Chapter 11 Jinx
Chapter Eleven: Jinx
Eight hours into the flight, I can't take it anymore.
Not the waiting. Not the planning. Not even the suspicious woman beside Asher who Marlee's been watching since we boarded.
It's him. Sitting there in his cramped economy seat, pretending to read a magazine, jaw tight with tension he's trying to hide. The way his fingers tap restlessly against his thigh. The way he keeps glancing toward the window like he can will the plane to move faster.
The way he looked at me in the terminal, when he thought no one was watching. Like he was memorizing my face. Like he wasn't sure he'd get another chance.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand.
Jagger glances up from his tablet. "Where are you going?"
"Bathroom."
I don't go to the bathroom.
I go to Asher.
He looks up when I stop beside his row, surprise flickering across his face before he schools it into neutrality. The woman beside him is asleep, or pretending to be. Doesn't matter.
"Come with me," I say quietly.
"Why—"
"Now."
The hard edge in my voice must tell him I'm not fucking around. He unbuckles, slides past the sleeping woman, and follows me down the aisle toward the back of the plane.
The bathroom is tiny. Barely enough room for one person, let alone two men our size. But I pull him inside anyway, lock the door, and shove him against the wall.
"What are you—"
I kiss him before he can finish the question.
It's not gentle. Not soft. I pour everything I'm feeling into it, all the fear and want and desperate need that's been building since the briefing.
Since Helena Cross's name landed like a bomb.
Since I remembered what it felt like to be six years old and strapped to a table while a silver-haired woman watched me scream.
Asher kisses me back just as hard, his hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. The bathroom is so small that we're pressed together from chest to knee, no space between us, no room for anything except this.
"Jinx." He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. "We can't—"
"We can." I reach between us, palm the front of his pants, feel him already half-hard. "I need this. I need you. Before we land, before we walk into another facility, before everything goes to shit again."
"There are two hundred people on this plane."
"And none of them are going to hear us if you keep your voice down." I squeeze his cock through the fabric, feel it twitch and thicken in my grip. "Unless you don't want to."
His eyes darken. His hips push into my hand.
"You know I want to."
"Then shut up and let me have you."
I drop to my knees.
The floor is cold and hard, the space so cramped that my back presses against the door. But I don't care. All I care about is getting his pants open, pulling his cock free, wrapping my hand around the thick length of him.
He's fully hard now, flushed and leaking, the head glistening with precum. I lean in and drag my tongue across the slit, taste salt and musk, feel him shudder above me.
"Fuck," he breathes.
"That's the idea."
I take him into my mouth. Slow at first, letting him feel every inch of the slide, the wet heat of my tongue, the pressure of my lips. He's big, thick enough to stretch my jaw, long enough to bump the back of my throat when I take him deep.
His hand finds my hair, tangles in it, holds on without pushing. Letting me set the pace.
I don't want slow.
I pull back and take him again, faster this time, setting a rhythm that makes his thighs tremble. His cock slides across my tongue, hits the back of my throat, and I swallow around him, feel his body jerk.
"Fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that. Jesus Christ, Jinx."
I pull off with a wet pop, look up at him. His face is flushed, his lips parted, his eyes glazed with want.
"Turn around."
"What?"
"Turn around. Hands on the wall." I stand, crowd into his space. "I'm going to fuck you."
His breath catches. "Here? Now?"
"Here. Now." I reach into my pocket, pull out the small packet of lube I grabbed from our carry-on. Because I'm not an idiot, and I know myself and there’s no way I’m not fucking this man before we die. "Unless you have objections."
He stares at me. Then he turns, braces his hands against the wall, and looks at me over his shoulder.
"No objections."
I shove his pants down to his thighs, exposing his ass. Tight, muscular, perfect. I slick my fingers and press one against his hole, feel him tense and then relax as I push inside.
"More, faster," he demands.
"Greedy."
"For you? Always."
