Cliff's Edge (6 page)

Black, white, Hispanic, tall, short, slender, husky, bald, long-haired, blonds, brunettes, even a redhead. What there
wasn’t
was a woman. Not one.

Men held hands, or sat next to each other on the sofas or floor pillows. No one thought anything about a kiss or a pat. Or a nothing. He and Cliff weren’t the only men in the group not touching each other romantically. Even as the evening wore on and the drinking and trash talk escalated, it was clear that not everyone was paired up and no one gave a good goddamn one way or the other.

“Oh, no!” Cliff groaned along with half the men there as the Seahawks’ receiver let a ball slip through his hands. “This is going to require copious amounts of booze to get through.”

Cliff patted Ryan’s thigh, pushed himself from the couch, and stalked into the kitchen. Ryan’s gaze followed him out the door, then he caught a movement from the corner of his eye and he discovered Ty watching him watch Cliff. Ty raised his bottle in a silent toast, before turning back to his lover, and whispering something that made the other man smile. Ryan wished he knew what the toast was for.

Replaying the scene through someone else’s eyes, he realized he and Cliff looked as much like a couple as many of the pairs here. They sat jammed hip-to-hip on the crowded sofa, smacking each other on the shoulder or leg, bringing each other drinks, making small inside jokes, their laughter private.

Just like they’d done at dozens of football parties over the years. Or beach parties. BUDs graduation parties. End of mission parties. Hell…he couldn’t remember the last party he’d been to without Cliff. Cliff rented an apartment in the same complex as Ryan’s condo. They even DVR’d their favorite shows to watch together. They knew each other’s secrets.

No wonder Marco said they acted like an old married couple—they practically were.

Cliff returned, carrying a dark bottle of beer in one hand and a fishbowl masquerading as a margarita in the other. He handed the icy concoction to Ryan before he squeezed into the spot on the couch between Ryan and an old rodeo cowboy named Jesse.

“Holy shit, if I drink another one of these, you might as well pour me into a tub and cart me home.”

“Hah. You must be getting old, then. I’ve never seen a couple of margaritas put you under any table.” Cliff bumped his shoulder. “Seriously, you okay?” he asked quietly. “We can go if you want. I know your ass must be dragging.”

“Nah…I’m good. At least until I finish this.” He raised the glass, took a swallow, then squinted at the television. “Jesus, please tell me the game clock is blurry? Is that a six or an eight?”

Cliff laughed. They’d been doing a lot of laughing over the last few hours…it felt good. “It’s three minutes, forty seconds.”

Ryan did a triple take, before his eyes convinced his brain that Cliff was jerking his chain.

“Shit…you nearly had me. It’s eight minutes. God…I thought my eyes really lost it there. Would make the offer from the Skipper pretty easy to turn down if I couldn’t pass the physical.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Ryan wanted them back. He could only hope Cliff was too involved in the game to pay much attention.

“Yeah? What orders are those?”

“Eh…it’s nothing I want to talk about tonight. Let’s concentrate on the end of the game—and then tomorrow I plan to sleep for twenty-four straight.”

Cliff shook his head. “I heard you straight boys like to sleep. Sad. Really sad. And Rhino…congratulations, man. No one deserves Six more than you.”

Ryan swallowed half his drink in his surprise. “How did you—shit, you didn’t know. You guessed.”

“An educated guess. Not much other reason for you to have a one-on-one with the man just selected to head up DEVGRU—he’d want you for Six. It makes sense. You’re the goddamn best,” Cliff said, his voice was a quiet growl in its intensity. “The goddamn best.”

Cliff stumbled a little in the dark of his bedroom, reluctant to turn on the lights and ruin his night vision. It had been a long while since he’d had so much to drink—or felt so relaxed. There was definitely something to be said about being on the WSR, away from anyone who might know him or what he did for a living.

In their careers, it was conceivable they could be targeted for one of their field actions or just by virtue of being Navy SEALs. Just like the cops who’d enjoyed harassing him once they’d discovered his profession. Some people needed to try to knock down others to feel good about themselves. But here? He and Ryan were just a couple more guys.

