Mission RAW

Mission: Raw
Mary Winter
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Copyright ©2008 Mary Winter
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ISBN: 978-1-59596-948-4
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Editor: Katriena Knights
Cover Artist: Karen Fox
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Mission: Raw
Mary Winter
Too late, Dean arrives for his windsurfing vacation and realizes his “secluded”
Caribbean villa -- isn’t. He has a neighbor who just happens to look exactly like a
certain action figure left with Adrian’s lover, Mack. Finding out his neighbor shares
Dean’s passion for extreme sports only reopens wounds Dean had thought healed.
Sawyer knew his next mission would be just as exciting as his last. So when he finds
himself on a Caribbean island with a hot man and nothing to do but lie on the beach,
he thinks he’s in heaven. Except, Dean doesn’t believe Sawyer’s story.
What’s an action figure come to life to do? Whatever it takes to prove that he’s real --
and so is the passion between them.
Prologue
If it weren’t for the bullets raining around him, Sawyer could have closed his
eyes and imagined he was parasailing off the cliffs at some tropical island. But this
wasn’t the tropics, and the men pouring from the Humvee parking cross-wise on the
road in front of them weren’t hot surfer boys ready for a tumble in the sand. Sawyer
spat out a curse, then gave a rebel yell as Mack, who was behind the wheel, poured on
the evasive maneuvers. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air, a fitting counterpart to
the rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire.
“Take that, you sons of bitches,” Sawyer yelled. Leaning halfway out the car
window, he took aim at the closest insurgent, dropping him with a single, quick shot.
Mack had given them explicit orders. Clear out the Dragon’s men and make room for
General Whittaker’s convoy. The timetable for the General’s arrival eluded him. He
hated schedules and anything that smacked of red tape. Grab a big gun and shoot, then
maybe, when they were done, burn off the adrenaline. Now that was more Sawyer’s
style.
In the back seats behind him, Brice and Talon worked at picking off the
insurgents flowing from the tall, crumbling buildings alongside the road like ants
crawling out of an anthill. The men closed on the Humvee like those same ants at a
picnic, and Sawyer twisted to shoot one behind him.
“We got them!” Talon snarled as he squeezed off a couple quick rounds.
“Then kill them!” Sawyer snapped back. He twisted up against the windshield
and fired at the enemy on the other side of the street.
“Hang on!” Mack yelled. He cranked the wheel hard, forcing the vehicle to
careen across the road. It tilted onto two wheels before righting itself with a rattle of
bolts and steel.
Mary Winter Mission: Raw -6-
One of the enemy leapt into the street with a spray of fire.
A bullet caught Sawyer across the upper arm. “Fuck!” he snarled. He returned
fire, and the man crumpled to the asphalt.
Mack spun the wheel again, this time squealing the Jeep’s tires back across the
road toward the other side.
An explosion erupted somewhere behind them. He heard words, the snarls of his
comrades as the vehicle flipped up into the air. “Hell, yeah,” Sawyer yelled, shaking his
rifle in the air.
Sawyer still hung halfway out the window. He struggled to pull back into his
seat, the centrifugal force making it impossible to completely bring his arms and legs
inside the vehicle. Just like riding a roller coaster! He waited for the inevitable pull of
gravity.
It didn’t come.
Instead, Mack’s head slammed into the roof. Damn, that was going to smart.
Sawyer managed somehow to pull halfway back in before the armored personnel
carrier fell top-down from the sky. It landed, bounced, flinging him against the open
window frame. He heard the front axle break and watched the tire roll away from the
vehicle. Something snapped in the vicinity of his feet. Pain blossomed up his legs. His
neck whipped back, his torso stretched to the limit.
The vehicle stopped. Too stunned to take stock of his injuries, Sawyer closed his
eyes and battled the pounding in his head.
Distantly, he registered Mack’s frantic yell. “Sawyer! Talon! Brice! Report!” His
commanding officer never yelled, never lost his cool. The fact that he had done so now
told him the situation had been FUBAR’d beyond belief. He opened his mouth to speak,
and a bolt of pain shot through him.
Agony tore through his midsection. His feet were unresponsive, ankles radiating
pain up his legs. His groin hurt like he’d pulled a muscle. His guts felt as if they’d been
torn out of his abdomen, but clamping his hand over his stomach, he felt no blood or
external injuries.
Somewhere, someone cried. Not him or his fellow soldiers. His body hurt too
much to look behind him, but he sensed the same examining of wounds, the same
return to consciousness that he faced.
“… they’re all gone…” Snippets of a woman’s voice drifted in the air. “…
broken…”
Hell, he wasn’t broken. He’d fight again. Reaching for his lap belt, he jerked it
open and flung open the Jeep door. He’d show them. Leaping from the seat, he
collapsed as his torso refused to work with his legs. A strangled cry gurgled from his
mouth and he crumpled.
***
Sawyer opened his eyes and found himself curled into a fetal position on some
sort of smoky floor. Maybe someone was running a fog machine. He glanced around,
expecting disco lights and pounding music, but saw nothing. Swiping his hand over his
close-shaved, dark brown mohawk, he worked past the pain in his abdomen to rise into
a seated position.
“Where am I?” he yelled. “If this is heaven, send me the fuck back.”
“Angels come in both sexes, you know,” an older, masculine voice chuckled. “I
could send a young male cherub in if you like. You wouldn’t worry about your injuries
anymore.”
It was a testament to how badly he hurt that his cock didn’t leap to attention at
the mention of a young, nubile, twenty-something hot angel dude. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll
pass. Who are you? My mother, God rest her soul, sent me to Sunday school where they
told me that God didn’t have a sense of humor.” Or an interest in gay men. But he let that
last comment drop. His mother’s idea of God probably wouldn’t approve of men being
made into toys, either, however, somehow, after a sniper’s bullet found him on a secret
mission in Uganda during the late 1970s, he’d become an action figure. Same hairstyle,
even the same white and red stripes tattooed on his face as he’d had in life. He’d ended
up under Mack’s command. Together with Talon and Brice, they’d been on countless
missions. Until now.
“Did the others make it?” He didn’t name them. Deep in his gut, he knew he
faced some kind of holy being like the fabled Toymaker that every action figure spoke
of in hushed tones before a mission. Sawyer held his breath, half afraid to listen.
“No.” The succinct words cut through Sawyer’s soul like a scalpel.
“The General. If we died, then at least the General made it.” He had never cared
for military brass. Not as a man and not as a toy. But maybe, just maybe, their deaths
wouldn’t be pointless.
“The Dragons got him.”
“Damn it!” Fisting his hand, he punched it through the fog and encountered a
solid floor beneath him. He pounded again and again until his hand throbbed and his
shoulder ached. “What now?” Through the fog he couldn’t see his feet, but knew the
fate of a broken toy like himself. His guts hurt too much not to have something major
wrong with them.
“You go back. Such valor doesn’t go unrewarded, you know, even if you believe
a good deed doesn’t go unpunished.”
“As a toy or as a man?” Because frankly, as much as he liked this action hero shit,
he would prefer to be a flesh and blood man. According to human calendars, about
thirty years had passed since he’d died. He’d really like to have sex again. When his
dick was molded plastic there wasn’t a lot he could do with it.
“A man. You’re different from your friends. Go back and live life to the fullest. I
have some things in mind for you, but really, it’s up to you to decide whether to stop
dancing on the edge of the knife or not. Because this time, if you get cut, it’s for real.”
Sawyer flinched. That didn’t sound like any deity he knew. He opened his
mouth to make a smart-assed remark and found the air glowing around him. A roar
surrounded him, vibrating until he closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his ears to
stop the racket. His body twisted. He felt as if he had dropped, then the noise became
the pounding of the surf.
Sawyer grinned. “Hell, yeah,” he growled.
Pain spiked through him, and he heard that damn old man laugh. Before he
could say or do anything, light surrounded him once more, and he got a good look at
the stumps of his legs. Instead of feet, he had nothing, and he knew if he became human
in this condition, he’d kill himself. No use living as damaged goods, not when he knew
how great having everything felt. “Damn you, Toymaker,” he muttered, and then his
world went black.
Chapter One
Dean Morrow rubbed his sleep-filled eyes and rummaged one more time
through his suitcase. He could have sworn he had packed his latest project. Sure,
windsurfing on a Caribbean Island didn’t usually lend itself to repairing action figures,
but he knew he needed something to do in the evenings. Adrian might joke about Dean
finding a different bed partner for every night of his vacation, but in reality, Dean
wanted to be left alone. That was why he’d rented this secluded villa.
He vaguely remembered telling Mack that he could keep the project, maybe even
work on it. “Hell,” he muttered under his breath. His first night there and already his
vacation wasn’t going as planned. Kind of like the last time he’d seen Josh. Dean bit
back another curse. It’d been six months. He didn’t need to think about that cheating
bastard anymore. Just because he’d thought he’d found someone who shared his love of
extreme sports… Dean savagely shook his head. He’d promised himself this
windsurfing vacation was for him, a way to make new memories in the sport he’d once
loved.
Swiping his fingers through his reddish brown hair, he stared into the closest
mirror. The haunted blue eyes looking back at him were ones Dean refused to show the
world. He pasted a smile on his face, and the jolly, happy-go-lucky man was back once
more. “That’s more like it.” The hotel offered a well-stocked mini bar. Perhaps, this first
night, he’d enjoy the company of an amber-colored friend called José, and forget about
Josh and the way he’d ruined everything.
With the mini bar bottle of tequila poured over ice, Dean stepped onto the
wooden patio. The villas on either side of him were dark. Finally, at least something
had gone right. He’d requested to be booked as far away as possible from the other
guests, and his travel agent had assured him he’d be alone. Dean hadn’t offered
Mary Winter Mission: Raw - 11 -
answers to her unasked questions. Standing in his bare feet on the boards, still warm
from the tropical sun, he stared at the large, dark pool. Tiki torches rimmed it, and he
thought he’d seen a splash of light from across the courtyard.
Dean frowned. It couldn’t be. He’d offered to book all five bungalows if it
guaranteed him privacy. The resort had informed him that wouldn’t be necessary.
Now, as a light turned on and silhouetted a slim, male figure in the window, Dean
glanced at the telephone. If he called the concierge now, maybe he could be in a new
villa before he went to bed. Except he’d been lucky to find a villa here on such short
notice. He doubted he’d find more privacy elsewhere. And, since this was a premier
place for windsurfing, staying anywhere else wouldn’t do.
Glued to the window like his friend Van to the television set during a football
game, he watched the man’s silhouette. The distance made it difficult to see, but
something about the man’s unexpected appearance sparked Dean’s interest.
The stranger opened the door to the villa and stepped into the soft glow from
one of the torches. He had a white towel slung over his shoulder and another one
wrapped around his waist.
The terry-cloth knot held Dean’s attention, and he wondered if the man wore
anything beneath. His unspoken question was soon answered when the stranger came
to the edge of the pool and dropped the towel to the deck. He was naked.
Strange markings covered his face, but couldn’t hide the arresting angles of
cheekbones and a hawk-like nose. Light illuminated his nearly-hairless chest and the
sculpted planes of an athlete’s body. Heedless of his own nudity, he descended the
stairs into the pool.
