The Bone Collector, page 12
“Yeah?” Park growled.
Park’s cock was so hard he probably could have pounded nails into a board with it. Watching Gift fall apart was just as sexy as he’d imagined. He could feel Gift’s panting breaths, the way his thighs squeezed Park’s as he tried to fuck himself up into his fist. No, it was sexier than anything his imagination had conjured up.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” Gift chanted.
Park loosened his grip, slowing his movements to a crawl, then stopped altogether.
Gift sat up, his exasperated expression endearingly cute. “Why?” he wailed.
Park used his free hand to grab the fabric of his shirt to drag him into a dirty kiss. “‘Cause I’m not done with you yet.”
“Hia…” Gift cried, his irritation obvious.
“What is it, ouen?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I thought you were going to be good for me?”
Blunt nails dug into the back of his neck as he clung to him. “Na, hia. I need to come.” He peppered kisses along Park’s face, over his lips, his chin, his jaw, punctuating each kiss with a plea before finally whispering, “It hurts.”
“You can hold out just a little bit longer for me, can’t you?” Park asked, working him once more. Gift looked exhausted, but he gave a weak nod. “Yes, hia.”
Things grew quiet after that as Park brought him to the brink once more, the only sound Gift’s heated little noises and the hum of the refrigerator. He worked him with quick, tight strokes until Gift was dancing on the knife’s edge, approaching his tipping point.
“Fuck, you’re so good for me. My dek dee. Taking it so well.” All Gift could do was groan. His face was slack, expression shocky. “You look so pretty like this,” Park said. “Suay.”
Gift choked out another sob, trying to fuck himself into Park’s fist, so desperate that tears were threatening to spill from those big brown eyes.
Park made a decision then, releasing Gift abruptly. He practically screamed at the sudden departure, but before he could make more than an indignant squawk, Park picked him up and carried him to the sofa, dropping him on it then climbing to sit between his parted knees.
Gift seemed confused by these new circumstances, watching as Park hooked his thumbs in Gift’s pants, dragging them down and off until he was naked except for Park’s shirt. Gift flushed as Park’s heated gaze roamed the miles of naked skin laid out just for him. Shapely legs and a small waist, cock flushed and weeping.
Fuck, Park wanted to eat him up, devour every part of him. He smoothed both hands under Gift’s shirt, catching the hem as he slid it out of his way, tucking it under Gift’s chin until he was splayed out before him. “That’s better.”
“How?” Gift wailed, bewildered.
Park shifted, planting a hand next to Gift’s head so he could loom over him, teasing his thumb over one flat nipple until Gift let out a broken little sigh. “Because now I can play with all of you.”
Before Gift could respond, Park dipped his head to take one tight peak into his mouth, scraping his teeth against it before soothing it with his tongue.
Gift’s hands found his back, clenching at Park’s shirt once more, eyes closed, lips parted as Park gave his other nipple the same attention. He let himself explore all the golden skin he could see, placing open-mouthed kisses down Gift’s sternum, tracing the deep vee of his hipbone with his tongue, kissing the juncture where leg and pelvis met.
Gift’s breathing grew shallow, his head thrashing and hips canting like he could will Park to go where he needed him most. Park shot back up for another filthy kiss, fucking his tongue into the wet heat of Gift’s mouth, swallowing every whine.
Then, he was kneeling between Gift’s thighs once more, lifting his leg to kiss the skin on the inside of his knee, then his inner thigh, stopping to suck another mark into his skin before giving into his intrusive thoughts and sinking his teeth hard enough to rip a gasp from Gift’s lips, one of his hands finding Park’s hair, threading into it and twisting.
Park kissed the injured flesh but kept going, running his nose along Gift’s skin until he was at the crease of his leg, burying his face and inhaling deeply. Fuck. He smelled incredible. He rubbed his face against Gift’s painfully hard cock before moving to give his other thigh the same treatment, determined to take his time and make Gift as crazy as he’d been making Park these last few days.
“P’,” Gift whined, trying to use the grip on his hair to drag his mouth where he wanted it.