He stripped to his boxers and tossed his jeans onto the chair before pulling back the covers on the king-sized bed. A shudder raced up his spine, and for just a moment, he remembered the frustration and helplessness of the situation when he’d been trapped on the other bed…listening to those fucking punks. His stomach clenched at the thought of Gentry and Draco. Their bodies had been removed by the time the cops saw fit to release him from the alcove, but he’d never forget listening to their last moments or the blood that soaked the floor when he’d been led through the office to the stairs. Ryan would eventually ask for details about how they died—especially Draco, since they’d been friends—but they’d both learned to compartmentalize death a long time ago.

That didn’t mean they weren’t affected by loss, but there was a time and a place to mourn, to say good-bye, and it wasn’t while the battle raged. Despite several warnings from the DA and lead investigator, Cliff would like nothing more than to hunt down those gangbangers and make them pay…and Ryan would be more than happy to help. He recognized the danger in those thoughts, as well.

Blowing out a breath at the loss of his mellow mood of a few minutes ago, Cliff moved silently on bare feet to open the bedroom door and listened. The quiet murmur of television voices from behind Ryan’s door would mask any noise he might make. Hell, Rhino was probably passed out on his bed already.

Cliff padded to the refrigerator, considered then dismissed the idea of another beer. He had a long drive ahead of him in the morning. Grabbing a bottle of water instead, he drank half down in one long pull.

Turning, he found Ryan standing near the counter, watching him. With the moonlight streaming in through the window providing the only illumination, his friend’s face was difficult to read, but his naked body was a little hard to miss.

“Want some?” Cliff held the bottle of water in Ryan’s direction.

With a nod, Ryan took the bottle and finished it off. With a perfect aim, even in the near total darkness, he tossed the empty into the wastebasket. “And the crowd goes wild.”

“Idiot,” Cliff said, opening the fridge for two more bottles of water. Once again passing a bottle to Ryan, he started to head back to the bedroom. Ryan’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“I…uh…had a good time tonight.” Ryan’s words weren’t slurred, but there was a lazy cadence beneath the stilted delivery that spoke of too much tequila.

“Yeah, me too. Ty and Cass are good folk. They’ve made this place a good home for a lot of guys who needed a fresh start.”

“Is that what you’re thinking of doing? A fresh start out here as some kind of cowboy? ’Cause, man…I could see the attraction. You out here surrounded by all those hot guys—I mean obviously not the couples, but there were at least half of them in there single, right?”

Cliff laughed softly at Ryan’s concern for his love life. “Yeah…sorry about that. I didn’t even think about how you might have felt…surrounded by all those guys.” He studied Ryan’s face. “You weren’t offended, right? I mean you’ve been to gay clubs with me and it’s never bothered you…”

“Offended? Nah…why would I be? You never were offended at the straight clubs, right?” His hand tightened on Cliff’s forearm, and he seemed to weave a little on his feet.

“Hey, Rhino, come on. You need to get some sleep—”

“Are we having a bromance?” Ryan blurted.

“A bromance?” Cliff laughed, and Ryan’s eyes narrowed. Oh boy, never laugh at a drunk who thinks he’s making an important point.

“Yeah, a bromance. Where two guys hang out all the time, like the same shit, would probably fuck each other if they were both gay—or if one of them was female.”

Fighting off more laughter, Cliff nodded. “Sure, you can call it that. Come on, princess, let’s get you to bed.”

Ryan didn’t yield when Cliff tried to pull his arm free in order to lead him toward the bedrooms. “What do you think? Should I take the orders?”

“What, are you nuts? You’ve been waiting for those orders your whole career.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem…my whole career.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re not the only one eligible to retire. Just because you had two years prior service in the Marines before you joined the Navy, you’ve got more time in service than me, but yeah…it’s been twenty years this month. I don’t know if I want one more tour. That’s another four or five years, in order to retire at the new pay grade I’d no doubt pick up in the next year or two.

“True, but it’s also more money when you do retire. And, Rhino…it’s
Six
.” He referred to the DEVGRU unit by their unofficial name, hoping to jar a little sense into his friend.

Squeezing his arm a little, Ryan leaned in, as if imparting a great secret. “You should be there.”

Cliff shook his head. “That’s done. We don’t even need to think about it. I just gotta figure what I want to do next.”

