Page 113 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

Slowly rolling onto his side, he gently kissed Marco’s back. The man was ridiculous, had no idea how vulnerable he was, and was overly reliant on faith and a belief in good intentions, calling it instinct. And God save him, he was so fucking nice .

Marco stirred, his voice thick with sleep. “Tickles.”

“Not everywhere ,” Marco protested.

“Horndog,” Marco said, though it didn’t sound like a complaint. “Kinda still hurts, though.”

Which didn’t sound like a complaint. Carter couldn’t blame him.

Sunday night had been as relaxing as ever, but after a shower, Marco had walked around in the tiniest pair of shorts Carter had ever seen.

He’d found his eyes tracking the man’s every movement through the apartment as Marco busied himself tidying and cleaning up.

Which, of course, had inevitably resulted in Carter pouncing.

He chuckled as he remembered grabbing the lube from beside the couch and bending Marco over the counter.

The benefits of going without a condom were clear.

It was quicker, easier, and damned if it wasn’t many times better.

And the foundation of it all was the fact that he could do it, be with someone he trusted that much, and who trusted him just as equally.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Marco murmured, finally uncurling himself from his ball of warmth to blink up at him.

Carter snorted derisively. “You’re a mind reader now?”

“No,” Marco said, glancing down. “But your dick is currently trying to push me off the bed.”

“Morning wood,” Carter said, scowling at him.

Marco smiled sleepily. “Sure it is. So, if I were to offer?—”

The question was accompanied by a slow grind of Marco’s body back against Carter. There was no hiding his temptation, and Carter gripped Marco’s hip to pull him back when the man threatened to pull away.

“I can’t be late,” Carter warned him.

“I know,” Marco said, kissing him gently.

And for a moment, Carter forgot all about debating if he should try for a quickie or tamp down his sudden burst of hunger. The feel of Marco’s lips on his and the happy little hum he gave, a reaction that was because of Carter , was enough to wipe away all the other thoughts.

“I’ll behave,” Marco promised, running a finger along Carter’s jaw.

Carter watched him, all sleepy smiles and heavily hooded eyes.

Marco should still be sleeping. The man couldn’t function unless he had a full night’s sleep.

But he was awake and staring up at Carter with an emotion that had a name, Carter was sure.

Even if he couldn’t place it exactly, it made his heart skip a beat and wonder what he had done to deserve this one good thing.

This time, it was Carter who bent forward, catching Marco’s lips with his.

Marco turned into it, curling against Carter’s chest and giving a soft noise that made Carter wish he could throw everything else in his life to the side and stay right where he was.

He needed to get moving, but he pulled Marco closer instead, pressing his nose into the man’s hair.

“You should probably go,” Marco said after a while. “Can’t have you getting in trouble because you stuck around here too long.”

“You worry too damn much,” Carter grunted, even though he knew Marco was right.

Marco laughed softly, the sound muffled against Carter’s chest. “Probably. But calling me out on it isn’t going to stop me.”

Not that Carter had any room to talk, and he knew it.

He’d found himself more than once over the past couple of weeks wondering what Marco was doing and if he was being careful.

It wasn’t that Carter didn’t have faith in Marco’s common sense, even if Carter had made comments to the contrary, but as he’d told Marco the other day, shit happened.

“By the way,” Carter said, reluctantly extracting himself from around Marco. “I’m still not done with you.”

“Oh, there’s a promise,” Marco said with a wide grin.

“I meant teaching you how to defend yourself,” Carter growled, getting out of bed and looking for his clothes. He should probably have taken a shower, but he thought his time had been better spent.

“Well, that’s less exciting,” Marco grumbled, planting his face in his pillow with a sigh.

“Just because I had a mental breakdown doesn’t mean I’m letting you off easy,” Carter told him, yanking his shirt on.

“You didn’t have a mental breakdown,” Marco complained. “You had emotions. They’re two different things.”

Carter scowled down at him. “Call it what you want, fuck knows I can’t stop you. But I’m still going to teach you more, so be ready next weekend, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Marco muttered.

“Good,” Carter grunted, buttoning his pants and turning to the door.

