’t going to do admin,” Bryn said.
“I don’t believe they are,” Gunnar agreed.
“Well,” Giles said after a moment, “this should be interesting.”
“That’s one word for it,” Bryn said. “I can think of several others. Most of them not for use in polite company. Or this company.”
“Look, if this is going to be a problem…”
“Everything’s a problem, Giles. The question is whether we can work around it or if it’s going to blow up in our faces.
” Bryn stood up, wincing. “I don’t think there’s anything on my entire body that doesn’t hurt.
I’m going to bed.” He left Gunnar and Giles sitting in the kind of silence that spoke volumes about the complicated dynamics they’d all have to navigate going forward.
He paused behind the bedroom door, curious to hear what the two of them would say.
“He’ll come around,” Gunnar said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“Will he?” Giles replied.
Gunnar considered this. “Maybe. Eventually. Bryn has three years’ worth of good reasons to hold a grudge against you, but he’s practical above all else. You’re useful.”
“Useful enough to outweigh the past?”
“That remains to be seen.”
“I should head back to the hotel. Give everyone time to process this.”
“Probably wise,” Gunnar agreed.
Bryn kept still while Gunnar walked Giles to the door. After he’d gone, Gunnar stood in the hallway for a moment, then came to the bedroom.
“I know you were listening.”
Bryn shrugged. “Come to tell me I’m being unreasonable?”
“No. Your unreasonableness is justified, but we’ll deal with Giles anyway.”
“How diplomatic of you.”
“I have my moments.” Gunnar closed the door behind him. “You okay?”
“Define okay. My ribs hurt, I just fed a vamp I’d rather avoid, and said vamp is now going to be my permanent coworker. So by my standards? Fantastic.”
Gunnar sat on the edge of the bed, and Bryn settled beside him.
“For what it’s worth,” Gunnar said, “I think you handled that better than expected.”
“What, the feeding or the potential tantrum?”
“Both. Warden dropped a bombshell without warning you. I was impressed by your restraint in not actually throwing anything.”
“I wanted to, and the night is young,” Bryn said.
“This complicates things,” Gunnar said.
“Everything’s already complicated,” Bryn pointed out. “At least now we can be miserable together on a more regular basis.”
“Very romantic.”
“I’m a romantic person.”
“You’re many things,” Gunnar said, settling his arm around Bryn’s shoulders. “Romantic isn’t one of them.”
“Rude. I can do hearts and flowers.” Bryn leaned into Gunnar’s warmth. “So what now? We all pretend to be supportive teammates while I resist the urge to stake Giles?”
“Pretty much. Though I’d prefer you resist the urge to stake anyone. It’d be messy, and he did save our asses today, much as I hate to admit it.”
“Spoilsport.”
Gunnar kissed the top of Bryn’s head. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“You’d better. Because if I’m going to survive having Giles around full-time, I’m going to need all the incentive I can get to behave myself.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“How about you start by kissing me? That seems like a good option, favorable to all parties involved.”
Gunnar cupped the nape of Bryn’s neck in the possessive way that made Bryn’s insides turn to goo. He let Bryn move at his own pace, being careful not to jostle him and Bryn knelt on the mattress, being equally tentative in the way he moved. He tangled a hand in Gunnar’s hair.
“Love your hair,” he murmured. “It’s so silky.”
“And manly. You forgot manly.” Gunnar kissed Bryn’s jaw, then the corner of his lips.
“Oh, yeah. That.” Bryn nipped at Gunnar’s lower lip then licked away the sting.
“You getting a taste for blood too?” Gunnar mapped the curve of Bryn’s shoulder blade, tracing light circles beneath his shirt. Bryn shut his eyes and pressed a hand to Gunnar’s chest, feeling the low rumble of a growl that meant he was making an effort to hold back.
“No. Happy to leave the red stuff to Giles…and also not to talk about him ever again.”
Gunnar lowered him to the mattress. “Careful, we both know you’re terrible with doctor’s orders.”
