Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ELLIOT
Three years after Selection
Elliot woke to Hale taking up three-quarters of the mattress, snoring softly beside him.
They'd fallen asleep with their hands linked, bodies pressed together in the narrow space, and at some point during the night Hale had decided the entire mattress was his territory. One arm thrown over his head, the other draped across Elliot's chest, legs tangled under the sheets.
He should extract himself before Hale woke up and they had to navigate whatever awkward morning-after protocol existed for situations like this.
Instead he lay there cataloging details he had no business noticing.
The scar above Hale's eyebrow—new since Selection, probably earned in combat.
The way his chest rose and fell. The definition in his shoulders and arms, more pronounced than Elliot remembered.
Hale had filled out in the past few years, added muscle in all the right places without losing the lean athleticism that made him good at what he did.
Elliot's eyes tracked down Hale's torso, following the line of his ribs to where the sheet rested low on his hips. Hale's skin was unmarked except for his two weird tattoos and at lot of scars; small ones scattered across his body like a map of close calls and narrow escapes.
This had been a mistake. Not the sex—the sex had been intense and necessary and exactly what Elliot had needed after years of trying to pretend he didn't. But letting Hale stay.
Sleeping beside him. Waking up next to him as if this was something they did, like this could be more than one night.
Nothing had changed. This was still not possible.
Hale's breathing shifted from the deep rhythm of sleep to something lighter. His eyes fluttered open and focused on Elliot. “Hey,” he said, voice rough with sleep.
"Morning."
Hale stretched, the movement pulling the sheet lower. Elliot kept his eyes on Hale's face through sheer force of will.
"What time is it?" Hale asked.
Elliot glanced at the clock. "0915."
"Shit." Hale sat up, running a hand down his face. "I've got a flight out of Raleigh at 1300. I need to get back to my hotel."
Elliot's stomach coiled. Back to Afghanistan. Tomorrow Hale would be eight thousand miles away.
“Of course,” Elliot said. "You should go."
Hale’s expression was unreadable. "Yeah. I really should."
Neither of them moved.
After a moment, Elliot said, “I was thinking about taking a shower. You could join?”
Hale's mouth curved. “Really?”
"You have a flight to catch, I have to check out at 1000. More efficient."
"Right. Efficient." Hale was smirking now, the cocky bastard. "Very clever thinking, Shaw."
"Shut up." Elliot got up, hoping that Hale would follow.
The shower was too small for two people, let alone two people of their size, which meant they were pressed together whether they wanted to be or not.
Elliot wanted to be. More than he had wanted anything in a long time.
Hale's fingers moved through Elliot's hair, working up a lather with a gentleness that had no urgency in it despite their timeframe. Elliot had his eyes closed, feeling all of it.
"You're quiet," Hale observed.
"Focused."
"On what?"
"Not thinking."
Hale's hands stilled. "That's new for you."
It was. Elliot didn't not think. Didn't let himself exist in moments without calculating next steps, assessing risks, planning exit strategies.
But Hale's hands were in his hair and the water was beating down on his shoulders and for once Elliot let himself just—be.
Hale rinsed the shampoo out thoroughly, then reached for the soap.
Elliot braced his hands against the tile as Hale's soapy hands moved across his shoulders, down his back, tracing his spine with what felt like very deliberate attention.
Hale's fingers rested between Elliot's shoulders. "Is this new?"
Elliot knew exactly which tattoo he was referring to. "Yeah. I've added a few."
“0.5.” Hale’s finger traced the small digits. “What does it mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Time’s ticking, Hale.”
Hale didn’t push. His hands moved lower, soaping down Elliot's lower back, his ass, his thighs, then back up
"Turn around," Hale whispered in his ear.
Elliot turned. Hale’s eyes were dark, pupils dilated, and he knew exactly where this was heading.
Hale dropped to his knees. His hands gripped Elliot’s hips, holding him against the tile. "We've got time."
They didn't, actually. Hale had a flight to catch, Elliot had to check out of the hotel, they both had lives waiting for them outside this bathroom.
But when Hale's mouth closed around his dick, Elliot stopped thinking about logistics.
Working him with confidence, Hale seemed comfortable now in a way he hadn't been at Selection. Elliot had to brace both hands against the tile to stay upright.
"Ah—" Elliot breathed, losing the fight to stay still. “Putain, c’est bon.”
Hale made an approving sound and took him deeper, and Elliot's control fractured completely. He threaded one hand through Hale's wet hair, trying to control the pace.
Hale’s tongue moved in ways that made rational thought impossible. He moved from the head all the way down and back up again, gripping tightly around the base with one hand. The other travelled up Elliot’s thigh and rested between his crease with a slight pressure.
Jesus.
Hale glanced up at him through wet lashes, water running down his face, mouth stretched around Elliot's dick, and the visual alone nearly finished Elliot on the spot.
"I'm—" Elliot tried to warn him.
Hale didn't pull off. He worked him faster, drawing Elliot’s orgasm out of him. He didn’t let up until Elliot leaned against the tiles completely slack.
When Hale released him, he looked so pleased with himself Elliot couldn’t help but smile.
"Show-off," he managed when he could speak.
"God, I got good." Hale had a shit-eating grin on his face that made Elliot’s stomach flutter.
He pulled Hale up into a deep kiss, tasting himself on his tongue.
Hale kissed back just as hard, hands sliding up Elliot's ribs and into his hair. When they finally broke apart they were both back to ragged breathing.
"Your turn," Elliot said, reaching for him.
"We don't have time." Hale caught Elliot’s wrist gently. "I mean it. I really have to go."
Elliot searched his face. Hale wasn’t deflecting—he actually meant it. "Okay," he said, releasing him.
They finished showering, efficient now, the easy intimacy of five minutes ago already receding. Hale turned off the water and reached for a towel, and Elliot watched him dry off, suddenly worn down.
Hale dressed, pulling on yesterday's clothes, and Elliot committed it all to memory. The way his hair stuck up when it was wet. The small scar on his shoulder blade that Elliot had traced last night.
"So," Hale said when he was fully dressed. "This was fun."
Elliot let out a small awkward laugh in a desperate attempt to cover up what he was really feeling.
Crossing the room, Hale stopped in front of him. He searched Elliot’s eyes, jaw working. It almost looked as if he was holding something back. Then he leaned in and kissed him.
It was over before Elliot even got to kiss him back.
"Take care of yourself," Hale said.
"You too. Don’t do anything stupid."
"Can’t promise that." Hale smiled, then headed for the door. "See you around, Shaw."
He was gone, and Elliot was alone.
He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall. One night. That's all this had been. One night that would have to last until—whenever. If ever.
Elliot forced himself to get up and start packing. He had a life to get back to. Responsibilities.
But as he checked out of the hotel and drove back to Fort Liberty, he couldn't stop thinking about Hale.
Elliot had spent three years trying to forget.
He had a feeling the next three would be as unsuccessful.