Stripping His Armor, page 10
part #1 of Shift & Seek Series
“Your heat. Your presence. Your command.”
Vince touched a knuckle to the nape of Lach’s neck, and he jumped. Vince stroked it down his back, over the bumps of his spine, to the dip at his waist. “If you feel my command, why did you disobey at the wardrobe?”
“I don’t know.”
Vince gave Lach’s right ass cheek a quick, hard smack.
Lach sucked a breath. The sound of the strike disappeared amid the noise of the storm outside, but its effect showed in every line of Lach’s body. His shoulders were taut with tension, his triceps bunched up. His hands still lay flat on the sill, but just.
Vince closed his eyes. Breathe… “You do know. Tell me.”
“I was being a cunt.”
“You were. But you still haven’t told me why. Tell me why.”
Lach seemed to hesitate. Then he said, “Because I need this.”
Power surged through Vince’s body, followed by a calm he hadn’t felt in days. “This?”
“Discipline.”
“Why do you need it?”
“I don’t know.”
He smacked Lach’s left butt cheek.
“I don’t know,” he said again.
Earning another smack.
“I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know. I just need it.”
His ass had two big pink patches on it now. Vince’s hand tingled with wanting to soothe them. He kept that hand at his side. “What does discipline do for you?”
“Sets me right.”
“How?”
“Makes me feel clean again.”
Something about that bothered Vince intensely. “Clean?”
Lach shook his head. Vince raised his hand to the ready, but then Lach said, “It’s like all my mistakes build up until everything is crowded and grimy. And the only way to clear one wee bit of the glass is this.”
Vince’s heart tripped on mistakes, but he kept his voice steady. “Discipline.”
“Aye.”
“Have you done this with anyone else?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want it from anyone else.”
Vince’s hands were shaky now. He clenched them into fists. “Why not?”
“Because only you know how to break me.”
Jesus. He couldn’t deny the jolt that sent to his dick. But he couldn’t ignore the unease that pooled in his gut, either. He’d broken Lach before, and not like this. He’d broken him inside, made him feel like he wasn’t capable, wasn’t worthy of recognition or opportunity. He’d made a professional decision without thinking how it might affect Lach at his core, and it had destroyed the man’s trust in him.
The thought of striking him now, even in this very specific context, even consensually, nauseated him.
“I can’t do this.”
Lach stayed in position. “I deserve it.”
Fuck. “No, you don’t.”
For the first time, Lach looked at him. His dark brows were drawn in concern.
“I can’t,” Vince whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Lach straightened off the sill and took Vince by the shoulders. “Hey, there. You all right? You’re shakin’ like a leaf.”
God, he was. Breathe. Wasn’t working, he couldn’t hold himself still. “I c-can’t…”
Lach wrapped his arms around him. “Jesus, Vince, I’m sorry.”
“They’re just sh-shirts.”
“No, I’m sorry for pushin’ you. I thought you needed it.”
“M-me?”
“You were stalkin’ like a caged beast, and I thought it might help.”
“Wait.” Vince pushed at his chest to meet his eyes. “You didn’t want that? You were gonna let me hit you—”
“No.” Lach caught his wrists in two firm grips. “I did want it. I do want it. I only thought it might help us both.”
“You did it for me?”
“It wasn’t uncomplicated altruism, Vince.”
But it had been. Even if Lach had wanted it, Vince could’ve reacted really badly to what he did, could’ve shouted or sneered or done some other stupid, thoughtless, selfish thing, but Lach had provoked him anyway.
He’d put himself on the line for Vince.
Lach frowned. One hand came to rest on the side of Vince’s neck, tentative but warm. “You’re tremblin’ again. How can I help?”
“Can you…” Fuck, he couldn’t say it. How could he? How could he even ask it?
“Can I what?”
Vince tried to square his shoulders, but he didn’t feel too steady. “Can you forgive me?”
Lach blinked.
“I’m so sorry for what I did to you—”
“Vince—”
“I’m sorry for thinking I knew best instead of thinking about how it might—how it would—hurt you.”
