Chapter 9 #2
“Hmmm—” Beckett said, abandoning his cleaning to stand behind Hayes. He wrapped his arms around Hayes’ waist and kissed the side of his neck.
“A workout sounds absolutely perfect,” he said, pressing his groin firmly against Hayes’ ass.
With that solid wall of muscle behind him, Hayes felt his heartrate pick up. He chuckled and spun around.
“Yeah? Were you thinking of cardio or weightlifting?” Hayes asked with an innocent grin. Beckett’s expression changed from playful to lustful. Growling, he tightened his hold on Hayes and lifted him completely off the floor.
Hayes laughed at Beckett’s sudden attempts at manhandling, grunting with surprise when his ass landed on the center island.
“How about a little of both?” Beckett asked.
Hayes was a few inches taller than Beckett, but when he was in this position, they were eye-to-eye.
That familiar glimmer of mischief in Beckett’s eyes brightened considerably as he leaned forward and captured Hayes’ lips in a feverish kiss.
It was rough and bruising, and Hayes felt all of his natural reservations vanish beneath Beckett’s passionate onslaught.
No one else had ever made Hayes feel like this.
Like the world had fallen away. He was rawdogging life like he never quite managed to do when he had been on his own.
“What would you like, Daisy-doo?” he asked, the outrageous nickname never failing to get Hayes fired up.
“Want me to take you right here? On your marble counter until you come undone? Or do you want to be bent over the sink?” Beckett didn’t always ask for his input.
He usually just commanded him and had his way, which Hayes positively loved.
But it was fun, too, to be offered a choice.
Like he was forcing Hayes to become just as unhinged as he was.
“Right here,” he panted, already out of breath before they’d even gotten started.
Beckett smiled like his greatest wish had just come true, and suddenly went from playful to serious. Before Hayes could figure that out, he was being kissed to within an inch of his life.
Sex with Beckett was like everything else he orchestrated—overwhelming and chaotic.
Apart from the few instances when Hayes had agreed to be ordered around, getting down with the former Special Forces soldier was like tossing the dice at the craps table in Vegas—wildly unpredictable.
One moment, Hayes was sitting on the counter, Beckett’s mouth flush against his, getting his shirt yanked off.
The next moment found him wrapping his legs around Beckett’s waist as he was hoisted off the counter and slammed against the fridge.
Beckett began biting his way down Hayes’ chest. He wanted to interrupt this oral assault.
Wanted to argue for getting fucked on the marble counter, but he was rendered speechless when his boyfriend’s mouth closed around one of his nipples, working it over roughly with the edges of his teeth.
Hayes gave a helpless shout as the sharp pain shot straight to his dick, making him unbearably hard.
Beckett abruptly shifted him higher in his arms.
“What in the world are you—” but Hayes was kissed into silence before he could finish his question.
Suddenly, he was lifted onto the marble counter.
Shoving him onto his back, Beckett began kissing and licking down his treasure trail as he yanked down Hayes’ sweatpants and underwear.
The marble was startlingly cold against his feverish skin, but the sensation faded quickly as Beckett snapped him forward so his ass was hanging halfway off the counter, legs still wrapped around Beckett’s waist.
“Relax, Daisy,” Beckett urged, lips brushing Hayes’ inner thighs. Beckett reached under him and lifted his legs over his shoulders, forcing him to lie flat. His view of Beckett’s actions being cut off only heightened his sense of touch.
Beckett feathered kisses down the length of his thighs, then moved back up to his beautifully sculpted hip flexors.
“Fuck, I love this part of you,” Beckett said, voice hoarse with lust. “The first time we did this, I couldn’t look away,” he confessed huskily against his skin.
Hayes didn’t know how to tell Beckett that he already knew.
That when they cuddled in bed, Beckett’s hands went straight to Hayes’ pelvis, the scarred pad of his thumb brushing against the smooth skin there.
Hayes didn’t know how to tell Beckett how deeply affected he was when those rough hands stroked him so reverently.
Beckett was done with teasing touches. His mouth moved quickly, finding the tip of Hayes’ cock without warning and wrapping his lips around it—wrapping Hayes up in blissful heat.
“Fuckkk—” Hayes moaned, closing his eyes as he focused on that overwhelming sensation that he never tired of.
Beckett bobbed up and down, taking as much of Hayes as he could. This too was unsurprising. Beckett wasn’t one to hesitate or takes things slow. He consumed Hayes—all of him—every time.
