Chapter 4 #3
“Eyes on the room, Nancy—wouldn’t want to get shot with your pants down,” Beckett commanded roughly, as he leaned down and gave Hayes’ dick an experimental lick.
“Suck my dick, C.U.N.T.!” Hayes’ sudden crudeness was unlike him but had the intended effect as Beckett immediately wrapped his extraordinarily talented mouth around Hayes’ cockhead.
Keeping his hand wrapped around the base of Hayes’ dick, he began working his way from tip to base.
He kept it wet and sloppy, knowing that technique always drove Hayes out of his mind.
Beckett hummed as Hayes began to rock his hips in a silent demand for more.
Beckett’s gaze tangled with Hayes’ and he nodded at Hayes encouragingly as he increased his suction.
When Hayes didn’t react, Beckett reached for his hand and placed it firmly on the back of his head.
Beckett might as well have shouted Fuck my mouth!
Hayes got the message and sank his fingers into Beckett’s hair, pulling hard as he began chasing his orgasm.
With a sudden upward thrust of his hips, he forced Beckett to swallow around his cock, on the verge of cumming as Beckett struggled to breathe.
When Hayes finally loosened his grip and pulled back, Beckett let the head pop free and smiled with pleasure.
That look was so goddamned hot. Hayes moaned and tugged restlessly at Beckett’s hair.
He forced his attention back to monitoring the crypt, watching for any surprise—and very unwelcome—visitors.
But it was damned near impossible to pay attention to anything other than the warmth and pressure on his dick.
Sensing that Hayes was on the edge, Beckett doubled down, gagging himself on every down stroke and squeezing Hayes’ shaft firmly on every up stroke.
“Fuck—” Hayes groaned. “I’m gonna—” His warning was in vain as Beckett swallowed the entire length of Hayes’ cock just as he blew his load.
The first time they’d done this, Beckett hadn’t been able to swallow all of it—but now, not a single drop escaped as he pulled off Hayes’ softening cock.
Grinning smugly, he wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb.
“You should wear cargo pants more often—” he said, as Hayes fought to catch his breath. “Easy access,” he explained with a quick wink.
“You’re an absolute menace,” Hayes responded.
“And damned proud of it!”
Hayes tangled his fingers in Beckett’s hair once more and pulled him up so he could give him a well-deserved kiss.
Hayes wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about tasting himself on Beckett’s tongue, but his partner quickly wiped that thought from his mind as he sucked Hayes’ tongue like it was a lollipop.
Hayes pulled back from their kiss to ask, “What about you?” He reached for Beckett’s zipper, wanting to return the favour.
“Are you nuts? I’m not getting caught with my pants down!” Beckett grabbed his hand with a tsk of disapproval.
“What?” Hayes couldn’t have been more surprised.
“Listen—maybe peekaboo shooters don’t mind getting caught with their asses up in the air and pants down around their ankles, but we C.U.N.T.
’s don’t fuck around on the job,” he declared self-righteously, like he wasn’t the same asshole who’d once suggested they should get busy in a jail cell with his best friend sitting just a few feet away.
Hayes was so shocked by that reaction that he looked at Beckett blankly and asked, “Peekaboo shooter?”
Beckett gave an enthusiastic nod as stood up and looked down at Hayes sprawled wantonly across his sleeping bag.
“Just came up with that—clever, right? ‘Cuz of the way you guys hide in your little holes for hours just to take a few shots,” Beckett explained as he walked backwards in the direction of the crypt’s entrance.
Hayes hadn’t the faintest clue where Beckett was going.
“Smartass—go ahead and make fun of the guy who watches your six!” Hayes snapped, wondering what in blue blazes his partner was up to. “Where are you going? You know we’re supposed to—”
“Need to take a leak—and stuff,” he said, cutting him off and winking playfully as if Hayes couldn’t see the very obvious, impressive bulge he was sporting.
It was on the tip of Hayes’ tongue to make another offer to take care of that for him, but then changed his mind. If Beckett wanted to play hard to get, then Hayes would let him and wait him out. Beckett would break eventually. He always did.
“Remember: if it moves, it dies—we’ll worry about the paperwork later,” Beckett advised solemnly, as if quoting an established rule, then vanished into the darkened passage.
Hayes sighed and thunked his head against the wall out of sheer frustration.
Sometimes, when Hayes thought about it—really thought about it—he got confused as to how he’d gone from being a highly regimented, straight, single guy, to being in a fully committed relationship with the most cavalier yet incredibly volatile man this side of the equator.
Had he been hit upside the head with a fucking shovel at some point and simply—forgotten the event?