Dean groaned when the water covered the man to the waist, hiding what
appeared to be a magnificent dick. Well, he certainly hadn’t expected to find this on
vacation.
I did come here to have fun. Live a little!
The man rose to the edge of the pool. He rested his arms on the side, staring back
at his own villa. Broad shoulders and a muscled back met Dean’s view. He always was
a sucker for a good set of shoulders. The man glanced toward the glass doors where
Dean stood. He looked as if he might have seen Dean, because he opened his mouth to
say something. He shook his head and ducked under the water. The steady splashing of
laps filled the night air.
Dean stared at the glass he’d forgotten he was holding and drank the rest of the
liquid in a single swallow. He watched the stranger swim two more laps. The man’s
efficient strokes and obvious ability in the water had given Dean a hard-on. He
rearranged his cock and balls inside his shorts. He’d live a little on the windsurfing
board and not in bed. And his eager dick would just have to deal. Dean’s mouth twisted
into a wry grin as he turned away from the windows.
***
Sawyer grinned like a madman as he rested his arms on the side of the pool.
Kicking his feet -- he had feet! -- he reveled in the water sliding across his bare skin. The
man in the villa across the courtyard from his looked promising. Sure Sawyer had only
seen him through the glass doors, but the man had looked back with more than friendly
interest in his eyes. Even in the low light provided by the torches, Sawyer recognized
lust.
As he swam, Sawyer had discreetly watched his neighbor. Sawyer’s gaze missed
nothing. Along with the hunger in the stranger’s gaze came a shadowed, disappointed
look. He had a broad chest and muscled abs. The shorts rode low on chiseled hips, and
Sawyer’s mouth watered thinking about the package they concealed. He hadn’t been
human for very long. In fact, when he’d woken up from whatever the Toymaker had
done to him, he found himself in this villa. His papers proved he had rented this place
long-term. A look at the brochure showed the resort boasted windsurfing, scuba diving,
and other recreational activities. All in all, it looked like a great place to end up.
He rejoiced in being human once more. Muscles stretched and contracted with
each movement. Sinew and joints worked like a well-oiled machine. Breath filled his
lungs. The burn of extended exercise scored along his veins. He loved every moment of
it.
Biting back a shout of triumph, Sawyer wondered what would happen if he rose
from the water and followed the man inside his villa. Would he awaken and take the
sexual pleasures Sawyer offered? Just thinking about it had his skin tingling. Thirty
years without sex. He vowed he wouldn’t go a day longer than he had to before finding
satisfaction.
Sawyer continued his laps. Common sense told him he shouldn’t be out here
swimming after dark. Though the pool didn’t have hazards like the ocean would, it still
wasn’t safe. The torches provided barely enough illumination. He could work himself
to exhaustion and drown here just as easily as he could in the ocean.
The hell with safe. It wasn’t fun, and it didn’t provide him with the adrenaline
rush he craved.
The torches burned low, and still Sawyer couldn’t bring himself to leave the
pool. The stranger appeared to have gone. Let him rest. From the look Sawyer had seen
on his face, he probably needed it.
Lying on his back, he floated on the surface of the pool. Sawyer stared overhead
at the abundant stars. He hadn’t seen so many since his deployment in Uganda, over
thirty years ago. Action figures never saw the outdoors. There was this one time, he and
Mack were on a mission, just the two of them. They’d slogged through mud and
overgrown trails to find the Dragon’s hideout. Once there, they ambushed the Dragon
and took out his key commander. Those had been the days.
Sawyer rose from the pool, water sluicing over his body. Placing first one foot,
then the other on the deck, he saw the stranger had pulled the curtains over his patio
door and presumably had holed up inside his villa. Oh, well. There’d be plenty of days,
and hopefully nights, to get to know him better.
***
Dean awakened with a pounding head. He lay there, mustering the courage to
face the day and his neighbor. He found some, with some help from the promise of hot
coffee. Soon, he had a pot brewing and he stood in the shower, letting the hot water
wash the cobwebs from his brain.
He hadn’t drunk that much, but enough so he knew he’d overindulged last night.
He deserved it. His first time drinking in months… since J -- No! He wasn’t going to say
the man’s name again. The past was the past, and he had to start living in the present.
Or at least that was what Adrian had told him one evening not long after Dean realized
his world had tumbled down in flames. Apparently that philosophy worked well for
his friend. A new lover in less than six months. That had to be a record for Adrian.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he shaved off the night’s growth of stubble.
Grabbing another pair of shorts -- he planned to wear little else his entire vacation --
and slipping his feet into a pair of flip-flops, he headed once more for the deck with a
steaming cup of coffee in hand.
In the daylight, he saw his neighbor swimming. Did the man ever eat or sleep?
Sunlight highlighted his bronzed flesh, making him look like the statues of god-like
men that graced the resort’s entryway. The stranger moved naked through the water,
each limb gliding smoothly through the azure liquid. The turquoise and deep blue tiles
on the bottom of the pool made it appear as if this were some kind of royal palace. The
same motif was repeated along the low stone wall surrounding the area. Large palm
trees provided shade, the rustling of their leaves music that accompanied the soft
splashes of the man’s strokes.
Dean settled into one of the chairs at the edge of the pool. Sipping from his coffee
mug, he unabashedly watched the man swim. A familiar desire rose inside him. His
breath hitched thinking what such an athletic form could do. A breeze picked up,
carrying with it the tang of salt air, and for a moment, Dean hungered to be on a board,
catching the wind in his sail. Needs he’d buried for the last six months surfaced.
The man didn’t catch his gaze. Surely he saw Dean sitting there. Did he mind
putting on a show? He must not, for he flipped onto his back and lazily kicked the
length of the pool. The man’s erect cock rose from a neatly trimmed triangle of curls.
Dean’s mouth watered. He imagined the taste of clean skin combined with the
man’s unique musk. A long vein would run along the length of the man’s shaft, and
Dean knew if he traced it with fingers and tongue he could bring the man to release.
And why not? He was, after all, on a Caribbean vacation with lots of time on his
hands. The week promised good waves and scantily clad bodies, perfect for the escape
he so desperately craved.
“You always swim in the nude?” Dean asked.
The man’s strokes slowed. He turned onto his stomach, hiding his magnificent
rod, and lazily floated over to the edge of the pool. He leaned on the tile much like he
had last evening, chin pillowed on the backs of his hands. “You always watch?” The
man arched a sardonic eyebrow.
“Only when the view warrants it.” Dean set his mug on the ground. “My travel
agent promised me I’d have this place all to myself. So how come you’re here?”
“Maybe I didn’t want you to be alone.”
The quip couldn’t be true. There was no way this man could know why he’d
come here, and yet Dean wished desperately for it to be the truth. Because, suddenly, he
didn’t want to be alone.
Chapter Two
Skimming over the tops of the waves, Dean laughed giddily. He hadn’t had this
much fun in a long time. Spray wafted into his face. It splashed his legs and his bare
feet. Leaning back, he twisted the board along the top of a swell, feeling it dip as the
wave lowered itself to crash into the shore. To his right, Sawyer rode the wave like a
pro. His board sliced across the surface of the water.
His past forgotten, Dean reveled in the very reason he’d come to this resort. To
windsurf.
“This is great!” Sawyer yelled as he maneuvered himself beside Dean.
“Yeah, it is!” Dean admitted. They’d exchanged introductions and a large
amount of healthy sexual interest before Sawyer had disappeared into his villa to grab a
pair of shorts and sandals. He returned moments later and together they’d gone down
to the beach to get their windsurfing gear.
Dean had forgotten what it was like to be out on the water. Adrenaline pumped
through his veins, the endorphins giving him a high unlike any other. Wind filled his
sail. The sun warmed his skin and lifted his spirits. Closing his eyes as a wave splashed
across his face, he sliced down across a large swell and licked the salt from his lips.
The easy seas gave him plenty of time to study Sawyer. The man’s striking
tattoos looked like some sort of tribal pattern. Streaks of white slashed down the bridge
of his nose and over each eyebrow. More white dove from the corners of his eyes down
to his chin, and red swirls covered each cheek. A red mark went from the base of his
nose to the bottom of his chin and five more went across his forehead. Dean wondered
at their significance and why they looked sort of familiar.
He pulled the sail to catch the wind. Muscles tensed across the back of his
shoulders. His body had spent too much time in the store. Stacking inventory,
unloading boxes, and working out in the gym didn’t quite compare to getting out here
and pushing his body to the limit. Damn, he missed it.
From the way Sawyer grinned fiercely, he enjoyed it, too. He kept his board a
safe distance away from Dean, yet close enough that the two men could talk. They’d
chatted a bit about extreme sports on their way to the beach. Sawyer had done some
rappelling and scuba diving, but it sounded as if it had been years ago. How long, Dean
wondered, because Sawyer kept talking about years like it was five or ten, not just a
couple. The man looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties.
The waves and the wind died down. Dean let the current carry him toward the
shore. Sawyer followed. The boards slid across the sand, and Dean stepped out. “Want
to go back out?”
Sawyer glanced toward the showers and the villas just visible beyond the rise. A
sly smile curled his lips. “How about we stay in?”
Dean picked up his board and carried it toward the equipment rental shed.
Sawyer followed.
It didn’t take them long to return everything and head back to the villas. “Want
to get some lunch?” He opened the patio doors and led Sawyer inside. A few steps took
him to the phone. “What would you like?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
He ordered fish and roasted vegetables for both of them. “Should be here in
about half an hour,” he said when he hung up the phone. “Mind if I wash the salt off?”
“Mind if I join you?” Sawyer countered.
Dean stopped. He stared at Sawyer, and his breath whooshed from his lungs.
Standing there, a towel slung around his shoulders, the man radiated confidence.
Dean stepped forward and gestured toward the bathroom. “Not at all.” He
followed Sawyer down the short hall, noticing the way the man’s wet shorts clung to
his ass. He faced a moment of apprehension as Sawyer stopped in the bathroom and
hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts. In spite of the appearance Dean
gave to the world, a casual fling had never really been his style.
Then Sawyer stepped out of his shorts, and Dean couldn’t entertain the idea of
not fucking him. Sawyer stood in the middle of Dean’s bathroom, his cock thick and
hard. A happy-go-lucky smile covered Sawyer’s lips. Bending over, he turned on the
water, and Dean knew half an hour would never be enough time.
“How’s this feel?” Sawyer dangled his fingers in the shower spray.
Not as good as your hands on me. Dean tested the water. “Good. Why don’t you go
first?”
Sawyer wasted no time in stepping into the shower and pulling the glass door
closed.
Dean took a moment to draw a deep breath. He peeled off his shorts, giving
himself a pep talk that his cock didn’t need. He was hard, nearly painfully so. Through
the frosted glass of the shower door, he saw Sawyer moving. Water cascaded over his
body, and Dean longed to be one of the droplets trailing over the man’s tanned skin.
He opened the door. Automatically, Sawyer moved aside to let him enter. Dean
closed the door behind him and took his place under the shower. Water rinsed the salt
away. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head forward and let the spray pound his
shoulders.
“A little sore?”
Dean nodded. “It’s been a while.” He didn’t bother qualifying his statement.
Dean knew Sawyer understood when he returned the nod.
“I hear you. Turn around. I’ll give you a rub.” Sawyer grabbed the soap and
lathered his hands.
