Page 40 of Under Cover

Crosby chuckled gently and lifted him bodily so he could pull his knees up to his chest, presenting his ass to anyone who wanted it.

Crosby apparently wanted to lick it, from taint to dripping hole and back again, leaving Garcia to moan into the pillow, drifting in and out from want to need to absolutely would die if he didn’t, without a single word to beg for it.

Finally Crosby paused in his absolute heaven of a rim job and squirted a healthy dollop of cool lubricant on Garcia’s body.

“Can I?” he whispered, rubbing his backside, and Garcia had enough words after all.

“Please. Oh God, please.”

He stayed facedown while Crosby used him, but this time was slower, with tenderness and care. Crosby’s hands drifting over his bottom, spanning his waist, caressing him from his flanks to his shoulders—they drove Garcia up more than anything else.

Finally they drove him into a second orgasm, and Crosby collapsed on his back, rutting gently.

This time when Crosby rolled off him, they were facing each other, and Crosby looked like that was it, he was crashing, no more for tonight.

“Thank you,” Garcia slurred, “for that.”

Crosby chuckled, and Garcia snuggled up against his chest. Crosby pulled him in before covering them both with the comforter, and for a moment in the spring chill, Garcia was in a warm fortress, cared for and sated, and all was right with the world.

Mornings After, Promises Before

CROSBY COULDN’Thelp it. They’d managed to get dressed and had run down to the bar to pick up the SUV, also getting bagels and coffee on their way. Now he was on the bridge to Manhattan, trying desperately to get his head in the work zone.

He couldn’t do it.

“What?” Garcia demanded through a mouthful of bagels, lox, and capers. Crosby gave him crap aboutallthe salty food, but Garcia never seemed to care.

“Nothing,” Crosby mumbled, keeping his eye on traffic. The bridge could get squirrely at morning rush hour, and New York traffic was not quite as friendly as Chicago’s had been.

“Come on, brother, you need to spit it out now, while we’re alone, or you’re going to dwell on it when we’re trying to have a day. Say it!”

“Why?” Crosby muttered.

“I just told you why!”

“No, not why should I say it—why did you go down on me at three a.m.?”

Garcia sputtered coffee all over himself and spent a minute wiping it up. “Now I’mreallyglad you asked me that while we were alone,” he said, and Crosby reached into the door compartment where they kept the extra napkins. He handed a couple to Garcia, because his piddly single one wasn’t doing it, and waited for an answer.

After a few minutes of fussing—and a few more of stalling—Garcia finally pitched the napkins in his empty paper bag and said, “Because I didn’t know if we were going to get another chance. Six months I wanted you and told myself I couldn’t have you because what a way to fuck up the best partner I ever had, right?”

Crosby grunted in assent. Yeah, he’d pretty much been exactly there for the last six months himself.

“So,” Garcia kept going, and as traffic came to a stop, Crosby caught his wistful little smile, “I thought if this was what I was getting, I’d get it all. I wanted your come in my mouth, man. Grabbed a washcloth, went for it.”

Crosby’s entire body flushed. He could feel histoestingle. “Next time,” he said, “maybe make sure I’m all awake for it. I, uhm, would like to remember the whole blowjob. I’m pretty sure it was prime, but, you know… now I’m going to be wondering until the next time we hook up.”

“Tonight,” Garcia said promptly, without shame.

“I mean, next time—”

“Tonight. You said just us. You said we’re a thing. You’re coming home with me tonight.”

Crosby wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to this. “I need clothes, Garcia. People are going to get weird if I show up to work wearing the same clothes three days running.”

“We’ll get them on the way back. I can check out the SUV tonight. Nobody cares. Do it all the time. You’ll stop by your horrible apartment, get all your stuff, and move it into my place.”

Crosby took a hurried sip of coffee to see if he could find an argument for this. “I said exclusive, Calix. I didn’t saymarried—”