Page 16

“Jesus, you got a mouth on you,” Boone muttered.

Payton gasped as Boone gripped the plug, tugging on it until the widest part was stretching him open, that pleasure-pain burning through him in the best possible way. The way pleasure sometimes did—sharp, invasive, impossible to ignore.

“Boone…”

He’d meant it to sound scolding, but it sounded more like a prayer, like one step from begging. He ached. He ached for him so badly. He’d edged himself for far too long, fucking himself on his fingers and then the plug, halting his seduction temporarily for the chance to meet Boone’s mama face to face.

Boone stopped tugging, groaning as Payton’s body eagerly sucked the toy back inside. Payton made an undignified sound as Boone pressed his thumb against the base, grinding the glass plug against his prostate until tears sprang to his eyes and he choked on a sob. “Stop teasing me…”

Boone clamped his teeth down on Payton’s thigh just above the stockings, dragging a debauched moan from deep in his chest. “Oh, fuck. Do that again.”

He could feel Boone’s laugh against his skin a moment before he licked over the indentations, then bit down a second time, this one overlapping the first until Payton was whining, his thighs shaking harder than they ever had before. His cock was drooling onto the sheets, aching from neglect.

“I want to ride you,” he said, reaching to give himself a few strokes just to take the edge off.

Boone snatched his hands, locking them behind his back.

“You’re not making the rules right now, little monster,” he growled, soothing over the bite with his tongue, then kissing over the marks almost apologetically, like he’d had no choice but to sink his teeth into Payton’s flesh.

That was Boone, though. He was a sleeper agent in every sense of the words. Anyone who looked at him might see a grizzled, haggard man on the verge of retirement, gruff and grumpy. But Boone was anything but. Sure, he was violent in his sweetness. Sometimes, his love came as lectures or harsh looks. But it was like drowning in honey. Dangerous in every conceivable way.

Boone’s touch seared, fusing them together, burning through the layers of Payton’s independence until he no longer cared about anything but being at his side. Separating himself from Boone would require carving out much-needed pieces of himself.

“You’ve haunted my dirtiest dreams in this outfit for months, and I plan on satisfying every filthy fucking urge I have before I bury myself inside you. Be patient.”

Payton shivered at the low rasp of Boone’s drawl. “At least let me touch myself a little, Daddy.”

“No.”

That single word had his cock twitching. No. A full sentence. Payton was so tempted to wrestle control back from the man beneath him, but just this once, he would try to be patient. He gasped as Boone pulled the plug free without warning, tossing it somewhere beside them, leaving him clenching desperately on nothing. Boone spread him open, studying the most intimate parts of him.

“Oh fuck, look at you,” Boone said, almost to himself. “Your little hole already looks so fucked out. Bet I could just slide right in.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty big,” Payton countered, feeling Boone’s breath on his rim.

“Look how open you are for me. Were you in there fucking yourself on your fingers the whole time?”

“Yes,” Payton said, his voice embarrassingly whiny. “But it wasn’t enough. I’ve been dreaming about this for months, too. Maybe as long as you’ve fantasized about me in these tights.”

He jumped as Boone’s thumb ghosted over him.

“Just relax,” Boone soothed. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

“I’m trying,” Payton said, tone borderline sullen.

His knees were growing weak. Something about the softness of Boone’s touch was fucking with him. It was such a direct contrast to the way his other hand clenched the meat of his cheek, holding him open so he could play with him how he liked.

He didn’t know how much longer he could stand there like that, unmoving, letting Boone do as he pleased. He couldn’t remember feeling this needy, this desperate to be connected to another person.

It was crazy. But Payton was crazy. Now that he knew how it felt to have Boone inside him, he knew nothing else would ever measure up. Nobody would ever fill that hollowness like Boone. “Do something, or I swear to all the saints that I will,” Payton said, but the words lost their edge as Boone’s thumb dipped inside him.

He huffed out a breath through his nose but sounded distracted as he said, “You might be lethal with a weapon, little monster, but you weigh about as much as a feather. You’ll stay where I put you. You hear?”

“Daddy…” Payton whined.

He heard Boone collapse against the pillows, his hands sliding from Payton’s ass to his trembling thighs.

“Sit,” he growled.