Dean complied. He braced his hands on the shower wall, willing himself not to
flinch as Sawyer touched him.
Strong hands caressed his shoulder blades, fingers working the indentation
where the rhomboid muscles lay. Closing his eyes, Dean let his chin fall to his chest.
Fingers moved over his flesh, finding the hollows on either side of his neck, caressing
the long lines of his biceps. Deftly, they searched for, and found, all the little knots that
had formed while windsurfing and worked them to total relaxation.
Dean breathed deeply. It took trust to let a stranger rub his back, and he wasn’t
one to give in so easily. Something about Sawyer seemed familiar in a good way. Sure,
he shared the same love of windsurfing and other extreme sports that some of his past
lovers did. But that wasn’t it. No, the easy way he fell into a camaraderie with Sawyer
seemed like they were lost soul mates or something. Dean grinned at his foolishness.
“Lunch is going to be here soon. How about I return the favor after we eat?”
Dean asked.
Sawyer rinsed his hands beneath the spray. “Probably for the best.”
“Thanks for the backrub.” Dean rinsed his short hair beneath the spray, then
pushed open the shower door. He stepped out, but not before he saw Sawyer’s erection.
A back rub. Yeah, right. Dean knew what would happen once they finished lunch. He’d
lay Sawyer down across the villa’s king-size bed and more than his back would get
rubbed.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, Dean walked to the bedroom. He’d just
tugged on a pair of shorts when a discreet knock at the door announced the arrival of
their lunch. He let the waiter in, adding a generous tip to the bill when he signed for it,
then set the tray on the low table.
Sawyer stepped into the living room. He wore only a white towel around his
tanned hips. “My shorts are still wet. Hope you don’t mind.”
Dean didn’t mind at all. He figured clothes would become unnecessary after they
ate anyway. He gestured to the other end of the couch.
Talking gave way to eating as both Dean and Sawyer polished off their lunches.
Soon, the plates sat empty before them, and they leaned back on the couch. Dean sat
awkwardly, wondering who was going to make the first move. He knew from feeling
Sawyer’s hands on him and seeing his erection that the other man wanted him. The
feeling was mutual.
“I don’t usually…”
“Shh.” Sawyer reached across the short couch and pressed his fingers to Dean’s
lips. “Don’t say a word. I know you don’t usually have affairs. You don’t come on to
guys like this. Well that’s okay. Neither do I, but I want you, Dean. I want you bad.”
With his free hand, he flipped open the towel.
Dean’s attention dropped from the sincerity he found on Sawyer’s face to his
cock. If its hardness were any indication, he really did want Dean. For once, Dean
realized he wanted a fling, a mindless bout of sweaty sex, to take the edge off. A way to
celebrate a kick-ass morning windsurfing and use up some of the adrenaline coursing
through his veins.
His body responded to the eagerness he saw in Sawyer. Blood pooled in his
groin. His breathing grew ragged.
Sawyer caressed Dean’s lower lip with his fingers. He leaned forward and his
warm breath kissed Dean’s mouth a moment before Sawyer’s lips touched his. The kiss
started gently, just the briefest touch of lips. Cupping the back of Dean’s head, Sawyer
traced Dean’s lips with his tongue. When he was granted entrance, he plunged inside,
evoking a moan from Dean.
He reached up for Sawyer, wrapping his arms around the man’s muscled torso.
Sawyer braced his weight on his hands, keeping his body away from Dean’s. He didn’t
want that. Not when he could feel the delicious press of flesh against flesh. He tugged
Sawyer down to him.
Dean kissed him hungrily. His tongue delved into Sawyer’s mouth. He’d
forgotten what it felt like to kiss and be kissed in turn. The crisp strands of Sawyer’s
mohawk prickled against his palm. He ruffled his hand over it, all the while devouring
Sawyer’s mouth with his own.
On top of him, Sawyer shifted, sliding his thigh between Dean’s. He rubbed it
against Dean’s cock and balls.
Need roared to life inside Dean. He was tired of foreplay. He needed to feel his
cock plunging into the exquisite tightness of Sawyer’s ass, and he tumbled them to the
floor with a thud. Neither missed a beat as Dean straddled Sawyer’s naked body. His
hands roamed over the man’s hairless chest. Pulling his lips away, he sucked a trail
along Sawyer’s neck, then down to his dusky nipples. Dean swirled his tongue around
them, tasting pure, clean man. He groaned.
Sawyer lay beneath him, fingers curled into Dean’s shoulders. His legs tangled
with Dean’s, the friction of smooth skin against lightly furred driving Dean positively
insane.
Dean drew one of Sawyer’s nipples into his mouth. He sucked, grazing the tight
bead with his teeth. Sawyer shuddered.
“Must touch you,” Sawyer ground out. His fingers worked down Dean’s arms,
slipping along his sides. He couldn’t reach much farther than the last rib, and Dean
wiggled even more out of reach.
He pressed opened-mouth kisses to the side of Sawyer’s abdomen. Working his
way across each ridge of muscle, he paused to swirl his tongue in Sawyer’s navel.
“Damn you,” Sawyer growled as he raked his fingers against Dean’s short hair.
He snarled as he cupped the back of Dean’s neck, pushing him lower.
Looking up over Sawyer’s prone body, Dean grinned. He hadn’t had this much
fun since… well, he couldn’t remember, but one look at Sawyer’s naked, bronzed skin
had him thinking about how much more fun he could have. His vacation lasted a week.
When he returned, he’d hopefully have a new tan and some memories. And wasn’t that
exactly what vacations were supposed to be for?
He reached Sawyer’s uncut cock. Damn, he’d never seen a rod quite as perfect as
this one before. Rocking back on his heels, he stared at its length. The foreskin had
pulled back, revealing the eye and the droplet of fluid emerging from it. Veins twisted
around the shaft like snakes on a tree. Bracing his hands on Sawyer’s thighs, Dean
could only look and draw the man’s musky odor into his lungs.
“Do it!” Sawyer demanded.
“Do what?” He drew his index finger along the length of Sawyer’s shaft. “You
want me to touch it?” He traced tiny swirls around the head, smearing the pre-cum that
had emerged. Using a vein as a starting point, he made designs along Sawyer’s length
with the tip of his finger. His touch stilled when he brushed against Sawyer’s balls.
This was what he had been missing. Drawing a sharp breath, Dean pulled his
finger away, suddenly unable to move, to think. In the past, sex had become a
mechanical thing, like part of his cool-down after a workout. He’d given more thoughts
to how many laps he would run than the man he fucked. Except now, things were
different. Sawyer was different.
“What is it?” Sawyer started to sit up.
“No. Nothing.” Dean pressed down on Sawyer’s abdomen, forcing him to the
floor. He lowered his head, hoping to use the thick cock in his mouth to drill the
thoughts from his mind. It’d been a while since he’d had an uncut man, and he longed
to toy with the foreskin, to swipe his tongue over the ultra-sensitive crown, and to feel
the hot rush of seed in his mouth. He stretched his lips and rested them on the tip of
Sawyer’s penis.
He took the length into his mouth, marveling at his paler skin against Sawyer’s
darker tones. A deep tan, or maybe some Native American blood -- either way, the
contrast between them provided even more visual interest as Dean released Sawyer’s
cock to watch the play of light and dark.
“You’re going to fucking tease me, aren’t you?” Sawyer tightened his fingers on
the back of Dean’s neck and pulled his head back down. Dean guided Sawyer’s cock
into his mouth, taking him deep. “Suck me! It’s been so long!”
The groaning, animal noises coming from Sawyer’s throat had Dean achingly
hard. It was Sawyer’s lips that should be wrapped around his cock. He needed to spill
into Sawyer’s mouth.
Reaching between the man’s legs, Dean fondled Sawyer’s balls. If it truly had
been as long as he had said, and from the way he talked it had been years, then he was
surprised Sawyer lasted as long as he had. He relaxed his throat muscles, and the tip of
Sawyer’s cock slid deeper.
He’d forgotten how awesome it could feel to give a blowjob. All wet licks and
deep thrusts, the salty taste of pre-cum a harbinger of an impending release. In his
palm, Sawyer’s balls tightened.
He dove deep, reaching both hands beneath Sawyer to palm his ass. Smooth legs
slid over his shoulders, powerful thighs tightening on either side of his face. Dean
kneaded the smooth globes of Sawyer’s buttocks. He took long pulls of Sawyer’s cock,
drawing his lips along the shaft in time to the man’s clenching thigh muscles.
“I can’t wait.” Sawyer grabbed the back of Dean’s head in a savage grip. He
thrust into his mouth. A long, guttural moan rolled from the depths of his chest. “Oh,
damn, I’m -- “ The rest of his sentence was cut off in a harsh cry as he came.
Dean swallowed stream after stream of hot, salty come. Sawyer’s orgasm went
on and on, almost as if he hadn’t come in decades. Dean lapped the length of Sawyer’s
shaft until it softened in his mouth. He gently pulled away, giving the crown one final
lick.
Sawyer’s knees fell open.
Dean leaned back, all too aware of his painfully erect cock. Sawyer lay on the
floor, his shaft slack against his body. Sweat glistened on his skin. Full lips parted, he
breathed raggedly. Long lashes fanned across his cheeks. Watching him, Dean
wondered what it would feel like to have the man’s heavy lips wrap around him and
suck him deep.
“You need…” Sawyer said, between still-panting breaths.
“Yeah, I do.” Dean effortlessly stretched his legs out in front of him, shifting to
sit on the floor. The floorboards pressed against him, sanded smooth to avoid the threat
of splinters. With his feet flat and his knees parted, he knew the picture he presented.
The same reddish brown hair as what was on his head, only a little darker, surrounded
his shaft in a mass of neatly trimmed curls.
Sawyer rose into a seated position. He took one look at Dean’s rod and grinned.
He stalked forward on hands and knees, until he braced his palms on either side of
Dean’s thighs. “Hope I still remember how to do this,” he muttered, and Dean
wondered if Sawyer realized he’d spoken aloud.
Bracing his hands as if he were doing a pushup, Sawyer lowered himself until
his lips hovered over the tip of Dean’s cock. The muscles in his biceps flexed, and Dean
had a good look along the lean, muscled line of Sawyer’s back. The sight of a well-made
naked man always made his mouth go dry. Then, as Sawyer wrapped his lips around
the end of Dean’s shaft, all thoughts fled. All he felt was the warm, wet suction of
Sawyer’s mouth. The bristle of his mohawk brushed against Dean’s stomach with every
movement, and that tongue, that oh-so-talented tongue, swirled around his crown and
teased the length of his shaft.
Dean groaned. He leaned back on his hands, half afraid he’d get too rough if he
touched Sawyer. If it truly had been that long, Dean needed to let Sawyer run the show.
Even if it killed him.
The tip of Sawyer’s tongue probed the opening of his cock. Dean closed his eyes.
“Yes. Yes,” he breathed, and when Sawyer hummed in the back of his throat, Dean
truly knew he was lost. He let the pleasure course through his veins. Unbolted the gates
that had held his needs penned up for so long and simply enjoyed the pleasure of a
perfect blowjob.
His hips moved. Balls tightening, he knew he was going to come. It was too fast,
too soon, but it had been oh, so long. He cried out, spilling into Sawyer’s mouth, and
looking down at him, Dean couldn’t help but think there was something awfully
familiar about those tattooed cheeks.
