Clover wrapped his arms around Tank’s neck, drowning him in the scent of pine and smoke his hair had absorbed from the fire. Tank would have loved to stay in his boy’s arms and make love until morning, but there was only so much time if he was to make it to his appointment with Apollo’s chief of security at 10 a.m. sharp.
“As long as you’re safe. Don’t rush it,” Drake said, pushing a cracker into his mouth as he watched the fire. Pyro previously looked as if he’d fallen asleep, but Clover’s raised voice must have woken him, because he peeked at Tank and nodded.
“Yeah. Don’t take risks.”
“Do what needs to be done,” Boar said, and the hard way he pinned Tank with his gaze communicated that he knew things he didn’t want to voice in Clover’s presence. But Tank was ready to push his own boundaries and rules to remain undetected—whatever got the job done and kept his boy safe,
“Anyone else wanna tell me what not to do?” Tank didn’t want to think about any of this yet and pushed his nose into Clover’s soft, fragrant hair. “I’ll be all right, boy. You’ll see. And once I’m done, you’ll be free.”
Clover took off his glasses, which made Tank’s stomach tingle pleasantly because it meant their kisses were about to become more intense. If there was something Tank craved before leaving, it was Clover’s soft lips.
The boy’s slim fingers ran along Tank’s neck, and Tank had no doubt they’d help him forget the approaching danger.
“Will you give me a kiss I’ll remember for as long as I’m gone?” he whispered, capturing the blue gaze, which flickered like the fire, only hotter, more intense than the flames.
Clover nodded, choked up as if Tank was going off to war. “I know you have to do this, but I still hate it,” he said, and as he spoke, his lips rubbed against Tank’s stubble.
Clover could be so stubborn, focused, even deadly, but turned gooey like that marshmallow between the crackers when in Tank’s arms. So delicious that Tank already wanted another serving of him.
“I know. I know you do, baby boy. But I’ll be cautious, all cold and unfeeling, because I’ll leave the real me with you,” he said, brushing his lips against Clover’s ear as he gently guided him to lie on the blanket.
Clover’s cheeks bloomed with a dark flush, as if they hadn’t had sex countless times. Even Pyro’s rude whistle followed by a slap to his shoulder wouldn’t stop Tank from delving into Clover’s plaint mouth. He would fight for his boy. He’d fight until he knew for certain Clover would never have to live in fear again.
“I want to remember all of you,” he said and pulled the zipper of Clover’s hoodie down.
Sprawled under him, Clover remained submissive, his big eyes watching Tank every step of the way. He always so beautifully tuned into what Tank craved. The others sat around the fire chatting, but the two of them were in their own little bubble.
“This memory will have to last me ages, so it better be good,” Clover teased, despite the growing desperation in his kisses.
All of this loveliness was Tank’s, and he wanted to feel the warmth of Clover’s adoration until the day he died.
Clover’s top was off soon, revealing rosy skin that in the light of the fire had a warm, golden tint. Tank wanted to memorize every square inch of it, to bring back its touch, its taste, all the beauty spots, when he was alone somewhere beyond enemy lines. With his face buried in the warm crook of Clover’s neck, he pulled up his hoodie and let his bare skin rest against Clover’s, until their hearts thumped in the same rhythm.
“Don’t catch a cold before you go,” Drake grumbled and, to Tank’s surprise, covered them with a blanket.
Clover grinned, arching his head to look at Drake. “Thank you for caring about my modesty.”
Tank snorted. “What modesty?”
Clover nipped on Tank’s lip. “I still got some left, Daddy.”
He was the cutest thing when he got so coy and playful, and Tank rewarded him by sliding his hand under the blanket, along the slender stomach. “There won’t be any left once I’m done with you.”
He pulled off his top and covered Clover with his body, smiling when the blue eyes rolled back in pleasure. Clover’s foot slid up Tank’s leg, leaving behind a hot trail as their gazes did the talking when Tank’s mouth was too busy exploring Clover’s smooth chest.
“I want you to be a good boy while I’m gone. Take care of our friends.”
“Always,” Clover said, but gasped when Tank bit on his nipple.
“And not worry about me all the time.”
Clover whined. “I can only try.”
Tank kissed the nub of pink flesh when Clover’s chest moved up and down, but the boy wasn’t crying. Not yet.