I add a second finger, work him open with quick, efficient strokes. We don't have time for slow, don't have time for teasing. The plane could hit turbulence at any moment. Someone could knock on the door. Jagger could come looking for us and put two and two together.
The danger makes it hotter.
"Ready?" I ask, slicking my cock.
"Been ready since the terminal."
I line up and push inside.
The sound he makes is muffled, bitten off, but it reaches me anyway. A low groan of pleasure and relief, like he's been waiting for this, needing this, aching for it the same way I have.
He's tight around me, his body gripping my cock like a fist. I sink in slowly, inch by inch, watching the way his shoulders tense, the way his breath stutters. When I bottom out, my hips flush against his ass, I hold there. Let us both feel it. The fullness. The connection.
"God," he breathes. "You feel so fucking good."
"So do you." I pull back slowly, watch my cock slide out of him, glistening with lube. Watch the way his hole clings to me, like his body doesn't want to let go. "Look at you. Taking me so well."
"Less talking. More fucking."
I slam back in, and he chokes on a moan.
I set a rhythm. Slow at first, dragging it out, making him feel every inch of my cock as it pumps in and out of his ass. The bathroom fills with the wet sound of skin on skin, the slick squelch of lube and precum, the harsh rasp of our breathing.
His hand reaches back, grabs my hip, tries to pull me in faster. I slap it away.
"My pace."
"Jinx—"
"My. Pace." I lean over him, chest to his back, mouth against his ear. "I want to feel every second of this. Want to remember the way your ass grips my cock. Want to remember the sounds you make when I'm buried inside you."
He shudders. His cock is hard and leaking, bobbing with every thrust, untouched and desperate.
"Touch yourself," I order. "Slowly. I want to watch you work your cock while I fuck you."
His hand wraps around himself, starts stroking. Slow, like I said, matching the rhythm of my thrusts. His fist slides up his shaft, thumb swiping across the head, spreading the precum that's dripping steadily from the slit.
"That's it." I speed up slightly, fucking into him a little harder. "Just like that. You look so fucking good, Asher. Hand on your cock, my cock in your ass. Perfect."
He turns his head, finds my mouth, kisses me sloppily. All tongue and desperation. I bite his lower lip, suck it into my mouth, taste the moan that spills out of him.
"Harder," he gasps against my lips. "Please, Jinx. I need it harder."
I give him harder.
I grip his hips with both hands and start pounding into him, the rhythm brutal and relentless. His hand speeds up on his cock, stroking fast and tight, and I can feel the way his body is tensing, the way his ass is clenching around me.
"Close," he warns. "Fuck, I'm close."
"Not yet." I reach around and grab his wrist, stop his hand. "You come when I say you come."
"Fuck, I don’t know if I—"
"I want to fill you up first. Want you to feel me flood your ass before you get to come." I bite his neck, hard enough to leave a mark, sucking the skin between my teeth until a bruise blooms. "Can you do that for me? Can you hold off until I'm done?"
His whole body shakes. "Yes. Fuck. Yes, I can do that."
I release his wrist and grip his hips again, fucking into him with everything I have. The pressure builds at the base of my spine, heat coiling tighter and tighter. His ass is so tight, so perfect, squeezing my cock with every thrust.
"Gonna come," I grunt. "Gonna fill you up."
"Do it. Please, Jinx, I want to feel it. Want to feel you inside me."
I bury myself deep and let go.
The orgasm destroys me, my balls pulling up as it starts. My cock pulses inside him, pumping load after load of cum into his ass. I can feel myself filling him, feel the slick heat of it as I keep thrusting through my release, fucking my cum deeper into his body.
"Oh fuck," he moans. "I can feel it. I can feel you coming inside me."
I pull out slowly, and we both watch as my cum drips from his hole, sliding down his thighs. Messy and delicious.
But I'm not done.
I spin him around and drop to my knees again.
His cock is right there, flushed and leaking, so hard it looks painful. I wrap my hand around the base and swallow him down in one smooth motion.
