Blood & Thunder (THIRDS 2)

“What’s the point of playing laser tag if you don’t pretend you’re John McClane? Besides, you’re the one always calling me that so you only have yourself to blame really.”

Rolling his eyes, Sloane settled back against the cushions and put his feet up on the coffee table, which Dex swiftly proceeded to nudge off with his sock-covered foot. His partner knew better. Sloane’s usual gripe about feet on the furniture was cut short by some sort of revelation.

“Wait, wasn’t Dwayne a cop?”

“Deputy Police Chief,” Dex replied, removing his laser tag equipment. He gently placed it on the floor beside the couch.

“Cop on cop? Not cool.”

A wicked smile spread across Dex’s lips, and he wriggled his eyebrows.

“You’re thinking about porn aren’t you?” Sloane cast him an accusing glare and Dex laughed.

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

Looked like he’d have to change that. Dex climbed onto Sloane’s lap and ground his hips, rubbing his growing erection against Sloane’s. “What about now?”

“Are you saying you want me to be thinking about other guys fucking while you’re doing that?” Sloane arched an eyebrow at him, and Dex held back a smile. The guy loved playing hard to get. Dex was fine with that. He loved a good challenge, especially when that challenge concerned his grumpy, sexy Team Leader, and as of four months ago, lover.

“No, I’m saying you should be thinking about us fucking while I do this. We can star in our own porn flick. I’ll be the mouthy lawbreaker, and you can be the sexy officer who uses his love truncheon to teach me a lesson.” It took a lot not to laugh at the deadpan expression on his lover’s face.

“If you stop referring to my penis as a love truncheon.”

“Love dart?”

“No.”

“Portable pocket rocket?”

Sloane smiled. “Absolutely.” The smile vanished. “Not.”

“How about moisture missile? Peacemaker? Heat seeking missile?” He could do this all day, and his partner knew it, judging by his less-than-impressed expression.

“Dex,” Sloane warned, a low growl rising up from his broad chest, the kind that made Dex feel tingly all over.

“Shut it?”

“We have a winner.”

“Straight and to the point.” Dex winked at him. “Old school. I like it.”

“Good. Now take off your pants.”

“I like that even better.” Dex scrambled off Sloane’s lap, pulled off his socks followed by his jeans, which proved more difficult than it should be. He got himself tangled, tried to save face by hopping on one foot, but ended up falling over onto the carpet. Kicking his jeans off, he sprang to his feet and put his hands on his hips in an attempt to play it cool. “You didn’t see that.”

Sloane closed his eyes and shook his head, his lips pressed together. He was trying not to laugh. Dex appreciated that. “Some things can’t be unseen, but I’ll try.”

“Thanks.” Dex quickly pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the carpet, staying in just his red boxer briefs. He took the opportunity to ogle his partner, from Sloane’s black biker boots, up muscular legs clad in dark denim, the deep blue long-sleeve T-shirt accentuating his broad shoulders and tapered waist, the yellow bands on the sleeves circling his ridiculously beefy biceps. His chiseled jaw was stubbly, his black hair had grown too long again, curling around the back of his ears. Sloane Brodie was a walking wet dream, and for some unfathomable reason, he wanted Dex. Granted, Dex wasn’t exactly sure in what capacity, but in the four months since they decided to secretly do something about the intense attraction between them, they’d been boinking like bunnies.

Sloane opened one eye and squinted at him. “Are you trying to blow me telepathically or something? Is this about X-Men again? Because we’ve established that’s fiction, remember? We had, like, a three-hour argument over it.”

“First, it wasn’t an argument, it was an intellectual debate. Second, if Therians can happen, X-Men can happen. Third—” Sloane rose to his feet with a sigh, and Dex frowned. “Where you going?”

“To shut you up the only way I know how.” Sloane closed the distance between them in two strides. He clamped a hand on the back of Dex’s neck and brought him in for a kiss that was hungry, gentle, and stole Dex’s breath away. Dex returned the kiss, his eagerness showing as he clutched onto Sloane’s biceps. A moan escaped him at the feel of Sloane’s hands slipping down his bare back, leaving shivers in their wake before his strong fingers dug into Dex’s ass.

Sloane’s mouth was hot, his lips soft, and his tongue tasted vaguely of the vanilla cappuccino Dex had coerced him into drinking after dinner. Without breaking a sweat, Sloane grabbed Dex’s ass and hauled him off his feet. Despite being manhandled plenty of times by Sloane, Dex still let out a surprised gasp.