Josh Lanyon - The Mermaid Murders

Jason closed his eyes, focusing, shutting his mind to all but prolonging this sweet physical reaction.

Kennedy’s weight settled on top of him. He was big, but he was surprisingly lithe, and his cock— condom, okay that’s good —rudely poked Jason in a couple of vulnerable spots before lodging between Jason’s buttocks. A pleasurable compromise if that’s what Jason wanted.

Jason’s heart seemed to swell. Take it. Don’t risk this; don’t get any closer than you are now . It just wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Wanted all of it. Everything.

He breathed slowly and consciously relaxed, lifting up in offer. Kennedy’s dick slipped, nudged him eagerly.

“Oh yeah ,” Kennedy groaned. “This is what I want.” And just like that, his thick cock pushed inside Jason, stretching him wide with a lush and sensuous ease that felt unexpectedly right, familiar.

Jason cried out in pleasure—he had always been vocal, if not always articulate, and this was just too good to smother—and Kennedy made a low sound of amusement and kissed his shoulder.

Jason pushed up on his elbows and knees, rocking into the roll of Kennedy’s hips. They fell right into a natural rhythm, push and pull, back and forth, forehand and backhand…now picking up speed. The mattress springs squeaked loudly, the headboard rapped against the wall.

“Oh God, yes,” Jason panted. “Oh my God, I need…”

This. All of it. The warm light, the sharp smell of sex, the slick sounds, the heat of skin and warm breath…the connection. You could not see—experience first-hand—the worst of humanity, as they did all too often, and not crave some proof that there was still something more, something better. Yes. He needed to feel some healthy, happy human connection. And you couldn’t get much closer than this.

Kennedy whispered into his ear, “You’re something else, West. Something special…really special…” impaling him in easy, rhythmic strokes.

I bet you say that to all your temporary partners…

They were racing toward it now, breathing hard, skin flushed, flesh slapping. Kennedy’s cock thrust into Jason’s hole with swift, strong strokes, piercing him so deeply, so sweetly, his insides were quivering.

Jason gasped with each thrust. “ Ah …” A small heartfelt sound of pleasure so acute it was almost pain, his moans in time to the fierce guttural sounds Kennedy made.

“ Ah…ah…AHH… ”

Kennedy’s fingers dug into Jason’s hips as he changed the angle of his approach, the broad, blunt tip grazing Jason’s prostate.

Oh, Christ . Jason reared back, and Kennedy’s arms locked around his waist, holding him upright, clamped tight, tighter, against his own broad torso. Jason’s head fell back against Kennedy’s shoulder, his back flexed as Kennedy impaled him again and again in that most exquisitely vulnerable of all places.

Jason began to sob. It was just so…insanely sweet…like getting hit by lightning. Yes, little lightning strikes of erotic bliss.

As though he really had been struck by lightning, electricity seemed to crackle at the base of his spine and shoot through him, balls to brain. He came so hard he was afraid he was going to blow apart. This orgasm wasn’t a gentle blossoming; it was a time-lapse explosion of color and perfume. He felt the hot splash of his release hit his belly and spatter his chest and Kennedy’s hands.

“Yeah, that’s it…” Kennedy said with deep satisfaction, slowing his thrusts, seeming to savor Jason’s reaction.

Jason threw his head back, panting, felt Kennedy’s lips brush his skin, kiss his tears.

Kennedy reached up to Jason’s nipples which were almost unbearably sensitive now, but it was okay. He wriggled his ass more snuggly against Kennedy’s groin, encouraging him because his own orgasm was spent and drying, and he just wanted it over, just wanted to enjoy the afterglow and sleep.

Kennedy’s thrusts picked up speed again; his hips lunged, smacking Jason’s butt, and Jason moved to accommodate. Kennedy’s fingers traced his lips, and Jason tasted himself. It was shocking and erotic, more so when Kennedy whispered, “Suck.”

Suck?

But okay, whatever Kennedy needed, whatever it was going to take to get this done so they could sleep. Jason licked Kennedy’s fingers, took the tips into his mouth, began to suck. Why would this be a turn-on? He wasn’t sure. He gave it his best effort. Salty-sweet. And surprise, surprise… He felt his own cock starting to stir as Kennedy came powerfully, almost violently, inside him.

When it was over Kennedy crashed down beside Jason and, to his surprise, wrapped a muscular arm around him.

Did Kennedy like a cuddle after sex? Now there was a funny thought. Actually though…it was kind of nice like this. More comfortable than he would have thought.

His skin tingled as Kennedy traced a delicate finger over the whorl of pink scar tissue. The exit wound on the back of Jason’s shoulder was larger, uglier.

Jason murmured, “My team went to Miami, and all I got was this lousy bullet hole.”

“How did it happen?”

“Equipment malfunction.” He opened his eyes and smiled at Kennedy, but Kennedy was not smiling.

Well, it wasn’t a funny story. It was a terrifying story. The story of how Jason had nearly been shot to death.

“I was working with the Miami field office on the recovery of almost two hundred ancient pre-Columbian artifacts. We were all pretty excited especially after it turned out these items were in the possession of some very bad actors who needed cash to finance their drug trade. Two birds with one stone.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah. The takedown was to take place in a downtown hotel room.”

“Not ideal.”

“No, not by any means, but these guys were shrewd and increasingly suspicious with each passing day. Anyway, the plan was for me to hand over the money and while they were doing the math, slip out and let the tactical team into the room. The door was supposed to be rigged so that it would just swing open. I wouldn’t even have to turn the lever. Only…the lock malfunctioned. I couldn’t get the door open.”

“What the hell,” Kennedy said softly.

“Just what I said. Among other things. Anyway, tac couldn’t get in, and I couldn’t get out. It was only for a couple of seconds but long enough for the Columbians to figure out what was happening. And, as you might expect, they weren’t happy. In particular, they weren’t happy with me.”

Kennedy ran exploratory fingertips along the length of Jason’s clavicle. That knowledgeable but disconcertingly gentle touch left Jason’s skin tingling. “The bullet cleared your vest.”

“Yes, it did. That one did. The other two hit me squarely in the vest.” He stopped talking as the memory flooded back. It had been like getting kicked by a horse in the chest. Twice. A couple of ribs had cracked beneath the impact—which was still a whole hell of a lot better than what could have happened.

He could feel the hard thump of his heart as it picked up speed. Better not to think about it too much. Kennedy could probably feel that telltale pulse too and was liable to start thinking again that Jason couldn’t handle field duty.

“I remember hearing about the Miami shooting,” Kennedy said slowly. “So that was you.”

“That was me.”

He said gravely, “I’m glad you made it.”

“Thanks.” Jason smiled. “Me too.”

Kennedy let go of him and reached up to turn the light out.

Jason turned onto his side and closed his eyes. Kennedy settled on his back with a deep and contented sigh. Jason smiled faintly and let sleep claim him.

He was alone when he woke up.