"Jesus Christ—"
I don't give him time to adjust. I suck him hard and fast, bobbing my head, taking him deep. My hand works what my mouth can't reach, stroking in counterpoint. I can taste his precum, can feel his cock throbbing against my tongue.
His hands find my hair, grip tight. Not guiding, just holding on.
"Jinx. Jinx, I'm gonna—I can't hold it—"
I pull back just enough to speak, my lips brushing the head of his cock. "Then don't. Come in my mouth. I want to taste you."
I take him deep again, and he shatters.
His cock pulses against my tongue, flooding my mouth with hot, bitter cum. I swallow everything he gives me, sucking him through it, milking every last drop. His thighs shake. His hands tremble in my hair. The sounds coming out of him are broken, wrecked, beautiful.
When he finally stops coming, I pull off and look up at him. His face is flushed, his eyes glazed, his chest heaving.
"Holy shit," he manages.
I stand, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and kiss him. Deep and dirty, letting him taste himself on my tongue. Letting him know exactly what I just did.
"Now we're done," I say against his lips.
He laughs, weak and breathless. "You're going to be the death of me."
"But what a way to go."
We clean up as best we can in the tiny space. Paper towels and hand soap, trying to make ourselves presentable. His neck is a mess of hickeys and bite marks that I didn't bother to be subtle about. My lips are swollen, my hair a disaster.
"Everyone's going to know," he says, examining the marks in the mirror.
"Good."
"Jagger's going to kill us."
"Jagger can mind his own fucking business." I unlock the door, peek out. The aisle is empty. "Come on. Before someone starts asking questions."
"Jinx." He catches my arm before I can leave. Turns me to face him. "I love you."
The words are simple. Direct. No hesitation.
"I know." I kiss him once more, soft this time. "I love you too. Now let's go save some kids."
We slip out separately, a few minutes apart. When I pass Jagger's row, he doesn't even look up from his tablet. But Jonah, sitting beside him, gives me a knowing smirk and a thumbs up.
I flip him off and keep walking.
The seatbelt sign comes on two hours later.
We're beginning our descent into Singapore, the pilot's voice crackling through the speakers with information about local time and weather.
Cloudy skies, chance of rain, temperature in the mid-eighties.
Perfect conditions for an extraction. The kind of night where shadows are deep and visibility is low.
I'm back in my seat, cleaned up and composed, but I can still feel the effects of that orgasm. A pleasant ache that reminds me what we did. What we have.
My lips are still swollen from sucking his cock. His neck is covered in marks that his collar can't quite hide. Evidence. Proof.
Whatever happens next, we had that. That moment of connection, of claiming, of being so tangled up in each other that nothing else mattered. Not the mission. Not the danger. Not the silver-haired monster waiting for us on the ground.
If this is my last mission, at least I'll die knowing what it feels like to be loved. What it feels like to love someone back.
"Final approach," Jagger says quietly through the comm. "Everyone know their positions?"
Murmured confirmations from around the cabin. Glancing back, I watch our rag-tag rescue crew. Not good enough, but not too shabby. My eyes come to rest on Asher, watching him tap a rhythm on his knee.
The woman who'd been watching him is awake now, staring out the window with studied disinterest. Too casual. Too controlled.
"Potential hostile, row 23," Marlee reports through the comm. "She's been texting since the seatbelt sign came on. Could be nothing. Could be reporting our arrival."
"We let her lead us," Jagger replies. "If she's Silent, she'll go straight to the facility. We follow at a distance. Learn what we can."
"And if she makes us?"
"Then we improvise. We're good at improvising."
The plane shudders as we hit turbulence, then steadies. Outside the window, clouds part to reveal the Singapore skyline, glittering towers rising from the tropical haze. Beautiful and deadly, like everything in this world. Like everyone on this mission.
Asher catches my eye. He doesn't smile. Doesn't need to. The look on his face says everything.
I'm with you. Whatever happens. All the way to the end.
I nod once. He nods back.
The wheels touch down, and the plane shudders with the force of landing.
Singapore.