Payton’s knees collapsed like a newborn foal. He sucked in a shocked breath when it wasn’t Boone’s cock he felt pressing against him, but his nose. He moaned again, hips rocking down involuntarily. He had a really nice nose. It wasn’t in Payton’s disposition to pretend things like this embarrassed him. He loved Boone’s mouth on him and couldn’t wait to return the favor again soon.

Boone pulls his cheeks apart, settling Payton more firmly over his face. Like this, Payton can feel the scratch of his beard against his perineum and the sensitive inner skin surrounding his hole. Boone groaned like he was the one getting his ass eaten, his hot, wet tongue darting out to lap at Payton with short, teasing little strokes. Payton whined, trying to grind down on his tongue, trying to push it deeper inside, where he needed it.

Each time he did, Boone retreated, sometimes sucking at him, sometimes scraping his teeth against his swollen rim until he yelped. Other times, he’d lap at the sensitive skin behind his balls while Payton moaned like a whore.

Payton had thought Boone would whet his appetite with this, then quickly move onto the main course, but just like last time, it became apparent that Boone had settled in. Payton’s brain grew foggy with pleasure as he tried to drown out the desperate, needy whines that kept escaping and the dirty, pornographic sounds of Boone slurping at his hole like he never wanted to stop.

Everything blurred…time…tension…everything. Payton went from every muscle clenching to practically purring. Everything was warm and wet and perfect, like he was floating in one of those sensory deprivation chambers. He didn’t realize he was actually chanting Boone’s name over and over until he found himself underneath the other man as he settled between his open legs.

Payton blinked up at him, dazed, lips parted as he stared at Boone’s wet face and swollen mouth. “Daddy…” he whispered.

Boone dipped his head, pressing a soft kiss to Payton’s cheek. “I got you, little monster.”

He didn’t see Boone reach for the lube, but he heard the snap of the cap and the squelching of him coating his cock. Everything came into sharp focus as he pushed three fingers inside. The burn stung, bringing tears to his eyes.

“Relax,” Boone said, finding his lips in a slow, lazy kiss. “You feel so fucking good.”

Payton wrapped his legs around Boone’s thick waist, suddenly desperate to feel as close to him as possible. The change in angle pushed his fingers even deeper, drawing another breathy sound from him. If he had it in him to be embarrassed, he probably would have been.

“Just put it in,” he heard himself say. “Please, I’ve waited long enough.”

Boone said nothing, but Payton could feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against his hole. How did he feel ten times bigger when he was pushing inside?

Last time, their sex had seemed almost frenzied, carnal, like they were afraid it was the last time they’d see each other. This time, Boone slid into him slowly, one inch at a time, like he was savoring it. It burned. It burned in a way that had him tensing up, only making it worse. He welcomed the burn, though. It made him feel alive.

Payton buried his face in Boone’s neck with a low moan as he finally bottomed out. “God, I can feel you in my throat, I swear,” he said against his skin.

Boone chuckled, but just stayed as he was, hips still. After a moment, he slid his fingers into Payton’s wild curls, tugging him from his hiding spot to seal their lips together in a slow, deep kiss that made Payton feel owned.

That hazy feeling returned, rolling in like morning fog, leaving Payton whimpering into Boone’s mouth as he began to move. He rolled his hips almost lazily, like he had nothing but time, his cock thrusting into the warm heat of Payton’s body in time with his tongue thrusting into Payton’s mouth.

Last time, he’d fucked Payton like he was starving. This time, it was like he was savoring every moment. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, bodies connected at two points, breathing each other’s breaths, but it was the single most erotic experience of his life.

If someone had described the scene to Payton, he would have grimaced, would have called them boring, vanilla, a million other judgmental things. But this didn’t feel boring, it felt…holy. Every slow drag of Boone’s cock pulled an almost pained cry from him. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, his pulse syncing with every lazy roll of Boone’s hips.

“Daddy, please,” he whispered, his hips surging upwards, trying to get him to move faster, thrust harder.

His cock leaked between them, the friction just enough to make him crazy, but not enough to get him off. It was maddening, almost torturous.

“What’s wrong, little monster?” he teased, voice raw.

He sounded close to coming undone himself. He needed him to snap, needed him to go feral and just take, take, take.

“I need more,” he begged into Boone’s shoulder. “I need you to fuck me. I need to feel you everywhere. Need you to fill me up. Please.”

