Page 26 of Mean Machine

Brooklyn laughed. “What do you mean?”

“About my heart.”

Brooklyn placed a flat hand against Nathaniel’s chest. “Feels all right to me.” In fact, the heartbeat was strong and on the fast side. “But I figure I like having that effect on you.” He did. The same man who presented that calm, superior facade to the world, the same man who’d somehow wormed his way through Brooklyn’s defences, this man was now clearly nervous. And aroused.

Brooklyn opened Nathaniel’s jacket and brushed it back over his shoulders. Nathaniel let it drop, but otherwise didn’t move.

Brooklyn then undid Nathaniel’s leather belt, pulling the end with more force than was necessary, which made Nathaniel laugh softly. He tugged the zip down and spread the trousers apart wide enough to bare Nathaniel’s package, the cock hardening rapidly in the tight boxers. Brooklyn met Nathaniel’s gaze. “You still haven’t fucked me.”

“I understand you’ll show me what you like.” Nathaniel moved closer until their breaths mingled and tilted his head ever so slightly, clearly asking for permission. Brooklyn took his face in both hands and kissed him so hard the man almost jumped back. Fuck. This was rapidly spinning out of control. The kiss resonated in his whole body, tingled everywhere like it meant something.

“I’d better,” Brooklyn murmured. “I’m flying back tomorrow. And then I have to prepare to punch the shit out of the next guy.”

“Would you prefer to stay?”

“Here? Or with you?”

“With me.” Nathaniel opened Brooklyn’s jacket and then his shirt underneath. “Provided you could still train to fight.”

“I don’t think Les likes threesomes.” Brooklyn grinned and shed his jacket and shirt, then knelt down in front of Nathaniel to nip along the bulge in his boxers. Nathaniel gasped, and Brooklyn took his time, tracing the outline with his tongue and lips until Nathaniel was rock-hard. He took hold of the cloth and ripped it with both hands before he took Nathaniel’s cock as deep and harsh as he could.

Within moments, Nathaniel was fucking his mouth, and Brooklyn accepted it. More—he welcomed it, hungry for anything he could take from the man. Cock. Admissions of weakness. Really almost the same thing, because not for a moment did Brooklyn think Nathaniel was in control here. He wanted to do this, would have fought to have it.

He grabbed Nathaniel’s arse in his fine trousers and kneaded the taut muscle. Promising more for later.

Nathaniel groaned and slowed, clearly fighting for control. Brooklyn considered not allowing that, but then pulled back, letting the cock slip from his mouth. “Want to take it to bed?”

“Don’t expect me… to be coherent….” Nathaniel placed his hands against Brooklyn’s shoulders.

Brooklyn laughed, stood, and grabbed Nathaniel around the waist. A fair bit heavier than Shelley, but carrying him wasn’t hard work by any stretch.

He dropped him on the bed and began pulling Nathaniel’s trousers off. Nathaniel stared up at him, lips parted, and kicked off his shoes. “Okay, what have I done to trigger that?”

Brooklyn dropped the trousers and removed Nathaniel’s socks. “Nothing.” He pushed Nathaniel’s legs apart and slid between them, rubbing his clothed groin against Nathaniel’s naked dick. The man groaned, arched, curved his back, offering his arse. Brooklyn grinned, paused long enough to open his fly and pull his trousers down, and continued to grind against Nathaniel. “You want it inside, right?”

Nathaniel laughed, breathless. “Not if that means you’ll stop.”

Brooklyn took Nathaniel’s wrists and pressed them over his head and wide apart, then kept grinding, fucking against the sweat-damp skin. Women were easier, less complicated, but he was doing all right with this guy.

Nathaniel closed his eyes and arched up against him, gasping and groaning as they struggled together. No fight, just trying to get off. Neck bared and arched like that, recklessly chasing climax, Nathaniel was unspeakably sexy. Brooklyn bit his neck, enough to taste and feel him more, and when Nathaniel was clearly about to come, he swallowed Nathaniel’s groans with a hungry open-mouthed kiss that he only broke when his own climax hit.

Nathaniel grabbed his neck and held him close through the last few shudders. Brooklyn gave up and rested on top of him, their come and sweat mingling between their bodies, but he really couldn’t care. Sex with Nathaniel was only getting better and better, and he liked being held like this. Even liked the kissing. Maybe he’d missed that most. Tenderness. Intimacy. Another human being holding him like he mattered, like he was a person. Maybe even somebody special.

Round 3

SHUFFLING TOWARDSimmigration at Heathrow was always a pain in the neck. Brooklyn could have gone through the iris scan, but Nathaniel hadn’t been set up for that. All convicts were registered in a government database, but citizens had the choice. Curtis stood behind them, the constant thundercloud hanging over Brooklyn’s life. Ever since Curtis had been put in charge of him, Brooklyn knew what it must have felt like for the awkward kids at school—constantly being watched by a bully who was just waiting to kick their arse. Not a fair fight with that fucking tonfa either.

All this was more difficult because at the same time, being with Nathaniel was so very different. They’d had sex in the morning, slow and gentle, Brooklyn behind Nathaniel. Shelley had liked spooning sex, but of course the body was all different. And comparing Nathaniel to her wasn’t fair either; he knew that. Maybe he compared them because he missed her. Or because that had been the last time he’d really cared for somebody and had felt human.

Once outside, Nathaniel flagged down a cab. “I’ll drop you off near the gym,” he said when the driver opened the door for them. “It’s on the way.”

“Where are you headed?” Brooklyn asked.

“None of your fucking business, convict,” Curtis growled.

“Middle Temple. I need to pick up some papers,” Nathaniel said pointedly.

They drove in silence. Brooklyn stared out the window, unwilling to show weakness in front of Curtis. Curtis was silent too, probably exploring the dark, jagged edges of his own mind in search of new methods of torture, and Nathaniel switched on an iPhone and read what looked like a million emails.

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