Six Ways from Sunday (4 page)

“What took you so long?” Bo didn’t wait for him to answer before sealing their mouths together. And Dylan melted into him. Six years. More than six years, nearly seven. He wrapped his arms around Bo’s neck, letting the big man lift him off his feet. Dylan wrapped his legs around Bo’s waist.

“I-came-first-chance-I-could.” Was all he could gasp out between kisses, loving the way Bo’s hard body fit against his. He traced the defined muscles under the championship t-shirt. The loose nylon shorts Bo wore did nothing to conceal his erection. “Please tell me we’re alone?”

“Completely.” Bo grasped his ass and hefted him close. Holding him tight as he walked across the room, passing furniture and other rooms. Dylan didn’t break eye contact, he didn’t even think to protest the handling. He fucking loved the rough handling. Not many men could push him around like he was a doll.

“Fuck, you got big,” was all he could think to say when Bo dropped him into the middle of a huge bed. Soft came up to swallow him as hard descended from above him. Sandwiched between heaven and hell, Dylan reached up to trace the line of Bo’s chiseled jaw. “I missed you so damned much.”

“Kiss now, talk later.” Bo crawled over him, pushing at clothes, pulling off shoes and dropping them to the floor. He kept his mouth on Dylan’s as if he’d stop breathing if they weren’t connected. The rush of blood to parts of his body that made him weak. Rough fingers shoved his jeans down to his knees. Only then did Bo release his mouth to stare down at him. “I might have gotten huge but you’re fucking cut now. Look at you. A fucking recon. Baddest of the bad.”

Dylan loved the way Bo’s hazel gaze caressed his body. Hot molten lava burned in his veins. His dick stood at attention for Bowen. “Fuck now, talk later,” he tossed the words back, his voice rougher than he wanted it to be.

Bo flipped him onto his belly and dragged his jeans the rest of the way down his legs. “So damned fucking bad. Look at you, ass in the air, begging like a girl.” There was no malice in his words.

Dylan shoved his ass higher at the taunt. “At least I can get it up. Are you going to fuck or talk all night?” Dylan didn’t bat an eye when Bo pulled a ribbon of condoms from beneath the pillow along with a bottle of lube. Six years was a long time to be celibate. A long fucking time. He didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter. Cold gel slithered down his crack, hot fingers rubbed it in, going deep enough that Dylan forgot all about the condoms and the lube and just moved. “I missed you.”

The sound of a condom wrapper tearing and the scent of latex filled his senses. Bo leaned over him, his mouth grazing Dylan’s ear just as the blunt head of his cock pushed into him.

“Missed you so damned much. Want to keep you here forever.”

Dylan grunted when Bo pressed him into the mattress, his balls now flush against Dylan’s ass. They lay still, just breathing, adjusting. “You can keep me just like this for one week.”

“Naked and impaled. God damn, that is probably the sexiest damn tattoo I’ve ever seen.” Teeth scraped the bulldog tat on his shoulder. Bo moaned and bit into him, making him moan and slam his body back into the giant pinning him to the bed.

“Worship the ink later. Make me come, now. Fuck you smell so good.”

“I stink but thanks for noticing.” Bo flexed his hips, moving slowly, so torturously slowly. “I didn’t shower. I didn’t want to take the time.”

“Super Bowl sweat, smells good to me.” Dylan twisted underneath him until he could wrap an arm around Bo’s neck. He dragged the band away that held Bo’s hair back, allowing long sweaty tendrils to fall over him. “Six years, are you going to cut it now?” He ran his hand through the mane, touching it for the first time ever.

“When you can come home to stay. I’ll cut it then.” The hair thing started the first time Dylan had managed to have a five minute Skype session with him after boot camp. His hair gone, much to both their dismay. Hell, Dylan didn’t know that losing his hair would bother him so much. He sure as hell wasn’t prepared for Bo’s reaction. In the end, Bo had sworn he’d grow his for the both of them.

“If I told you not to.”

“Then I’ll keep it long.” Bo pulled out of him with a gasp and Dylan found himself on his back with blond hair hanging over his face. He pulled his legs back and accepted his lover into him with an arch of his back and a sigh. Dylan wound his hands in the long sweaty mess and pulled Bo’s mouth down for a wet sloppy kiss.

