Short Circuit (Riders of Tyr #7)

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Trying

Stig

It can’t be that fucking hard now, can it? I mean I have seen people do that shit every day as if it’s nothing. Even Rage! Rage! And I am supposed to be a freaking genius so why can’t I find a way to make this work? There has to be some way and I need to find it cause I am telling you I am not going to live my life knowing-

“Can I help?”

I couldn’t make scrabbled eggs...

“Uhm...” I turn to face Nathan.

“OK, something smells awful.” Nathan scrunches his nose.

“I... might have burned the first bunch,” I pull my lip ring.

Nathan’s eyes narrow and he saunters to me slowly. He is wearing nothing but his towel and he is still wet and now I do not give a fuck about scrabbled eggs anymore.

“You know, pretty boy,” he pushes me against the counter, “if you wanted to feed me, all you had to do is let me swallow your dick.”

Fan! Said dick is now fully awake and aware that we are not dealing with pans and spoons anymore and is back online with the rest of my body. Nathan places his hands on the counter behind me, pulling even closer, making me aware that he too, under that damn towel is hard for me.

“OK, old man,” I smirk while pushing down my briefs, “breakfast is served.”

Nathan chuckles and glances down at my erection.

“Damn it, Stig. I am going to miss that pierced dick of yours.”

I have been punched in my life. Not as much as the rest of the Riders - and some of the Valkyries - but I have had my share of street fights and brawls. Nothing can compare to the punch in the gut that was this statement.

I look up in his eyes and he too looks as if he realized what he just said. What started as a sexy, playful banter turned sour somehow. Sure, I could lighten the mood and say something silly like “eat up now that you can” but I am not in the mood.

“Stig,” Nathan says softly.

I shake my head and pull my ring once more. I knew it, he knew it. We got shit to do and I got to go back to the Riders. It was only for the night. That’s all it was.

“So, where do we start looking?” I push him away and get out to the living room.

I try to think of our mission, of the missing kid but I can’t. Not with him so close, so hot, so... so fucking special. I feel him move behind me and I let him turn me to him. He pushes me against the back of the sofa and catches my chin in his fingers toying with my beard. He has a soft smile on his lips and a light in those eyes of his. He leans in and kisses me so tenderly that I am this close to crying.

I act before I break down and I grab him by the waist. I turn his gentle kiss in a whirlpool, my fingers digging in his flesh, my body rubbing against his. One last time, just one last time, I pray and kiss him even deeper.

“Oh, fuck, Stig, just-”

“We let something in the middle here,” I grunt and lead him on the couch.

I push him on it and grab the towel to bare him to me. Last time? How the fuck can I have just one last time with this man? I take him all in. I dive to his neck and suck and bite. For some fucked up reason, I want to mark him, even if it lasts for a few days. He is going to remember me and the time we spent together when he looks in the mirror. Suddenly he moves and we are on the floor, me under him.

“I may be an old man but I remember this is where we left off before that asshole called.”

I laugh at his brass comment and pull him to me. Our kiss gets sloppy, wet, our tongues battling not for control but for maximum pleasure, our bodies go in over-drive as if they know this is the last time they are going to be together like this.

“Well, old man,” I grab his ass cheeks to bring him right over my erection, “you are going to ride me.”

“Hm,” he moans. “I heard what the Valkyries are saying. Save a Harley, ride a Rider, right?”

There is a fuzzy feeling inside me when he mentions the Valkyries. There is a flash behind my closed eyes of us back in Berkeley, together, openly, living in a house, sharing a life. It’s absurd to consider him a Valkyrie but to me, he could be the one to call mine, to bear my mark on his unblemished flesh, to-

“Fuck me, Nathan, fuck me, fuck me,” I say, begging him to stop these thoughts. “Jag ber dig.”

He frowns and he caresses my cheek.

“OK, pretty boy. I’ll be right back.” He gets up and goes up the stairs.

When he comes back he has lube and condoms. We just stare into each other’s eyes as we prepare our bodies. But also our souls. We say nothing but we know it. This is it. The last time we make... No... The last time we fuck.

Nathan comes down on me, leaning back as he stretches to take all of me in and his eyes close with pleasure when I am inside him to the hilt. I arc in response, a hard vice wrapping me in a mixture of pleasure and torture, balancing on pain and happiness. And then he moves.

His strong hands land on my chest and he pins his eyes in mine as he bounces slowly up and down. I grab his hip with one hand while I travel up his torso with the other. He continues like that slowly, as if not wanting to end this. I don’t want this to end. My body orders me to pull him on me, to push up into him, but I don’t. I just keep touching him and look into his eyes.

Nathan then stops. His breaths come in shallow but it’s not from exertion. His nostrils are flaring and he swallows hard. We are still. Our bodies are mingled, tied together, our eyes connected. I hate him so much right now. Damn. Damn it. Damn you, Nathan. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

I pull up and I attack him with all that hate. I crash his mouth, I demand access, my fingers punish his flesh, my dick buries inside him harshly. I hate you.

I fuck him harder than I have ever done before in my life. I let his mouth go and I mark his flesh anywhere I can reach it with my mouth and my fingers and my teeth. And he takes it. I hate you.

And when I come, I growl loudly like a freaking animal hurt and dangerous. And he comes too, without touching himself, just the feel of our connected bodies. I watch as he writhes in ecstasy, his seed covering my belly, beautiful like a beast awakening. I hate you. I...

“Now,” his voice is deep, “now, we have nothing left in the middle.”

“Yeah.”

Then why the hell does it feel that did exactly that? Leaving things right in the middle?

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