Chapter Three
Three days of windsurfing, snorkeling and lounging around on their private

pool deck left Dean with the feeling that Sawyer was a long-lost friend. He still couldn’t
quite place where he’d seen the swirl of red tattoos or the sharp, white line bisecting a
tanned face. Humming under his breath as he stepped from the bathroom, he saw
Sawyer standing at the patio doors of his villa. The man stared out at the pool, or maybe
beyond to the azure waters visible at the edge of the horizon.
Dean knotted the towel at his waist. He stopped, the reality of where he’d seen
Sawyer, or at least someone who looked like him, finally hitting him.
The action figure he’d left behind.
It hadn’t occurred to him to try and compare the flesh and blood man who stood
before him to some toy left on a workbench.
“Who are you?” The question erupted from his mouth before Dean could stop it.
Though he hadn’t asked Adrian about the sudden appearance of Mack, the two men
had obviously hit it off quickly. A shock in and of itself when he thought about his
friend Adrian, but the gruff, stubbled Mack really wasn’t his type.
Sawyer was exactly his type.
“Who are you?” Dean asked again.
Sawyer turned away from the glass, his hands limp at his sides. The dark blue
board shorts he wore were different from a uniform, and instead of a gun, his hands
had curled around bottles of Bahamian beer, but the resemblance was, at last,
unmistakable.
“Sawyer Airestok. What’s this about? You know who I am.” Sawyer stepped
forward.
Dean held out his hand. “No, I don’t think I do. You bear an uncanny
resemblance to an action figure I had on my workbench. I’m supposed to be alone here.
I paid extra to ensure I had privacy. And yet, you show up, supposedly on a long-term
stay that none of the hotel staff knew about?” Dean arched an eyebrow. “I’m many
things, but sucker isn’t one of them.”
“No, I suppose you’re not. But I am what I am. I’m a man. Ex-military. Did some
special ops stuff until I retired. Now I’m here pursuing what I like to do.” Sawyer
shrugged. He took a couple more steps toward Dean until he rested his hand on Dean’s
shoulder. “Now come on, why all the questions?”
Dean jerked away from Sawyer’s touch. “Because I don’t do this. The last three
days, the blow jobs…” He rubbed his fingers over the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t me.
I may act like I live for the moment, but I haven’t. Not for a long while.”
“Why not?” Sawyer remained so close his breath tickled the corner of Dean’s
mouth. “Sometimes living for the moment is all you have.”
Dean closed his eyes and exhaled. He swayed toward Sawyer, unable to stop the
magnetic pull between them. Lips brushed. A tentative kiss, almost as if they weren’t
sure of each other. Which made sense, Dean realized as he curled his fingers around
Sawyer’s biceps. They’d really only known each other three days.
Then why did being with Sawyer feel so damn easy? Dean swiped his tongue along
Sawyer’s lower lip. Kissing proved much more interesting than trying to figure out just
exactly who Sawyer was and why he was here. He pulled Sawyer closer and deepened
the kiss. His tongue plunged into the man’s mouth. They’d done nothing but give each
other head the last few days, and Dean ached to plunge his cock into the man’s ass.
Except he needed to know the truth.
Dean shoved Sawyer away. “I can’t accept that. Living for the moment is all fine
and well until the past catches up with you.”
“And what kind of past do you have, Dean?” Sawyer balled his hands into fists.
“Damn it! I’m trying to capture something here, something I haven’t had in a while.
Why do you keep pushing me away?” His voice rose.
Dean stared at Sawyer. “We’re just friends. That’s all this can be.”
***
Sawyer flinched. Dean’s words cut through him like enemy fire. What did he
mean ‘just friends’? The Toymaker had sent him back for a reason. Waking up in this
villa, with this man just across the way, had to be the reason. He closed his eyes and
breathed deeply. “Just friends,” he parroted.
“Yeah, man. Look, I came down here for fun, not more complications. I had a
relationship once. Someone who loved extreme sports as much as I did. I watched him
drop into a coma and then dump me a few months later. I’m not going to go through
that again.” Dean looked haunted. The wariness Sawyer had sensed in him that first
night had returned with a vengeance.
“Ouch. That had to hurt. I’m sorry.” Looking at Dean, Sawyer now knew the
cause of the wariness, why he never let Sawyer penetrate him, or vice versa. Blowjobs
and kisses were fine, and a perfect way to keep some distance between them. The
trouble was, Sawyer didn’t want distance. He wanted to be as close as two men could
be.
“Yeah.” Dean dragged his fingers through his hair. “Look, I don’t want to talk
about it. I don’t want to dredge up the past. Just know that in three days when I return
home, I’m doing so alone. I don’t even know where you’re from, after all.”
Sawyer opened his mouth, then realized that part of his cover hadn’t been
provided to him. “I don’t really have a home.” It hurt. It really did.
“Everyone’s from somewhere,” Dean countered.
“Not men like me.” Sawyer’s attention dropped to the floor. He had to tell Dean
the truth. Coming back to life was a double-edged sword. To his family, he’d died in the
military in 1979. He couldn’t go back and find out what had happened to his little sister,
what kind of man she married, if they ever had kids. He didn’t know if his parents were
still alive or if his dad still worked in the tire factory. For men like him, it was better off
not having a home or a past.
“What makes you say that? You were in the military. Before then, you probably
were from somewhere, right?”
“I was born in Tupelo, Mississippi in 1959. An only son, I had one sister about
three years younger than me. It was expected that I’d serve my country like my dad and
my granddad before me. As soon as I graduated high school I enlisted in the army.
They must have seen something in me that the small town I grew up in didn’t because
in less than a year I was in special ops training. A year and a half later, I was dead. Shot
by a sniper in Uganda.” Sawyer kept his tone unemotional.
Dean’s brow furrowed. “There’s no way -- “
“Let me finish. I have to do this.” Sawyer swallowed past the rough patch in his
voice. The Toymaker had sent him back for a reason. Healing Dean’s wounded heart
was as good a reason as any, and a hell of lot more noble than trying to kill someone
who only wanted something different from you. He took a deep breath and continued,
“I died. Apparently sometimes you do get a second chance, because I came back as an
action figure.”
Dean started to chuckle.
“Don’t laugh!”
“Sorry.”
“It’s true. I guess the Toymaker -- that’s what the action figure’s God is called --
thought I enjoyed soldiering so much that he gave me another chance. And I did. Until
a blast took off my feet and killed my buddies. I don’t know what happened to Mack,
Talon or Brice, but -- “
“Did you say Mack?” Dean glanced around and sank into the couch. “You knew
an action figure named Mack?”
He looked so pale Sawyer feared he was going to pass out. “Yeah, Mack was our
squad leader.”
“Tall guy, gruff, looks like some kind of movie army hero? Usually has stubbled
cheeks?”
Sawyer nodded. “You’ve seen him?” Since coming back he hadn’t given a
thought to his friends. He figured they either came back or didn’t. Like his parents, he
thought it’d be best if he simply didn’t see them again. But the possibility that he might
at least see Mack… For the first time since waking up in his villa he allowed hope to
blossom. Maybe things might turn out better than okay.
“Yeah. I think he hooked up with a friend of mine, Adrian. We run a comic store
called The Fantastic Five, and all of a sudden this guy showed up. They’re in love or
something.” Dean swiped his hand over the top of his head and sighed.
“When you leave, can I go back with you? He sounds like my friend Mack, and
I’d really like to see him again.” Sawyer clung to hope like a lifeline.
“You’re saying you and Mack were action figures. You look like -- oh holy fuck --
you look so much like that action figure that I left behind. So somehow… you… got
here?” Dean shook his head. “There’s no way.” He bolted to his feet and began to pace.
“There is no fucking way.”
“I’m not lying to you, Dean.” Sawyer stopped and crossed his arms over his
chest. He knew telling the truth wouldn’t be easy. Who wanted to believe that the man
before them had once been a toy? If he hadn’t experienced it himself, he figured he’d
feel exactly the way Dean did now.
“How do I know that?” Dean spun to face him. “I don’t know you. We met three
days ago. You’ve sucked my cock and I’ve sucked yours. We’ve windsurfed together
and snorkeled. That’s it! I don’t know your family, your childhood, your romantic
history, and you don’t know mine. So how can you expect me to believe you? Really?”
“Pick up the phone and call your friend Adrian. If his Mack is my friend, he’ll
confirm everything I told you.”
Dean stared at the phone.
“Call him!” Sawyer ordered. “Please. He’ll confirm everything.” Drawing a deep
breath, he stared at Dean, daring him to pick up the handset and place the international
call back to his home. “I’ve never felt as strongly about anything as I have about you
calling him. This is my chance. You are my chance.” He closed his eyes, half afraid he’d
revealed too much. For a man who didn’t want to get too deep, having someone admit
feelings for him probably wouldn’t encourage Dean to make that call.
“What if he’s not your Mack? What then?”
“I don’t know,” Sawyer admitted. “But I bet he is. I bet Adrian will tell you that
he met Mack and fell as hard and fast for him as I have for you.”
Dean stiffened. “I’ll make the call.” He turned, showing Sawyer his back and the
tense set of his shoulders. Picking up the handset, he punched in the numbers. From his
position across the room, Sawyer heard the phone ring.
He waited. Watching Dean bend his head to listen to his friend ranked as one of
the hardest things Sawyer had ever done. What if Mack wasn’t the same one? What if
Adrian and Mack met under totally different circumstances? And what if Dean didn’t
believe him?
Any other time, Dean wouldn’t have been able to believe he was about to call the
store to talk to Adrian and find out if his boyfriend was an action figure come to life. In
the back room they’d joked about the toys coming to life while they had repaired them.
What if this one was a man? Would his cock be big enough to satisfy a human? Sitting
around a table with naked and half-naked plastic men tended to start such
conversations, especially in a room with four gay men.
Adrian answered the phone. The musical chime of the cash register accompanied
the greeting.
“Hey, Adrian, how’s it going?”
“Good. Hang on a minute.” The phone thumped as Adrian set it on the counter.
Muted conversation came through the line, followed by the rustle of a plastic bag and
the clang of the cash drawer. A moment later, he came back on the line. “Didn’t expect
to hear from you. Figured you’d be out catching some waves.”
“Oh, I’ve been doing plenty of that, don’t worry. Got a question for you. How
did you meet Mack?”
Silence filled the other end of the phone line. “You didn’t call me from the
Caribbean just to ask me that, did you? What happened?”
“Who said anything had to happen?” Dean hated sounding suddenly defensive,
but the way Adrian questioned him made him wonder if maybe his friend were in on
Sawyer’s appearance. “I just want to know, that’s all.”
“Dean, I know you. Ever since Josh you haven’t been interested in relationships
- yours, or anyone else’s. So if you’re asking about Mack then something has happened.
Besides, I doubt you’ll believe me.”
“I might. I have someone here who says he served with someone named Mack
when they were both action figures, and when I described your man to him, he thought
it was the same guy. Tell me, did your lover used to be a toy?” Dean wasted no time in
getting to the point. He glanced at Sawyer, then thought of the figure that he’d left
behind for Mack. Sawyer looked so hopeful, and Dean needed answers. “And tell me,
did someone put the feet back on that figure I left on my workbench?”
