Sailing Deep (13 page)

              All too soon, Blake began moving. He started slowly, but he quickly built up a pace that Dylan found hard to handle. He gasped, face pressed against the shower wall. He was vaguely aware that it hurt, but he couldn’t focus on it. Blake’s hand wandered down until both hands were gripping his hips. He used the leverage to pound into Dylan, deeper and deeper. He was locked in, stretching Dylan to his limit. It hurt, and Dylan was aware that it hurt, but any pain was overridden by a pleasure he hadn’t experienced in years.

              Blake bit down on his shoulder, causing him to cry out in surprise and pain, which only made Blake’s nails dig in tighter on his hips. Dylan squeezed his eyes shut, losing himself in the pleasure. In Blake. In everything. He let himself go, retreating into his mind to let his body have its fun. Every exhale resulted in a moan, and every gasp bordered on a cry. In the back of his mind, he was mortified at how loud he had become. Had he always been so loud? He couldn’t remember. He had been with men who had said they liked the noises he made, but they had never said he was particularly loud. At least, he didn’t think they had.

              Still, despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t stop.

              Blake’s thrusts grew more and more erratic, pounding deep into him and ripping moan after moan from Dylan’s throat. Dylan’s erection throbbed, but he couldn’t reach to touch it to give himself relief. He was pressed too tightly against the shower wall. And Blake seemed too preoccupied holding him in place to actually pay attention to his hard-on.

              Luckily, Dylan didn’t need it.

              Blake gave one final thrust, pushing as far into Dylan as he could manage, and then he was sudden spilling his seed. Dylan felt the warmth spread inside him and heard Blake’s long, low groan through his teeth where he still bit his shoulder. Blake’s hips rocked slowly as he came, and Dylan let the movement spur on his own orgasm. Dylan gritted his teeth, cutting off several noises that escaped his throat as sparks ignited in his mind and his body suddenly gave way to release.

              They stood like that for several minutes, both of them just trying to catch their breath. Blake had released his shoulder, and instead rested his forehead there. Dylan could feel Blake’s breath on his skin and feel his chest heaving against his back. Blake’s fingers had relaxed, too. As the adrenaline and endorphins of his orgasm began to fade, he started to become increasingly aware of the pain in his shoulder and at his hips. He was certain he would have bruises.

              Dylan was finding it hard to stand. His legs were shaking more than ever with the effort of holding himself up and at such an awkward angle. Blake pulled out slowly, and Dylan cringed against the pain there, too. Blake stood straight and stepped back, away from him. He no doubt expected Dylan to also stand. Maybe he expected him to turn and berate him, to complain or yell at him. And part of him wanted to do those things. He wanted to be strong, and he wanted to give Blake a piece of his mind.

              But as soon as Blake’s sturdy frame was no longer behind him, Dylan lost all his strength and will to stand. Turning, he slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor. He sat leaning heavily against the wall, one leg bent and the other out between Blake’s feet. He stared at the floor. His breathing was back under control, but he still felt weak.

              “Dylan?” Blake asked, reaching down to touch him.

              The movement was too sudden. Dylan flinched away, eyes wide as they shot up to look at the other man. Blake froze, hand outstretched. His eyes, wide with surprise, searched Dylan’s face. He apparently didn’t like what he saw because he slowly stood straight, hand falling to his side.

              “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, barely audible, before turning and ducking out of the shower. Dylan heard him grab a towel off the rack and leave the bathroom. The sound of the door closing seemed to echo.

              Dylan closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Blake had looked so hurt, so unsure, so … guilty. It wasn’t something he was used to seeing on him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. His chest clenched and his heart twisted. Blake had no right to feel hurt. He was the one who had hurt Dylan. He was the one who had taken advantage of him. He was the one who had forced himself on him. He had no right to feel bad when Dylan pulled away from him.

              Still … Dylan hadn’t meant to flinch away from his touch …

              He sighed, letting his body relax. The cold tile helped clear his head, but by doing so, all of his aches and pains were brought to his attention. There was a sharp throb at his shoulder where Blake had bit down. A quick inspection with his fingers told him that there were still teeth marks embedded into his skin. His hips throbbed dully where the man’s nails had dug into his flesh. There were general aches in his shoulders, neck, back, and legs from standing at such an uncomfortable position for so long. But above it all was the deep, burning pain in his ass that turned into a sharp pain whenever he moved.

              It had been a long time since he’d had sex, but he was certain that it hadn’t hurt like this. He hadn’t experienced this kind of pain since he was a teenager. When he and his boyfriend had been inexperienced and hormone ridden and hadn’t prepared adequately, it had hurt. Was Blake inexperienced? No. Dylan was certain of that. In no way, had Blake given him reason to suspect him of being inexperienced. No, Dylan wasn’t in pain because of Blake’s inexperience. He was in pain because of Blake’s blind passion.