Park flicked his gaze upwards, smoothing both hands over Gift’s hip bones as he held his gaze. “What’s wrong?” he teased, tongue darting out to lick over the head of Gift’s cock, mouthing at the tip before releasing it to slap against his stomach once more.
“You’re mean,” Gift whispered.
“What do you want, ouen?” Park buried his face in the nest of hair at the base of his cock, rubbing his nose against his skin. “You want my mouth? You want me to suck you until you come down my throat?”
Park didn’t lift his head but held Gift’s gaze so he could watch the emotions that flickered across his face. Lust, neediness, embarrassment. “Please, hia, I can’t take it anymore,” he begged. “It hurts.”
“Okay, ouen. Okay. You’ve been so good for me.” He had just enough time to see relief flood Gift’s expression before he swallowed him down, a gasp ripping from the boy’s lungs as Park took him to the back of his throat.
Gift’s hips jerked beneath him, driving himself deeper until Park coughed through his nose.
“Sorry,” Gift mumbled.
Park hummed around him, then snaked his arms beneath Gift’s hips, holding him in place as he sucked him, the taste of precum a pleasant bitter taste on his tongue.
Once Gift was unable to move, he started babbling, some of it in English, some in Thai. “Oh. Oh. Oh…that’s—oh, my God, hia.” He gave another broken moan. “I’m so close. Please, let me…please, let me… I need it. I need you. Oh, fuck.”
Park redoubled his efforts, jaw aching as he slid one hand from Gift’s hip to his ass, teasing between his cheeks, thumb settling over his hole, not putting any pressure, just massaging the spot.
“Hia…hia…uh…uh… I’m…” Whatever he was going to say was lost in a moan, his hands twisting painfully in Park’s hair. Then, he was flooding Park’s mouth with his release, hips spasming in tiny aborted thrusts as Park worked him through it, only releasing him when he hissed from oversensitivity.
Park climbed up then to straddle Gift’s hips, pushing his sweats down and taking his own aching cock in hand. Gift was panting, eyes locked on Park’s hand as he jerked himself with zero finesse, just needing to find that release. It was easy with Gift all soft and sated and fucked out beneath him. His fucked-out little doll, so sleepy and pretty, so good…just for him. Only for him.
“Mine,” Park gritted, bliss causing his eyes to roll behind closed lids as he painted Gift’s chest and stomach with his release. He collapsed on top of him, not even caring about how sticky and gross they were. Park rested his forehead against Gift’s, giving him a soft kiss. “How was that?”
A giggle bubbled past Gift’s lips before he snapped his mouth shut, waiting a minute before he said, “It was…nice.”
Park gaped at him. “Nice?”
Gift flushed, giggling again, then nodded.
“Nice?” Park said again, digging his fingers into Gift’s sides until he began to squeal. “I’ll show you nice, you little brat.”
“It was good. Great. Amazing,” Gift gasped, thrashing beneath him.
Park gave him a reprieve, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. “Come take a shower with me, ouen. But then you have to go back to your room. Okay?”
A shadow passed over Gift’s face, but he nodded. After a moment, he asked, “Are you going to pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow?”
Park frowned. “What?”
“Was this a one-time thing? To…placate me? Shut me up?” he asked, all the happiness from seconds ago gone.
Park sighed. “No, ouen. I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen, but we need to have a talk about some things before this goes any further. This is all very…complicated.”
“But you don’t regret it, right?” Gift asked, voice small.
Once more, Park’s lips found Gift’s forehead. “No. No, I don’t regret it.”
Not yet, anyway.
“Gift? Gift!”
Gift snapped his head up at the sound of his name reverberating through the gym, startled from his thoughts. He gave a guilty look to the weapons teacher, who stood before them with a knife in hand. “Sorry, yes?”
Aspen—Gift didn’t know if that was his first name or his last or maybe even a code name—gave him a hard once-over, tossing the knife in the air and catching it by the flat of the blade with two fingers, before pivoting on his right leg and throwing it blindly at the target behind him.
