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“Then please . I don’t want to think anymore.”

Niko kissed him again and again, greedily now, letting each one be slow and sensual.

He went for his long neck, unable to help himself.

It was probably his second favorite part of Elliott.

The other man emitted a soft sound, then sat up and climbed on top of him, one knee planted on either side of Niko’s hips now, hands flat on the bed near his shoulders.

He bent down and took Niko’s mouth with his own, penetrating him with his tongue. Then he murmured into his ear, breath warm against his skin, “Do you want me to fuck you, Niko? Would you like that?”

Niko did want that. Very, very much. More than he cared to admit.

He swallowed, trying to catch his breath.

He wanted to be filled with Elliott—the very idea was delicious.

Even seeing the man positioned above him, looking down at him with a hungry glint to his gaze, hair hanging disheveled in his face, made Niko lightheaded.

He felt himself straining against the fabric of his sweatpants now, just as voracious as the look in Elliott’s eyes.

“Do you want to take my cock? You’re so good at it,” Elliott purred at him.

He bent and nipped at Niko’s earlobe. Then he slid his hand downward and cupped Niko’s crotch through his pants and began to massage and squeeze him.

It was like lightning struck through Niko—vibrant, pure pleasure and need.

He drew in an involuntary breath at the touch.

Then Elliott took Niko's hand and guided it to rest on his own needy bulge.

“Last time, you took the whole thing like such a good boy.”

Whoa. Shit.

Niko nearly choked at hearing those words.

They did something terrible to him, and he felt his whole body flush with a surge of heat, his pulse pounding in his chest and throat now.

It was all he could do not to tear Elliott's pants off right there.

Not to beg him for it, beg to be filled with his hard heat until he ached from it.

Something feverish and wild overtook him. Urgent, starving fantasies wormed their way uninvited—but unrestricted nonetheless—through his mind. They came and pressed in on him before he could stop them.

Niko wanted Elliott to use him. Like a thing .

He wanted to exist only for Elliott’s pleasure—to experience a surrender that was given wholly, completely.

He craved utter destruction, until only the breathless ruins of himself remained.

Niko had never had thoughts like that before.

Or maybe he’d stopped himself before ever truly going there.

But something about Elliott drove him to this strange state of existence, like the other man knew exactly what Niko wanted in some quieted part of himself and how to pluck its strings to harmony.

It made him absolutely wild. He felt outside of his body, floating, yet fully, intensely aware of its sensations all the same.

Niko wanted to be Elliott's very, very good boy.

But another thought came, unbidden, on the tail end of that: someone might see them.

It was absurd.

No one was going to enter this room at two in the morning. And if they did, it wasn’t going to be for any particularly pleasant or amicable reason. He’d have far more to worry about than if an assailant might catch him in a compromising role.

Regardless, the idea of anyone knowing, of finding him on his back, penetrated and dominated hard by another person made Niko’s face heat with embarrassment.

And shame.

What if Elliott was right? What if the room had been bugged? The possibility suddenly didn't seem so ludicrous.

He wasn’t ashamed of Elliott. He knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed to be with him— however they wanted to consummate their pairing. There was nothing inherently shameful nor demeaning in the least about receiving in a gay relationship. Nor about wanting to submit yourself to your partner.

How you liked it in the bedroom didn’t dictate your masculinity.

He knew that.

But he couldn’t shake it.

Niko had some shit to work through. Tonight had told him that, if nothing else.

“Actually,” he mumbled, reaching up to trail his fingertips down along Elliott’s side. “I want to be inside you.”

“Mmh.” Elliott gave a soft sound of acknowledgement.

Niko searched his face for disappointment in the dim, barred neon light that trickled through their heavy curtains, but found nothing.

Either Elliott truly didn’t mind or was good at hiding it.

“Alright, lover. However you like it, Niko.” He bent down again, giving Niko a long and sensuous kiss he felt he didn’t deserve. Niko tried to swallow the guilt down.

“Think you could grab the lube, babe? From my bag.” He hated that he had to ask. That he couldn’t do it himself.

