Communion (On My Knees Duet 3)

I'm a strong dude. I can go with the flow, hang in there.

Yeah, until it's masochism.

Luke would never do that to me. All that shit is over. He's told me he’s in this forever a hundred times, and I believe him. Deep down, I do believe that.

I emerge from the restroom to find a man in a button-up and dark blue dress pants standing nearby. I stop short when I realize he's got a gun holstered at his belt.

"Hey, man." I square my shoulders and try to look as professional as I can even as the blood drains from my face. "You work here?"

"Yessir."

"One of the guards?"

He gives me a smile that's like a smirk, but kinder. Then he holds his hand out. "My name's Frank. I'm a guard, and I'm a buddy of the pastor's. I'm also your bodyguard."

“My bodyguard?”

He laughs, maybe a little awkward. “For a whole year. Contract worker,” he explains. “I used to work for the Secret Service. Long time ago.”

I grin as I try to put an age on him. “Define long time.”

“Think W.”

I let out a low whistle. “You sure you’ve got the right guy? Maybe you’re supposed to be upstairs.”

I point toward the pastor’s suite.

He shakes his head. “No sir. Following you around. At least till he joins you. Then I’m supposed to knock it off.”

I frown, and he chuckles. “You’re important to the pastor. Mr. McDowell Number Two?” He lifts an eyebrow.

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

“Soon,” he says. He frowns and pulls something off his belt. It turns out to be a little screen, like a big, newfangled walkie-talkie. Then he gives me a wink. “Time for me to dip out. Someone’s moving this way right now.”

Luke

I chuckle as Vance blinks at the check, which he's holding up in front of his face. "Holy shit, bro. I've never seen that many zeros. Not in person." He laughs, sounding self-conscious—or maybe it's self-deprecating. Either way, it’s a sound I love. So much that I get up from my chair and step around my office desk and pull him up against me.

"Hey." He gives another soft laugh as he kisses my temple and hugs me back. "Sky babe." His hand runs down my nape and my upper back, the fingers walking down my spine, stopping to knead the pressure points there.

My mouth finds his, and we kiss till I feel almost dizzy. Until I can breathe a little easier. When we pull away to catch a real breath, I hold his head, pressing his cheek against my throat. "Needed that," I manage.

"I can feel it in your back." I feel V’s cheek round as he smiles. "Shit's tense back there, buddy. Maybe some TENS tonight." He kisses my cheek, and we're grinning at each other.

"Maybe." The word is caught in my throat. We have a night in front of us—a night of just us. We'll be going home together—to my house, which is now our house. Because we're married. In ceremony only for the moment, but we're making it legal soon.

I hug him again. "I get to keep you."

"Yeah." Rayne’s mouth brushes over mine. "You get me for as long as you want."

"Forever," I say.

He inhales deeply. "Fuck, the smell of you. It gets me going every damn time." His lips brush my cheek. "Smells like heaven."

"You do."

"Yeah, if marble dust and paint are heaven." Vance grins, and I want to hug him so close and so hard that there's no air between us.

"Paint is heaven." I kiss a spot of black near his chin, and we're at it again. This is how it is with us—still. If we're sharing air, we want to be inside each other. Tongues and cocks and...I bend him over the desk and reach into his boxer-briefs, teasing his crack with my fingertips.

"It would be a sinful thing to take you right here on my office desk."

He laughs softly. "Wicked."

But he wants it. I can tell he wants it. I was worried he'd be upset I had to part ways with him, but he's been all smiles since I went downstairs to find him, and then brought him up here to show him the eight million dollar check Mrs. Corningwell left. She's a Sunday school teacher with a family trust and apparently also a gay kid, and it turns out she was thrilled about my Big Gay News.

I unbutton V’s pants, drop them down, and do the same thing with his boxer-briefs.

"Oh look,” he laughs, “there's my dick on your dayplanner."

He chuckles as he reaches down to stroke himself, groaning as I wrap my hand around his balls from behind. I can't think of anything to say as I roll them gently in my palm, feeling myself stiffen to the point of pain as I reach around in front of him to grip him by his cock.