Hong Kong was really beautiful at night. The harbor seemed to shimmer in the lights from all manner of ships: from tiny junks sporting gay paper lanterns to hundred-foot yachts all aglow, to the giant freighters and passenger ships, each adding their own special touch to the bustling glittering city below them. Far below them.
Clayton Webb didn’t register any of it. He was completely focused on Victor Galindez’s terror-filled eyes. "Don’t. You. Dare. Let. Go. Of. Me." Clay gasped as gravity loosened his grip on the one hand and wrist that was his only connection to Victor’s dangling body. "Damn it, Victor. Drop the fucking camera and grab hold of my arm with your other hand."
The thought of six weeks worth of work down the drain seemed to shake Victor out of his terror. He managed to drop the camera into his suit coat pocket. Finally, drawing on his Marine training, he marshaled the last of his strength and swung his arm up as high as he could to grip Clay’s coat at his bicep.
"Yes!" Clay gritted his teeth and threw his whole body back, dragging Victor up with him. "Grab the rail!"
After one more heart-stopping slip, the two partners gasped great gulps of air as they sat side-by-side against the roof’s parapet. "Now," Victor panted. "How high up are we?"
"Seventy stories."
"Is Chow-Fung dead?"
"No. He got away."
"With the disc?"
"Yeah."
"Then let’s go." Victor struggled to his feet.
"Are you out of your mind? We got the pictures. We’ll get…"
Victor glared down at him. "I’m not letting Chow-Fung reach the mainland. He owes me."
Clay groaned. "I’m getting to old for this shit."
"Look. Go back to the hotel…" But even as he said it, Victor knew Clay would sooner jump over the side of the building than give up.
Holding out his hand, Clay let Victor pull him to his feet. "Yeah, right. No way am I going to explain to Monica or Sarah how you got yourself killed. If you insist on meeting the bastard again, then we’ll go together."
Considering just how lousy their luck had been early on during this mission, Clay’s last official mission into the field, everything now fell into place. They arrived at Chow-Fung’s hotel just as the North Korean spy was climbing into his limo. Three hours after they’d followed him to the dock, they finally possessed the disc containing the stolen Navy specs and Chow-Fung’s body floated in the harbor.
The partners made their way back to their hotel just as the sun was climbing out of the sea. They stepped into their penthouse suite and collapsed together against the door. "We don’t have to go back today, do we?" Victor demanded. "I don’t think I pulled this many muscles during my training at Parris Island."
"You? Just tell me I’m taller." Clay ripped off his tie. "I think my body stretched at least two inches from you pulling on me. I’ve got dibs on the shower."
"Go ahead." Victor stretched and rolled his head, trying to work the kinks out of his neck. "I think I’m too tired anyway. He turned and reopened the door just wide enough to hang the do not disturb sign. Clay looked like he was going to say something; instead he began to shed his clothes as he walked into the luxurious bathroom.
Victor was down to his briefs before he decided that he really needed a drink. He walked to the bar where a bottle of excellent scotch waited. He didn’t bother with ice, just poured three fingers into the lead crystal rock glass. Taking a long sip, he considered how much his life had changed since running into Webb over in Afghanistan. Before the CIA, he’d been strictly MGD all the way – out of a can, not even a bottle. But somehow, the levelheaded ex-Marine had allowed the snot-nosed Harvard grad to influence his life in more ways than he could’ve ever imagined.
The view out the window was incredible. But then, so many of the views from so damned many hotel rooms these past two years had been incredible. Somehow, after the dirt of Afghanistan and the jungles of Paraguay, Clayton Webb’s currency had risen to new heights – and Victor Galindez had been there for the ride. Sex clubs in Paris, the decadence of Venice, freewheeling, no limit card games in Monte Carlo. Before Clay, the nicest suit he’d owned was his dress blues. Now, the former kid from New Mexico owned not one, but three tuxedos; all of them tailored just for him. He’d paid more for his last haircut than his highest daily pay in the Marines. "You’re a regular James Bond." Two years. That’s all it had taken. And damn it all, they’d been good years. The two men had done good work together. They’d been exciting years! Usually not quite as exciting as nearly plunging seventy stories to his death. But, Clay had been there to pull him to safety. How was he going to manage now that Clay was going to be riding a desk?