It hit the bullseye with a satisfying thunk.
“Would you care to join us?” Aspen asked.
“Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night,” Gift said, flushing until his ears were on fire.
“Clearly,” Morgan murmured under her breath.
Aspen went and grabbed the knife from the wooden target then returned to where they all sat on the bleachers of the enormous training facility.
Aspen zeroed in on Gift’s throat, a slow smirk forming. He stared until Gift felt the urge to cover the skin with his hand. Could he see the bruises beneath the make-up? Could they all see?
Gift’s stomach sloshed nervously as the teacher said, “Since it looks like you were recently mauled by a—”
“Sucker fish,” Morgan crowed from her spot beside him, cutting off the teacher.
Aspen snickered. “Yes, a sucker fish. Why don’t you come up here and help me with this demonstration?”
Well, that answered that question. Everyone could see the evidence of his and Park’s steamy and earth-shatteringly hot encounter. Dove had done her best to cover the marks. She’d sat on his bed, BB cream in hand, dabbing at each of the purple bruises as she demanded every salacious detail of their encounter. She had warned him that the concealer might not cover them. Park had seemed pretty determined to mark his territory.
Gift’s heart tripped at the memory of sitting in Park’s lap, his hands on Gift’s ass, guiding him as he rutted against him. The way Park had looked at him, kissed him, had pulled at his hair to bite at his neck. Park’s mouth closing over his aching…
Gift blinked, shaking his head. He was going to get himself worked up in the middle of class. “Uh, okay. Yeah, sure,” he said faintly.
There were several groans from his fellow students, earning them all a glare from Payton, who pointed at each of them like they were now on his list. Their jeers were nothing new. It was no secret what had happened the last time Gift had been handed a weapon.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Mos asked. “The last time Archer let him handle a weapon, he ended up with an arrow in his ass.”
Yeah, that. Except, it wasn’t his ass. And it wasn’t Archer. It was so much worse.
“It was his shoulder,” Dove corrected haughtily, then bit her lip like she was already anticipating the chaos that was about to ensue. “And it wasn’t his shoulder. It was Mac’s.”
“Yeah, and also, fuck off,” Payton added cheerfully, staring pointedly at Mos who rolled his eyes.
Gift shook his head. “No, they’re right. I’m not really good at combat stuff.”
He had almost accidentally killed their weapons instructor’s husband. Well, their former weapons instructor. Archer was now in acquisitions, though nobody knew why. Some people said it was at the request of Mac and that Archer had been pissed about it. Others said it was because Archer was leading some kind of double life and being the weapons instructor kept him from that secret life. But that was all just rumors and gossip.
But there were a lot of rumors at the Watch. Rumors about students, rumors about teachers, rumors about black ops programs and clandestine government meetings that supposedly took place on the base. Gift had tried to ask Park about it, but he’d told Gift it was none of his business. Which he supposed it wasn’t.
Still, when Gift had overheard Park and Pike talking about it one night, he’d mentioned that Archer was the son of Thomas Mulvaney, the man who’d developed the program, and Mac was the son of the woman who’d helped him. It sounded absurd. A billionaire philanthropist creating underground government programs for assassins with the woman famously known as ‘the psychopath whisperer’? It was straight out of a comic book.
But that wasn’t even the craziest rumor.
When Gift first arrived, Payton told him that Thomas Mulvaney didn’t just invent the program but had used the same tactics to turn his sons into killers—vigilantes who hid behind wealth and privilege. And now, he’d installed his son at the school to spy on the program. Park had said that was ridiculous. But was it?
In a way, it made sense—as much sense as anything did at the Watch. The whole premise of the program was to hide their crimes behind their money and connections. Not Gift, but the others. Those sitting around him had all been groomed for this since birth. But not Gift. Gift had spent his life being coddled and pampered by boarding school staff due to his baby face and lack of parental interest.
“It will be fine,” Payton said, squeezing his arm. “You’ve totally got this.”
