Page 42 of Drift

“Hmm,” said Gray, picking up on how naturally Jack had saidbetter for the head and tonguein German, not slipping on any of the translation. He found Jack, the look of heat in silver grey eyes so alive in the shadows. “Pre or post on the play?” A smile, a lot of darkness behind it with Gray because his head was still caught in brutality, the need to relieve it, and a few knife marks would look damn good across Jack’s ass. “Because I swore I told you no self-service.”

Jack kissed at his jaw… nipped at his throat. “You were here.” He tapped his head. “Always are, mukka.”

There was never a reply with any knife needed to that.

Gray slipped a hand down into Jack’s jeans, under his boxers, and he swiped his thumb over his cockhead.

Jack winced and sucked in a breath, so sensitive to touch, but still hard… heated. Yeah. He’d lost track on control but looked well into round two.

Taking a long draw on the cigarette, Gray went in for another rough kiss, sharing smoke, heat… need.

Just what the fuck were you thinking, Mart?

Gray pulled back, twisting his head away and withdrew his touch. “C’mon.” He eased Jack’s T-shirt down his abs, gently covering him up, but stroking through the material to all thedips and valleys to his abs that always reminded him of the wild terrain of home he’d been drawn back to. “We need to talk.”

“Talk?” Jack slipped the cigarette from Gray’s fingers, then took a draw on it before cocking a smile, his hand resting on top of Gray’s, keeping his touch there. “Not in the mood, mukka.”

Gray frowned and started to say something—but Jack suddenly shifted and controlled Gray’s fall to the floor before straddling him. It still knocked the wind from him and trapped him between settee and coffee table, with Jack ensuring the captivity, and Gray… not liking it.

It took him a moment to control his reactions, one moment pissed off and needing to shove the forced hold off, another worried the hell out of cigarette burns to Jack if he did.

Then something entirely different slammed into him, a mixture of all the wrong fight, heat, and need to control the moment with how the burn of the cigarette was thrown into the mix with Jack, how he took a long draw on it, his smile a little too cocky.

And the threat of fire on skin, of Martin drawing a match down his abs back in a nightclub….

Fuck.Every ounce of wrong heat and confusion woke in Gray, filling his own cock and fuelling a side he wouldn’t risk around Jack, not fire. Ever. That stayed buried deep in the recess of his own darkest depravity. “Stunner—”

A dip of head came, a close of eye, hair almost covering Jack’s face, and for a moment it didn’t register, the shift of Gray’s jacket—the pull on his firearm.

Jesus Christ.

Gray caught Jack’s hold on the gun as the barrel went to Jack’s throat, and life stilled for one heart-stopping moment for them both.

Had he used the threat of fire to distract…?

Jack’s finger sat close to the trigger, and Gray controlled his own breathing, not making a move, heart caught somewhere between a graveyard he never wanted to tread and the loss of his mind to a hell he’d never come back from. “Stop it. Now.”

Breathing heavy, hard, Jack tilted his head back and ran the barrel of the gun down his own throat, jaw to collarbone, his hand covering Gray’s so control of the gun stayed his.

“Trust me, mukka….” Head dipping with the movement, Jack traced the gun down over his abs, only stopping when it rested in his lap, flat against the open clasp of his jeans. A frown came, so brief before he shifted his hand from underneath Gray’s, keeping his other on top and the pressure applied. Then he took the cigarette out of his mouth and stubbed it on the coffee table before quickly pulling his T-shirt off. A shift up, jeans came off his hips, and Gray sucked in a breath as the clasp to his own trousers was undone.

Gray was hard, no twisted soul wouldn’t be at gunplay: but fear ruled it, and that was a first.

Jack had hated guns for so many years, didn’t know how to use or stay safe around one, even a culler-issued modern firearm with a safety lever that blocked the firing pin hitting the cartridge primer. As he roughly took the full length of Gray’s cock, jerking the gun, Gray snarled, grabbing the back of his hair, keeping him so still in his own confusion, anger—and how he was turned on in all the same heated moment. Jack had lubed himself: the slide onto Gray had been so smooth yet choking anddangerous at the same time. It took Gray’s breath and common sense away, which was where all the danger lay, instantly flipping the switch into fuck or fight territory, where the need to fight Jack over anything should have remained a pure no-go landscape.

Jack stilled, not fighting the grip meant to calm, to force control. Then he came down, kissing at Gray’s lips before reaching up and easing the grip away. Giving a shake of head, saying control was his, he eased back and looked down.

A frown, he pressed the gun hard and flat against his own cock, Gray’s hold trapped beneath his, and Jack kept the pressure on as his cock rode the gun, in the same breath taking Gray in the heat with it all.

Despite what rode through his own body, Gray kept a focused hold on the gun, kept so bloody still.

Jack’s pace was long and deep: no hurried heat, just slow rides of cock and gun, taking the heat of one, the cold metal of the other to his cock. Despite how controlled he was, the strangeness hit them both fast.

Jack came hard, Gray hissing his a moment later with how his gun felt pressed into Jack’s cock, the straddled heat taking him.

“Fuck… fuck, mukka.” Doubling into Gray, his hand hitting palm flat on the floor and just managing to stop him crashing down on him, Jack choked a smile, a shaky laugh. “Jesus.”

Trying to catch up with the fast pace of hearts in the comedown and fear, Gray cupped Jack’s neck and pulled his head down to rest on his in order to ground him back in reality. As he did, he discretely withdrew his gun and rested it at his side, away from Jack. Then he sat up, taking Jack with him, and slipped a touch around him, not liking how it had all gone down.

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