Chapter 7

SEVEN

S omething was up with Flick, something more than just the leftover anger at having a reporter intrude on their private moment or the annoyance directed at the rest of the Anatolius clan. That something had started well before they'd stepped down the ramp from the Chaos into the open arms of the AEF at the dock and had only been intensified by the incident in the lift, the press conference and Dad's helpful words. As they stepped into their suite, Flick practically vibrated with emotions Zed couldn't identify. Anger? Frustration? Sorrow? All of the above and more?

It pissed him off. He loved the man. He knew him…didn't he? Why was the source of the tension such a mystery?

Zed closed the door behind them and tossed his wallet onto the table next to it with a sigh. "Flick?—"

The breath gushed out of his lungs as Flick shoved him back against the door. Lips attacked his throat, and Zed sucked in air scented with the familiar—loved—tang of circuits and metal, underscored with sweat. He leaned his head back, giving Flick access to whatever he wanted, even as his head spun with the sudden change in atmosphere.

"Flick," he gasped.

"Shut up." Flick's tongue swept along the cord of Zed's neck, and Zed just barely held back a whimper. Then the whimper escaped when Flick sank his teeth into the spot just under his ear—not too hard, just hard enough . His eyes rolled back as he fell further into sensations. God, it was good.

Except…

Zed swallowed. "We should talk."

"Nope." Flick pulled back to work at Zed's shirt. The tension was there again, evident in the slight tremor of his good hand.

Sucking in a breath, one less flavored with the essence of Flick, Zed lifted his own hands to cover his lover's. "Flick…"

"What?" Flick's gaze snapped up, almost challenging. "Don't you want this?"

"Yeah, I do. Of course I do."

"Then stop fucking thinking." He shrugged off Zed's hands and yanked Zed's shirt open. The gentle chill in the air laved at Zed's nipples, teasing them into points. A soft curse left Flick's lips—then he leaned forward, tugging one of the turgid points with teeth and tongue.

Zed hissed. The attention was just on the edge of too much—any rougher, any harder, and it would skirt past the realm of pleasure-pain and straight into pain. His head whacked into the door as Flick pushed the boundaries, rolling the rigid flesh with his tongue before biting, hard.

"Fuck," Zed breathed. His hand wove into Flick's curls—to push him back or hold him there, he didn't know.

When Flick moved on to the other nipple, Zed's intentions no longer mattered. He couldn't remember them. His world had diminished to that one point of contact and the echoes that shot straight to his cock. He arched, wordlessly asking Flick for more, and Flick sucked harder. It was good, and it wasn't, and fuck, it was .

Flick caught the nub between his teeth and tugged, then released and pulled back. "Bedroom," he growled.

It never occurred to Zed not to obey, not when Flick spoke in that low, rough voice. Not with his ass clenching and his cock flexing in the confines of his clothes. Zed walked down the hall to the bedroom, completely aware that Flick was directly behind him. Still vibrating, still tension-filled, but at least part of that, now, was desire.

"Pants off, get on your hands and knees on the bed," Flick ordered.

"Bossy bastard," Zed grumbled. But he made quick work of the rest of his clothes and got into the position Flick wanted. He jutted his ass into the air, then looked over his shoulder. "Why are you so pissed off?"

Flick shook his head as he stripped. "I'm not."

"Bullshit. You need to vent?" Zed bounced his ass up and down and wiggled it back and forth. "Vent."

"You asking for it hard?"

"I'm begging for it."

"Not yet, you're not."

That sounded…ominous.

Flick leaned over and retrieved the container of lube from the nightstand, then settled in behind him on the bed. Hands pulled apart his ass cheeks, exposing him, and Zed let his head droop, anticipating the cold kiss of liquid. The first caress of Flick's finger was good. So good. His hips chased the sensations, bumping back, asking clearly for more . Flick obliged him, his finger growing bolder, more insistent. A second added. Then a third. The stretch, the slight burn, it was all so perfect, so needed, so maddening. It was only when Flick paused to get another squeeze of lube that Zed realized the air of the room was filled with wanton, breathy sounds…sounds that came from him.

He tried to say Flick's name, to encourage him to hurry, but all that emerged was a moaning gasp.