              Blake had made it explicitly clear that he found Dylan attractive since the first day they met, but Dylan had never taken him seriously. He had always seen Blake’s attentions like that of a flirt. Even if they hadn’t been faking a relationship, he expected Blake would find ways to casually drop in some careless flirting. Attraction was something anyone could feel for anyone. He had never taken any of it as real. Real enough, maybe, to have casual sex. Not real enough to incite such passion. Not real enough to make him lose his such carefully crafted and maintained control.

              Did … did Blake actually like him?

              No, Dylan rid himself of that thought. He barely knew him. This had to be a result of their inner wolves accepting each other as mates. It wasn’t uncommon for the lust of the wolf to spill over into their human forms.

              Dylan wasn’t sure he had ever experienced such … raw passion. With his first boyfriend, it had been new and awkward and had grown into trust and hormone-driven lust. He had always considered it the most passionate sex he had ever experienced because he had been in love, but even that couldn’t compare to this. His other encounters had been casual sex, where they had been brought together by circumstance and relieved some tension. This was … different.

              Dylan hadn’t wanted this. He had wanted their relationship to remain fake. He had wanted it to stay professional. He hadn’t wanted it to get physical. Crossing that line would open the doors to crossing other lines, and Dylan had no intention of actually getting a mate. He couldn’t. He had thought he had a mate once, and that had left him hurt and alone. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He was a SEAL, and he didn’t need a mate.

              Still … if they managed to keep it purely physical, there might not be a problem. After all, despite the pain and the aches, despite how his body barely managed to function and all he wanted to do was rest, he couldn’t deny the fact that for once, he felt completely sated.

              He didn’t want to face Blake. Not yet. Not when his mind and body were in such chaos, but the water had turned cold. He sighed and forced himself to his feet. He put a hand on the wall while he regained his balance. He cringed from the pain radiating from his bottom as he turned off the shower and shuffled out. He grabbed a towel and began the long, slow process of drying his body while causing the least amount of pain.

              Blake sat on the edge of his bed, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hands lying limp in his lap. He stared at them like they belonged to someone else. Surely hands of his wouldn’t have been so reckless and so eager to hurt someone he loved. Because that was exactly what he had done, he had hurt Dylan. He could see it written all over the man’s face after he had flinched away from him.

              He should not have gone into the bathroom. Sure, he had been entertaining the idea of bursting in on Dylan, washing him gently, and loving him tenderly. What man didn’t have such fantasies about someone he craved? But that’s all it had been. A fantasy. He hadn’t considered it seriously. Not at least, until Dylan showed that he was comfortable with his advances. He was willing to play the long game with Dylan. Blake was willing to slowly push his limits and then back away. Every time he could push the boundaries just a little bit further, and still he never crossed the line. Crossing the line would undo all the work he had so carefully and patiently done. Yet that was exactly what he had just done. Blake had crossed a line, and he feared it would ruin everything.

              He should have set the shampoo on the floor like Dylan had said. But his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He wasn’t even sure why. He had seen Dylan naked before. But there was something inherently different about stripping to shift and stripping to take a shower. And it was something Blake wanted to see, if only for a moment. And it was only supposed to be for a moment. He decided in a split second decision to step forward and throw back the curtain. He was just going to have a look, tease him a little, and hand him the shampoo before leaving. That was all he intended.

              He should not have pulled back the curtain. Seeing Dylan standing there, skin and muscles wet from the shower spray, hair dark and plastered to his face, his hazel eyes wide with surprise, his lips parted as he gaped at him. The way he had shied away from the curtain toward the wall, the way he was so evidently speechless, the way he looked so vulnerable … something had snapped inside of Blake. He didn’t realize what he was doing until his shirt hit the floor. Despite any reservations he had, he knew he was getting in that shower. And he did, but he still remained in control.

              Blake should not have trusted himself. Everything was fine. Dylan had accepted his presence, and he was taking advantage of that to wash his fake mate. He savored every touch, memorizing the feel of the other man’s body. His body reacted to the touch. It should have been easy to ignore, as he had been ignoring his own body’s urges for two weeks. It was tough, with Dylan so close, but he was able to satisfy most of his cravings with the small touches and kisses that he could get away with.

              He was fine until Dylan moaned.