He was stopped before he made it beyond the bed when a warm weight threw itself at his back and wrapped around him. Marco chuckled, nuzzling into Carter’s neck and kissing him gently on the jaw.

“I promise to pay more attention and maybe do a bit of practice before next weekend, okay?” Marco told him, and Carter could feel the man’s smile on his skin.

“Good,” Carter huffed, turning his head to return the kiss, this time on Marco’s lips. “Now get back to bed. Otherwise, you’ll be useless and probably spend all day complaining about how tired you are.”

“So sweet,” Marco said with a laugh, flopping backward onto the bed and burrowing into the pillows and blankets.

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Carter told him, and even he could hear the fondness in his voice.

“Damn right,” Marco said.

Shaking his head, Carter descended the stairs to the main floor and headed toward the door, where he kept his boots.

He looked up at the loft as he laced them up, still shaking his head.

No doubt, Marco was probably wrapped around the pillow Carter had been using and quickly nodding back off because he hadn’t had his required eight hours sleep.

Again, the temptation to say ‘fuck it’ rolled through him. To kick his boots off, mount the stairs, and curl up in bed with the man who, for so many reasons, had become so much more than just a pretty face to Carter.

Being around Marco was like being wrapped in a warm, soft blanket.

Conversation came easy to them, even if Carter felt like Marco mostly carried the conversations.

The sex was beyond compare, and Carter had to admit that fast and hard or slow and gentle, he was beyond satisfied.

And somewhere along the road, he’d found that he enjoyed not only sleeping with Marco but being with him.

His presence, whether awake and chipper or asleep and looking ridiculously vulnerable, Carter wanted to be around him as much as possible.

Something fluttered in his chest at the thought, and he opened the door gently, locking it behind him.

Carter had no idea what love was supposed to feel like or how fast and hard it came on.

But if he had to guess, that feeling was beginning to blossom in his chest every time he saw Marco’s soft smile or when his gut twisted pleasantly when he heard him laugh.

It should have scared the shit out of him, that sort of urge, the need to be around someone. Yet even as the fear threatened to crawl into his throat, he could see Marco’s knowing eyes and the warmth of his smile, and the fear evaporated.

Maybe it wasn’t love, but it sure as hell felt like the first strong strides of it finding a place in his heart.

He was more pleased than ever that he made it back to the Fort with time to spare.

Carter had to stop by the barracks for a quick change of clothes, as even the slightest sign of his clothes being worn would have been caught by Sergeant Reynolds.

The last thing he wanted was to give the man an excuse to come down on him even harder than usual.

Checking himself to ensure everything was perfect, he headed to where he knew Reynolds would be so early in the morning.

He entered the building Reynolds used as his office and stopped short when he saw the door was open.

It wasn’t like the Sergeant to keep it open, as the asshole liked to make people knock and wait before he permitted them to enter.

Carter swiveled to leave, annoyed that now he needed to go and find him. He stopped when he heard a soft noise, cocking his head to listen closely. Another noise, this time it was the soft rumble of a voice, though he couldn’t place it right away.

And again, the first noise, a soft, desperate whimper.

The hair on Carter’s neck rose, instincts knowing a pained noise when he heard one. Careful not to let the thick soles of his boots thump heavily on the wooden floor, Carter inched toward the open door.

As he approached, all he could see through the crack was the Sergeant’s desk, cluttered with mugs, discarded pens, and a computer that hadn’t been turned on yet.

Holding his breath, Carter pushed open the door a little more, hoping it didn’t squeak and give away his presence.

It didn’t, and it only took a second to glance in and find the room was occupied.

Carter almost jerked back as he spotted the duo, sure as hell not wanting to be caught and end up accused of being a Peeping Tom.

That was until he heard the soft voice again.

This time, he knew it was Reynolds talking, and there was just something so off about it.

It didn’t help that he’d caught a glimpse of the woman, not enough to see clearly, but enough to add to the feeling of wrongness.

Steeling himself, Carter stepped into the room a little more, as silent as possible. What he saw made him briefly wonder if he might just be cursed and who the hell in the bureaucracy of life events and karma he had pissed off.