He was so lost in the bliss of Beckett’s mouth that he missed hearing Beckett open a bottle of lube—where the hell did that come from?—but then Beckett’s fingers were right there, pressing against the deepest part of him and massaging gently—asking to be let in.
Hayes forced his muscles to relax while Beckett continued to suck and lick him as if he was starved for Hayes’ dick.
Beckett often talked about Hayes’ hands.
Usually while completely blissed out from an orgasm, he’d marvel at how talented and beautiful they were.
He’d run his own rough, scarred fingers along the slender length of them and kiss the knuckles, worshipping them like they were something special.
Hayes never really understood his fascination with them.
Not when Beckett had the best hands Hayes had ever known.
They were strong, capable, rough, but also quite nimble.
When two fingers breached him, he nearly came—their forceful, demanding entry immediately following all that teasing and rubbing drove him wild.
They scissored inside him with sharp, precise movements, and the resulting burn was just this side of intense pleasure.
Beckett’s mouth wasn’t quite enough to distract him from that slight discomfort, but then those magic fingers bent just right and brushed against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through him.
“Fuck, Beck, just—” he broke off just as Beckett’s fingers hit that spot again. He shot up to a near sitting position, and grabbed for his boyfriend’s hair, roughly pulling him off his cock.
Beckett chuckled as he took in Hayes’ panicked expression.
“Did you almost lose control, H?” he asked smugly.
“Fuck me or sit down so I can do it myself,” he replied, unamused, as he grasped the base of his flushed, engorged cock.
Beckett barked out a laugh and shook his head. With two fingers still buried inside Hayes’s ass, he leaned forward and kissed Hayes.
“You trust me, right, H?” Beckett asked, and the sincerity of the question fucked with Hayes’ mind more than he cared to admit.
“You have to ask?” he replied, looking perplexed.
Beckett smiled as if anticipating Hayes’ answer, and kissed him softly.
“Lie back, Nancy,” he instructed, his tone unexpectedly gentle. “Lie back and let go.”
Hayes complied, hissing from the sensation of his hot skin touching cold marble.
He was instantly rewarded for his compliance when Beckett pressed a kiss to the top of his cock and sucked it in and all the way down once more.
He bobbed up and down a few times as he added another finger to Hayes’ ass.
He barely felt the stretch—too lost to intense pleasure.
Beckett released Hayes’ dick with a wet pop and a chuckle. He kissed his hip flexors again, chuckling as Hayes shivered beneath him in reaction.
“Are you ready?” he asked, even though he didn’t wait for an answer before removing his fingers.
Hayes grunted in protest, from the sudden feeling of being so goddamned empty.
“You know what makes me fucking crazy, H? That I’m the only one who sees this side of you.
How fucking lucky—how fucking privileged I am to see you come undone like this.
I love you so much it fucking scares me sometimes,” Beckett said with passionate sincerity while placing more kisses on his hips.
Hayes thought he might melt against the counter. His skin was covered in goosebumps as he struggled to breathe, his heart pounding with excitement, love, and anticipation. Beckett did things to his heart and mind that no one else ever had.
A phone rang. Somewhere close by. The intermittent vibrations made the phone clatter against the marble countertop.
Beckett looked away from him to glance at the caller ID. From Hayes’ angle, he couldn’t see the name. Beckett reached for it and declined the call.
“Who was it?” Hayes asked, because even immersed in a fog of lust, he maintained a sense of duty.
“You really want me to talk about my brother right now?”
His brother? Hayes wondered briefly which brother it might be, but abruptly he felt a new sensation that caught him off guard. The pressure at his rim intensified until he was fully breached, the length of—
“What the hell?” He struggled to sit up as whatever Beckett shoved up his ass began to vibrate.
Beckett laughed and roughly shoved Hayes back down onto the counter, while manipulating the device so that it massaged Hayes’ prostate perfectly, the vibration nearly causing him to shoot his load.
In anticipation of Hayes’ reaction, Beckett wrapped a hand around the base of his dick, squeezing firmly to stave off Hayes’ orgasm.
“It’s too much,” Hayes gasped, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through him. His insides felt like a giant bowl of Jell-O.
“I know,” Beckett said, pressing tender kisses to Hayes’ ribs and softly stroking Hayes’ chest.
“I don’t—I can’t—” Hayes didn’t have the words. He’d wanted to get fucked. Why wasn’t Beckett plowing into him? He wanted—he needed—