SWAT Ed: Fox & Bull (Nothing Special 8)

“Well, I owed him that after what he confessed to me.”

Bull was surprised. “He told you… about—”

“His ex-husband. Yeah. He also told me the guy’s alias too.” Fox smirked. “Big fuckin’ mistake.”

“Oh shit. Can you really find him?”

“With Free, I can and I will.”

“What are you gonna do to him?” Bull stroked Fox’s cheek, reveling at how fierce he was. How he had a heart of gold and didn’t hesitate to offer his help to anyone that needed it. But what Bull admired most was how Fox went the distance for the people he cared for. And whether he wanted to admit it now or not, he and Dale had formed a bond where they were sounding more and more like Texas cousins every day.

“I don’t know yet,” Fox shrugged. “I like to take my time when I’m planning to destroy someone’s life.”

They watched the race a while longer, wrapped in each other arms. It was becoming a familiar habit they did almost nightly after Bull’s evening ride, and it was a time he looked forward to. They lived as a family almost, even with Dale coming over and making himself at home like a mooching relative. Over the past several weeks, it was as if his foreman had gone from great friend to brother. And it was Fox’s presence that’d done it. Fox leaned into his chest and inhaled, making Bull take his eyes off the television to rest them on something far more gratifying than that race.

“You smell so damn good,” Fox praised, pulling at the neck of Bull’s shirt and flicking his tongue along his sensitive collarbone.

Fox moaned as Bull massaged his lower back while encouraging him to lie on top of him. Fox’s weight always felt perfect, as if his tight body was made just for him. He was unable to look away from Fox’s pearly gray irises as he opened deeper for the kiss. They were both half sprawled out on the couch, trying and unable to get comfortable or close enough.

“Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”

Fox moved through his shower at the speed of light because if he didn’t hurry, Bull would be snoring by the time he got into bed to finish what they’d started downstairs… again. Fox smiled, feeling some type of way about his cowboy. He loved a hardworking man, a family man. Helping Bull out the past few weeks had been like the best vacation, one suited for single, outdoorsy men needing a retreat. Only Fox wasn’t feeling as if he could make this temporary. He understood he was an integral part of his team, but deep in his heart, he knew he belonged here. Never in his life had he been so warmly welcomed into a home and treated as family. Fox would be a fool to leave it all behind because of forced obligations. Luckily for him, Bull was still awake when he slid beneath the covers of his king-sized bed.

“Fuck.” Bull sighed against Fox’s throat as he climbed on top of his warm body and straddled his hips. “Tell me I can have you tonight.”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he ground his aching cock into Bull’s stomach and clutched the back of his neck as he pulled him in and kissed him with all the passion that’d been building between them since the beginning. Fox groaned when Bull squeezed his ass cheeks, his rough hands kneading and gripping, his touch far from delicate, and Fox didn’t want it to be.

Bull flipped them over until he was between Fox’s thighs, spreading him nice and wide. His hips were strong, digging into Fox’s pelvis, and the pressure of Bull’s solid body against his was unbelievable. Like nothing he’d ever imagined when he’d been home alone in his bed with his hand on his cock, a toy in his ass, and his mind on Bull.

Fox dug his fingers into the flexed muscles of Bull’s back as he bowed over him, driving his hips forward, his hard cock nudging eagerly against Fox’s as if it was trying to get to know it. Bull’s dick was heavy and hot, and Fox could feel it even through the thin layers of cotton. He needed it. It’d been too damn long since he’d had a warm, blood-pulsing cock inside him.

Fox slid his hands inside Bull’s boxers, groaning loudly as he gripped both furry mounds like the greedy man he was, and made Bull pump harder. He knew somewhere in the back of his fuzzy, lust-drunk mind that he should try to be a little quieter. Except the sensations were hitting him so hard, he had little control of the sounds or curses he made while he continued to match Bull thrust for thrust. Their rhythm was in synch, their breaths an even give-and-take against each other’s parted mouths.