Damien felt his dick gush. Then the heat of his come wrapped around him, creeping into the tight crevices and hollows of Sionn’s core. His lover’s grip grew nearly painfully tight, and Sionn’s silvery eyes were closed, his lip captured between his teeth. He let loose a grunt and came again, a final slithering part of liquid that caught the trail of hair weaving down to Damien’s crotch.
Heaving from lack of oxygen, Damien collapsed forward, careful not to land too hard on Sionn’s outstretched body. But the other man barely whispered a complaint, other than moaning a soft, regretful sigh as Damien slid free. An anguished mewl soon followed as Sionn stretched his legs, sluggishly working out a cramp in his thighs with a lazy pass of his hand.
“I’m fucked loose,” Damien muttered. His cock was floppy, exhausted from the ride, and he briefly considered getting up to retrieve a towel from their bathroom, but he didn’t trust his legs. He had enough energy to grab a shirt lying on the edge of the bed and turned onto his side.
It took him a few seconds of catching his breath and working the blood back into his limbs, but he was able to swipe most of the mess he’d made from Sionn’s body, then folded the shirt in half to clean off his belly. Looking down, Damie saw he’d only succeeded in smearing the wet over his skin, and tossed the shirt aside in disgust.
“I can get a washcloth,” he offered, sliding himself up along Sionn’s side. He draped an arm over his lover’s waist and listened for a moment to Sionn’s heavy breathing. “Or I could just lie here and die. I don’t know if I can even breathe.”
“I’ll die later,” Sionn gasped. “I don’t have the strength to do it now.”
“How about if we sleep on it?” Fatigue drew Damien down despite his best efforts to keep Sionn company. His body had begun to hurt, aching in places he’d not strained in years, but the pain felt good. It reminded him of being inside of Sionn and filling the man to the brim.
“Sounds good.” The murmured reply was broken, as if Sionn’s tongue was too clumsy to form proper words.
Burying his face in Sionn’s shoulder, Damien licked at a drop of sweat poised on the man’s collarbone. Exhaling tortured his strained lungs, but Damien knew breathing probably would be a good idea, especially since he’d planned on being beneath Sionn at some point soon. A flicker of something bright lingered in the back of his mind, and he leaned his cheek on Sionn’s chest.
“Hey, Irish?”
“Yeah, Damie boy?”
“I love you, you know.” He thought he’d caught himself before he began crying, but Damien felt the damp sting his eyes, then a trickle of moisture fall from his cheek to Sionn’s sweaty chest. “Fucking hell.”
“I love you too, a ghrá.” Sionn bent his head and kissed away the tears trembling on Damien’s lashes. “Probably more than you know. Much more than you’ll ever know.”
THE warehouse was still, too still for Sionn’s liking. Padding downstairs, he nearly stepped on Dude sleeping in the middle of the lower landing. Cursing the terrier, he sidestepped the still snoring dog and continued down to the first floor, curious about the permeating silence.
The living room and kitchen were empty, and the other couple’s bedroom door was wide open, a king-sized bed dominating the space. A small lamp shone brightly near the door, and Sionn headed into the kitchen and plucked a note from under a magnet on the fridge. Kane’s block-form writing nearly gouged black lines through the paper, and Sionn read it aloud as he rifled for leftovers.
“Steak and veggies are in the ice box. Beer should be cold. Went to a movie. Don’t have hot penguin sex on the couch. We’ve got to sit there.” Sionn snorted at his cousin’s written orders. “Oh, boyo, I’m sure the couch has already seen your naked ass on it a few times. And Miki’s too.”
The meat was rare enough he felt comfortable warming it up without losing too much of its tenderness. A few minutes in the microwave took the chill off the veggies, and Sionn piled the food up on a single large platter, thinking he and Damien could share. Dressed only in a pair of sweats, he was debating how he could carry two bottles of ice cold beer upstairs without tucking them into his armpits when his cell phone sang out from the living room.
Grumbling, he padded over to the table where he’d tossed it with his keys. Kane’s number flashed up on the screen, and he grinned, wondering if his cousin was checking to make sure they’d eaten. He unlocked the screen and tucked the phone against his shoulder as he returned to the kitchen to figure out his beer dilemma.
“Whatcha be needing, cousin mine? Checking up on your couch?” he teased, sliding a thin piece of steak between his lips.
“I need you to get Damie cleaned up and down here. Now.” Kane’s voice was a tight growl through the phone, giving Sionn little room to question him. “We’re at UCSF. Just head to the ER. Dad’ll bring you in.”
“What happened?” Sionn’s belly went cold with fear. “What the fuck’s going on, K?”
“Just hurry.” An overhead announcement blurred Kane’s words, but Sionn heard them clearly enough to turn the cold fear to a deathly ice floe. “I need you to get Damie here. Miki’s been stabbed.”
Chapter 15
D, what the hell is this chord?