NOAH
Iknock softly, as always, two raps and a pause, but Gabriel doesn’t answer right away tonight. When the door finally opens, his face tells me everything before he says a word.
“You look like you want to bite someone,” I whisper as I slip inside and shut the door behind me. “Does this have anything to do with the pull-up bar incident?”
He drops onto the edge of his bunk. “Of course you know. Walker saw. Which means Hayes knew fifteen minutes later.”
I cross my arms and eye the fresh dressing peeking out from the collar of his shirt. “So why did you do it?”
Gabriel sighs. “I wanted to see where I stood. Turns out it’s nowhere, because I tore a stitch on rep four and bled through my shirt.”
“What did Doc say?”
A muscle in his cheek twitches. “Doc gave me a lecture that would’ve made my father proud. Told me I’m setting back my recovery.” He rubs a hand down his face. “Then she reminded me I’m cleared for light duty. Light. Not pull-ups. Not anything that pulls.”
“Well.” I cross the room and lower myself down onto my knees in front of him, resting my hands on his thighs. The urge to make him feel better is impossible to deny. “Let me pull on something that won’t tear a stitch.”
He huffs, but the corner of his mouth twitches, so I take it as permission and get his belt open.
I get him free and take him into my mouth, moving slow, because I know that works best when he’s wound up tight.
For a minute it works. His hand finds my hair.
His breathing goes rough. But then his hips stop chasing my mouth, and his hand in my hair doesn’t grip anymore; it just rests there. I pull back and look up at him.
He’s staring at the wall past my shoulder. Somewhere else entirely.
“Hey.” I sit back on my heels. “Where’d you go, Colonel?”
He blinks, focusing on me like he’s waking up from a dream. “Sorry. I’m here.”
“You’re really not.” I stand, and his cock, half-hard and now abandoned, twitches like it’s protesting my decision. “The Doc got in your head.”
Gabriel shakes his head. “It’s not that.”
“It’s a little that.” I reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, tossing it toward the footlocker. His eyes track my movement even though he’s distracted and irritated. “Fine. New plan.”
“Reyes—”
“Call me Noah when we’re here,” I correct. “Or maybe Specialist with that Colonel tone if you really want to turn me on.”
He huffs, and I shuck my boots, then my pants, taking my time because I know he likes to watch me strip. Even if his head is in the med hut, getting chewed out by a doctor half his size. By the time I’m naked in the lantern light, his eyes have stopped drifting. They’re on me. I let him look.
Gabriel’s eyes glide over my hard-earned muscles, and I can’t help but flex a bit.
Then his gaze caresses my tattoos—the flag and eagle, the rose with a compass I got two weeks after Orsha Valley, the small block of numbers on my arm that only three people know the meaning of.
He watches all of it, and by the time he reaches my cock, hard and curved against my stomach, his own has gone from half-hard to leaking against his belly without either of us touching it.
“There you are,” I say, pleased with myself.
“You did that on purpose.”
“I do everything on purpose, sir,” I drawl. “It’s kind of my thing.”
I take the tube I brought with me out of the pocket of my discarded pants, and climb onto the bunk and straddle his thighs, careful of the shoulder.
Then I pour lube over my fingers and reach behind myself without breaking his gaze.
When my fingers breach the tight ring of my ass, my mouth falls open, a small sound slipping out that I don’t bother to muffle.
Gabriel groans. “Christ, Noah.”
“Just getting started.”
I work myself open, fast and efficient. I’ve done this enough times to know exactly what I need and how quickly I can get there. Every time I moan, Gabriel’s hand fists in the sheet beside his hip like it’s the only thing keeping him from grabbing me and taking over, ruining his stitches again.
When I’m ready, I pull my fingers free and reach for him instead, slicking my palm and wrapping it around his cock. He hisses, hips jerking up.
“Wait.” His hand catches my wrist. “Didn’t you say you wanted to wait? Until my shoulder—”
“I did say that.” I lean down, my lips brushing against his ear. “I can’t wait anymore, sir.”
I pull back enough to look at him, at the way his cock is drooling against my palm, flushed and thick and desperate for exactly what I’m about to give it.
“And judging by the state of you,” I add, “neither can you. Respectfully. Sir.”
He doesn’t argue. He just stares at me, his chest rising and falling fast, and lets me position myself over him, my knees braced on either side of his hips, his cock hot and slick against my entrance.
I sink down slowly.
The stretch burns for the first inch, familiar, sharp, and addictive, and I breathe through it, one hand flat against his chest to keep myself steady.
Gabriel’s body goes rigid beneath me, a string of curses tearing out of him that I’ve genuinely never heard him string together before, not even under fire.
“Fuck—fuck, Noah, you feel—” he cuts himself off with a growl, jaw clenched, hips trembling with the effort of not thrusting up into me too fast. “I’ve never felt anything like this. Fuck. Never.”
I keep sinking, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated inside me and my thighs are shaking against his hips. My cock leaks between us, and I have a feeling I’m not going to need to touch myself to come tonight.
“Nothing compares to your dick, sir,” I breathe. It comes out half a laugh and half a moan. “Absolutely nothing.”
I give myself a second to adjust, my forehead dropping to his good shoulder, and then I start to move.
I ride him slow at first, testing the angle, and when I find one that has him bumping against my prostate, I stop being careful about the pace.
His good hand grips my hip, guiding me without pulling and letting me set the rhythm while his hips answer every roll of mine with small, helpless thrusts of his own.
I can’t believe I have Colonel Gabriel Wolfe inside me, his perfect dick making me see stars as I fuck myself on it like it’s the only thing I need to survive. The thought alone makes my balls twitch, makes me worry I won’t last.
“Look at you,” Gabriel grinds out, staring up at me like I’m the only thing he needs to survive too. “Taking me like you were made for it.”
“Made for you,” I correct, my breath catching as I sink down hard. His answering groan has my cock leaking down the shaft.
I lean forward every now and then to kiss him, quick and messy, more breath and teeth than technique, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His hand slides from my hip to my cock between us, wrapping around me clumsily with his non-dominant hand, and the added pressure has my rhythm faltering.
“Gabriel—”
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and strokes me in time with the roll of my hips. Between the drag of him inside me and the grip of his hand around me, I feel the edge coming up fast, faster than I want it to, because I want this to last, want to memorize every second of finally having him inside me.
“I’m not going to last,” I admit, my voice cracking.
“Then don’t.” His hand tightens. His hips push up to meet me, deep and deliberate. “Come for me, Noah.”
I obey his command, shaking as I fall apart above him, spilling over his fist and both our stomachs while my body clenches around him so hard he curses again, hips stuttering up once, twice, before he follows me over with a groan he muffles against my shoulder.
“God, Noah,” he breathes, careful even now, even while coming, not to wake up the whole base.
I collapse against his good side after, both of us breathing like we just ran the wire twice, and he winds his arm around me despite the stitches, despite Ainsley’s lecture, despite just breaking more rules than I care to think about.
“Worth tearing a stitch over, sir?” I ask against his chest.
“Don’t push your luck,” he mutters, but his hand is already stroking down my spine, slow and unhurried, and I grin against his skin because I know exactly what that means.
It means yes.