He didn’t care that he sounded desperate or pathetic. When Boone sat up between his open legs, their bodies still connected, Payton’s heart pitched over a cliff like he was free falling. This was so much more than sex. Boone looked at him like he was something special, something precious. It was a mind-fuck in the best possible way.

He took one of Payton’s legs and braced it against his chest, the change in angle dragging another sharp sound from him. “Fuck. Do that again.”

Boone gave him what he wanted, his hips slapping against Payton hard enough to push him up the bed had Boone not had such a tight grip on his hips. Every thrust pummeled Payton’s prostate, dragging almost animalistic cries from him, his cock leaking each time, driving him closer and closer to his release.

“Please, don’t stop. I’m so close. Touch me, please?” he begged.

When Boone wrapped a fist around Payton’s cock, he jumped. Boone wasted no time, stroking Payton in time with his thrusts, the headboard steady as a metronome as Payton came apart at the seams.

“I’m close. Tell me you’re close,” Boone growled. Payton nodded frantically, his body tense as a bowstring, afraid a single word might pull him from the orgasm hurtling towards him.

“Come on then, little monster. I want to feel you come on my cock,” Boone said.

Payton came with a strangled cry, his nails digging into Boone’s shoulders as he tried not to fly into a million pieces. He heard Boone groan long and low, felt him throbbing inside him as he came, but he was too far gone to form words, much less complete sentences.

Boone collapsed on top of him, but then made to move.

“No…” he managed, wrapping his limbs around him. “Don’t pull out yet. Just stay with me…just like this. Please.”

Whatever he was going to say was lost as sleep overtook him. He would just shut his eyes for a few minutes. “Wake me up when there’s food,” he managed, already losing the fight with consciousness.

Boone’s lips pressed to his forehead, his cheeks, even his ears. “I…”

Whatever Boone was going to say was lost on Payton as sleep overtook him.

“I really like your mom,” Payton said, offering Boone a peanut butter-dipped pretzel.

Boone accepted it, chewing it thoughtfully. He was currently sprawled between Payton’s splayed legs, his head resting on Payton’s chest. When he finished, he offered Payton a slice of apple from the plate resting on his tummy. Payton let Boone place it on his tongue, the crunch loud in his ears.

Boone laughed softly. “Mama really likes you, too.”

“Most people like me. I’m charming,” Payton said, grinning when Boone once more flicked his gaze upwards, a smirk on his face.

“My mother isn’t most people. I’ve seen her bring grown men to tears with a look.”

Payton popped a cracker in Boone’s pouting mouth.

At some point during their sexcapades, the CID agent had returned with food and left their findings on the counter like an offering. Unfortunately, due to the lockdown, there hadn’t been any hot food, only a very basic version of a grocery store charcuterie board. The guard had piled deli meats and cheeses onto two plates along with some crusty bread.

Boone had immediately headed to the fridge to pull out fruits, olives, pickles, and a peppery jam that could easily turn Payton into some kind of jelly fanatic. From the cabinets, he found crackers, pretzels, and peanut butter. That became their dinner.

“Are you the grown man in question?” Payton teased, nibbling on another bite of cheese.

While Payton had eaten from a million hors d’oeuvres trays, he’d never had a spread like this. He’d certainly never had it half-naked with the sexiest man he’d ever seen using him as a pillow. He looked so relaxed whenever he tipped his head up to check on Payton.

“One of many, unfortunately, and I’m not ashamed to say it. She looks like your typical Texas mom until there’s a wooden spoon or a fly swatter in her hand, then woe betide the creature within arm’s length.” Boone shuddered. “That woman could have been a tennis champion with her swing.”

“I’m sure it was well-deserved,” Payton said, curling long fingers around Boone’s jaw and tugging his gaze upwards.

“You’re both going to gang up on me. I just know it.”

“I think you love the idea. Besides, isn’t it better if we get along?”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But no. It’s not. It’s like Hannibal Lector becoming besties with Regina George,” he grumbled.

“Are you calling my new bestie a psychopath?” Payton asked. “Wait, am I Hannibal Lector in this scenario or is your mom?”

Boone gave him a flat stare. “The fact that you can’t tell is precisely why I’m concerned.”

Payton pretended to reach for his phone. “I’m gonna tell your mama you said that.”

Boone snatched his wrist and yanked him forward until he was lingering close enough to smell the teeny bit of peanut butter smeared on Boone’s lip. “Don’t you dare.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do about it?” Payton teased softly.