“Are you talking about the performance review?”
“Of course.”
“You did it in good faith, man, based on what I told you. I know that. Didn’t fuckin’ enjoy it, but I know it.”
“It went way beyond you not enjoying it. It broke us.”
“Yet here we are.”
Why couldn’t he stop shaking?
Lach gripped his shoulders more firmly. “Maybe we needed breaking, Vincent. Maybe we needed a chance to look at the pieces and decide if there’s a better way to put them back together.”
“Do you really think that?”
“I don’t know. What I know is that I’ve never stopped wanting you. And I fuckin’ miss you.”
Warmth suffused Vince’s body. “I miss you too.”
Lach exhaled in what sounded like relief. “What do we do about that?”
Vince smiled for what felt like the first time in days. Probably had been. “Your call this time.”
Lach’s eyes narrowed just enough to deepen the fine lines at their corners. “Then we’d best get your kit off.”
Vince pulled his fleece over his head, and Lach was right behind, tugging up the hem of the thermal shirt he wore underneath. In a trice he was looking at the muscular expanse of Vince’s chest.
But there was no time to take it all in because Vince was flipping open the button of his trousers while trying to kick off his shoes, and the awkward eagerness had Lach’s heart in a fist. He waited until the man’s shoes were off and then took over with his trousers, pushing them down his legs. Vince made to do the same with his briefs, but Lach stayed his hands.
The shorts were a steely blue that reminded Lach of the sea on certain winter days. The fabric—some technical material, if he had to guess—hugged Vince’s hips like a second skin. It felt warm and silky under Lach’s fingertips.
“Did you wear these under your kilt?”
“No.”
He’d wondered. He wore shorts himself, under his work kilts, but a traditional kit demanded otherwise. Still, he’d have been just as turned on at the prospect of catching Vince wearing briefs. Curling his fingers under the waistband, he drew them down to Vince’s knees where they could fall away, and then took a moment.
Vince Ito, it had to be said, had good thighs. Truly spectacular thighs, when it came down to it, and the fact he wore trousers was a goddamned blessing. These thighs would’ve been hidden under the skirt of a kilt, but Vince’s trousers tended to mold themselves to his muscle. Even when he wore cold-weather gear, Lach had trouble tearing his eyes from Vince’s legs. Imagination was a wondrous thing, but touch… He set his hands to that firm muscle.
Aye, touch was much better.
“Have I mentioned I like your thighs?”
“Not lately.”
He grinned up at Vince. “I’d say I was a one-man appreciation society, but I suspect other members exist.”
“Not in this room, they don’t.”
Not anywhere, he wished, knowing such thinking was fruitless effort, but happy to take Vince’s word on the matter anyway.
He smoothed his hands up the man’s legs to his hips. His cock bobbed suggestively toward Lach’s mouth. “Bossy. You’ll get your turn.” He rose to his feet and, with a hand at the small of Vince’s back, led him to the shower.
Hot water on demand was a thing of beauty, and Lach groaned when it struck his skin. He made another quieter sound when Vince’s hands joined the water.
“I shouldn’t have made you strip,” Vince said. “Too cold.”
“I’m fine.” He filled his own hands with Vince’s arms, gliding up their contours, then down his back to his bum. It was as hard and confident as the rest of him. “More than fine.”
“May I kiss you?”
Of course you can fuckin’ kiss me, he almost blurted, but the look in Vince’s eyes stopped him. Was he being courteous, or was he actually unsure? A bit of both, maybe. “You may.”
Vince was watching his mouth. His eyelashes were in wet little clumps, black as midnight. They fell shut, and then Vince’s lips were on his.
Two years vanished in soft skin and swirling steam. From the first press, some missing part of his life fell back into place, and he opened his mouth because it felt as essential as air. Vince sighed into him, and he sucked it down, greedy for all the time they’d lost. Then he caught the man’s tongue with his own, greedy for everything else.
Vince moaned. His hands skidded up Lach’s chest, leaving two tweaked nipples in their wake, and shoved his fingers into Lach’s hair. “Why’d you cut it?”