"Yeah. Hang on." Still rough, still low, Flick's voice was also filled with promise. Whether it was because Flick just knew him or because he felt the same urgency as he did, Zed didn't know. Didn't care. Didn't matter.

Flick's cock pressed against him, hard and thick. A low groan fell from Zed's lips. The stretch wasn't painful; since reuniting, they'd fallen into roles that felt natural. Flick preferred to top and Zed loved to bottom for him. So he'd gotten a lot of practice. A lot of good, amazing, incredible practice. Nothing felt quite as good as accepting Flick into himself…even if he was being a toppy bastard.

"Toppy bastard, hmm?" Flick grunted.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Well, I didn't develop telepathy, did I?"

Narrowing his eyes, Zed suddenly snapped his hips backward. "Fuck!" he gasped. He'd instigated it, but the abrupt invasion still made explosions go off behind his eyes.

Flick leaned forward, holding Zed's hips still as his forehead and nose brushed the center of Zed's back. "You feel so good."

So did Flick. God, it was as if they'd been made for each other. They just fit—not only physically, but mentally, emotionally. Zed flexed his hips and groaned at the feeling of Flick moving inside of him. Not enough.

"C'mon, babe." It was almost a whine. "Please."

Flick chuckled, the sound like the vibration of a ship's engine; felt more than heard. "Told you you'd be begging."

He drew back, slow, so fucking slow…then slammed forward, hitting Zed's prostate perfectly. Then he did it again. And again. Harder, faster, until the bedroom was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, heavy breathing, grunts of exertion and cries of need. And it didn't matter that Flick hadn't even laid a hand on Zed's dick, he felt as if he was going to come. The pressure built and built…almost enough, almost , but…not. It'd take a stroke, maybe two, but he couldn't spare a hand for it, not with Flick pounding into him the way he was. His right palm itched beneath the derm patch, and his Mendo'd ribs made a whisper of protest—minor discomforts in the grand scheme, eclipsed by the pleasure and ache in his groin and ass.

"Fuck." Zed's voice cracked. "Felix."

"What d'you need?"

Fuck. Words, what were words. A long, low moan reverberated from deep within him.

"Need this?" Flick grabbed Zed's hips and exchanged his long, drawn-out thrusts for short, hard ones, the head of his cock hitting Zed's prostate over and over again.

Zed's back arched, wanting more, wanting less, wanting . If Flick had wanted him to stop thinking, he'd succeeded. Thoughts had been chased out of Zed's brain, leaving only sensations, only need, behind. Trembles cascaded across his shoulders.

"Please," he gasped. "Please, please, please, please…oh God, Flick, please. Please ."

Flick grunted, his rhythm growing ragged. He reached around and finally… finally …a hand closed around Zed's cock. A tug, a stroke?—

White sparks danced across Zed's vision as he came, obliterating everything. He shot across the stars, scattering among them, his psyche shattered into a million pieces. It was right. Good . Perfect. Whatever else cluttered their life, this was real. No one could take this amazing connection from them. Zed refused to allow it to happen.

Slowly, he came back to himself, aware that he was shaking. A gentle tug on his hip encouraged him to fall onto his side, and he gave in. Flick curled around him, pressing kisses to his neck, his shoulders, his hair, his ears.

"You okay?" Flick asked, his voice soft now. Worried. "Zed?"

"You—" Zed swallowed and licked his lips, struggling to make his tongue form words, to drag thoughts from mind to mouth. "You wrecked me."

"In a good way?"

Zed blinked up at Flick. A frown marred his forehead and he wanted to smooth away the lines, but his arms didn't want to work. Rainbow auras interfered with his vision, one of the nicer side effects to the Zone training. Fucked-up brain chemistry plus orgasm equaled light show. "Best way."

"You can hardly talk."

"Because my brains shot out through my cock." Zed managed a smile. It felt lazy and unfocused, just like the rest of him. "'M fine, Flick. Really. You can make me beg any time."

He rolled over, nuzzling into Flick's chest, and closed his eyes. Flick didn't feel relaxed, but maybe he just wasn't quite as relaxed as Zed. That had to be it. Because, damn, sex like that solved every problem, didn't it?