Boone stuck his tongue out, sweeping it over the tip of Payton’s nose. “I’ll get my own fly swatter. Isn’t that what one does to get rid of pests?”

What would a fly swatter feel like on bare skin? Payton bet the sound was sexy, like one of those paddles with the holes drilled into them. He wouldn’t mind Boone putting him over his knee…or bending him over his desk…or any number of the scenarios flooding his mind.

Boone snorted. “Jesus. You’re fantasizing about it right now, aren’t you?”

Payton giggled, delighted by the disgruntled look on Boone’s face. It all felt rather surreal—lying in Boone’s bed post-sex, feeding each other, just talking like any normal couple would. Were they a couple? Something occurred to him then. Something Boone had said to him days ago. Something he’d said to him more than once over the last few months.

“Did you really only keep me around because my dad was a bigger pain than me?” Payton asked, hating how much the answer suddenly mattered.

To his credit, Boone looked startled. “What?” Before Payton could repeat the question, Boone was shaking his head. “Of course not. You think your father is a bigger pain in my ass than you? I can say with absolute certainty that nobody gets under my skin more than you do. If I had wanted you gone, you would have been gone months ago. But I’m—unfortunately—very much obsessed with you.”

Payton tried and failed to hide the grin that spread across his face, having to content himself with looking up at the ceiling so he didn’t have to watch Boone grinning at his flushed face.

“You love hearing that, huh?”

Payton spared him a glance before his gaze darted away once more. “So? Isn’t that normal?”

“How would I know? I’ve never dated anyone before.”

Payton’s gaze snapped to his, now laser focused. “You haven’t? Is that what this is? Are we…dating?”

Boone sighed, looking around at the bed. “Not exactly a great date. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Next time…

Gift had spoken many times about eating in bed with Park, just watching television and cuddling together. It had always sounded like the waste of a perfectly good mattress. But Payton got it now. He really did. He couldn’t tell anyone the plot of the show they watched even if there was a gun to his head. He barely tasted the food as he chewed it.

But he loved the feel of Boone’s heavy body crushing him into the mattress, the way he could feel each breath he took. The way he could feel his head moving each time he glanced up at him. That the scent of Boone’s shampoo would forever be connected to the feeling he had right now…

“This is a great date. Shut up.”

Maybe it was the post-sex haze. Maybe Payton really was only capable of loving one person…Boone. Whatever it was, there was this honey-like warmth that spread through him at the thought, this weird sense of coziness that wrapped around him like a fuzzy blanket.

It made his chest feel so full it could explode like the lab. His lips twitched at the thought. He wouldn't even be mad. It would be a fitting end, his heart shredded from the shrapnel of his own seduction attempt. He’d set out to make Boone love him and had instead fallen victim to his own trap.

He smiled, glancing down at the top of Boone’s head. Despite every horrible thing that had happened over the last couple of days, he finally had Boone. Gift had once asked him if he really cared about Boone, and Drake had responded before he could, saying he just liked the challenge of chasing the headmaster. Payton had wondered more than once if that was true.

But now, as Payton carded his fingers through the older man’s mostly silver hair, he couldn’t imagine his life without him. Maybe he was being naive. Maybe Molly Shepherd was right and some psychopaths, while unable to love, could imprint on a person like a tiny, psychotic baby duckling. Maybe that was what this was. Maybe Payton had imprinted on Boone. Whatever it was, he’d kill before he let anyone take Boone from him, consequences be damned. This feeling he had whenever he looked at the man…he wasn’t giving that up. Not for anyone.

“Yup,” Boone said. “Just like Mama, willing to settle for the bare minimum.”

Payton smacked his fingers against the middle of Boone’s forehead. “Hey. That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“Ow,” Boone said, rubbing the red mark there.

“Don’t talk about your mom that way.”

Boone sighed. “It’s a compliment of sorts. I feel bad that my mom settled for my dad just because she got knocked up with me.”

“I don’t think she minded the sacrifice,” Payton said. “She gushes about you. She went on and on about ‘her boy.’ It was sweet.”

“My mom didn’t get a chance to be young because of me. Yeah, now, she’s making up for lost time. But how many years did she lose just trying to keep food on the table for me when she could have been out partying and living her life?”

“You ever think that maybe that’s not what she wanted? She doesn’t strike me as someone who would suffer in silence.”

