Page 45 of The Company We Keep

It had irked him the first time he discovered one of Short’s caches — Carrow had been taken aback by how vulgar it seemed that the man would be thinking of sex in those post-heist moments of come down — and yet there he was in their safehouse, silently thanking the ghost of a man who had always rubbed him the wrong way.

They came together again in the bedroom, a mess of mouths and hands, Dust working to get out of his shoes, stepping out of his pants. Carrow was happy to keep undressing him, pushing the jacket off of his shoulders and stripping the shirt off of him.

Holy Christ was the kid ever perfect.

He could barely bring himself to appreciate the sight that stood there in front of him before he was leaning down, dipping to catch the hard bud of one of Dust’s nipples in his mouth to keep teasing, keep dragging those obscene sounds out of him.

Dust let out a sound of protest though, pushing at Carrow’s jacket.

“This isn’t fair,” he whined, tugging the hem of the shirt beneath.

Carrow smiled magnanimously. He didn’t think he was anything special — but if Dust wanted to see him, he wouldn’t deny him.Couldn’t,probably. He stepped back and shed his garments. Dust fell heavily to the edge of the bed, watching him intently in the dim light as he stepped out ofhis shoes, discarded his jacket and shirt, finally dragging his pants down but leaving the boxer briefs beneath.

He knew there was a dark smear of precum at the front of the garment, could feel the rush of air over his groin going cool and exaggerated over the release. He didn’t care — let Dust see it, let the kid know how badly Carrow wanted him, how much his body responded just to sucking him off, to having his fingers in Dust’s mouth.

He wasn’t ashamed by how badly he wanted to claim every part of Dust.

The younger man reached out, pulling him by the hips forward, humming at the sight.

Carrow smelledlike cedar and sweat and brandy and Dust felt singularly pleased to press his mouth over the dark stain at the front of Carrow’s briefs. It was gratifying to see the evidence of how badly he was wanted — and even better was the raw, gravelly noise that Carrow issued as Dust traced the shape of his thick cock with his mouth through the garment.

HeneededCarrow. It was past the point of want, feeling suddenly like a matter of life and death. Carrow could take whatever he wanted from Dust there in the dark — fuck his mouth, fuckhim,it didn’t matter. He needed to be taken and claimed and entirely consumed. Dust palmed Carrow through the thin fabric, appreciating the heft of the member straining against his hand, and looked up at the other man.

“Would you fuck me, Ansel?”

“That’s what you want?” Carrow asked, half breathless, leaning into Dust’s touch.

Dust didn’t bother responding at first, instead hooking his thumbs into the waistband of Carrow’s briefs and dragging themdown a few inches. He planted hot kisses at the base of Carrow’s cock, worshipping the inches that were exposed, revealing more slowly and lavishing every bit with his soft lips and eager tongue.

“Please,” he said finally. “Please.”

Carrow wasted no time, pushing him to his back and then urging him further up the neatly made bed. The mattress sagged under their weight as Carrow moved to strip himself of the final layer. Dust didn’t bother trying to hide his admiration: Carrow’s cock was perfect, hanging heavily between thick thighs.

There had been times in Dust’s life when he’d felt more than satisfied by fooling around with no clear trajectory, by rushed oral in the back of a car. But from the first sight of Carrow’s hard-on, he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until Carrow wasin him, claiming him fully, taking him to his limits.

After all — wasn’t that the natural conclusion of what he’d been after all along? He wanted more than inclusion in The Company, more than a simple job. He wanted to be wanted, to gain something beyond acceptance or even admiration. He had wanted to please Ansel Carrow since the moment he laid eyes on the man, and every time he had sensed that he was achieving that goal, he’d reaped an equal amount of pleasure in turn. What better expression of that than sex? What better way to be close to the man than to be filled by him, claimed by Carrow?

The older man took his time, miraculously retrieving lube and a package of condoms from the bedside table in the dark. It gave Dust no pause. If Carrow had fucked others in the safehouse, so be it. It was unlikely that they shared this electricity, this heat and hunger.

Dust’s appetite only increased as he watched Carrow work methodically, slicking one hand and then inching Dustfurther back on the bed, hitching Dust’s hips up and then pressing in a hot digit.

He hissed at the feeling of the thick finger he had been sucking on just moments ago. It had been so long since Dust hadhadsomeone, the feeling was almost foreign. Carrow responded immediately, slowing and breathing deeply, catching Dust’s mouth in a deep kiss that instantly helped him relax.

Dust felt drunk and wondered if Carrow must feel the same. The adrenaline from the danger of the heist was wearing off, but even still, every sensation was heightened. Every piece of their coming together felt larger than life.

Finally, he began to relax against Carrow’s hand, and the other man noticed, pumping into him slowly. Getting a first taste of what was to come, Dust rocked his hips up. Carrow hummed in amusement and pleasure, pulling out and sitting back on his heels again to slick a second finger. The pads of both fingers traced and teased him, just the way Carrow had so tenderly touched his lips a few minutes earlier. Dust moved his hips to meet him, craving the additional contact, suddenly more confident that this was what he wanted, to be stretched and then fucked.

“Please,” he whispered before catching one of Carrow’s earlobes between his teeth, worrying the flesh even as he ground his hips up and off the bed, craving more contact.

Carrow did not deny him. He pressed two fingers into Dust, allowing the younger man to meet him in the middle and work himself down against Carrow’s hand. The swell of pleasure was incredible, even as he willed his body to relax around Carrow’s fingers. He adjusted slowly but ignored his body altogether, almost wanting the pain, the stretch, as he fucked himself against Carrow’s hand, trying to establish a rhythm.

“Steady,” Carrow cautioned. “It’s not a goddamn race, Dust.”

“I want you,” he replied, desperate and half whining.

Carrow hummed with pleasure, as if he had been waiting for the words to roll off of Dust’s tongue since the moment they met.

“You knew I wanted you from the beginning,” Dust continued, urged on by Carrow’s sounds. “Please. I need you to fuck me. Just like this — face to face. Please, boss.”

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