Chapter 12
“I’d rather not,” Beckett said, talking in a hushed tone into his phone. He was talking to Chase, or at least Hayes thought he was. The call came in just as Hayes had headed for the shower and, based on Beckett’s frown, the conversation was going south.
“Listen, I understand you want to—support me.” Beckett paused to take a deep breath, obviously struggling to get his point across.
“But I swear it’s unnecessary, and you’ve already missed enough work with the whole—CIA, come back from the dead, couch murder victim thing!
” He waved his hand around in his usual drama queen style that Chase and the other guys always teased him about.
“No, Devin and Loic shouldn’t come either,” Beckett stated firmly, and sighed again.
“Because, Chase, this is awkward enough as it is. And because we’re burying him tomorrow and then—” he broke off when Chase interrupted him.
He glanced over at Hayes, having noticed him earlier, but he’d had been too involved in his conversation to acknowledge him.
Beckett smiled at him distractedly and continued talking to Chase.
“Yeah, tomorrow—well, we’ve been here for like—” he glanced at Hayes questioningly.
Hayes held up five fingers.
“Five days,” he told Chase.
Hayes sighed. Beckett was petting the damn dog again. Hell, Hayes would bet good money that Nickel’s paws hadn’t even touched the ground since they’d gotten home. Surely the dog would need to answer natural’s call soon, but for now, he looked perfectly content to be lying in Beckett’s strong arms.
And no, Hayes wasn’t jealous. That would be absurd.
“Because I never planned on telling you!” he said, beginning as a shout and ending on a harsh whisper. He looked down at Nickel with a faintly apologetic look.
If the ball of fur noticed, there was no sign of it. He was having too much fun being petted to worry about much of anything, probably thinking, “This is the life!”
Beckett sighed once more and pinched the bridge of his nose like he did when he was doing his very best not to punch a witness.
“Chase, if I wanted the advice of a psychologist, I’d have listened to my brother when he was alive.”
Apparently, Chase didn’t seem to have much to say to that because the call lasted only a few more seconds before Beckett hung up with a final muttered, “yeah-yeah, you too” in lieu of actually saying goodbye.
Hayes pretended he hadn’t heard the end of the conversation as he folded some clothes and then put on a pair of underwear.
They wore very little clothing when they went to bed—Beckett often chose to be fully nude.
But when they visited his family, he always wore boxer briefs.
He never knew when he’d have to get up in the middle of the night and deal with a home invasion.
It happened before, so he figured it could happen again.
Best to be on the safe side, especially with kids in the house.
“Chase alright?” Hayes asked, as he turned, toweling his still damp hair and noticing his boyfriend’s worried expression.
Hayes’ question seemed to pull Beckett out of deep thought, as his brilliant green gaze focused on him again.
“Perfectly fine. Just mother-henning me to death,” he said, rolling his eyes, as though Chase was the one being overly dramatic.
“Is he? You did just—” but Beckett didn’t let him finish.
“Franklin’s name popped up in the registry. He got notified. Since I hadn’t called him, he assumed I didn’t know—should have heard him beat around the bush for ten minutes.” Beckett started playing with his phone and then ran a hand through his hair.
“You didn’t call him about what happened?” Hayes was surprised that Beckett hadn’t spoken with Chase days ago. Although, now that he thought about it, he realized that Beckett hadn’t mentioned telling any of his brothers-in-arms about Franklin’s death, but still—
“Why would I? Not like he can help. There’s no point in bothering any of them.” With a casual shrug, Beckett turned his focus to settling Nickel more comfortably against his chest.
And Hayes had to wonder how often he’d just—buried his feelings and kept moving forward, based on that mentality.
Beckett was many things. A hot head. A dumbass, certainly, but he was also quite self-sufficient.
If he called for help, it was usually on someone else’s behalf, never really for himself.
At first, Hayes had thought it was something they had in common, but he’d come to realize they weren’t at all alike in that regard.
Hayes was self-sufficient because he’d been alone, quite literally, for most of his life.
He’d been surrounded by ghosts and emotionally unavailable mentors, who’d typically forced his hand in dealing with life in general, and though Hayes had not realised it before, as soon as he’d found someone to lean on, he’d done so happily.
He relied on Beckett. Emotionally as well as physically.
He would take on anybody or anything, regardless of the circumstances, to help Beckett.
It was deeply reassuring to know he was no longer alone in facing the world.
He couldn’t imagine not sharing his thoughts and feelings with Beckett now.
But apparently Beckett didn’t feel the same way.
Beckett was the youngest of his parents’ four children.
He was the troublemaker. A real piece of work.
Quite literally, the fire in the hole. He’d learned long ago that he had to clean up his own messes or live with the consequences of getting caught.
He didn’t lean on anyone and was a natural leader who’d always been compelled to answer calls for help.
If he had to carry the weight of his insanity on his own shoulders for the rest of eternity, then he would do so with quiet strength.
Hayes had known all along about that deeply-rooted instinct in Beckett.
He was not inclined to reach out to others to share that weight.
Beckett required frequent reminders that he needed to seek support, since it did not come naturally to him.
He had no intentions of burdening others with his feelings.
Since they couldn’t be helped, at least not in any tangible way, he certainly didn’t plan to share them.
In this instance, one of his brothers had just died, and Beckett hadn’t reached out to his closest friends.
Not because Franklin didn’t matter, but because there was nothing for them to do.
