Chapter 11 Landing Gear #3
“Your virtue is safe,” Liam said, folding up the laptop. “Make yourself at home.”
“My virtue’s been pilfered,” Josh corrected.
“It’s my dignity we’re worried about.” With that he toddled off to the bathroom, pleased to see Liam had pulled his own shaving kit out of his luggage and put it on the counter of the utilitarian bathroom.
Liam had tried—there were thick bathmats and even a charming picture of a frog across from the commode—but the tile was stark white and the floor was still polished concrete.
Still, there were towels, and after accomplishing the necessaries, Josh decided to really start his day by washing off the travel.
He was enjoying the hot water when he felt a burst of cool air, and for a moment, he panicked, thinking, “Oh God, who’s in my bathroom now?” Grace didn’t care about his nudity, and Stirling didn’t notice—and both of them had lived in the mansion with him for over a year.
But then the shower door opened, and in the confusion of the escaping steam, Josh could feel the heat of another body stepping in.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he leaned back into Liam’s chest, pleased when he felt strong arms wrapping around his shoulders.
“I’m sorry I slept through your brother’s visit,” he murmured, tilting his head when Liam kissed the side of his neck.
“Don’t be,” Liam said, taking liberties with his earlobe that Josh didn’t know he needed.
“But it’s not fair,” Josh breathed. Liam slid his hand along the tender concavity of his stomach, and Josh knew what it felt like to be aroused and comforted at once. “You know all my family, and I don’t—oh!” Now there was a soapy washcloth being plied. Everywhere.
“My family’s a madhouse,” Liam said, his hands busy, intrusive… ah! So glorious on Josh’s bare skin.
“So’s mine,” Josh moaned.
“So you’ll get them,” Liam said. “That’s not the scary part.”
Josh turned in his arms, needing to kiss him, to feel his soapy chest, to glut himself on Liam’s skin as he hadn’t managed to do yet.
“What’s the scary part?” he asked, pulling Liam’s head down so Josh could plunder that full mouth.
Liam struggled to lift his head long enough to answer. “You’re the only one they’ve met,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re the only one whose name they know. You’re the only one—”
Josh kissed him again, a part of him thrilled beyond measure, too thrilled to be scared or anxious, and Liam took him in, magnified the kiss, ravished him with it, until Liam turned off the water and—still kissing—pulled Josh out of the shower, dried him tenderly and, kiss by kiss by step by step, took him to the bed.
Josh’s shoulder didn’t hurt anymore. He’d slept, he was clean, safe, and oh God, so needy!
“Hard and fast this time?” he almost begged.
Liam was reaching for something on the bedstand behind Josh’s head. “Not going to last any other way,” he said, voice thready.
In a moment he’d returned, a small bottle of lubricant in his hand, and with a short, savage kiss on the mouth, he adjusted his concentration to between Josh’s thighs.
Josh bent his knees, splaying himself, still a little shy, but also—oh! “Oh yes,” he mumbled. “I like that.”
“Pay attention,” Liam murmured against his neck, his fingers busy, spreading slick, stretching, arousing. “Someday you’ll be doing this to me.”
The image filled him, his own cock disappearing into Liam’s body, Liam soft and begging beneath him. He moaned, and Liam ducked his head quickly, taking Josh’s cock into his mouth and throat and pulling just as quickly off.
“You like that idea,” Liam said and chuckled. He placed himself between Josh’s thighs, and this time Josh closed his eyes, letting Liam’s flesh fill him, push him, as he let himself float and merge, enjoying their clean, warm skin sliding softly as they moved.
“Oh….” He wanted to be clever. He wanted to say witty things in bed, telling Liam that this was everything he’d ever wanted from making love, that it was more. But only the soft sibilants of pleasure escaped.
And then the pleasure changed to urgency and the urgency to need.
Soon he was bucking up against Liam in time, the sound of their sex smacking against the still air.
Behind his eyes rushed white light, then blue, then red, as his climax exploded, and he groaned hard, bearing down as Liam rutted inside him, his own climax spilling, filling him, their spend hot and slick and absolutely a part of their lovemaking in a way Josh had never suspected.
They both cried out, spasms rocking them, and then they floated down, down, back into Liam’s bed, soft and clean—or at least it was beneath the towel Josh sensed under his hips.
He laughed softly, opening his eyes, finding Liam’s merry blue eyes searching his face.
“What?” Liam asked, sliding out of him as he rolled to his side, one hand on Josh’s damp chest.