“Needed a change.”
“Shoulda bought new socks instead.”
Lach kissed him harder. “Sad to see it go?”
“Cried myself to sleep.”
“Liar.”
Vince smiled against his mouth. “I swam it out.”
“Sounds more like it.” He swept his tongue across Vince’s. “I could eat you alive.”
“Permission granted.”
He took it, by God, and started his feast at Vince’s neck. It was as toned as the rest of him—the man was built like a damned superhero, there was just no way ’round it—but in the front, here, just below his Adam’s apple, it was soft and vulnerable. Lach eased up, brushing his lips over Vince’s throat, licking into the hollow. Vince’s pulse beat here, vibrating against Lach’s lips. He gave it a little kiss, and then his temporary restraint met its limit. Bending further, he latched his mouth onto one of Vince’s tight brown nipples.
The fingers in his hair tightened, and Vince moaned. The sound reverberated softly off the tile walls, blending with the spray of the water and Lach’s own hungry sucking. With one shoulder, he kept Vince pinned to the wall as he gave him hard flicks of his tongue. Vince cursed but stayed put, and Lach rewarded him with a wee bite. Then he eased down to his knees.
Vince had almost no body hair, but here was some of the sweetest. It began just under his navel and drew a fine line—and Lach’s tongue—down to his crotch. The hair there was just as fine, nothing like Lach’s thatch, and when it was dry he used to rub his nose along the strands in wonder that a body otherwise so hard and ready also featured something so delicate.
Drenched by the shower, it looked disheveled, and Christ, that was even better. Adding to the effect was Vince’s cock, swaying drunkenly, almost belligerent in the way it pointed at Lach. Cheeky thing, and so he ignored it for a moment to lap at the sac beneath it.
Vince groaned and spread his feet, bracing them wide. Lach drew his fingernails up the insides of the man’s thighs, up, up, up to where the skin of his groin quivered, and he took one of Vince’s ballocks in his mouth. He sucked hard, and Vince’s hands slapped the tiles.
He grinned and gave another good suck.
Vince’s hands found his armpits and tugged him back to standing. “Changed my mind,” he panted. “I want to come with you.”
“Who said I was going to let you come?”
Vince’s eyes widened. “Please.”
There was that vulnerability again, and damn if Lach could resist it. He kissed the man. “Team effort, then.”
They took hold of each other’s cocks. Lach hissed at the contact and nearly lost his grip on Vince. Then they were stroking, and Vince’s body was pressed to his, and it was almost perfect.
“Not so hard, love.”
“Sorry, I forgot.”
Lach kissed him. “Putting the pieces back together, aye?”
Vince’s hand stuttered, but then he found his rhythm again and kissed Lach. “Thank you.”
“Haven’t let you come yet.”
Vince chuckled at that, a low, happy sound Lach had missed almost more than anything else. With his free hand, he curled his fingers under Vince’s sac, pressing into his pulsing taint. Vince gasped, and Lach nipped his open bottom lip.
“Give me a finger?”
Vince nodded, kissing him hard, and reached between Lach’s legs. One blunt finger pushed inside him, rude and probing and right on target.
It took every bit of focus he possessed to keep his own hands working. Meanwhile, Vince was stroking him perfectly, and kissing his throat and lips and ear, all as if he’d trained for the occasion. Why’d he have to be so goddamn capable? Lach’s belly was growing tight, his voice rasping harshly every time Vince stroked across his prostate. “I’m close.”
Vince’s dick swelled in his hand. “Feel what you do to me? That’s yours. That’s me staring at your hands every day wishing they were on me. That’s me hating your cameras and your drones and the damn zipper on your coat and every other thing you touch that isn’t me.” Vince pressed his face into Lach’s neck and then his hot breath was in his ear again. “I missed you too, Lach. So much.”
Lach groaned and shoved into Vince’s fist, emptying himself. Vince claimed his mouth, panting helpless orders against his lips, and then a familiar warm slickness coated Lach’s hand and belly, and they slumped against each other.
