Hell & High Water (THIRDS 1)

“If you’re busy, I understand.”

“No, sorry. I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

“Why?”

That was a good question. Why had he assumed Pearce wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him? “I guess I figured you might not want to now that I’m a THIRDS agent.”

There was a pause before Pearce answered, the smile evident in his voice. “You thought I wouldn’t want to hang with you because you’re one of the cool kids now?”

Dex let out a soft laugh, embarrassed for having dismissed Pearce so quickly. “Something like that. I’m going to take a shower, maybe catch a nap when I get home so I don’t fall asleep on you. How about meeting up for a beer instead?”

“Even better. How about we meet at Poena over on Second around eight? That’s only about five minutes from you so you don’t have to rush.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate that. See you then.” With a smile, he hung up, left his phone in his locker and headed for the showers. A little nap and he’d be good as new. The thought of inviting Sloane for a few drinks crossed his mind, and then he remembered why that wouldn’t be a good idea. Something told him having Pearce and Sloane in the same room might be more than a little awkward.

Turning on the shower, he adjusted the temperature, making it nice and hot before stepping under it. He moaned with contentment, lingering a little longer than he should have, but his muscles were finally starting to relax for the first time that day. When his eyes started drifting shut, it was time to get out. Dressing in his jeans, a comfy, long-sleeved tee, his Chucks, and his favorite black leather jacket, he grabbed his stuff, closed his locker and realized there was no way he could drive in the state he was in. He was practically falling asleep standing up. He remembered the sleeping bays and silently thanked the THIRDS.

The sleep bay was basically a long hallway with rows of doors on both sides. If a room was unoccupied, the door was open, which most of them were at the moment. He picked a room and closed the door behind him. Talk about a sweet setup. The last time he’d slept at the office, it had been at his desk at the HPF. He’d woken up with a stiff neck and half his paperwork stuck to his face.

The room had a double bed and beside it, a desk with a chair. There was a lamp, outlets for several gadgets, a small safe on one of the shelves underneath the desk and even a mini fridge. There was a communicator attached to the wall beside the headboard, and the wall across had stylish cubbyholes with everything from extra linen to coffee mugs. With a grin, Dex removed his jacket and chucked it on the chair before flopping down onto the bed. He could get used to this. The moment his head hit the pillow, he drifted off into a heavy sleep.

Dex gasped, his back arching at the feel of strong hands kneading his ass cheeks, pushing them apart as the head of his lover’s slick cock aligned itself then pushed in slowly, the pressure both painful and exhilarating. God, it had been too long. Dex palmed his erection as he was entered, his lover burying deep inside him inch by inch. Hard muscles pressed up against his back, lowering Dex onto the mattress, his breath coming out ragged as his lover buried himself to the root and started rotating his hips, drawing out then pushing back in painfully slow. Dex moaned, his stomach filled with butterflies, the anticipation building like nothing he’d ever felt before. His whole body was on fire, and he writhed with need beneath the deliciously heavy weight. He couldn’t remember Lou feeling like this. Had it always felt this damn good?

Dex moaned when lips pressed against his skin beneath his ear.

“Easy there, Rookie.”

Dex’s eyes flew open and he bolted upright, his fists grabbing handfuls of the unfamiliar bedding as he tried to get his bearings. Shit. Oh fuck. He shook his head and quickly got to his feet. No, this couldn’t be happening. He did not just dream of getting fucked by his Team Leader. If Tony got so much as a hint that Dex was dreaming about sleeping with his partner, a brand new level of shitstorm would rain upon him, and Dex had enough on his plate at the moment.

With a frustrated groan, he dropped onto the edge of the bed and ran his hands through his hair. He was still painfully hard, the images of his very vivid, very hot dream replaying in his mind. Checking his watch, he let out another groan. It was quarter to ten. So much for a quick nap. Shit. He was supposed to have been at the bar almost two hours ago.

He quickly put on his jacket and rushed from the room, turning the lights off on his way out when he slammed straight into something hard. Strong hands grabbed his arms to keep him from losing his balance, and he found himself staring up into deep amber eyes.

“Whoa, where’s the fire, McClane?”

“Uh.” Dex opened his mouth then closed it, the heat rising to his face as very inappropriate images of the guy before him flashed through his mind. It didn’t help that Sloane was looking pretty damn hot, showered and shaved, a clean-cut look in jeans, a black V-neck T-shirt under a preppy gray cardigan, and biker boots. His hair was wet and combed back, his full lips slightly parted, and his head cocked to one side in question.

“You okay? Your face is all red. You coming down with something?” Sloane put his hand to Dex’s forehead, and Dex let out a choked noise that startled the both of them. “Okay. You’re weirding me out.”

“Sorry.” Dex snapped himself out of it and took a step back, trying to act normal and not like a complete basket case. “I was supposed to meet a friend after a short nap, and that was two hours ago.”

“Oh.” Sloane gave him a broad smile, which went straight to Dex’s groin, and stepped aside. “Well, don’t let me hold you up. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks.” Dex motioned to the bays around them, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. “You heading for a nap yourself?”

“No, getting my backpack.” Sloane shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “If you spend as much time in one of these as some of us do, it’s easier to get reception to assign you a room. You get a personal keycard and can leave your st

uff in there. It’s better than having to go home for clothes or supplies.”

“Kind of like a dorm, without the keg parties and orgies,” Dex snorted then realized what he’d said. He really needed to learn to think before he spoke.

Sloane arched an eyebrow at him. “Wow, wild times at Berkeley, huh?”

“Not really, I—Wait, how’d you know I went to Berkeley?” Dex’s eyes widened. “You read my file?”

Sloane scoffed. “Of course I did. It’s your personnel file, Dex, not your secret diary. What? You thought I was going to take on a new partner without knowing anything about him?” He leaned into Dex with a smirk. “Wake up, Rookie. This isn’t a buddy-cop movie. We’re part of a military organization operating as law enforcement under the eye of the Secretary of Defense. No one cares that someone stole your juice box or didn’t invite you to their Star Wars birthday party.”

“Are you done? Or have you got some more bad metaphors you want to throw my way? No? Good, because I’ve got somewhere to be, with big-boy drinks and company void of passive-aggressive jerks.”