“See, Snides…that’s the thing. If I have to wait another four or five years before I retire and you move on, you’re going to get too fucking far ahead. I don’t like that. ’Sides, that’d mean no more football or watching
NCIS
. You’d get to see all the episodes of
So You Think You Can Dance
without me telling you how gay that is.”

“Ha, now I know you’re drunk. We only watch that because you like the women’s skimpy outfits. You probably need to quit hanging out with me and spend the next six months of your training cycle finding the right little woman and getting laid on a regular basis. Hell, get a wife! Then you’ll be all set for retirement when you’re done with the next tour. She can cook your sorry ass dinner, wash your clothes… Yep…you need a wife.”

“Fuck that shit. I’d sooner fuck you than ever get married again. In fact—”

Time seemed to stop, as if they both needed a moment to absorb the truth of those words.

“Careful what you wish for, Ryan,” Cliff said, his voice a ragged whisper. His cock went rock hard, ignoring every warning he could throw out that this wasn’t going to happen. Ryan was drunk, and they both were horny, but this was a line neither of them needed to cross. Too much was at stake for a little temporary relief. Guilt and regret could kill a friendship.

Even as all the reasons they needed to walk away raced through his mind, the moment stretched. For once Cliff had no idea what Ryan was thinking. Cliff started to pull his arm away again. Rhino shifted his grip and guided their joined hands to brush over Ryan’s hard cock.

“Not going here with you, Ry. Not worth a friendship.”

“Won’t cost anything. You weren’t wrong to try it, you know.”

“Try? What are you—”

Ryan’s hand closed around Cliff’s erection. “To try a little bondage. To let someone else take control.”

Cliff jerked his hips to free his cock. “Is that what you think? That I enjoyed lying there while—”

“Don’t be stupid, Cliff. Of course not—not that night—not there. But here? Oh yeah…suck my cock, baby. Come on, we both want this tonight.”

Ryan didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. Sure Cliff had been at Draco’s to find out more about the lifestyle. Ryan above everyone should know that even though they played on different teams, they were both dominant men, both used to being in absolute control. He had to make Ryan shut up, to stop this foolishness before he said things they’d both regret come morning.

Twisting roughly away, he body slammed Ryan against the wall. A small smile lingered over the other man’s mouth, and Cliff bent in, not to taste it, and definitely not to feel those familiar lips pressed against his…but to wipe away the knowing, mocking smile.

Their mouths crashed together, a fusion of teeth and tongues, of malty beer and tart tequila, and an underlying touch of cinnamon. With his hands pressed to the wall on either side of Ryan’s head, Cliff leaned down, taking advantage of their height difference. Ryan’s face tilted up, his hands sliding over Cliff’s bare chest to pinch his nipples.

Ahhh…he wanted to shout. Fire raced through his nerves as the little buds burned and the heat streaked straight to his cock and tightened his balls. Ryan took advantage of Cliff’s momentary distraction and snaked an arm up, his fingers twisting in Cliff’s hair and holding him tight while he plundered Cliff’s mouth. With his pulse thundering erratically, he lost himself in Ryan's kiss. Closing his eyes, he leaned into Ryan, their hips brushed together and a hard cock pressed against his. Ryan’s tongue slid over Cliff’s, teased the roof of his mouth, teeth scraping over lips. Cliff moaned as desire built.

Ryan gave another hard tweak to his nip then scraped his nails through Cliff’s chest hair and up to his shoulder to apply a not-so-subtle downward pressure. Using his hair like a handle, he pulled Cliff’s head back from the kiss.

“Now, Cliff, baby. I want you on your knees.” He released Cliff’s hair and started pressing down. “You’ve always said no one can give a better blow job than another man…show me.”

They were almost the same height, just a couple of inches separating them, but right now, the way Rhino looked at him, pushed at him to drop to his knees and bend to his will, was fucking sexy. The two of them had been friends for twenty years, yet this was a road they’d never even remotely discussed traveling together.

A distant part of his mind sensed the danger, worried their friendship wouldn’t survive the morning light if he capitulated, but damn… Cliff had never seen Ryan like this. Commanding bordering on arrogant? Sure—but never aimed in his direction. It had always been the two of them together…going through training, facing battle, taking out bad guys. Either of them could quell the arguments of others with a look. When they walked into a room of civilians, people stared. They’d both been told their confidence was sexy…