The silence on the other end of the phone line told Dean everything he needed to
know. He was tempted to hang up then and there, but he and Adrian had been friends
for too long to let something crazy like this come between them.
“Mack put the feet back on the same day you left for vacation. He said you’d left
the toy here for him. And, yes, Mack was a figure I’d taken home to repair. Somehow, I
was drawn to him. The morning after I fixed him, he came to life. He’s not here at the
moment, but I can ask him if he worked with a Sawyer. He talked about the guys in his
unit, both when he was human and when he was a toy.” Adrian grew silent. The bells
above the shop door rang, and Dean could imagine him not wanting to have this
conversation where others could overhear.
“I’ll be home in a few days, anyway. I may be bringing a friend with me. We can
talk about it then. It’s no big deal.” Dean struggled to keep his voice light, knowing
every word hurt the man staring at him.
“So what does your friend look like?” More entrance bells rang. Sounded like the
shop was getting busy.
“Tell him…” Dean figured what the hell. He and Adrian had been friends for a
long time. If both of them were going crazy, well, at least Van and Hugh could run the
store. “Tell him that he looks exactly like the figure I’d left behind. See you in a few
days, Adrian.” Dean hung up the phone.
Slowly, trying to gather his thoughts, he turned to stare at Sawyer. There was no
mistaking the resemblance between the toy he’d been repairing and the man who stood
before him. Both had a long, lean build and had the same tattoos on the face. He
couldn’t deny it, and yet he didn’t want to admit it, either.
“I don’t know.” He shook his head and strode toward the French doors and
Sawyer. “You look like the figure. I was promised empty villas, and you’re here. But
why here, and why me?”
“I was sent back for you.” Sawyer stopped Dean’s forward movement by curling
his fingers around the other man’s bare shoulders. “You’re my mission.”
Dean laughed. “Your mission? I’m sorry, but that military crap doesn’t quite
work on me. As far as I know my travel agent screwed up, or maybe she didn’t, and
you’re in with Adrian and the guys on some big, elaborate joke.” He grabbed Sawyer’s
wrist and pulled his hand away.
“This isn’t a joke, Dean.” Sawyer blocked his progress toward the doors. “I knew
I’d come back for a reason, and when I met you, I knew what it was.”
“And what is it? If what you’ve told me is true, it’s been nearly thirty years since
you’ve had a meaningful relationship. How do you know you’re not just jumping the
first guy you meet?”
Sawyer flinched. “That’s wrong, man.”
“Face it! I am the first guy you met since coming ‘back to life’.” Dean placed
finger quotes around the words. “We haven’t even had sex yet, and you think you’re in
love with me. This has all happened too fast. We hardly know anything about each
other. I don’t even know why you have those tattoos.”
“I got them after my first battle in the military. Some of the guys called me
Cochise and I wanted to look like a bad ass Native American brave. It was an impulsive
decision, but one I never regretted. Like you.”
Dean barely listened as he brushed past Sawyer and flung open the French
doors. The glass panel slammed open in its track, rattling precariously. Not caring, he
stormed out onto the patio, then past the pool where he’d first seen Sawyer swimming.
The path carried him alongside Sawyer’s villa, a place Dean hadn’t even seen the inside
of, because Sawyer had been spending all his time with Dean. Beyond it lay the beach.
The endless stretch of white sand leading to cerulean waters called to Dean. His
toes sank into the soft grains and there, with the salt-scented air blowing against his
skin, he knew he could think. He broke into a jog, preparing to run the demons from his
mind.
Chapter Four
Sawyer watched Dean go with a sinking feeling in his chest. Truth resonated in
the other man’s words. It had been almost three decades since he’d had a lover. And
even then, affairs had been few and far between to keep away from Uncle Sam’s not-so-
blind eyes. He swallowed hard. His feet itched to go after Dean and explain things. This
wasn’t what Dean made it sound like. As a toy he’d lacked perception of the man
holding him, trying to fix him, but even then he’d registered a gentle, caring touch.
He flashed back to about six months before his death, standing on a pier
watching a US Navy ship pull out of harbor. Back then he hadn’t wanted a relationship,
didn’t think he could deal with having a lover who was also in the armed forces. It
hadn’t mattered because six months later he’d been dead. The moral of that story had
been that he knew exactly what it was like to not want to feel and how wrong he’d
been. He refused to let Dean make the same mistake.
Sawyer bolted out the door. He flew out of their small courtyard, his feet sinking
into the sand as he raced across the beach. An umbrella bobbed in front of him and he
stopped, narrowly avoiding a collision with an older couple.
He scanned the beach until he saw Dean.
Sawyer took off after him, his long strides carrying him down the beach. Just
past the dunes, he fell into step beside Dean and they jogged down to the end of the
strip. Tiny pebbles and shells threatened to cut his feet. Sawyer didn’t care. He’d run
with Dean to the ends of the earth if it made things better between them.
“I have a birthmark,” he said when they dipped behind some large dunes
separating this end of the beach from the more public one.
Dean didn’t break stride. “So?”
“It looks like a copyright symbol.” He tossed Dean a grin that the other man
didn’t match.
“Where is it?”
“On my ass.”
Dean slowed. “Show me.”
“Here?” Sawyer stopped. Tall dunes rose on three sides of them, the fourth taken
up by a somewhat rocky cliff.
“Um, sure.” Now that it appeared Sawyer would take him up on his challenge,
he seemed less certain.
With a grin, Sawyer dropped his pants. He turned and bent over, giving Dean a
pristine view of his ass. “There, on the left cheek, down where it meets the thigh.” He
pointed toward the birthmark.
Dean splayed his large hand on Sawyer’s lower back. Heat burned into his skin,
and immediately Sawyer grew hard. He bit his lip, not wanting to take things further
than Dean let him, but right now, he wanted to be buried in Dean’s body so bad it made
his balls ache. Dean’s fingers skimmed the outside of Sawyer’s right butt cheek, sliding
down to where it met the thigh. He swept his fingers over to Sawyer’s left gluteus,
brushing against his balls in the process.
Sawyer stifled a groan. “You’re killing me here.”
“I see it.” Dean spoke the words like they were bad things. “A circle with a
smaller one inside it. I can see where you’d say that might look like a copyright
symbol.” He gave a shuddering breath. “I just… I don’t… Damn it, Adrian sounded so
hedgy. He’s always been a straightforward guy. I can’t help but think that you guys are
playing a trick on me.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Sawyer remained bent over. “Why don’t we just see where
this week leads? When it’s over, I can come back with you. It sounds like the Mack your
friend knows is the same as my friend. I’d like to get to know him again. Who knows
what will happen?” He tried to keep his tone light, though every word crushed his gut.
He willed Dean to understand, to maybe agree to take a chance on them. These three
days had been among the best of his life. He didn’t want to lose Dean now.
“I’ve seen your birthmark. You can stand up now.” Dean’s cool words had the
same effect on him as a bucket of ice water.
Sawyer yanked up his pants and whirled to face the man he feared he’d grown
to love. “After all of this you still don’t believe me?”
Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what to believe. You used to
be a toy, and now you’re a man. You know my friend’s lover. It doesn’t make sense.”
Unable to stay away from Dean any longer, Sawyer stepped forward. He
flattened his palm on Dean’s chest. “Whatever happens between us, can you at least
take me back with you? If your friend’s lover is my buddy Mack, we went through a lot
together. I’d really like to see him again.” He hated laying it all on the line like this.
With one word, a single syllable, Dean could rip his world apart.
“Yeah.” Dean sagged against Sawyer’s touch. “Because damn it all, in spite of
what you told me, I don’t want to let you go.” He cupped Sawyer’s cheeks. “I think that
makes me crazy.” Before Sawyer could answer, Dean kissed him.
Hot and hard, Dean ground his lips against Sawyer’s as if he were trying to drive
the man from his system. His tongue plunged into Sawyer’s mouth. His fingers curled
into Sawyer’s biceps, pulling their bodies together.
Sawyer groaned. His chest slid against Dean’s sweaty skin. Electric frissons
jolted through his system. There was so much he wanted to say. Words failed him. All
he could do was touch and taste. Gliding his hands down Dean’s back, Sawyer lingered
over every vertebrae, every muscle. He strove to memorize the topography of Dean’s
body. That way, if Dean conspired to leave him behind, then at least he would have the
memories.
No! He refused to believe that once they returned to Dean’s home -- wherever
that was -- things wouldn’t work out. He’d see his friend Mack once more, and the fact
that Mack had found a relationship boded well for him. He hoped.
Leaning into Dean, he kissed him as if this might be the last time. Drawing the
man’s tongue into his mouth, Sawyer sucked on it. Pretending it was a miniature cock,
he mirrored the actions he wanted done on his shaft. The fresh ocean breeze caressed
his skin along with Dean’s fingers, reminding him they were outdoors.
A groan rumbled from Sawyer’s throat. Nothing could be more delicious than
having sex in public. Sure, a sand dune hid them, but a couple looking for privacy just
as he and Dean had could stumble on them. His cock jerked with the thought. He
gulped air into his lungs.
“We shouldn’t,” Dean said.
“Why not? We’re secluded. I’ll even kneel so you don’t have to worry about
sand.” Sawyer reached for Dean’s shorts.
Dean grabbed Sawyer’s wrists. “But we’re outside…”
“Live a little!”
Dean pulled away. “What about the future? What about trying to build
something?”
“Sometimes you have to just feel.” Sawyer drew a deep breath. Say the wrong
thing here, and he could push Dean away for good. “Sometimes, when you have a
chance at the brass ring, you just have to go for it. Because you never know what
tomorrow will bring. I learned that the hard way. Drink and be merry for tomorrow
you may die.” A sad smile twisted his lips.
Dean swallowed hard. “Yeah. Climb the mountain today because tomorrow you
could be in a coma.” He shook his head.
“I’m not like that. Sure, I like to live life to its fullest. Who wouldn’t? But I’m
smart. I’m not going to take stupid chances. But sometimes shit just happens. I didn’t
intend to get shot. You can’t damn me because of the actions of one man.” Sawyer fisted
his hands. Please don’t close the door on us. If I ever meet the guy who did such a number on
you, I’ll make sure he regrets it.
“I don’t know if I can go through that again,” Dean replied in a rough voice. “It
tore me apart. It’s easier if you keep things light.”
“What about sex, Dean? You can’t go the rest of your life without penetrating
someone, can you? And if you can, then why not with me? We’ve done everything but.”
Sawyer dropped to his knees. He yanked Dean’s shorts down, freeing his erection. He
reached for him, cupping his hands around Dean’s full balls. He stroked Dean’s shaft
with long pulls. “Don’t you want everything life has to offer?”
Dean’s eyelids fluttered closed.
Sawyer kept stroking. The slide of sweat along his skin only smoothed the
motion. Don’t give up.
Dean’s chin dropped to his chest. A tiny drop of pre-cum formed on the tip of his
penis. Sawyer licked it away.
“Please,” Dean groaned. He tightened his fists so much his knuckles turned
white.
Rocking back on his heels, Sawyer stared at him. “If we do this, we do it my way.