Chapter Fifteen
Lach drew a fingertip down Vince’s cheekbone. “People will wonder where we are.”
Vince hummed. “No, they won’t. They think we’re boyfriends.”
“Sørensen will wonder.”
“Sørensen can wait.”
“That’s very sanguine.”
“The word you want is sated.”
They lay in the bed, legs tangled. Lach couldn’t keep his hands to himself, but Vince didn’t seem to mind. “He ran past the window earlier.”
“Sørensen?”
“Aye.”
“Shifted, I hope?”
“Well, he was howling.”
“Was not. And that’s not an indicator for him.”
Lach edged closer. “What about dolphins? Do they howl?”
Vince opened his eyes, and one side of his mouth tipped up. “I think you know they do.”
“Mine does,” he growled and pulled Vince against him. They kissed for long minutes. Maybe hours. The earth could circle the sun several times, for all he cared. He was quite occupied. Vince’s body against his, his hands on Lach’s back, on his arse… He racked his mind, trying to remember the longest winter storm he’d experienced in this house, and then reprimanded the same mind for wandering. Shameful carelessness.
Vince pulled back and watched his fingers, which were toying with Lach’s chest hair. “You’ve got a couple grays here.”
“Your pillow talk needs work, Ito.”
Vince grinned. “I like silver. Your dad has nice hair.” He looked up and met Lach’s gaze. “It made me wonder what you’ll look like in twenty years. Or thirty.”
Lach’s belly did some very unwise loop-de-loops at that. “Bald probably,” he deflected, “from job stress.”
“Wolf shifter project lead?” Vince nodded. “Yeah, that dude’s a nightmare.”
“Nah, not him. It’s this other bloke. Likes to order me about. Won’t let me wear a stitch of clothing.”
“What a dick.”
“Indeed.” Lach reached down to stroke Vince’s cock.
Vince huffed softly but then brought Lach’s hand back up and held it. “We could come at this sideways, but I’d rather just ask. Do you want to try again? To be together?”
“Sounds like a recipe for disaster,” he said, even as his heart went willingly into a tailspin.
“I know.”
That was his forthright fellow. Lach squeezed his fingers. “I do want to try again. Do you?”
“I do. But a slow start, maybe. So we can rebuild right.”
“Aye.”
“Aye,” Vince teased.
“C’mere, California,” he drawled. “Yer accent’s appalling.”
They kissed some more, and this time he stayed in the moment as it stretched and curled. Vince filled his senses, but he still couldn’t get enough. The man felt so good against him, and now they were going to face the world together again. He’d fought himself over wanting that. Hard to believe Vince had wanted it too.
When they came up for air, Lach studied him. Of a sudden, he wondered what little secrets Vince had. Not big ones but wee harmless ones he’d simply never gotten around to learning. He found he wanted to know all sorts of things about Vince. Funny things. Serious things. Things that might embarrass him but shouldn’t.
“Why did you never tell me?”
“About what?”
“About this thing you’ve got for King Arthur.”
“I already said. I thought you’d laugh.”
“Right. You did.” He thought for a moment. “I guess I wonder why it’s important to you. Nothing wrong with it, I’m just curious why it appealed in the first place. A lot of kids like it, I bet, but you fairly jumped at this mission.”
“I did.” Vince breathed deep. One of his feet was rubbing Lach’s in a sort of repetitive motion, and Lach wondered if it helped him relax. Or think. Or if he even realized he was doing it. “Did I ever tell you about my dad?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s because he wasn’t around. That’s common in wild dolphin pods; adult males live apart. Sometimes it’s the same among dolphin shifters. It was in our family. I have a lot of aunts, and they like their autonomy. So does my mom. She’s had two partners, my dad and Jay’s. Jay never really wanted to meet his dad. I don’t know why, it just never seemed important to him. But I did, so I told Mom. She tried to warn me, but I didn’t care. I wanted to meet him. Part of me is glad I did, and part of me wishes I’d listened to my mother.”