In two short years, Clay had changed his entire life view. From tuxedos, the appreciation of shad roe and Christal champagne to calmly walking into a casino, bar or embassy party, Clay’s poise and self-assurance had rubbed off.
And, Clay had shown him heaven. The bustling harbor below faded as images of the wonderful decadence of Sarah MacKenzie and now Monica Reyes crowded once more into his consciousness. Monica, who not only accepted what he still saw (at least every time he passed a church) as a major character flaw, willingly participated in their little deviance. He wasn’t sure why, but they were as perfect together as Clay and Sarah were. The sex was wonderful but what he had with all three was growing into something as important as his family in New Mexico. Victor knew he would never return home. He knew he would stay in the Company for as long and as far as it would take him. And he knew that Clay would continue to watch his partner’s back.
He listened to the water finally come on in the shower. He knew Clay better than anyone, including Sarah. Even tired and sore, Clay would shave and brush his teeth before stepping into the shower. Clay under the shower, the water sluicing off muscles that few people ever saw, Clay stretching, trying to work the kinks out. Victor found his cock stirring at that image.
Victor heard a groan from the bathroom. I should at least offer to work those muscles. I’m the reason why he’s sore. Carefully setting the rock glass down, he pushed open the bathroom door. "The girls would freak out over this suite," he said nonchalantly as he went to one of the two sinks and prepared to shave.
"Yeah, I know. I described it to Sarah when I talked to her yesterday morning. She teased that she would get Monica to find a Hong Kong X-File."
Victor lathered his face, keeping his eyes on the fit body behind the glass doors. The steam didn’t quite hide the cock hanging from the neatly trimmed nest at his groin. Clay began to stretch again and Victor’s cock was now becoming insistent, peeking out from the slit in the silk boxers. He knew he was taking what they had to a new level. Never before had either man even hinted at what Victor was going to now instigate. Victor, not Clay. As he brushed his teeth, he allowed himself the pleasure of watching Clay standing there, his head thrown back, letting the multiple shower heads beat water over his aching muscles.
He knew what he was going to do. For two years, they’d fooled themselves into thinking that it was just about the three, then the four of them. However, Victor finally accepted that he wanted Clay, for himself. And, denying his guilt for the moment, Victor prepared to seduce Clay. When he opened the door, Clay was waiting, and he saw all he needed: relief, desire, and an answering confusion were mirrored before him.
Victor spun him around. "Assume the position."
As he braced his hands against the tile, Clay’s body rippled with a deep shudder of pleasure. "Uhm…what are you planning?"
"For now?" Victor picked up the soap and began to rub it over Clay’s back. "Stand still and let me work these muscles for you."
"Thank you," Clay sighed. He couldn’t believe how completely in sync they were with each other. Before tonight he’d been comfortable with the way their lives were partitioned. However, having stared into the real possibility of Victor dying tonight, Clay acknowledged his deep feelings for Victor. Sarah owned his heart and soul. He would die protecting Monica if it ever came to that. But what he had with Victor was something powerful and important. The moment he’d stepped under the shower he’d willed Victor to come to him. Clay knew it had to be Victor’s decision. He shuddered again as Victor hit a particularly tight spot. "Ooooo. Right there."
"How about this?" Victor whispered seductively in his ear. He rocked his cock against the cleft in Clay’s ass.
Clay’s cock surged in response. "Damn good. Really, really good."
"Should I continue?"
"Damn you," he growled, opening further, praying that Victor would take the hint. "Please." Victor’s touch subtly changed. He wasn’t kneading muscles anymore. His hands tracked across the skin of Clay’s back, sides, and hips. There was nothing light or gentle about his touch. "Damn. You’re good," Clay arched back, begging for more. "Have I ever told you that?"
Victor answered by grinning into the soft flesh on Clay’s shoulder just before nipping at his neck, sucking just enough to mark him. He wrapped his arm around Clay, holding him back to chest. His cock thrust between Clay’s legs. Nuzzling Clay’s neck, his free hand stroked across the firm stomach. "Tell me what you want," he demanded just before fisting Clay’s cock. He pumped and pulled with more pressure than any woman would dream of using.