Complete penetration. I’ll even let you take me.” He tossed a cocky grin in Dean’s
direction. When Dean didn’t move, Sawyer leaned forward. He licked the underside of
Dean’s shaft from base to tip, careful to never lose eye contact.
The need churning in Dean’s aqua eyes nearly undid Sawyer. It took all the
willpower he had to go slow as he wrapped his lips around Dean’s shaft and sucked it
into his mouth. Make it good and wet -- he wanted a slow slide when Dean finally took
him.
A shudder raced its way up Dean’s spine. More pre-cum filled Sawyer’s mouth,
and he knew his lover was close. Making a show of it, he pulled his lips away, then
turned and presented his ass.
Dean dropped to his knees behind him.
Sawyer didn’t think Dean would need any lube. It appeared Dean agreed with
that theory, because he glided his palm the length of Sawyer’s shaft. Leaning forward,
Dean pressed the head of his cock against Sawyer’s opening and penetrated him with a
short, quick thrust. Sawyer’s balls tightened. Damn, he was closer than he knew.
He moaned, nearly toppling over with the flood of pleasure. Sparks flashed at
the edge of his vision, and he swayed forward.
A big hand curled around his waist. “Easy,” Dean crooned. He inched his way
completely into Sawyer’s body.
Drawing deep breaths, Sawyer willed himself not to come. He tightened his
fingers around the base of his shaft and tugged gently on his balls. After nearly thirty
years without sex… He gasped when Dean withdrew. Thankfully, Dean plunged
forward again.
Grains of sand bit into Sawyer’s knees. The roar of the surf combined with the
cry of gulls created a symphony for their lovemaking. Sawyer had no doubt that was
exactly what it was. Neither one of them was ready to say it yet, but something had
passed between them these past few days. Call it love, call it a heavy dose of lust --
either way, he doubted the rest of their vacation and maybe even the rest of their lives
would be the same.
Tightening his fingers on Sawyer’s hips, Dean cried out and quickened his pace.
He rested his forehead on Sawyer’s shoulder and licked salty beads from his skin. “Oh,
God, I’m going to come!” Dean ground out the words, trying hard not to shout.
Sweaty flesh smacked together. Distantly, the sound of vacationers filtered to
him, but Sawyer was in his own world. Each plunge of Dean’s cock into his body
pressed against exquisite nerves. Waves of pleasure pounded through him. He
tightened his fingers, half afraid he’d blow too soon. But it had been so damn long.
Dean shuddered against him and spilled his hot seed into Sawyer’s passage. He
slumped forward at the rush of Dean’s come and drew air into his lungs. Sawyer
thought he’d never felt more blissful, more at peace. Dean sagged against him.
Sawyer released his dick to brace a hand in the sand. The hot grains burned him,
reminding him they were outdoors. Sun beat on his head and shoulders. He drank in
the warmth and light. “Turn around,” he gruffly ordered. He didn’t want to spill in his
hand. “Isn’t it about time you got yours?”
Dean pulled away and turned around.
Sawyer followed. He took a firm grip on his cock, using every moment to try and
regain control. He could overcome his lack of self-control. The first time had to be
perfect. The hot wrap of lips and tongue around his dick couldn’t compare to being
buried balls-deep inside someone, and he was ready to experience it for the first time in
thirty years. Drawing a deep breath, he positioned himself at Dean’s entrance.
“You ready?” Sawyer asked. His voice caught, his words husky.
“Yeah, I am.” With those three words, Dean gave himself to Sawyer.
A quick pump of his hips fully sheathed him inside Dean. Sawyer released a
breath. He slid his hands down Dean’s arms until their fingers tangled, and he pulled
Dean into a kneeling position and pressed their joined hands against Dean’s chest.
Sawyer braced the heel of his hand against Dean’s sternum.
There was no room for words. The heat of Dean’s body surrounded him,
reminded him of what it was like to love and be loved in return. Slowly, so slowly it
nearly killed him again, he pulled out, with just his tip hovering inside. Yeah, just like
that. Exactly how he wanted it.
He plunged forward again. It would be too easy for him to concentrate on the
physical aspects of the motion. Feeling Dean’s heart pound against his hand, listening
to their panting breaths mingle with the pounding of the surf, that was what Sawyer
wanted to remember. The sun pounded on his back and shoulders. Dean’s muscles
tightened around him. Glancing down over Dean’s shoulder, Sawyer watched him
grow hard again.
Sawyer couldn’t last much longer. Gritting his teeth, he focused on bringing
Dean one more time. He untangled their hands and flattened his palm over Dean’s
stomach. He traced each ripple with a sweaty finger. Sawyer moved ever lower until he
reached the arrow of hair leading to his destination. He swept his fingers along the
length until Dean moaned.
“Sawyer,” he growled out, “you’re killing me.”
“Not yet.” Sawyer punctuated his words with a nip of Dean’s earlobe. The
shudder that wound through the man’s frame went from his toes to his forehead. “Not
by a long shot.”
And then he curled his fingers around Dean’s cock and stroked. There was
nothing but the slide of fingers on skin, the slap of sweaty bodies, and the incessant heat
from the sun, from their lovemaking, from the power moving through them. The sand
ceased to grind into his knees. The sound of other beach-goers drowned out, until there
was only Dean. Always Dean.
Sawyer slowed his pace, the frantic need that had driven them dying into a more
sustainable fire that would fuel them for years to come. He rested his mouth against
Dean’s shoulder, occasionally kissing and licking him. And when their orgasm came, it
was mutual, and would have brought them to their knees if they hadn’t already been
there. Long after the physical effects finished, the emotional ones continued. Sawyer
remained locked deep inside Dean’s body. Their breathing slowed. Their cocks
softened. And yet neither one made any attempt to move.
He had no idea what had happened, but sensed that something had shifted in
their relationship. Whatever it was, Sawyer liked it.
Chapter Five
Dean didn’t mind Sawyer wanting to sleep in Dean’s villa, and frankly with
Sawyer’s limited luggage -- a fact which still freaked Dean out -- it didn’t make sense
for them not to move in together. Just a Caribbean hut that he’d be occupying for a few
more days, but sharing it with Sawyer brought back memories Dean tried so hard to
block out.
Two days since they’d made love for the first time. Dean stood by the doors
looking out into the pool. Night had fallen, so when Sawyer had said he was going
swimming, Dean expected to find him there in the courtyard. The surface of the pool
stood perfectly smooth. He’d gone to the ocean.
Dean’s stomach dropped. Balling his hand into a fist, he pounded it on the door’s
wooden frame. Damn it, the last thing he needed was another adrenaline junkie. Sure,
people swam in the ocean all the time, but it was dangerous, especially after dark. From
rocks and shell debris that could cut a foot, to sharks, jellyfish and other animals just
waiting to take a bite, there were a lot of dangers in the ocean. At least during daylight,
he could see them and try to avoid them.
Dean clenched his jaw. His gut told him to trust Sawyer. He unclenched his fist
and grabbed the door handle. Sliding it open, he stepped onto the patio. The warm,
moist sea air wrapped around him like a comforting blanket. He drew it into his lungs.
He could do this. He could walk down to the beach and see Sawyer swimming there,
maybe talk him back to shore.
Two days. Having sex on the beach that one time hadn’t been enough. No,
they’d returned to Dean’s villa and had sex again. And again… until whatever pent up
sexual frustration both men had was exhausted. So why would Sawyer do this to him?
He knew what Dean had gone through. Pressing his eyes closed, he willed all the
worrisome thoughts to leave his mind. Sawyer was smart. He was ex-military. He knew
his limitations. Didn’t he?
So had Dean’s former lover. He strode down past the pool, trying not to
remember the sight of Sawyer’s naked body gliding through the water. The long, sure
strokes, the power in his shoulders and legs -- just thinking about it was enough to give
Dean a hard-on. He halted at the edge of the steps leading to the beach. He had to go
down there with a plan. Rushing to the shore to yell at Sawyer wouldn’t accomplish
much, and would confirm the fact that he worried far too much about things.
Go down there and find Sawyer. Then, maybe talk him into coming back to the villa. His
erection made it clear what the next course of action could be, and Dean adjusted
himself in his shorts. The lights low to the ground provided enough light to see the
boarded path. Once the walkway ended in the beach, only the nearly-full moon above
provided illumination. Dean picked his way across the beach.
He didn’t see Sawyer.
There wasn’t a towel, a pair of sandals, anything left to indicate that someone
had come down here to swim. The waves slid across the shore, a gentle rush of sound
that should have soothed him. It didn’t. Instead, he crept toward the shore, moving
around scuttling crabs. See, right there, on the sand in front of him, were the hazards
Sawyer might be facing. The small crustaceans couldn’t do much more than give a firm
pinch with their claws. He shouldn’t worry about such things, not when there were
greater dangers lurking in the water.
He scanned the water, trying to see beyond the undulating waves. Not large
crests like what he and Sawyer had windsurfed on yesterday, but certainly strong
enough to hamper his vision. There, to his left, he thought he saw a splash.
“Sawyer?” Dean yelled.
Another splash.
Dean’s stomach churned. He stepped close enough that an incoming wave
splashed over his bare feet. “Sawyer! Answer me!”
“Water’s fine!” Sawyer’s enthusiastic voice called out. It came from Dean’s right,
and, as he looked, he saw, nearly parallel with the shore, the movement that marked
Sawyer’s swimming. “You should come out here!” He swam closer to the shore.
“It’s dark. You can’t see. There might be eels or sharks!” He’d seen what
happened to someone from a moray eel bite. The bacteria in their mouths didn’t create a
pretty, or healthy, picture for bite victims.
“Don’t be chicken. The water’s warm. It’s gorgeous, like swimming in a sea of
black velvet. You’ll never do anything as wonderful as swimming in the ocean at dark.”
Sawyer moved close enough to shore to swing his feet down. He stood, the water
lapping just above his waist.
“Come back!” Dean stepped away from the water. “This is stupid.”
Sawyer pointed to the green flag. “Everything’s just fine. You’re the one who’s
crazy. Do you think I’d do anything that’d harm me now?” Without waiting for an
answer he dove under the water. When he surfaced, he was several feet further out into
the ocean.
A part of Dean’s mind, the part that didn’t immediately want to scream at
Sawyer for putting himself in unnecessary harm, admitted that Sawyer probably had a
point. Dean had shoved the information that Sawyer had once been an action figure in
the back of his mind. Taking into account he’d been human, according to him for less
than a week, it didn’t make sense for Sawyer to endanger his life.
So why in the hell was he swimming in the ocean after dark? The green flag
meant jack shit if Sawyer couldn’t even see!
Dean tracked Sawyer’s progress back toward the shore. He swam diagonally
back, apparently trying to come to shore next to Dean. At least that was something.
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Sawyer said as he paused in place, far enough
from shore that Dean bet his feet wouldn’t touch bottom.
Dean laughed to himself, thinking about what Adrian would say. The dashing,
daring Dean always trying to stay safe. If his friends knew…
He took another step into the ocean, and then another until the water swirled
around his calves like the caress of a lover.
“See! I knew you’d like it.” Sawyer dove back under the surface and started
heading back out to sea.
“Wait!” Dean called, but Sawyer had ducked his head underwater. Dean
cautiously took a step forward, feeling a rounded shell, or a rock, beneath his foot. He’d
scaled mountains, rappelled off sheer cliffs, even competed in a Triathlon once. Taking
a swim in the ocean with his skills should be a walk in the park. He shouldn’t let one
accident ruin his life. He inched forward.