Elliott climbed off him and rifled through Niko’s duffel bag.

It still had two bullet holes through it from Baouban’s failed attempt on their lives.

He came back, bottle in hand, and proceeded to peel his clothing off.

Niko sat up and pulled his own shirt off, then his pants and underwear.

He moved to the foot of the bed again, similar to how he'd been when Elliott had massaged his legs.

“Come here,” Niko murmured, holding a hand out toward him. “Come sit in my lap.”

Elliott handed him the bottle. He sank down into Niko’s lap, facing away from him, then leaned against him so his back rested against Niko’s chest. Niko’s erection pressed against his ass.

For a moment, they merely stayed like that.

Niko wrapped his arms around the other man and held him tight against himself.

He started planting slow and sensual kisses along his shoulder, working up along the curve of his neck.

Elliott’s wild, cowlicked hair had gotten longer; he had to push the ends out of the way now.

Niko left a greedy mark on him there, Elliott tipping his head to the side to give him full access and letting out a soft, low moan of pleasure. Then he simply buried his face in Elliott’s hair, inhaling the scent that had become so synonymous to him with home .

There was something he wanted to say then, but stopped himself.

Instead, he murmured, “Let me get you ready.”

Elliott leaned forward and Niko applied the lube to them both.

Then he trailed his fingertips along Elliott’s back, tracing the valleys that lie between each tendon, muscle, and gentle ridge of spine, until finally they brushed against the old hook-shaped scar on his shoulder blade.

He thought to ask about it, was so curious, but this wasn’t the right time.

The realization that it had probably come from Elliott’s shitbag excuse of a father hurt Niko’s heart.

He would have to ask him later.

“Okay, babe,” he murmured once they were both prepped. Elliott was ready for him and after another moment of readjusting, he sank down onto Niko, slowly, emitting a soft, choked sigh as he met him at the hilt. It felt incredible to be joined to him, inside him.

Niko stroked his unruly blond half-curls again, kissing his neck. He rested his hands on the other man’s chest and stomach, palms flat against him, arms around him in an embrace. Elliott’s heart beat wildly beneath his touch.

“Is it good?” Niko murmured.

“It’s good. It’s always good,” Elliott said.

They simply stayed like that for a moment in stillness.

Niko could hold him forever. Then Elliott began rocking his hips, moving himself against Niko.

Niko wished he could aid him, could fuck into him.

He slid one hand downward to grip Elliott’s cock and began stroking it in time to Elliott’s own movements.

He couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop wanting to connect everywhere they could.

Niko kissed him again and again, on the back, the shoulder, the neck, even the mouth when Elliott craned his neck so they could meet one another.

Slowly, they built a rhythm, until Elliott was moving fast and hard against him.

A low, breathy, quiet moan slipped from Elliott that picked up in intensity the more they went and the harder they worked each other.

It was Niko’s favorite sound. He’d once tried to guess if the carefully-composed man kept silent, or gave in to vocalizing his pleasure in bed.

That curiosity had long since been satisfied—Elliott was a moaner. No matter how it was they fucked.

But they were far from alone in the compound.

And the last thing Niko wanted to do was draw attention to what they were doing—even if he was the one giving it to Elliott now.

Some small part of him delighted at the thought, an inversion of his earlier fears.

The idea of someone seeing Elliott riding him was darkly delicious in the same vein as the thought of someone noticing the blushing marks Niko had left along his neck and shoulders so often.

But actually drawing attention right now probably wasn’t for the best and it certainly wasn’t going to help Elliott get to sleep after this.

“ Elliott ,” he murmured in chastisement. The other man only continued to moan though, his handsome, breathless voice coming with each exhale in a rhythm. “You’re going to wake the whole damn building up.”

“I can’t help it,” Elliott managed to get out. “Fuck, Niko.”

It made Niko lightheaded to know Elliott was enjoying himself so much with him, that Niko could bring him to that kind of pleasure. To know he was losing himself so deeply he couldn’t stop from crying out, even despite the situational paranoia he had from being in the compound.

Fuck, that’s hot, Niko thought. But it won’t do .