Clay groaned and humped against Victor’s hand. Twisting his head, he stared into the wild dark eyes. Victor claimed a long lush kiss, thrusting his tongue deep inside Clay’s mouth. Their groans bounced off the tile. Clay knew what he wanted. Pulling his tongue free from Victor’s mouth, he panted softly. "Fuck me."
Victor hadn’t expected that. Once, in Italy, while Sarah watched, Clay had fucked him. It had been delicious though he’d suffered from massive pangs of guilt afterwards. He hadn’t allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to do the same to Clay – he couldn’t imagine Clay allowing it. "You sure?"
"Yes," Clay groaned. "Want to know what its like."
Victor stepped back under the water, clearing his head, cooling some of his ardor. "Damn. You do keep me on my toes, partner."
Clay turned and rested his back against the tile, ignoring his hard-on for a moment. He managed a semblance of his famous smirk. "We are good together, aren’t we?"
Victor stepped forward rubbing his cock along Clay’s until both were trapped against their stomachs. For a moment the two just stared into each other’s eyes. Finally, Victor nodded. "Yeah. We’re damned good together." He swallowed and admitted. "No matter what happens next; no matter what you and I have with Sarah and Monica; the two of us are good together."
Clay skimmed his hands over Victor’s skin allowing himself the pleasure of just touching him. "I’m glad I kept that lube and condoms."
Victor gave a low chuckle. "You too huh?"
Clay licked his lips. "So. Uhm, you want to do it here?"
Victor shook his head. "No. I want you in the bed. Come on." He pulled Clay out of the shower and together they dried off, neither taking his eyes off the other. "Go lie down, I’ll grab the stuff," Victor said after they were dry. He quickly retrieved lube and condoms and entered the bedroom. For a moment he stood there just gazing at Clay sprawled out on his stomach in the middle of the bed. His head resting on his cross arms, Clay turned his head so that he could watch Victor. The light flooded the room to an almost blinding intensity. Victor set the condoms and lube on the bed, then walked to darken the room to a soft glow. "Better?"
"Hmmm." Clay’s eyes fluttered shut.
"You going to sleep on me, bro?"
"Get over here."
Victor crawled onto the bed then covered Clay’s body with his own.
"Damn. You’re no lightweight." But Clay made no move to dislodge Victor.
Victor laughed and rolled off to the side. Then, almost without thinking, he soundly smacked Clay’s ass.
"Shit!" Clay yelped. Victor slapped the other cheek for good measure. This time the response was a gasping moan. "Damn it. Were you exploring the Internet again?"
Victor leaned over and purred. "How am I going to keep up with you three if I don’t?" Then he proceeded to administer further punishment. Each light blow had Clay arching up into the assault. Finally, Victor leaned over and bit Clay’s shoulder and caressed his ass back to the bed.
Clay moaned softly. "You remember that suite we had in Greece?"
"The one with all the mirrors? Why? You want to watch?" All Clay could do was nod. "Turn around."
Rising up to his hands and knees, Clay saw their reflections the dresser mirror. Both groaned at the sight. Pulling the pillows around to support himself, Clay knelt waiting for Victor.
The feelings of guilt tried to crowd in on Victor as the paused to open the lube. What the hell did this really mean? He wasn’t gay, damn it. He enjoyed being with Monica, hell he was probably falling in love with her. He pushed the dark thoughts away. He would allow guilt to beat him up later, just like he always did. Right now was for enjoyment. Clay wanted this, wanted him and Victor was determined to enjoy it completely too.
He traced the line of Clay’s crack, just nudging at the puckered opening. "You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much," he demanded.
Again, all Clay could do was nod. His eyes were riveted on Victor’s hand as one finger gently pushed past his sphincter. In the cottage outside of Rome when he’d taken Victor, Clay had tried to tell himself that he had no curiosity in being sub to Victor. But, he realized that this sharing had nothing to do with which one of them was in charge. He wanted this, wanted to know what it felt like. And, as Victor became more comfortable, Clay gave himself over to the pleasure. In fact, he rocked back and demanded, "Harder, damn it!" He saw the blow coming and found that he relished it. "Getting even with me for something?" Clay egged him on into raining a series of light slaps on his ass and thighs.
