His Hart's Command (Nothing Special 6)
“Hey. Relax, potty mouth.” Free tried to give his friend a smile but it felt flat on his lips.
“Don’t run away from me again, FreeBaby, okay?” Tech rasped. He cupped the back of Free’s neck and pulled him until he brought their foreheads together. “Don’t leave. We’ll get this guy to leave you alone. I promise.”
Free’s smile was a little more genuine. He wished he could’ve made Tech his own promises back, but he couldn’t. Instead, he focused on being there now, and he still wanted to do his job, “I just want us to get to work. This is disrupting the entire morning, and the meeting.”
“All anyone cares about right now is that this never happens to you again, then the meeting will resume.” Tech watched him. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m gonna go out there and see what they’re saying.”
“Okay.” Free sighed. He spun his chair around and faced the center of the table. If Vasquez was going to be called down, he didn’t want to see him.
The door opened again and he ignored the voices that flooded in for a brief moment before it sealed shut. He thought it was Tech with an update. It wasn’t.
“I’m so sorry that happened. Are you okay, Len?”
Free inhaled sharply. Gooseflesh popped up on his skin at the sound of that deep voice. He turned around and stood. There was a lot of concern in Hart’s expression and even more hurt. The fury was gone as he gazed at him. Free whispered, “C’mere, please.”
Hart nodded and allowed Free to pull him through the conference room and away from curious eyes. He swiped his ID badge at the door and let them into their armory. As soon as it slammed shut behind him, he spun around and closed the small space between them. He stood almost eye level with Hart. He wanted to reach his hand up and…
“Can…can I hug you?”
Free’s sigh was loud as he almost doubled over with relief. He desperately needed Hart’s hands on him—a person he trusted—after being trapped again by that weasel. His throat was sore and his head still throbbed, but he was intent on enjoying his first real contact with Ivan Hart. With his hands already inching up Hart’s chest, he nodded, giving him express permission to touch him. Anywhere. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of those hard pecs, inhaling Hart’s strong scent, letting it ease the tension that had settled in his neck and back. Panic attacks, even the smallest ones, always left him achy and a bit disoriented. Hart couldn’t have offered solace at a more perfect time.
Hart’s heart beat wildly under his palms. It was obvious to Free that this was his first taste of intimacy with a man. He wanted him to enjoy it, because it almost felt like the first time for him as well. He hadn’t been with a big man—the kind of man he preferred—since the assault over ten years ago. Large hands just barely touched his waist, making him jump. Hart didn’t remove them, he tightened his grip and pulled Free closer. His head was bowed, those blue eyes watching him with a level of hunger and desire that should’ve terrified him, but only made him hotter.
Free brought his hand up, disappointed he couldn’t stop it from shaking, and touched Hart’s rough cheek. He barely dug his fingertips in, wanting to enjoy the coarseness there. Free held in his groan. It wasn’t the time or place for him to stroke that fine beard, because the moment he did, the four walls around him would disappear, and he was going to pounce on the big captain right there amongst the AK47s and M16 assault rifles, oblivious to it all. He refrained and eased his hands up the rest of the way and linked them behind Hart’s head, burying his face in the deepest recesses of his throat, and just breathed. Breathed in the security and comfort he knew this man could give. Now he felt as if everything was going to be all right.
Hart
Free had to feel how out of control his heart was beating. Hart didn’t know what in the world had gave him the courage to ask Free for a hug, but the weariness he’d seen in him had him speaking the words before he could talk himself out of it. Besides, God had told him it’d be a good idea for him to check if Free was okay. At first, all he’d wanted to do was haul ass to the second floor, barge through robbery’s doors and tear Vasquez a new asshole. Had he thought Hart was playing, with the first threat? The bastard needed to be stopped. He was a disgrace to the badge. He’d told God that if he didn’t want him to knock Vasquez out, then he wanted the incident officially documented with his superior officer.