Bryn croaked a laugh and flopped, letting Gunnar settle over him. “Says the worst patient on the planet. Worried I’ll break?”
“Worried I won’t be able to stop if you do,” Gunnar murmured. He pushed his knee between Bryn’s, and braced his weight on his elbows. Bryn shuddered at the touch.
Gunnar deepened his kisses and let his touch wander, gentle at first, then more greedy once Bryn begged, “Don’t stop.
” The nagging pain in his ribs was nothing compared to the ache of his need.
He hooked his fingers into Gunnar’s belt loops and tugged.
Gunnar took the hint and shimmied out of his jeans and shorts.
The sight of his flushed, rigid cock had Bryn licking his lips.
“Want you in me.” He craved the completeness of Gunnar filling him but his body had its own agenda, rewarding him with white-hot pain every time he twisted wrong.
“Shit.” He sucked in his breath. Gunnar went still.
“Are you…”
“I’m good,” Bryn said. He was. He wasn’t. He was everything at once, raw edges and flayed nerves, the pain making everything more real somehow. “Hold it there for a second.”
Gunnar loomed over him, uncertain, eyes bright with want and concern. That combination made Bryn ache in a way that had nothing to do with his ribs. Every second Gunnar didn’t move, didn’t close the gap, Bryn wanted him more.
“Fuck me, Gunnar. Do it now.”
Gunnar’s eyes darkened. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You didn’t. You won’t. I need you.”
Gunnar stripped him, careful with the shirt but rougher with the jeans and briefs, pulling them past Bryn’s knees and off.
Fresh bruises had blossomed, livid on Bryn’s pale skin.
Gunnar gripped his hips and there would be more marks but Bryn welcomed bruises that came from love not violence. That came from Gunnar.
Gunnar found lube from somewhere then pinned him in place. He slathered his cock in gel before wiping the excess on Bryn’s thigh.
“Hey! That’s cold.”
“No shit, Sherlock. It’s all over my dick, remember?”
He pushed into Bryn’s channel, slow and steady. The initial pain was a distant echo to the fire in his ribs, but after a second the pleasure blew out everything else.
Gunnar got into a rhythm. He pressed Bryn’s knees apart, hips rolling slow and deliberate, tilting Bryn’s pelvis just enough. Bryn urged him to go faster, harder, but Gunnar only gave it in increments, dialing up the force a little more with each pass.
“Are you hurting?”
“Shut up.” Bryn managed to grate out the words. “Fuck me.” He dug his heels into Gunnar’s hips, urging him deeper. “Don’t you dare stop.”
Bryn’s cock ached. He reached down to stroke himself, but Gunnar swatted his hand away. “Let me,” Gunnar rasped, voice almost gone. Then he fisted Bryn’s shaft and Bryn’s brain malfunctioned.
Gunnar’s rhythm splintered at the end, and he buried his face in the crook of Bryn’s shoulder, muffling his groan as he came.
Bryn felt the heat bloom inside and he shivered with something that felt like triumph.
He finished a moment later, Gunnar’s hand locked around him, his grip making everything bigger.
He didn’t want Gunnar to move. Didn’t want the world to come back in.
They stayed there, until after a minute, Gunnar eased himself out, then rolled onto his back. Bryn turned to look at him, really look—the flush in his cheeks, the way strands of his hair stuck to his damp skin. Gunnar caught him staring and gave him a lopsided grin.
“You always have to test limits, don’t you?”
Bryn shrugged, or tried to. “How else do I know where they are?” He wasn’t sure when he started laughing, but it bubbled up of its own accord, and Gunnar joined in.
“We should sleep. It’s been quite a day. I love you.”
“Yeah. Love you too.” Bryn closed his eyes, feeling the bruises, the ache, the warmth inside and out. He told himself that if he could fall asleep right there, next to Gunnar, then everything would sort itself out by morning. He didn’t believe it, but the self-deception made it easier to breathe.
Gunnar didn’t say anything else. Bryn didn’t need him to. For now, everything worth saying had been said, and anything left was a problem for tomorrow.