              It was so unexpected and such a sincere sound that it took him off guard. And at that moment, he lost his control to his deeper instincts. The wolf within him wanted to claim his mate. He wanted to claim Dylan. And so he did. He did it roughly and quickly, and it took every ounce of self-control he had to even prepare the man before he pushed himself in. Even then, he was certain it hadn’t been enough. At the time, however, he hadn’t cared. He wasn’t concerned with Dylan’s comfort. He was solely focused on taking him and satisfying himself. He wanted to be inside Dylan, claim him from the inside out. And he had.

              Blake had regained his sense in the aftermath of his orgasm. He had expected Dylan to yell at him. He had braced himself for it. And he would have deserved it.

              What he hadn’t expected was to see Dylan sink to the floor in a broken shadow of himself. That had scared him more than he wanted to admit. Blake saw nothing of the strong-willed SEAL he had come to know. At first, he had been naive enough to think that perhaps his lovemaking had been too good and had left Dylan a puddle of nerves and sensitive flesh. But when he had flinched away from Blake’s touch, he had realized that was far from the case. He looked at him with such hurt, such pain, such fear … Blake couldn’t stand the accusation in his eyes, so he had run.

              Blake exhaled sharply in a bitter laugh. It wasn’t like he could run far. He would have to face Dylan eventually. What would he say? What could he say? He wasn’t sure where they stood. Did Dylan hate him? Sure, he had never been particularly fond of Blake, but he didn’t hate him, as far as he knew. Blake wasn’t sure he could handle that.

              Blake’s hands curled into fists, and his nails bit into his palms. He clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt. He’d fucked up. He might have gone and ruined all his hard work. Dylan might be more resistant to him than he had been when he first arrived. Just when they had been getting somewhere, Blake had to go and fuck it up. And for what? A one-time sex session in the shower? Sex that was over too quickly to even enjoy properly? That was barely sex. It was something primal and overwhelming. It wasn’t at all how he had pictured his first time with Dylan. He had been waiting years for this, and he fucked it all up.

              His head shot up as he heard the shower shut off. He waited, barely daring to breathe. The TV played in the background, but he barely registered it. He stared at the bathroom door.

              It felt like an eternity before the door opened and Dylan emerged. He was wearing only a towel around his waist, but for once, Blake wasn’t distracted by the man’s bare chest. His eyes were anxiously searching his face. Dylan was trying to keep a straight, stern face: his lips pressed together, and his eyes narrowed slightly. But Blake could see the way his jaw clenched, and the way he flinched with every micro-movement.

              Dylan shuffled out of the bathroom with stiff, tiny steps. Once in the room, he stopped to close the door. The movement, like the rest of his movements, was oddly slow and precise. He hobbled further into the room, pausing in the middle of it to glance at the TV. He stood still like that for long enough to make Blake uncomfortable. He knew the man wasn’t actually interested in the TV. He was buying time. Probably thinking about what he was going to say. Blake feared whatever he had to say.

              When he finally turned to look at him, Blake jumped, his back going up straight and his eyes widening a fraction. Dylan’s eyes were oddly calm, and not at all angry, which he had been expecting. There was an eery stillness about him. He was no longer clutching his jaw, and even his lips had relaxed.

              His hazel gaze held Blake’s for several long seconds before roaming downward. Blake felt himself shrink under the weight of that gaze.

              Dylan looked him up and down, eyes stopping at his hands. His expression finally changed, and it was one of mild surprise. “You’re bleeding.” He said so casually that Blake wasn’t sure he had heard him right.

              “What?” He asked dumbly.

              He nodded toward Blake’s lap. “You’re bleeding.”

              Blake looked down at his lap where his hands rested. He hadn’t realized he was still clutching his fists, nor had he realized just how tightly he had been doing so. With some strained effort, Blake forced his fingers to relax. They did so slowly, and he flinched as his nails peeled out of the grooves they had dug into his flesh. They weren’t bleeding much, but a few of them had cut the skin. He stared at them dumbly, surprised he hadn’t noticed. “So I am.” He said, his voice sounded distant to his ears. He turned his hands over and carefully wiped his palms off on the towel. They cleaned up quickly and didn’t continue to bleed.

              He looked up. Dylan was watching him with that curiously blank expression. His gaze drifted up from the blood smears on his towel to his face.

              “Dylan, I-” Blake began but was cut off when Dylan raised a hand and shook his head. Blake’s apology died in his throat.

              “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Dylan said. His voice matched his expression. Blake was surprised that there wasn’t a hint of anger. If anything, he just looked and sounded tired, and perhaps a little forlorn. His hand fell back to his side. He took a few more steps toward the bed, then stopped, looking from the bed to the wardrobe and cringing.

              “Is there … anything I can do?” Blake tried again.

              “Yes,” Dylan looked from the wardrobe to him. “Help me get dressed, put me in bed, and then get me some dinner.”