"You like this?" Victor demanded as he breached the tight inner muscles without seeing any real pain on Clay’s face. Damn they were getting perverted. Why the hell was his cock as hard as he could ever remember? Why the hell was Clay allowing this?
Understanding came in a flash. For two years he’d deferred to Clay’s judgment in all things pertaining to their partnership. It had been Clay who’d orchestrated their first ménage a trois with Sarah. Clay had insisted that Monica was perfect to join them – a perfect match for Victor. Clay had dramatically saved Victor’s life today. The scales were askew and this was his way of balancing them a bit, letting Victor know that none of that mattered in the long run that, no matter what, they were equal partners, that he could make it on his own. He probed deeper, hoping that he could find that sweet spot that would make it good for Clay. "Answer me. Do you like this?" In the mirror he saw Clay’s eyes boring into his. "Tell me."
"Oh yeah. So good. Do whatever you want. I trust you."
"You do huh? Whatever I want?" A wild gleam came to his eye. Pulling his hand free, he boldly demanded. Turn around. I’m not ready for this yet. I want something else, first."
"Oh yeah?" Clay slowly crawled around to kneel before him. "What?"
Victor’s kiss was brutal and demanding. All Clay could do was hold on and return the kiss. Opening his mouth, he groaned at Victor’s invasion. He was breathless at the intensity and didn’t fight the control that Victor was claiming. When Victor pushed him, Clay found himself sprawled on his back with 185 pounds of rock hard former Marine covering his body. Victor began to map Clay’s body, sucking and licking his way down toward Clay’s cock. He took his time about it though. His weight was delicious and Clay found that he hadn’t wanted anything as much since he and Sarah had been alone for the first time. He couldn’t articulate his feelings for Victor as he had for Sarah. He knew that Victor wouldn’t understand. Hell, he didn’t understand how he could like this so much.
Victor’s hot breath bathed Clay’s straining cock. Rising up on his elbows, Clay found dark chocolate eyes staring into his. He bit his lower lip, "Damn you."
"You want this?"
"Yes," Clay hissed.
"Good."
Clay wasn’t sure what was more intense, the feeling of Victor swallowing him, or the look in his eyes. Clay could barely handle either. Closing his eyes, he thrust, but suddenly, the cool air of the room assailed his cock as Victor pulled back. "What?"
"Watch me. You close your eyes and I’ll stop."
Clay nodded and watched as Victor traced the contours of his cock with his tongue. His breathing was coming in short spurts. "Victor, damn you, I’m close. So damn close. Please."
"I want to try something."
"Anything, damn, just get me off."
"Oh yeah?" Victor released Clays cock and knelt back. Clay started to roll back over, but Victor stopped him. "No. Not like that."
"Huh?" Clay gasped as Victor moved between Clay’s thighs.
"Get the condom."
Clay found the box and scattered half the contents getting one out. He didn’t know how he managed it but he ripped the packet opened. Sitting up he started to just roll it on, but instead he stroked the hot flesh, smearing the precum over the head. "I want to taste you."
"Next time. Want to be inside you – now! Put it on me." Clay could hear the ragged need behind the harsh command and he stopped teasing and rolled the rubber over Victor cock. Once he was done he looked back into Victor’s eyes, waiting for the next command.
"Now lie back. I want to do this facing you."
Clay finally understood. Lying back, he brought his knees to his chest, opening himself wide. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he was willing to attempt it, it thrilled him to be able to watch Victor claim control over the situation but he wanted to watch him lose it too.
Victor fisted his cock and rubbed it over Clay’s, down to the tightened balls then rested it against Clay’s anus. Sweat was already pouring down Victor’s chest. He couldn’t imagine anything hotter. He wondered briefly what the girls would think if they could see them like this. "Ready?" he whispered, never taking his eyes off his prize.
"Oh yeah." Clay strained to watch as Victor’s cock head breached the first ring of muscles. It hurt, but he forced himself to relax. He licked his lips, tasting the salty sweaty.
"Stop?" Victor asked.
"No." Clay breathed deeply, relaxing a bit more. Victor rubbed more lube onto the rubber and slid in a little deeper. The pain was ebbing and pleasure was replacing it.