“Fuck me, Mr. MVP, show me what you got.” Dylan wanted everything he’d missed in the last six years and he wanted it now. He wrapped his arms and legs around his friend and moved with him. Setting a rhythm that had Bo’s eyes rolling. Sweat slicked them both, making it hard to keep his grip. Long, heavily muscled arms scooped him from below and somehow Bo was on his knees with Dylan wrapped around him. There was no room between them for anything but sweat. He hooked his ankles as Bo gripped his hips, changing the pace. Rougher, faster, adrenaline pumping between them. Years to make up for.

“Fuck yeah, gonna blow, Bo. Now.” He laughed, finding the ridge along Bo’s shoulder to bite down as his body went rock hard.

He lay quietly in Bo’s arms, arms and legs leaden and heavy, his heart beating harder and faster than even the worst days of training. A soft chuckle accompanied the swipe of a long slim hand over the back of his shaved head.

“Oo-fucking-rah,” Bo said, his voice was choked with more than just exertion.

Dylan caught Bo’s lips and held him close. Next week would come too soon, right now he couldn’t get close enough. “Oorah,” he agreed moving slowly while Bo emptied himself into Dylan’s body, his groans turned to tears that Dylan kissed away. “Oorah.”

Chapter Three

“Are you hungry?” Bo lay in Dylan’s arms, head on his shoulder, arm draped over his belly, holding him for fear that he’d leave if he let him go. Dylan raked a hand through his just washed hair. His stomach rose and fell in a steady rhythm but he wasn’t asleep.

“I could eat. Are you?” Dylan continued to pet him, humming softly every now and then.

“Yes. Didn’t get anything after the game.”

“I’m surprised you managed to get out of the stadium in one piece. So damned proud of you. You just snatched that ball out of the air like it was nothing. By one point, damn, Bo, so fucking close.”

“Skin of my teeth. I knew you were watching. I was showing off.”

“You were always a show off. Now you’re a god.”

“And you’re a hero. I heard some of what the announcers were saying about the three of you. It was loud down in the tunnel but I heard it. Why didn’t you ever tell me you were Special Forces?” He didn’t know why it hurt to be left out like that. They’d never kept secrets, not even across the distance and years. Except this one.

“For the record, I’m not Force Recon, not really. I’m MARSOC, specifically MEU Marine Expeditionary Unit, promoted to Staff Sergeant last month and I’m out of Camp Lejeune. I got special leave to be here. I deploy to Afghanistan next week.”

Bo rolled over onto his stomach, resting his chin on his lover’s pectoral to stare into his eyes. He didn’t know what he was searching for. The boy he remembered behind the hard eyes and sculpted body, maybe? He traced a scar that wasn’t there the last time they’d lain like this together. A long jagged scar that ran across his sternum.

“I don’t know what most of that means. So not Recon?”

“Sort of the super sneaky branch of Recon now. I’ve worked hard to get this promotion out of regular Recon.”

“So super sneaky military shit? Damn, Dyl, maybe I shouldn’t ask anything more.” Because his imagination was enough, the reality of what Dylan did for a living would tear him apart. It would be like that day all those years ago with him, begging his friend to unenlist.

“I appreciate that.” Dylan took his hand, twining their fingers together before he kissed Bo’s knuckles. “Promotion or no promotion, I’m out in a little more than a year. Eight years and I’m done.”

Bo digested that piece of information. Nodding, trying not to read anything in while hoping for the best. “Any idea what you want to do when you get out?”

“Sleep. Get fat. I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it. Beyond finding you and getting you naked, after that I’ll figure it out.” Dylan rolled him onto his back and took over the leaning on position. “I want to be where you are. Unless that’s a problem.” There was uncertainty in his eyes. And maybe a touch of fear.

Bo traced his bottom lip with his thumb. “I’ll have to let my harem go. All those ball boys will just have to get over me.”

“God, I hope you’re keeping it legal, wouldn’t want you being someone’s prison bitch before I get back here to make you mine.” That touch of uncertainty turned to something else. A flash of jealousy maybe.

“Nobody’s made me their bitch yet. Not from lack of trying. But I’m holding on to my bitch.” Sounded stupid and he winced. “There have been guys, Dylan. I’m not going to lie to you. Nameless faceless fucks. Nobody I want to bring home to meet the parents.”

Dylan crawled over his body, straddling him. His nose touched Bo’s and those hard eyes seemed to chill him to the bone. “I didn’t expect you to stay chaste all this time. It’s not fair.”

“And you?” Bo didn’t know why he wanted to know. Glutton for punishment. Just the thought of Dyl being with anyone like this ate at him. But what he’d said, six years was too long to go without sex.