              He said it so casually and calmly that Blake raised an eyebrow. “O—kay.”

              “I don’t want to move,” Dylan said as an explanation.

              His stomach dropped and twisted into knots. So he had hurt Dylan. Bad enough that he didn’t even want to go through the effort of dressing himself. Blake stood up from the bed and went to the wardrobe. Well, the least he could do was what Dylan had asked. “What do you want to wear?”

              “Sweatpants and a t-shirt,” Dylan said, then paused, looking away. “No underwear.” He mumbled.

              Blake looked back to the wardrobe to hide his cringe. That bad, huh? He was a terrible person and an even worse mate. He pulled out the clothing and moved back to Dylan, internally cursing his inner wolf and its overwhelming urges. He unfolded the sweat pants and bent down, holding them open so Dylan could step into them with as little movement as possible. He did so, and Blake avoided looking up so the man could cringe all he needed to. He pulled the pants up slowly as Dylan tossed aside his towel. Blake glanced only briefly at Dylan’s now flaccid member, swallowing past the lump in his throat and licking his suddenly dry lips. He’d just come, and yet his body was already reacting to the sight of Dylan’s. He carefully pulled the waistband around the curve of Dylan’s ass, trying not to bump it. Then he stood and helped him shrug into the loose t-shirt.              

              Dylan mumbled thanks as Blake stepped back. As he did so, his towel loosened around his waist and fell to the floor before he could catch it. Blake’s expression dropped as he looked down. Glancing up through his lashes, he saw Dylan was staring at his crotch. Usually, Blake wouldn’t mind standing in front of the man naked. In fact, he would be cocky about it. But after what had just happened between them, he was afraid such a blatant reminder would set Dylan off. So he kept still, watching and judging Dylan’s reaction to his sudden nakedness.              

              He was debating whether or not he should just break the silence and reach for his towel when he noticed Dylan narrow his eyes. He raised a hand to point at Blake’s flaccid cock. “That,” He said, frowning slightly. “Is deceptively small.”

              Then he turned away and shuffled forward past Blake and to the bed. Blake had to cough to hide his sudden laugh. Dylan cringed visibly, his jaw clenched as he crawled onto the large bed. Blake hurried to help pull back the covers and help him maneuver under them. He curled under them, sighing with relief when he was finally there. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, Blake thought he had fallen asleep.

              “Anything, in particular, you want to eat?” Blake asked softly, trying not to wake him if he had indeed fallen asleep. He hadn’t.

              “Anything.” He mumbled, cracking an eyelid. “Can you pass me the remote before you leave.”

              Blake smiled, small and sincere. Dylan looked absolutely adorable snuggled beneath the covers. “Of course, love.” Out of habit, he started to bend forward to press a kiss to Dylan’s forehead. He froze halfway down, realizing what he was doing and also realizing that it probably wasn’t the best time. He coughed awkwardly and started to pull back.

              He was caught off guard when Dylan grabbed his arm. He stared dumbly at the other man. Dylan wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at a spot on the bed. “You can do it.” He grumbled grumpily as if he begrudged Blake for making him say it.

              A smile slowly overtook Blake’s lips and he chuckled. “Sir, yes, sir.” He hummed as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Blake’s forehead. He dressed quickly before leaving.

              When Blake left, he shut the door gently and then leaned back against it. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back. He didn’t like being in situations where he wasn’t in control. He was nearly always in control, in one way or another. But now he felt like he was walking on eggshells. He didn’t know what to expect from Dylan, and he wasn’t sure what to do. So he did the most logical thing: he went to get Dylan food.

              In the dining hall, he filled up a tray with enough food for both of them. He passed by several people he would call his friends but kept their interactions brief. It was unusual for him. Even in a hurry, he tried to spend the time to socialize with each person he deemed important enough to get his attention. But tonight was different. Tonight he didn’t feel much like Blake the mole. Blake the spy. He was just Blake, the man who probably fucked everything up with the one man he had been crushing on since he was a teenager.

              He re-entered their room slowly and quietly, in case Dylan had fallen asleep. He hadn’t. Dylan had situated himself sideways on the bed so he could lay on his side beneath the covers, but still watch TV. He glanced up briefly when Blake entered before looking away.

              They ate silently, with just the sound from the TV to fill the room. When they were done eating, Blake got up to get his laptop, then eyed the bed. His thoughts must have been showing because Dylan told him it was okay if he wanted to sit on the bed. Blake sighed in relief and climbed onto his half of the bed. He sat on top of the covers, laptop on his lap as he played some games and browsed the internet. Upon request, he brought Dylan his phone so he could play on some apps.