“Two years of celibacy,” he panted, working intently on Arthur’s belt buckle, “has not been for me, thank you very much. Besides,” he shoved the other man’s pants open, hand hot and intent where it palmed his agent’s cock, “you and your fucking skin tight shirts have been trying to kill me for months.”
“Ah,” Arthur grinned, lifting Syler by the hips and tugging his pants and briefs off in a smooth motion, “so you have noticed.” He stood just long enough to step out of his trousers before settling back on top of Syler, gloriously naked, left hand cupping the back of his head to pull him into another heated kiss while the right wrapped snugly around both of their cocks and pulled firmly. Syler groaned into his mouth, hands pressing into his hips hard enough to bruise as he rutted into Arthur’s fist.
And then he let go, sitting back neatly on his heels, cock bobbing merrily just out of reach of Syler’s hands, the absolute bastard. Syler fell backwards onto the sofa with a huff. “What the hell, Dufault?”
“Turn over, sweetheart,” he crooned, tugging his legs over the edge of the sofa and encouraging the younger man up onto his forearms, braced across the cushions, ass bared. Arthur knelt behind him, palms running admiringly over his waist and back before settling on either side of him as he laid open mouthed kissed down his spine. Syler quirked a brow at him over his shoulder.
“Not sure we have time or lube for a proper fuck, Arthur,” he cautioned. “Though I do appreciate the spirit.”
Arthur buried his face in the small of Syler’s back, inhaling, before looking up, blue eyes coy. “Actually, I was thinking of how gorgeous you’d sound while I ate you out.”
Syler hummed, expression faux consideration. “Well, I suppose—oh fuck me!”
“Thought we didn’t have time,” he teased, licking another wide trail across the younger man’s hole, wide hands spreading his cheeks open, thumbs massaging gently at his entrance as he went to work with such unparalleled enthusiasm that Syler contemplated sobbing for joy, head dropped between his forearms and cock positively aching, all pretense of articulate conversation firmly eradicated for the foreseeable future. Christ, why hadn’t they done this sooner?
“Because,” Arthur answered, and apparently he’d said that out loud, “you like playing hard to get.” Syler whined, pressing back into the other man’s mouth and working a hand around his own cock. Arthur caught him around the wrist, forcing his hand back up by his side as he returned to worshiping his ass. “Not yet, sweetheart.”
Syler went boneless, resigned to a happy little death with Arthur’s mouth buried firmly in between his cheeks, writhing with abandon as the other man alternated his grip between spreading him open and hauling his hips in closer, occasionally running a hand up to brush tantalizingly close to his cock.
Right about the time Syler lost the ability to think entirely, little more than a slew of half-constructed pleas as he rutted back into his agent’s mouth shamelessly, cock absolutely weeping for how close he was, the blond pulled back. Pressing one last wet kiss to the small of his back, he flipped him back over and pressed him back against the seat. Syler reached for him blindly, pulling the other man into his lap and groaning as his hand finally—finally—wrapped around their cocks and tugged, thumb tracing teasingly over their tips once before setting a brutal pace.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me see.” Syler’s eyes slipped shut, balls pulled tight, head falling backwards against the headrest. “Yes, darling, right there. Blow for me.” Syler groaned, cock shooting in hot spurts across his chest and stomach. Arthur followed closely behind, sounding absolutely wrecked.
Panting through the haze of his orgasm, Syler let his head loll back, hazel eyes slitting open to look at the other man, arms braced on either side of his shoulders. He looked absolutely ruined. Syler couldn’t help but kiss him again.
“Fucking hell,” he croaked, hands tangling in short blond hair as he pulled the other man closer. “I’m keeping you.”
Arthur chuckled, nuzzling into his neck with a smile. “Glad to hear it.”
They both laid there catching their breath for a while. Syler was starting to doze off by the time Arthur tugged him to his feet and dragged him into the bedroom. Something about it not being appropriate to sleep on a sofa when there was a perfectly serviceable bed not twenty feet away. He grumbled heartily when the other man showed up with a warmwash cloth to clean them both up, but curled into him contentedly all the same afterwards, dropping off to sleep quickly.
And if Arthur was up half the night worrying, well, Syler didn’t need to know about that.
Twenty-Nine
They left early the next morning despite the trip to the convention center being only a half hour drive. Syler wanted time to set up a secondary command post in their hotel room, well aware that their entire system was still at risk of a total lock out at any time and wanting a back up in the likely event that the hacker took advantage of Syler being away to come after their headquarter systems again.
“Spreads the risk,” he muttered to Arthur, busy reviewing the conference booklet on his tablet from his seat on the passenger side. “They can absolutely attack both of the systems simultaneously, but if I keep the two separate and route through my personal server bank back home, it’ll be harder to knock us totally offline.”
“Oh, so that’s why you don’t have room to store plates,” he teased, tight grip on the steering wheel belaying his unease. They’d taken Sonya at his insistence, though Syler had argued his Tesla would probably fit in better with the crowd. Arthur had won when he pointed out that they’d yet to install the direct line to HQ communications in the BMW, which meant their vehicle, at least, was safe from cyber terrorism.
‘What a fucking