“Nothing like this, but not exactly nameless or faceless. Straight guys mostly. No one has my heart. Just you.” He wriggled down Bo’s body, god, he was perfect, not small, not like the last guy who blew him. Dylan was a big man. Six foot. Broad. Huge fucking arms. Arms that appeared small wrapped in Bo’s hand. And he held his arms while Dylan licked his cock like a Popsicle. First, running his tongue up from the root to catch the dripping goodness, and then swirling it around the tip before swallowing him whole.

“Straight guys don’t give head like that.” Bo arched off the bed in surprise. The first time Dylan had gone down on him it had been sloppy and clumsy and Bo had come in his mouth about two minutes in. Dylan had gagged and spit it all out. “Hate that you do that so damned well.”

Dylan eased off and laughed, “I can stop.”

“Fuck no, suck me, Jarhead. And this time you better fucking swallow my load.” He gripped the base of his cock and slapped it against Dylan’s lips. Dylan opened on the second slap and sucked him inside. Just the tip. He licked the top, tongue delving into the slit. Wicked eyes stared up at him, promising him sin and redemption and so much more. Experience stared up at him. And Bo gave himself over to the man his love had become. “Please,” he whispered, ignoring the pain that slashed through his heart. “Please.”

Dylan’s eyes changed, something that appeared strangely like sadness entered the pale depths. He took him deep, down his throat. There was no gagging and nothing sloppy. Bo fell back onto his pillow, one hand behind Dylan’s head, mostly for the contact, and lost his mind. Fucking into him, down his throat, he cried his name, begged for more, and to stop, but Dylan didn’t stop until Bo shoved his heels into the bed and arched his hips, coming, hard. He couldn’t stop and Dylan took it all.

“Is that what the military teaches nowadays? Maybe I should join up,” he said when he could feel his tongue again. “I think I bit a hole in my tongue. Fuck. Oh fuck, Dylan.”

“After that, Bo shouldn’t be thinking about fucking. He shouldn’t be able to think at all.” Dylan settled on top of him, blue eyes sparkling with satisfaction as he stared down. “Bo should say thank you, Dylan.”

“Best head ever. Thank you, Dylan.” Bo pulled him tight and kissed him. “Best night of my life.”

“I guess winning the Super Bowl all by your lonesome would account for best night status.”

For a moment Bo simply stared at him. “That was tonight? I think maybe you did short circuit my brain.” Another slow kiss that tasted of spunk and Dylan. “Can we get food now?”

“God, yes, I was hoping you’d remember that.” Dylan rolled off him and searched around for his jeans while Bo tried to catch his breath. “So what does Bo Murphy eat now that he’s famous?”

“Everything I can get my hands on. Anything that won’t eat me first.” He found his shorts on the floor and followed Dylan from the bedroom into the main house. He watched the way Dyl’s hips moved in the tight jeans. His mouth going dry as he studied the tattoos on his back. “You have my name down your spine.” The letters were swirled into other designs that Bo couldn’t make out in the semi dark.

Dylan turned to face him, his eyes inscrutable. “Is that okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Bo stopped short, his mind still sluggish after the blow job. “Why would it bother me?”

“Because, I don’t know, I wanted you with me. If I can’t be with you then I have you on me. I was still a kid when I got that one.” For a moment the hardened Marine gave way to the boy Bo remembered. But only for a moment. “I get shit from the guys about it. But they get it even if they don’t know how deep my love for you is. Brothers, we were brothers. I just don’t want you to think I’m looking for something that you’re not comfortable with.”

“And if I get a matching one with your name down my back would you be okay with that?” Bo asked, the idea taking hold now. He’d never inked his body while his teammates did. Not that he had a problem with it. Nothing ever meant that much to him to make it a part of him. Except Dylan, and he didn’t know if Dylan would want him to take that step.

“You’ll risk outing yourself to have my name on your back? It’s football, man, not the military. You know how homophobic some of those guys are.” Dylan stood in front of him. Arms up and over his shoulders. He gazed up the two inches he needed to see into Bo’s eyes. His heart shining in the blue depths for Bo to see.

“And the military is so open and accepting now that Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is gone? I know you take shit from the homophobes, brothers or no brothers.”

“Actually they thought I was a crazy stalker fan. No one believed that I knew you. Okay except for the few who managed to get in on our Skype sessions, god, you don’t know how much I wanted to tell you all those times.”