Page 71 of Enemy Within
Jack rocked his hips, slid his ass over Ethan’s cock, taking charge as Ethan kissed every inch of Jack’s skin he could reach.
And then, he took over, deep, fluid rolls of his hips into Jack’s body. He mouthed over Jack’s hair, kissed the curve of his ear. Ran his hand up Jack’s neck and turned his head, his fingers grasping Jack’s blond strands as they kissed over Jack’s shoulder, sloppy and all tongue. Jack’s Adam’s apple jutted out from his arched neck, and breathless pleas and Ethan’s name mixed with his grunts and groans.
Sweat rolled down their skin. Their hot breaths turned the sleeping bag humid, turned the air within the cotton confines an almost scorching heat. There was no hiding what they were doing, not to anyone watching, but the top of the sleeping bag clung to the backs of Ethan’s shoulders, keeping them enveloped in their private cocoon.
Jack’s arms shook, almost violent trembles while he held them both up. Ethan grabbed his wrists and folded Jack’s arms beneath his chest, laying Jack on his front. He went down with Jack, holding him, enveloping him completely.
Jack gasped, thrusting his ass back to meet each of Ethan’s hot slides. “More,” Jack panted. “Harder, Ethan.”
“Kiss me.”
Jack twisted and their lips met, another sloppy, tongue-filled kiss. Ethan lit off like a firework. His hands grasped Jack’s hips, and he rested his forehead on Jack’s shoulder and thrust into him, hard and deep. Harder than he ever had, almost recklessly pounding into Jack.
Jack arched his back and wailed, shouting Ethan’s name as he shook, as his body trembled, and as his ass clamped down on Ethan’s cock, his desperate thrusts. He humped the sleeping bag, rutting wildly into the cotton and the sand beneath. “Ethan, Ethan—” Jack gasped. “I’m—”
He felt Jack’s orgasm tear through his body, felt the clench of his ass, the shake and shiver of his muscles as he thrashed and groaned. It kept going, a relentless wave that never stopped. Jack shouted and writhed, like a boat rocked on an endless, rolling storm, and he backed up on Ethan’s cock like he wanted more.
Ethan buried his face in Jack’s neck and thrust deep, fucking Jack through his own orgasm. Jack squeezed him dry, his clenching ass yanking Ethan’s orgasm from him in a blinding wave. He kept moving, kept driving into Jack, until they were slick with come, covering their legs, Jack’s skin, his skin. He couldn’t stop, didn’t ever want to stop. He’d make love to Jack forever, live in the juncture of their bodies with him for the rest of their days.
Eventually, he slowed, but stayed buried within Jack. Jack moaned and kissed Ethan’s hair over his shoulder. “Ethan,” he breathed. “God…”
“I think they heard that on the subs.” Ethan grinned and kissed Jack’s shoulder blade, his cheek, and the edge of his wide smile.
“I think they heard that in space.” Jack arched his back and squeezed his ass around Ethan again. “I can never get enough of you.”
Ethan kissed the corner of Jack’s beaming grin again. “That’s a relief. I would hope my fiancé likes our lovemaking.”
Laughing, Jack wiggled until they separated, and then shimmied and squirmed until they were lying side by side, gazing into each other's eyes. His cheeks were flushed, lit by a radiant glow, contentment oozing from his bones. He slid his fingers through Ethan’s chest hair. “Jack Spiers-Reichenbach,” he sighed. “That sounds good. Really good.”
Shock jolted Ethan like he’d touched a live wire. His thoughts went sideways, smeared apart, and he stared at Jack, his mouth hanging open. “You want to take my name?”
“Of course I do. I want the whole world to know.” One thumb brushed over Ethan’s nipple. “I want the world to know I’m yours.” His eyes gleamed, joyous in the way that he’d been after he’d kissed Ethan on the White House lawn in the back of the ambulance. Proud. Proud of Ethan, of their love, of his choices. Happy. So fucking happy.
Ethan smiled back, until his cheeks burned, aching. “Ethan Spiers-Reichenbach sounds good, too,” he whispered.
“Sounds perfect, love.” Still smiling, Jack kissed him, soft and sweet.
Their hands rose, cupping cheeks and sliding through sweat-slick hair. Their bodies pressed close again. Beside them, the fire burned low, turning to smoldering coals, as they made their own heat that lasted through the night.
IN THE MORNING, THEY grimaced at the sticky mess they’d made. There was no hiding what they had been up to all night long.
“We need showers again.”
Ethan poked his head out of the sleeping bag. Dull fog hung in the pre-dawn air, low over the sand and the beach. Others were rising, huddled around reignited fires and slowly waking up. “Cold saltwater is all that’s available, love.”
“I am not Russian enough for that.”
Ethan managed to drag his scattered clothes into the bag and shimmy into his pants and undershirt. Cold, the uniform clung in all the wrong places, and Jack tried to keep his distance, rolling away as Ethan dressed. Their stomachs ached, by the end, from laughing.
He grabbed a metal bucket from their supplies and filled it with seawater, and then brought it back to their campfire. Jack did his best to restart the fire from inside the sleeping bag, poking it with sticks and turning the coals over. Ethan finished the job, and in minutes, the fire roared and the bucket of water started to steam, resting half in the coals.
Jack scrubbed down with the warm saltwater first and then dressed. Ethan stripped, washed, and redressed, right as Scott headed over.
“Morning.” Scott sipped at his battered tin mug, the same one he’d used since they left the forest and the Volga river valley. Burned coffee stench hung in the air. “Have a good night?” His eyebrows rose, almost to his hairline, and he hid his grin behind his mug.
They couldn’t keep their guilty smiles contained. Scott snorted.
And then he froze, staring at their hands. Wide eyes flicked first to Ethan, and then to Jack, and finally, he beamed. “Ah, he worked up the nerve to ask!” Scott grabbed Ethan and pulled him in for a huge hug, slapping his back. “Proud of you,” he murmured into Ethan’s ear. “Fuckingproud of you.”