Therefore, he didn’t see any need to let them know.
He could shoulder this burden on his own.
No need for reinforcement. There was no point to it.
Hayes found this to be a very lonely state of affairs. Perhaps even more surprising was the fact that Beckett looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world. How he managed to do that was another great mystery to add to Hayes’ running list.
“The dog is not sleeping in the bed,” Hayes insisted with a disapproving frown.
“Nickel is grieving,” Beckett responded, fighting a smile.
“Nickel has a Gucci 6-inch memory foam dog bed that is definitely more comfortable than your childhood bed—besides, I’m not blowing you while that thing is on the bed—odds are too great that he’ll get accidentally crushed in all the excitement.”
Beckett’s eyebrows rose when he heard blowjob. Without a single word of protest, he lifted Nickel from his lap and carefully placed him in his designer dog bed, which looked truly luxurious and extraordinarily comfortable.
Much to Hayes’ surprise, Nickel didn’t seem upset about being transferred to his posh bed as he stretched out and closed his eyes. Doubtless, he was accustomed to Franklin having done the same thing every night.
“See, I knew you were a reasonable man.” Looking smug, Hayes approached the bed.
Beckett didn’t bother hiding his smile. He lifted the covers in clear invitation, his hungry gaze focused on Hayes’ body.
Hayes wasn’t sure what the Marine was looking at. After all, he’d seen Hayes naked plenty of times, and yet, there was always a fire in his gaze when it raked over every inch of him. Hayes was sure he would never tire of being on the receiving end of that intensely hot look.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Hayes whispered softly. He planted a hand on either side of Beckett’s head to support most of his weight. When he lowered his hips to meet Beckett’s, their cocks—both rock hard—were pressed together, drawing filthy moans from both of them.
“The day I refuse a blowjob is the day you take me out back, shoot me, and feed me to Nickel and Pantouffle.” Beckett sounded deadly serious, but his gaze was teasing.
Hayes fucking loved how Beckett looked right then. He’d give up a great deal in life to keep that sparkle in those gem-green eyes forever.
“Your cat would eat you.” Hayes didn’t have a shadow of a doubt about that.
“She’s a very practical feline. Nothing goes to waste,” Beckett pointed out with a shrug, as if he’d given this due consideration, and her bloodthirsty ways made perfect sense.
Hayes’ thoughts became muddled when Beckett placed his hands on the small of his back to pull their groins closer, and began thrusting against him.
“Fuck,” Beckett muttered against Haye’s neck and then gently bit Hayes’ earlobe.
Hayes smiled as he tried to pull back, intending to work his way down Beckett’s body—to fulfill his promise to give him a blowjob—but Beckett thwarted his plan, holding him firmly in place as he continued to thrust against him.
“You want to come like this?” Hayes asked, hoping Beck would hear the enthusiasm in his voice.
They really didn’t do this very often—not nearly as much as Hayes would have liked.
Usually, clothes went flying as soon as they started kissing.
The idea of finding release while holding each other felt different—tender or more affectionate somehow.
Especially with their underwear still on.
Beckett mumbled incoherently against Hayes’ neck, and grabbed his ass to he could grind them together harder, faster.
Hayes groaned and began timing his own thrusts with Beckett’s so their cocks collided in a feverish dance while still trapped by fabric. Hayes was almost painfully hard, his balls drawing up. He wouldn’t last long, not with Beckett’s heated and desperate movements as he sought his own release.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Hayes panted between thrusts, loving the intensity and passion in Beckett’s expression, his masculine beauty never greater than at this moment.
Beckett looked into Hayes’ eyes and gave him a crooked smile, then pulled his head down for a tongue-tangling kiss.
The ever-present fire that burned between them was all-consuming.
Hayes couldn’t hold out any longer. Coming hard, he groaned and shook with aftershocks.
That triggered Beckett’s own release as he moaned against Hayes’ mouth before collapsing with a satisfied sigh.
Boneless, he laid there with his head under Hayes’ chin.
“Hmm—” was all he managed to say.
Hayes had no desire to shower again, or get out of bed.
But their cum-soaked underwear had to go.
Pulling off their briefs, he used the dry sections to wipe them down as best he could before tossing them to the floor.
Lying back down, he nestled closer to Beckett, who slipped one leg between his, like he usually did before falling asleep.
They didn’t tend to spoon together though.
Since Beckett ran hot, Hayes would eventually get overheated and pull away.
But some part of their bodies would stay in contact during the night.
Hayes didn’t mind because it made wrapping his arms around his boyfriend the next morning that much more satisfying.
“Today was a shit show,” Beckett said.
Lying there listening to Nickel’s soft snores, Hayes was inclined to agree.
“Thanks for—” A yawn abruptly cut off whatever else Beckett was going to say.
“It was pretty tame for us—actually,” Hayes mused, since no one had tried to shoot them. That qualified as a truly civilized Monday by their standards. “No arrests, no jail cells, and no guns.” Those were typical sticking points that got them in hot water with Gill.
“And there you go, tempting the devil,” Beck said around another jaw-cracking yawn. “I hope your Glock is handy, ‘cause when the bad guys break in, I’m using you as a shield,” he mumbled, followed by light snores that sounded an awful lot like the dog’s.
It was weirdly comforting to listen to the two of them. Hayes snorted in amusement. So be it, he thought. He’d go down shielding Beckett from bullets any day of the goddamned week. Even twice on Sunday.