"Damn you’re tight. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything this tight." It took great patience on Victor’s part and Clay would have been fascinated by the concentration on his partner’s face but the sensations were building to white heat inside of him. His cock throbbed so badly, his balls were pushed tight against his body by Victor’s weight. He was going insane with the need to come. He tried hard to thrust up, but the angle was wrong now. Victor was in complete control.
Finally, Victor slid home, resting his weight against Clay’s thighs for a moment. "You okay?"
Clay nodded unable to articulate the incredible pleasure shooting through him. Victor pushed up onto his knees, bringing Clay’s legs with him, to drape over his shoulders. Gripping Clay’s hips he pulled out almost all the way and waited. "Yes or no."
"What!" Clay cried. "You want me to beg?"
Victor nodded. His grin of triumph almost split his face. "Yeah, Clay. Beg me."
"Damn you. Please…Fuck me."
That was enough. Victor finally let go, thrusting wildly, pulling out then slamming back in. He tried to watch for any pain but he was beyond caring at the moment. "So damn tight," he cried out, just as the hot spurting release of Clay’s cum struck both of them. .
Clay couldn’t believe the way Victor’s cock was hitting his prostate. It was the most incredible orgasm he’d ever experienced. Wave after wave of release gripped him and for a moment he thought he would pass out.
Clay’s muscles milked Victor’s cock and soon he too was soaring, pulsing out his orgasm, chanting incoherently. Victor fell forward, into Clay’s embrace. "Damn. Oh wow. That was…"
"Yeah." Victor raised his head and stared into Clay’s eyes for a moment before sharing one last kiss. Somehow, he managed to roll off Clay and keep the condom on his cock. Stumbling into the bathroom, he flushed the condom then, still panting hard, returned to lean against the bedroom wall to just stare at his partner, his lover, his friend.
Still on his back, rubbing his calves, Clay watched him. Clay knew that guilt was never far from Victor’s soul. "You okay?"
"Me?" Victor tried to summon the guilt but he couldn’t. He was tired of the guilt. What they had done sealed a friendship, acknowledge the debt they owed each other, and damn it had felt incredible. "Yeah. I’m good. You want something to drink?"
Clay yawned. "No. Come to bed."
"Wait a minute." Victor entered the bathroom and when he returned, he held out a warm washcloth to Clay. "Clean up a bit."
Clay swiped the cloth over his chest, tiredly cleaning off the sticky residue of their lovemaking. He was sore and another shower would be nice, but he really didn’t have the energy to move. His eyes fluttered shut and he was barely aware of Victor drying him off. He was sound asleep by the time that Victor curled his body around his, not even bothering with the covers.
:: :: :: ::
The key card snicked in the lock and the handle released, allowing the heavy door to push across the thick carpeting. Clay’s nose flared at the familiar scent but he just clutched the arm holding him tighter. Victor murmured but did little more than bury his nose deeper into Clay’s neck.
Sarah MacKenzie gazed down at her two lovers, then back at Monica Reyes who gave a little shocked gasp. "Oh my. I didn’t think they…but they did…didn’t they."
"About damned time." Sarah grinned. "They look like they’re out for the count. Oh well. We’ve got a week’s vacation coming and I figure, from the look of them, we’ll be better off letting them get their strength back."
"That’s okay," Monica said, already over her mild surprise at discovering the two men had finally consummated their deep friendship. "I’ve never been to Hong Kong. I understand the shopping is fantastic."
"You bet." Sarah agreed, as she pulled the sheet over the men. "You want to go now?"
Monica gave her a long steady look. "Sure, but…"
Sarah gave her a knowing grin. "But?"
"It was a long flight. I really need to shower."
Sarah’s gaze wandered back to the two men. Looking back to Monica, she gave her a wide smile. "Actually, I could use a shower too."
Monica stepped closer and cupped Sarah’s cheek. "Join me?"
Sarah closed the distance and the two groaned into each other’s mouths. "Sounds like a definite plan," she said once the kiss was over. "Soap my back?"
Somewhere deep in his delightful dream, Clay thought he heard Sarah’s voice and Monica’s laugh. What a really great dream.