Sawyer surfaced, shaking his head and grinning so wide that his teeth shone
white against the night. “I’ll come back and get you.” He struck out towards Dean.
This was stupid. There was no way he needed a babysitter. “I’ll meet you
halfway,” he replied, but Sawyer had already gone underwater.
He dove in, closing his eyes as the black water closed over his head. He surfaced,
barely able to feel the bottom with his toes. A slight current ran through the water, but
not enough to pull him under. He inched back until he could press his feet into the
smooth sand and wait for Sawyer to come up for air.
He did, moving a bit slower than he had. He looked for Dean and smiled,
changing directions.
“You okay?” Dean called out. He started to step forward.
“I’m fine. Let me come to you. The current’s a bit rough here.” He sounded
confident.
Dean remained rooted in place, biting back a harsh, “I told you so.” Now wasn’t
the time for recriminations or foolish actions. Instead, he scanned the surface of the
ocean, hoping to see Sawyer’s mohawked head. He heard a series of frantic splashes.
“Sawyer?”
“Stay there,” Sawyer sputtered. “Rip tide.” The current pulled him under, and he
surfaced a little further away from shore. He dove to the side, trying to swim across the
tide in an effort to break free.
Dean watched, his heart sinking. He itched to dive into the water and try to pull
Sawyer to safety. But his lover had a point. If Dean were caught in the current too,
there’d be no one to save both of them.
“Sawyer?” he called, half afraid when he didn’t see the man bob to the surface.
“Sawyer?”
Nothing but the inky water met his gaze.
Damn it to hell! Diving into the water, Dean propelled himself toward Sawyer’s
last known position. Sawyer probably had been out swimming for an hour. The fool
had tired himself out. If he didn’t love him so much… whoa! Love?
He sucked in a gulp of air. Any thoughts right now could distract him from his
mission of saving Sawyer. Funny, how Sawyer thought saving him was part of the
mission. He managed a wry grin before diving under the water.
There, he felt it, the rush of water pouring away from the shore. Angling his
body, he swam across it, feeling his course slip farther and farther away from shore. The
pitch-black water made seeing anything difficult. He heard splashes, thought he sensed
Sawyer not far away.
“Sawyer,” he called.
“Here!” The cry sounded faint, tired and choked with water.
Dean focused on his goal. Just like rock climbing, where the next place to put his
fingers or wedge his toes took all of his focus, he only had eyes for Sawyer. The moon
emerged from behind a wisp of a cloud, and there, a few yards away, struggled Sawyer.
He flailed in the water, his movements choppy. He acted tired, his head barely staying
above the surface.
Dean glanced back at the shore and feared it was too far away. A sudden image
of Josh’s broken body lying at the foot of the cliff filled his mind. The frayed rope
waved in the breeze, a testament to how a moment’s carelessness could shatter a life.
No! Channeling his fear into action, Dean cut across the water. He wrapped his
arm around Sawyer’s waist, hauling them both across the rip tide. “Hang on to me,” he
growled.
Sawyer clung to him for dear life. Though he was obviously tired, he helped
Dean along with kicks of his legs and a stroke of his free arm. Together, they managed
to break loose from the current.
Now, the long swim back to shore. “You up for this?” Dean asked as they
paddled in place.
Sawyer nodded.
“Okay, let’s go.” Though the shore looked too far away, inch by painful inch
Dean pulled himself and Sawyer back to safety. The muscles in his legs burned. His
lungs ached from drawing in air, and the taste of salt trickled down his throat. The
saline water burned his nose.
He ignored the pain, the fear, the worry, and focused on only one thing: bringing
Sawyer home. Exhausted, a cut on his foot burning, he managed to haul them to land.
Sawyer gurgled. Pulling away from Dean, he rolled onto the sandy surface. His
stomach retched, and he gagged. He coughed. Dean rolled to his knees, his entire body
aching from scalp to toes, and crawled over to Sawyer.
“You okay? Need me to pound on your back?”
Sawyer nodded.
Dean wasn’t sure which question his friend had answered, so he rose onto his
knees and used the flat of his hand to tap Sawyer between his shoulder blades.
Sawyer’s body shook. He gagged, spitting salt water and bile onto the sand.
“Yeah,” he gasped.
Dean pounded harder.
Coughs ravaged Sawyer’s frame. He hacked until his spasms turned to the dry
heaves.
Dean stroked the length of Sawyer’s back. He rubbed him from shoulder blades
to waist, working on both sides of his spine. “Easy,” he said. “Just breathe.” Watching
his lover struggle twisted something inside. Hadn’t he been through something similar
to this before?
No, he hadn’t, and Dean knew it. Sure, staring at Josh’s still and pale form at the
bottom of that cliff had scared him, but nothing like fearing Sawyer would be swept out
to sea. With Josh, there’d been signs before, little signals that something wasn’t right
with their relationship or his love of extreme sports. The climbs grew higher, the
security gear less. He’d talked of defying the odds, being the one man to live forever.
Such an attitude wasn’t healthy, not when the body was being pressed to its limits
every chance it got. Eventually, the body, or the gear, failed. And when that happened,
the results could be deadly.
For Josh it hadn’t been. Dean didn’t wish ill on his former partner, not even after
everything that had happened. But kneeling here on the beach, his stomach tightening
with every dry cough Sawyer gave, he knew Josh’s awakening from his coma,
determined to do it again only this time bigger and badder, wasn’t something Dean had
wanted in his life. It simply had taken Josh’s infidelity to prove that to him.
He wanted Sawyer in his life.
“Think you can get back to the villa if you lean on me?”
“Yeah, give me a moment.” Sawyer closed his eyes and drew a shuddering
breath.
“Take all the time you need.”
Sawyer rocked back so he sat on his knees. Swiping his hand across the back of
his mouth, he spat onto the sand. “Damn, man, I thought I was a goner.” He looked out
at the inky ocean, then back at Dean. “Thanks for coming after me.”
“I’m just glad I was there.” Dean followed Sawyer’s attention out to the waves.
What once had looked beautiful, with its obsidian surface and the tiny whitecaps
breaking, now appeared menacing and dangerous. A chill raced through his body,
reminiscent of the night-cooled water. If he’d decided not to follow Sawyer… If he
hadn’t gone into the water. A few seconds either way and his lover would be gone.
“I shouldn’t have done that. It was fucking stupid, but I wanted to swim in the
ocean, and once I got out there, I kind of got lost in the moment. It was stupid and
foolish. Help me up?” Sawyer swung his arm around Dean’s shoulders.
In silence, Dean stood, taking Sawyer with him. His lover leaned against his side,
still obviously weak from his ordeal. “It’s okay,” Dean reassured Sawyer as they
staggered together toward the courtyard. “You haven’t been human in quite a few
years. I can see why that would happen.” Dean understood, though the idea of Sawyer
having been a toy still sat uneasy in his mind. “Your place or mine?” he asked when
they were closer.
“Mine. Please.” Sawyer’s few possessions were at his villa.
Dean hesitated only for a moment. He hated to leave Sawyer to go get anything
from his house. They didn’t need clothes anyway. A hot shower and a warm blanket
would take care of him for tonight.
He got Sawyer inside and into the bathroom. “We need to get the salt off.” Dean
turned on the water, testing it, then tugged Sawyer’s soaked swim trunks off. He pulled
off his own, then helped his lover into the shower. The soaping and cleansing that
followed was anything but sexual, but even so, Dean found himself marveling at the
strong planes of Sawyer’s body. Kneeling by his lover’s feet, Dean cared for the tiny
cuts and scrapes.
Sawyer braced his hands on Dean’s shoulders, lifting and lowering each foot at
Dean’s insistence. When he was certain no trace of salt or sand remained on Sawyer’s
body, only then did he reverse their positions while Dean hastily removed the worst of
the salt and sand. He washed out his own cut, thankful to find out it wasn’t as deep as
he had feared.
In silence, he turned off the water, then dried off Sawyer and himself. Bundling
Sawyer into a white terry cloth robe provided by the resort, he sat him down on the
closed toilet lid. “Let me take care of your wounds.”
Sawyer said nothing, his eyelids dropping as he sat. It took Dean only a moment
to find a small first aid kit among assorted toiletries, and though he knew it wouldn’t
take care of everything, hopefully he could at least disinfect the worst of the cuts and
scrapes.
Dean seated himself at Sawyer’s feet. Cradling each one, knowing how
important the return of his feet was to him, Dean used the tiny antiseptic pads in the kit
to cleanse each wound. Choosing the worst ones, he bandaged them, and when he was
done, Sawyer’s feet looked like they’d been through a war zone. Dean hadn’t left a
bandage for his own wound.
“I’m sorry.” Sawyer bent over and brushed a kiss across the top of Dean’s head.
“Thank you. After what you’ve been through…” His words drifted off, and he shook
his head. “I’m an ass, and I can see why you’d want to go back without me.”
The ache in Sawyer’s words touched Dean’s heart. He tilted his head so he could
peer into Sawyer’s eyes. “No. I can’t imagine not going back with you.” Dean rose onto
his knees, careful of Sawyer’s wounds, and kissed him.
Chapter Six
Sawyer melted into Dean’s kiss with the memory of water sliding over his head
and the burn of the salt in his nose and mouth. Not that long ago his hopes had
plummeted as easily as his body. He’d simply been enjoying the caress of the ocean. It’d
taken only a moment for him to come to his senses and realize current had carried him
out to sea, but by then, the rip tide had grabbed onto him and wouldn’t let go. Without
Dean swimming to his rescue -- Sawyer refused to think what might have happened.
He opened his mouth, inviting Dean deeper. Every muscle in his body ached.
His feet burned from the ointment and the bandages Dean had used, but right now
none of that mattered.
Dean hadn’t shoved him away.
Cupping the back of Dean’s head, Sawyer stroked his tongue along Dean’s lower
lip. He cajoled his lover into joining him, a mating of tongues and lips that left him
breathless and his cock hard. He stroked Dean’s cheek. The barest hint of a five o’clock
shadow scratched his hand, and he longed to rake his fingers through the springy,
reddish brown curls across Dean’s chest, and lower.
“The bedroom,” Sawyer breathed when their lips parted.
Dean stood and offered his hand. Though Sawyer knew he could reach the
bedroom without any assistance, it felt good to slide his hand into Dean’s. He stood
close enough that the warmth from Dean’s body radiated into his. Sawyer relished it,
snuggling closer. Side by side they walked down the short hallway to the bedroom. Just
beyond the threshold, Dean stopped.
“What is it?” Sawyer cupped Dean’s cheek, turning the man’s face so he could
stare into his aqua eyes. Unfathomable emotions swam in their depths. Sawyer tried to
discern their meaning, but the moonlight filtered through the curtains and made it
difficult to see. He stroked his thumb across Dean’s lower lip. In the military he’d taken
what he wanted, not caring about anything other than tomorrow. Now, he cared, and
that was what made waiting for Dean’s answer so damn hard.
“I should be mad at you. I should hate the fact that you risked your life and
nearly died. Instead, all I can think about is what it would feel like if I lost you.” He
rested his forehead on Sawyer’s shoulder. “Damn it, man, don’t do that to me ever
again.”