Aspen stuck his hands in the pockets of his joggers, sauntering closer. “Everyone has to participate, even the handlers. You know that. If you can’t pass this course, you won’t graduate from the program.” Gift chewed on his lip, chest tight. “Come on. Let’s get you back on that horse.”
Gift had never truly understood that expression.
“Hopefully, he doesn’t shoot the horse with an arrow,” Lennon said to Mos loudly from behind his palm.
Aspen sighed when Gift’s face fell. “Look, forget the lesson. Forget them. Let’s just get you comfortable again.” He pointed to the wall of cages. “Pick any weapon you want and we can work with it. Okay?”
There were so many ways Gift could hurt someone with the weapons in those cabinets. “No guns though, right?” Gift said, voice barely above a whisper.
Aspen chuckled. “No, no guns off the range.”
Gift’s shoulders sagged. That was something at least. He didn’t know a thing about guns other than the first and only time he’d fired one, he’d made a kill shot…on Morgan’s target…while aiming for his own.
Aspen raised one perfect brow, letting Gift know they were all waiting.
Gift stood, tugging nervously at his t-shirt, walking towards the weapons cage like a man walking the green mile.
“You got this!” Payton shouted again.
Gift stared into the cages as he passed, hoping to find something that would cause the least amount of damage. Luckily, most of the weapons were blunted—most, but not all. Ask Archer’s husband, Mac.
He frowned as he took in the wide array of weapons. Gift couldn’t imagine anyone needing things like brass knuckles and nunchucks, but they were there. He stopped in front of the final cage. It held the dreaded crossbow, a bow and arrow, and numerous stabby things. There were axes, a hatchet, dozens of knives, even a broadsword. Gift had only seen that kind of weapon in movies.
A sword wasn’t much different than a lightsaber, right? He lifted it up off the wall, grunting at how heavy it was, before it slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the floor, the noise echoing through the cavernous space.
“Oh, Jesus,” Luca groaned from where he sat on the floor. “We’re all gonna die.”
“Quiet,” Aspen snapped, then gave Luca a hard once-over. “At least pretend you’re adult enough to be here.”
Gift flushed once more, not missing the way Luca was shooting death stares at Aspen’s back. He lifted the sword carefully with both hands, then replaced it where it belonged. There was a samurai sword that might be lighter, but Gift wasn’t sure he wanted to risk dropping another blade.
So, he grabbed the very last weapon—well, weapons. Sai swords. A wicked-looking blade jutted from between two curved metal pieces, all held together by a single hilt. He tested the strength, liking the weight of them in his hands. They felt…comfortable. Familiar.
“Two hundred bucks says he takes off an ear,” Drake said, his amusement obvious.
Gift spared Drake a look. He was relaxed on the third riser, Remi sitting on the one below, Drake’s legs resting on either side of him.
“Be nice,” Remi said.
Drake didn’t react to Remi at all, though it seemed like he closed his legs around his shoulders for just the briefest moment.
Gift did not get those two.
“Another hundred says it’s someone else’s ear,” Jay added.
“I expected better from you,” Remi said, giving him a withering look.
“Chastise your boyfriend, but leave me out of it,” Jay taunted, gaze flicking briefly to Drake.
“Wha—? He’s not,” Remi stuttered, hastening to add, “my boyfriend.” As if his statement had been unclear.
“Hurtful,” Drake mused, tone devoid of all feeling. “Denying our love in front of the whole pod.”
Remi rolled his eyes, but his face was crimson.
Jay ignored the entire exchange as if he wasn’t the one who started it, lounging with his elbows resting against the riser above him.
“Focus, people,” Aspen said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You should focus,” Luca fired back, “On the klutz holding not one, but two, deadly weapons.”
Gift wasn’t a klutz. He wasn’t. But he hadn’t been raised around weapons, especially not ones like these. But he was used to their teasing. It was no secret that Gift had been all but banned from weapons training. But Aspen was new, another of Kendrick’s pets that he’d brought in thinking he’d be a spy on the inside.
“Have you ever used those?” Aspen asked, a tinge of concern edging into his voice.
