The Sunset Job (The Rainbow's Seven 1)

“None,” Roman answered with a hungry grin, his hands moving from the back to the front, one hand closing around Wyatt’s stiff cock and the other working on pulling down his shorts.

“Bert, the security guard, does walk around every hour, though,” Roman said as Wyatt’s shorts dropped to his ankles.

“Guess we should make this quick, then.” Wyatt grabbed the base of his hard length and squeezed, a clear drop of precome pooling at the tip.

“Unfortunately,” Roman said, licking his lips as he went down to his knees and leaned in. He took Wyatt into his mouth without using his hands, pressing them against the glass on either side of Wyatt instead. The wet, hot heat was nearly overwhelming as he watched Roman swallow him whole, as if he’d been starving for this. He took Wyatt down to the base, his nose buried in a well-trimmed, dark patch of hair, Wyatt’s eyes rolling back in his head and a chesty moan being coaxed from his throat.

“Fuck, you taste so good, Wyatt.” Roman licked up and down, swirling his tongue and lapping up whatever precome leaked from Wyatt’s rock-hard dick. He started to push his hips forward, pushing his cock deeper down Roman’s throat. He happily swallowed it, hands moving to grip Wyatt’s thighs now, fingers kneading into the tensing muscle. Roman’s erection tented his shorts, throbbing for attention. Wyatt wanted to give it but couldn’t muster the words or strength to swap, his entire body melting into the soft and fluid motion of Roman blowing him.

“Jerk yourself off,” Wyatt said, his eyes locked on the massive bulge, Roman’s white shorts turning dark gray around the dripping tip. Roman didn’t waste a second, pulling his cock out and stroking the impressive length, thick and hard as concrete, the blue lights of the water making it seem like they were under an Instagram filter.

Wyatt nearly started to drool.

“I’m getting close,” he said, feeling his muscles tighten, the edge racing toward him with every one of Roman’s needy slurps. And he wasn’t just using his mouth, either, using his free hand to tug on Wyatt’s tightening balls, a finger slipping back and pressing down, making Wyatt’s toes curl down into his sneakers.

“Blow,” Roman said, his lips glistening as he jerked Wyatt off. “Do it, Wyatt, give it to me.”

Wyatt couldn’t hold back if he wanted to. He cried out, the sound taking on an echo through the tunnel. Roman took him in his mouth and swallowed every last shot, a smile on his face as he jerked himself off harder, his balls unloading onto the floor in heavy ropes, his mouth still full of Wyatt’s cock.

Wyatt smiled, his body flushed with a euphoria that he hadn’t felt in ages.

Roman got back up on his feet, rubbing off the dirt from his knees and the come from his lips. He smiled, too, and that melted any last bits of ice that might have separated them. Wyatt giggled, like a little fucking schoolkid, his body flooded with endorphins and his brain having gone completely haywire. It was back to being freshmen in college, forgetting about things like classes and clubs and friends, instead spending hours and hours together in their dorms, a tangle of legs and arms and dick, sweaty and passionate and carefree.

It wasn’t just the sex Wyatt was fondly remembering. It was also the hours they spent talking, about anything and everything. Roman had a way of making anything a conversation, and Wyatt enjoyed riding those trains of thought until the wheels didn’t spin anymore. He also had a way of making Wyatt feel comfortable, at ease. As if nothing in the world could ever go wrong.

That’s exactly what he was feeling as Roman put an arm around his waist, pulling him in again. “I’m going to make it all up to you, Wyatt. I promise. Let’s just get to the end of this job together.”

Wyatt felt a moment of post-nut clarity settle in. He stiffened, the sensation of being home flickering like the light of a dimming candle. “This won’t be like the last time we worked together, right?”

“It won’t. I swear it won’t. I’ve grown. I’ve—shit’s happened. It’s changed me.” There was a haunted glimmer in Roman’s eyes, and it pushed Wyatt to ask a question he otherwise may not have.

“What happened?”

Roman shook his head, flipping that tight-lipped grimace back into an easy grin. The fucker knew how to turn it on, Wyatt would give him that. He could see exactly why this charismatic and easygoing man (until the guns started going off, that is) could lead a group across an international hunt for the pages to… a book? Wyatt still wasn’t sure how this tome would lead them all to infinite riches, but that didn’t seem to matter. Roman’s gravitational pull worked to tie them all together regardless.