Braced against Drake, Clover gasped as Tank fucked him in a punishing rhythm, marking each moment with slaps that burned Clover’s buttocks and hips, prolonging his pleasure.
He knew when Tank came by the change in the way he fucked. He loved that wet, slippery sense of being filthy, of having both Tank and Boar’s cum inside him. He would need another shower, but it could wait. For now, he held on to Drake, elated that he finally got to touch him.
He closed his eyes, breathing hard, with his ass raw, yet he could hardly imagine being more sated. “Thank you, Daddy,” he muttered, already missing Tank’s cock.
“See?” Boar said from a few paces away. “He said it too.”
“It’s different!” Pyro laughed.
“He’s my good boy.” Tank stroked Clover’s hair. “Greedy, sexy, and pliant. What’s not to love?”
It felt as if Tank was saying this for Drake’s benefit, for encouragement, but when Clover reached down Drake’s body, about to touch his cock through those tented sweats, Drake stopped him and placed Clover’s hand back on his shoulder.
“I’m good. I like this,” he said, meeting Clover’s gaze from up close.
Clover nodded, for now content with what Drake was willing to give. Few things felt this familiar, but the slightly tense atmosphere broke when Tank ruffled Drake’s hair in passing, on the way to the kitchen.
“Don’t!” Drake hissed like an agitated cobra.
Clover snorted and closed his eyes. He would have loved to see Tank and Drake kiss again.
Chapter 11 - Drake
Warm smoke filled Drake’s lungs. It would burn for a couple of moments, and then leave with the breeze, taking away at least some of the thoughts gnawing at him from the inside. It was so late the cityscape was no longer lit up like a carousel at a county fair, and beyond downtown, the irregular plain of roofs remained as dark as the mountains Drake knew were on the horizon but couldn’t see. From so high up, everything resembled a giant model anyway.
Despite the happy reunion and the overindulgent meal, sleep hadn’t come for him, and he’d spent the past few hours tossing and turning until it became too much, and he settled on taking a long bath. That hadn’t helped either, so he supposed waiting until morning was the only thing left.
He leaned against the balcony railing and blew out the smoke, watching it disperse. But as good as the next inhale felt, neither the warmth filling his chest nor the nicotine could ease the weight on his shoulders.
He thought back to the cell phone he’d taken off one of the bodies. The guy had clearly been their leader, and Boar’s bloodlust toward that bastard confirmed him as the one being responsible for his suffering. But while the man Drake had been a couple months ago would have moved the heavens and the earth in order to discover any clues about Apollo’s whereabouts, he was wiser now, and the fact that there was a potential clue waiting to be discovered in that device didn’t mean searching for it was the thing he should do. That horrid night when he’d decided to go rogue had taught him a lesson that sank all the way to the marrow in his bones.
He flinched at the sound of the balcony door sliding open, but he stilled when his eyes darted to the intruder—Clover. Was he also unable to sleep, haunted by nightmares that would never go away courtesy of Drake’s bullheadedness?
Despite his skill and all they’d been through, in the white hotel pajamas and slippers, he couldn’t have seemed more innocent. Clover pushed some of his fair hair behind his ear and smiled at Drake, but there was a question in his gaze.
For several heartbeats, Drake looked for a way out, but he couldn’t run away from problems like some frightened child. “Can’t sleep?”
Clover closed the balcony door behind him, and the gesture had a finality to it. He’d entered the lion’s cage and wouldn’t be leaving until he’d petted the beast that had bitten him.
“I got up for some water and saw you here. Can I have one?” Clover pointed to the cigarette and stood closer.
Clover wasn’t a smoker, but he had occasionally sampled some of Drake’s cigarettes in the past, so Drake offered him one. “It’s the most peaceful time, before even the early risers get out of bed.”
Drake lit Clover’s cigarette, and the boy’s closeness was like the flame—too hot to the touch. The affection they’d shared earlier had been what Drake craved so deeply he couldn’t even put it into words, but everything seemed different now that they were alone. Drake was walking through a minefield of emotions he couldn’t handle.
Clover took a big drag of smoke and leaned against the railing next to Drake. “Is that why you’re up?”
Drake briefly considered lying, but what was the point?