“The towel. Good planning.”
Liam chuckled. “I… I keep thinking we should be having quickies in the closet, or I should be bending you over, taking you, and leaving you begging for more. Honeymoon sex, but I can’t.”
“Why not?” He rather liked the idea.
But Liam sobered and stroked the side of Josh’s cheek.
“Because I can’t think of it being anything less than beautiful.
Not right now. Maybe later, when I stop waking up and thinking, ‘He’s here in bed with me.
He kissed me good night. It’s all I ever wanted.
’ Maybe we’ll have ravenous, carefree sex then.
Now it’s too important, you and me together. ”
Josh seized his fingers and kissed them, nibbling a little.
“I wish I could argue with that,” he said, remembering the months of wishing Liam was there, knowing the only reason he wasn’t was that Josh’s pride wouldn’t let him be.
“Maybe we’ll know we can trust this when the sex doesn’t have to be perfect. ”
“Are you complaining?” Liam asked.
Josh smiled at him and shook his head. Into the dreamy silence, his stomach spoke loudly, letting them both know that somebody hadn’t eaten yet, and laughing, they both got up from bed and dressed, Josh in yoga pants and one of Liam’s plain button-down work shirts.
Because Liam had placed it over his shoulders and kissed his neck and said, “Please. It’s a fantasy of mine.”
Josh grinned and slid it on, doing the buttons at the middle but not at his throat or around his waist. The shirt was big on him—he knew it would be—but he could see how having a smaller, more delicate lover could bring out the caveman in somebody.
He didn’t mind. His own fantasy had been cemented by Liam’s throaty chiding when they’d been in bed, and someday Josh would be the one topping, and Liam would be losing his mind.
In a few minutes, Liam was on one of the couches, presumably doing real Interpol paperwork on his laptop, while Josh rooted through their luggage for the carefully packed practice equipment.
“You sure?” Josh asked, pulling out the last battery pack.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Liam said. “They won’t be able to track us through the Chunnel. I bought our tickets with our other IDs—”
“Not your Interpol other ID?” Josh asked, because he had to, apparently.
“Yes, my Interpol other ID, because I’m as stupid as Grace accuses me of being,” Liam retorted.
“Or maybe I was there during the planning sessions, and I used the handy first ID that Tienne fixed up for me that’s fully backstopped.
Unlike yours, which should trigger Kadjic’s paranoia in about a day. ”
“Sorry,” Josh muttered, embarrassed. “I micromanage everybody else too.”
“So I’ve been told,” Liam replied dryly. “Now on. We take the train, do a one-day walkabout in Paris, including the Louvre, and don’t steal the Mona Lisa.”
Josh snorted. “Everybody wants to steal that fucking painting. Do you realize that it was stolen for two years in the early nineteen hundreds and—”
“Spent two years underneath some guy’s stove while he had Italian nationals come peek at it and marvel that yes, they were a part of one of the greatest paintings on the planet. Yes, I know, because I was there when Danny told that story.”
“I was raised on that story,” Josh told him soberly. “Because the guy walked into the museum dressed like a schmo, then walked out of the museum through the back dock, and not a soul questioned him because he walked like he had the right to be there.”
Liam took a deep breath, and Josh could see him processing.
“We walk like we’ve got the right to be there,” he said softly.
“That’s right,” Josh said, setting the equipment down on the table. “We know how to disable the locks, the cameras, the security system, and when we leave, the attention’s not going to be on the perpetrators.”
Liam frowned, thinking about it, thinking about what they planned to do.
“No,” he said in surprise. “It’s not, is it?”
“Nope,” Josh said, spreading out the lockpicks, the faux frames, the alarm buzzers, and the practice canvases on the mostly clean coffee table.
“The trick is,” he said, laying the equipment out in precise order, “to be so absolutely invisible that there’s only one place for the attention to go.
Care to join me?” He glanced up and held out a lockpick.
Liam hit Save on his laptop, folded it, and set it down beside him, then took the proffered tool.
“Why yes,” he said, “I’d love to play art thief Operation with you.”
“Yes! Let’s extract a kidney stone and replace a Rembrandt!” Josh told him happily, setting his phone up next to him. “Remember, we’ve got fifteen seconds to slip the canvas under the glass without activating the alarm. You ready?”
“Ready,” Liam said, getting comfortable.
“Set, go!” Josh hit the timer on his phone, and they were off.