The Man Who Loved Cole Flores (Dig Two Graves 1)

Cole didn’t worry about such things. He was the kind of man who seized the moment, and Ned adored him for it.

“We can be quiet,” Cole suggested and rolled to his side, making his cock and balls shift between hairy thighs.

“I—I was worried. Why didn’t you just use the mockingbird call to tell me you needed special attention?” Ned whispered back but was already overheating beneath the thin shirt he wore with no underwear, to withstand the scorch.

Cole rolled his eyes. “I tried, but you know I can’t do it well. Or loud enough.”

“Practice more,” Ned said, but didn’t hesitate any longer and kneeled on the blanket, because the opportunity to touch Cole’s naked skin freely was too much of a temptation after a lifetime of celibacy. All that time, he’d considered himself frigid and unable to form romantic feelings, but from the day Cole entered his life, Ned’s blood ran as red as any other man’s.

“I can think of other things I’d rather practice,” Cole teased and placed his hand on Ned’s groin without pretending that this was about something else. He was so confident, so honest in his enjoyment of Ned’s body it was tough to say no to him. And Ned rarely did, just as eager for a warm mouth on his cock as he was for brief hugs or kisses.

He pushed off his suspenders. “Oh, I get it. We finally don’t stink like a pair of goats, and you don’t want to waste the opportunity.” He leaned in for a hungry kiss, glad that their captives were far enough to not overhear any of the filth his mouth was about to spill. “You want the same thing as me…” He ran one hand down Cole’s shoulder, trying to unbutton his shirt with the other, but his efforts were futile. If he was to ever get rid of the pesky fabric, he needed to focus on that rather than his lover.

“Maybe,” Cole whispered, rolling to his knees as he pulled Ned’s shirt loose before sliding his warm, rough finders underneath with skill that always rendered Ned powerless. The sweet and spicy aroma of ylang-ylang, which Ned had never sensed on anyone but Cole, had become his favorite scent. He wished it could lull him to sleep every night, and when Cole’s nails bit into his flesh, he couldn’t stop himself from gasping with pleasure.

The whole world was an arid desert, but he’d get to drink from the sweet well of Cole’s mouth each day.

Ned put his arms around Cole’s neck and bit his ear, leaving the buttons to him. If Cole wanted his prize, he should unwrap it too. “Maybe? Are you telling me you don’t want my mouth on your cock, sucking your balls dry?”

Cole let out a strangled groan and grabbed Ned’s buttocks before wrestling him under the fabric roofing. The blanket wasn’t as soft as Ned would have liked, but it would have to do, and since it smelled like sage rather than horse sweat, he relaxed into Cole’s kiss while the agile fingers worked open his pants.

“Maybe,” Cole rasped, pushing hair out of Ned’s face as he rested on top of him, rocking his entire body in a way that left Ned’s throat dry.

This was what freedom felt like. Throughout the journey, they’d always had to remain wary—barely unbuttoning their clothes during tender moments stolen on the outskirts of the camp, and remaining quiet while in their tent. The danger of discovery always breathed at the back of their necks, making their pleasures brief out of necessity. It had been weeks since Ned had seen Cole like this and allowed himself to freely touch him. Like a drunkard who’d crawled into a bottle after dry weeks, he longed to intoxicate himself with the scent of his lover and memorize each little mark on his body.

Every song hummed together, every hunting trip, every game they played, and every conversation, even ones shared in front of others, echoed in them now, expressing a desire for closeness that so often needed to be left unsatisfied.

“I should be saying ‘what if Saul decides to check on us?’ but I want you too much.” Ned kissed a trail down Cole’s neck, sliding his hands down his sides and all the way to his hips, only to run them right back up. He pushed off his boots in the meanwhile, and let Cole take care of his pants. Moments later, the two pairs of hair-dusted limbs entwined, and Ned arched his back when Cole rolled on top again, trailing hot, desperate kisses down his throat.

“Fuck Saul,” Cole mumbled as he moved his palm down Ned’s throat and chest, and rubbed circles around sensitive nipples. His cock hardened against Ned’s hip, alive and pulsing like a snake about to sink its fangs in Ned’s flesh. And oh, how he wanted the sweetness of Cole’s venom.