“I just feel bad. It’s why I avoided you, too. You still have a million adventures ahead of you, and I’m…done with all of that. You two are both in a much different place than me…in so many ways.”

Payton frowned. It sounded like Boone was trying to say that he and Payton were somehow incompatible. “I hope you’re not trying to break up with me right now,” he said, keeping his voice as non-threatening as possible. “That would go…very badly for you. For both of us.”

Boone once more craned his neck to look up at Payton, but this time, his expression was one of patience. “Retract the fangs, little monster. I’m not…breaking up with you. I’m just managing your expectations.”

“What do you know about my expectations? Did you think I was going to ask you to leave your job here, come out of retirement, and travel around in my suitcase?” Payton said, tone snippy. “Did you ever even ask me what I want?”

“You’re here at the Watch, so I assumed you wanted to finish the program and be an asset with Gift as your handler. That is why you’re attending the program, right?”

“No,” Payton said. “I attended the program because I had nothing better to do and I was curious. I wanted to know if killing for the government would be more exhilarating than killing for myself. So far, we’ve only taken out Kendrick, and it was pretty boring once his head” —he formed both hands into a circle then pulled them apart—“split in two.”

Boone frowned. “Are you telling me you’re gonna drop the program?”

Payton shook his head. “No, I’m finishing the program.”

“But you have no interest in being an operative?” Boone asked, his expression perplexed.

He looked so cute when he was confused.

“Killing for a corrupt government? No, thanks,” Payton said, the warmth he’d felt moments ago bleeding from him like a severed artery.

Boone sat up, then turned to face him. “So, what do you want to do?”

Payton shrugged. “Finish the program, and then…we’ll see.”

“What about Gift?” Boone asked.

Payton huffed out a laugh. “The only reason Gift hasn’t dropped the program is because he thinks I’ll be paired with someone else and he’ll lose me somehow.”

Boone’s eyes went comically wide. “What? Really? Park never said anything about Gift not wanting to finish the program.”

“He does want to finish the program,” Payton said around a sigh. “We both do. The classes are fascinating, the political intrigue is politically intriguing. Gift would make a great UN interpreter or an intelligence analyst. Hell, he could still be a handler remotely, but for multiple agents, not just a glorified psycho-sitter like he is now.”

“Is that something you want to do? Something outside of…wet work?” Boone asked.

Payton sighed again. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. Killing…feeds me. I know that sounds very much like Hannibal Lector to you, but knowing there’s one less scumbag in the world because of me…knowing that they died screaming, that they got what they deserved…it makes me feel like I’m the apex predator.”

Boone was studying him like a therapist might study a particularly fascinating patient.

“Does that make me some kind of megalomaniac? Maybe. But I also know that killing innocent people was never for me. I never saw the challenge in it. It’s like a major league baseball team inviting the pee-wee division to a game. There’s no challenge in it. I thought the Watch would challenge me.”

Boone frowned once more, taking Payton’s hands, threading their fingers together, his expression painfully earnest as he asked, “But it hasn’t?”

“Not when it comes to killing, no,” Payton admitted. He was going to leave it there, but then found himself saying, “We’re almost half-way through year one and we’ve barely had any hands-on bloodshed. Not to be indelicate, but I would think a school for assassins would have more…murder.”

“To be fair, that’s year two curriculum. Year one is designed to get you familiar with things that would keep you safe in the field outside of violence. I can tell you from personal experience that when it comes to getting out of a dangerous situation, keeping a level head and talking your way out will beat violence nine times out of ten.”

Payton nodded. “None of that changes the fact that our government is hopelessly corrupt. We’re due for a total collapse of the country any day now.”

“Is that really how you see the world?” Boone asked, sounding a little sad.

“If social media has done anything for people, it’s pulled the scales from our eyes. We now know that sometimes conspiracy theories are just actual conspiracies, that our government is and always has been conspiring against us, that the system was designed to protect the strongest—the rich, specifically—not the weakest.”

“Your father is part of the one percent. Technically, so are you.”

“To be honest, I don’t want to be a part of that,” Payton said, staring at their linked fingers. “I always wonder about my birth parents. What kind of life would I have led if they hadn’t handed me over for a fat check because I scared them.”

Boone’s phone began to vibrate on the table beside Payton, startling them both from their serious conversation.

Boone frowned. “Who is it?”

“Dr. Kim,” Payton said, unplugging the phone and handing it to Boone.