Dean tilted his head and captured Sawyer’s lips in a deep kiss. He slid his free
hand down Sawyer’s side, reaching between them to tug the robe’s belt free. Trapped
between their bodies, the fabric barely moved.
Sawyer stepped away long enough to slide the robe from his shoulders. His
fingers slipped from Dean’s as the garment pooled at his feet. “Better?” He reached for
Dean again, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the bed. A gentle shove sent
Dean tumbling to the mattress. Aching muscles forgotten, he straddled him, then bent
over and kissed him again.
Arms and legs entwined in a homecoming that felt as close to perfect as Sawyer
had ever experienced. Fingers skimmed over smooth muscles. The scent of clean, male
skin tantalized him. Sawyer ended the kiss. He nibbled along Dean’s corded neck,
pausing to lave the dip in his collarbone. The sharp lines of Dean’s clavicle called to
him, and he followed first the left, then the right with his tongue. His fingers skimmed
along Dean’s ribs, pausing when he reached his hips. Though his lover writhed beneath
him, Sawyer ignored the lift of Dean’s hips and the thrust of Dean’s erection against the
inside of Sawyer’s thigh.
Sawyer opened his mouth over Dean’s heart. Beneath the skin it pounded, a
steady lub-dub that promised life… and love. Sawyer licked the skin over that pulsing
beat. The springy chest curls tickled his tongue and cheek. Grazing the skin with his
teeth, Sawyer pressed an open-mouthed kiss against Dean’s sternum, before turning his
attention to Dean’s left nipple.
God, he loved everything about the man, especially the tiny moans Dean made
when Sawyer licked his nipple, then drew it into his mouth. He suckled, using the tips
of his fingers to caress Dean’s right nipple, so neither side went unattended. Sliding his
legs alongside Dean’s, he pressed their hips flush together. Trapped between their
bodies, their cocks touched, and Sawyer bit back a groan at the exquisite flesh on flesh
sensation.
Dean fisted his hand at the back of Sawyer’s head. For once, he cursed his
customary mohawk. The close-cut trim left little hair for Dean to grab, and Sawyer
wanted to feel Dean’s desperation. The idea of his lover pressing him down to his cock
nearly made Sawyer come. He moaned against Dean’s chest as his lover started to do
just that.
From his position cross-wise on the bed, he had little room to maneuver. Pulling
his mouth away from Dean’s chest, Sawyer rolled to the side. In just a couple of days,
Dean would return to his home. Sawyer wanted to make damn sure that he’d be going
along. He tugged Dean with him until the man straddled his hips.
“I’m going to fuck you.” Dean grabbed Sawyer’s legs, drawing his knees up to
his chest.
Sawyer’s balls tightened. He had just enough presence of mind to pull open the
nightstand drawer and reach for the bottle of lube. Sawyer passed the bottle to Dean.
He gently rested Sawyer’s ankles against his shoulders, then poured a generous
amount of the liquid into his palm. He coated his shaft, and watching him, Sawyer had
to bite his lip to keep from groaning aloud. Angling his hips, Dean pressed the broad
head of his cock against Sawyer’s entrance.
Brown eyes met blue in a clash of passion and wills. Do it! Sawyer thought,
realizing that if he didn’t get penetrated soon he’d go up in flames. He swallowed hard.
Unable to reach Dean, Sawyer grabbed the headboard. Do me!
Dean smiled. He held Sawyer’s gaze for a moment longer, then thrust.
Sawyer groaned. The thick penetration of Dean’s cock filled him. Dean bent
forward, flattening the soles of Sawyer’s feet against his chest and pinning Sawyer to
the bed. Sawyer grabbed Dean’s shoulders. The heavy weight of Dean’s body held him
immobile.
Sawyer forced himself to keep his eyes open, wanting to devour every nuance of
expression on Dean’s face. He wished he could watch the man’s cock disappearing into
him. Held like this, he thought only of the ocean, how it surrounded him, had nearly
killed him. And looking into Dean’s eyes, he thought their relationship would do the
same. Because if he ever lost Dean, Sawyer didn’t know how he’d continue.
He drew a shaky breath. Dean stilled inside him.
“You feel so good,” Dean groaned. He leaned back enough to grab Sawyer’s
ankles. Spreading his legs, he moved so he braced his weight on his arms in a more
traditional missionary position. Sawyer kept his knees bent, offering his ass to Dean.
“So do you.” Never one for passivity, the enjoyment Sawyer found in this
position shocked him. He rolled up into a half sit-up so he could kiss Dean. Tongues
and lips collided in a kiss so raw, so carnal that it nearly stole Sawyer’s breath away.
This was what he’d come back for. Thank you, Toymaker!
Dean’s thrusts grew deeper, more frantic. Sweat beaded on his forehead. A
droplet slid over his cheek, and Sawyer licked it away. Beneath his hands, Dean’s skin
grew damp, and Sawyer loved that he could do this to the man. So cool, so calm, so
determined not to let anything happen again. And look at him now, buried balls-deep
in a man he’d only known a week. It could have been forever. Sawyer couldn’t imagine
his life without Dean.
With a low moan, Dean plunged forward again. “Yes!” he shouted. Every muscle
in his body locked. His cock slid deeper into Sawyer’s body, and he came.
The hot splash of Dean’s seed inside Sawyer triggered his orgasm. Though his
cock was trapped between their bodies, the friction of skin against skin sent him over
the edge. Sawyer’s balls tightened. An all-too familiar pressure built, and he couldn’t
help but think he’d come back for Dean, the one man in all the world meant to be his
lover.
Aftershocks rocked him. With Dean’s cock still buried inside him, he hated to
move his legs. Instead, he pressed even closer. Only a couple more days and then Dean
would return home. Sawyer fought a lump in his throat.
“I’m going with you, right?” The words, borne on a wave of fear, tumbled from
his lips before he could snatch them back.
Dean shifted. His cock slipped free and he rolled to the side. Propping his head
up with his elbow, he reached for Sawyer and traced invisible patterns on his hairless
chest with his fingers. “Why wouldn’t you?”
Sawyer sagged against the mattress with relief. “Because you’ve only known me
for a week. Because I can still tell that you don’t quite believe my story of being an
action figure before we met.” He wiped his hand across his eyes. “For a lot of reasons.
You saved my life out there. It’d kill me if you left me behind.” Like a forgotten toy. A
memory of his broken, footless body lying in the bottom of a box with other broken
playthings. He’d called and called for Mack, Talon and Brice, anyone he might have
known before. When they didn’t answer, he’d sunk into blackness. Just a moment
between facing the Toymaker and waking up in the Caribbean, but in that moment he’d
realized how well and truly alone he was.
Not anymore.
He stared at Dean, wondering how to put all of that into words. They rolled
around in his mind, a jumble of thoughts, feelings, emotions, things that he couldn’t
really name. Instead, he hoped Dean didn’t think him womanly for admitting his
thoughts. The guys back in the army would have.
Dean rolled toward him. “You think I’m going to let you get away now?” He
silenced Sawyer’s objections with a kiss. When the need for air parted them, Sawyer
had rolled until he was halfway sprawled on top of Dean.
Dean quickly remedied that, flipping Sawyer on his back. With a grin, he
crawled down Sawyer’s body. “I saved your life. I think my friend may have fallen in
love with your friend, and I’d kind of like to see a happy reunion for once.” He
punctuated each sentence with a lick as he moved lower on Sawyer. He paused with his
mouth hovering over the end of Sawyer’s now-hard dick. Grabbing it with his hand,
Dean stroked Sawyer’s length. “You’re mine.” He lowered his mouth and reinforced his
words by drawing Sawyer’s cock into his mouth.
Sawyer’s hips bucked. He sat up, wanting to look down at the back of Dean’s
reddish-brown hair, knowing it was his lips, his fingers that created such bliss. The
Toymaker had given him everything he’d ever wanted… and more.
The emotions that had only moments ago been such a jumble suddenly became
clear in his mind. The mission hadn’t been to save Dean. It had been to save himself.
Flashes of images came to Sawyer, punctuated by jolts of pleasure from Dean’s licks
and sucks. Crawling through jungles, leading SWAT teams, working on super secret
military operations. Then he saw his body, dying, spiraling away to be told he never fit
in anywhere. He knew that, had known it all his life. So when the Toymaker had
offered him a choice, he’d taken it. Relished it, only to come back to life as a man again
and realize he’d been the one who needed to live, needed to quit being an adrenaline
junkie and simply enjoy life.
“Oh,” he moaned, as the emotions, the feelings, everything he’d blocked out
rushed back into him. “Oh!”
And this time when he came again, it wasn’t just a physical release. It was an
emotional one as well. All the hopes and dreams he’d harbored when he’d been human
the first time came back to him. A partner to love him. A trade to call his own. Stroking
the back of Dean’s head, Sawyer knew he could find all of that with this man. The man
he loved.
Slowly, Dean released Sawyer’s cock. He lifted his gaze until it met Sawyer’s,
and both men grinned. Sawyer realized he never should have worried about not
returning home with Dean.
***
With their plane due to depart in the afternoon, Dean couldn’t wait to get one
more spin on the windsurfing board before flying back. Standing on the board,
wrapping his arms around Sawyer, he turned the sail to catch the wind. Gulls cried
overhead. Spray from the waves hit his face and trickled down his back. When he’d
made plans for his vacation, this had been what he envisioned.
Now, he had it.
Grinning from ear to ear, he and Sawyer rocked the board into the waves. Dean
didn’t care what others thought about the two men together on the tandem board. A
couple, a man and a woman, sailed past, waving at them, and Dean returned the
greeting. Nothing could get him down, not even knowing his plane would take him
back to the shop and his daily life. Right now, he had no idea how Sawyer would fit in,
but he knew he would. It seemed Adrian had made Mack a part of things. The last
phone call they’d shared this morning confirming flight reservations made it sound like
Mack was taking over a lot of the work at The Field Medic.
Maybe Sawyer would like to join him. Turning his face to the sun, Dean let his
thoughts wander. He’d have to talk to his friend Van. As a lawyer, Van could make
sure that Sawyer had all the papers and documents he needed. Dean chuckled. If they
found Mack and Sawyer’s two buddies, Van might get a lot of business.
“What’s so funny?” Sawyer called over his shoulder. “You laughing at my
driving?” He tilted the board, sending it careening toward the top of a wave. They
tottered there for a moment before speeding down the other side.
“Woohoo!” Sawyer yelled as the end of the board sliced through the water,
sending sea spray washing back over them. He twisted his body, using the sail to steer
them up the side of another tall wave.
Dean grinned and let out a whoop of joy. “So would you do it all over again?”
“Hell, yeah!” Sawyer replied. “Hell, yeah.” And with a war-whoop hit another
wave. His infectious enthusiasm made Dean join him in another shout of joy. Living life
sure didn’t get much better than this.
Epilogue
Dean tipped back his imported beer and looked across the table at Mack and
Adrian. He couldn’t believe that he and Sawyer had been back for a week. Sawyer and
Mack had instantly recognized each other, and the two men constantly swapped war
stories, sometimes from when they were action figures together, other times from their
respective battles. Hugh had joined the two couples for an impromptu cook out. He
lamented that he couldn’t find just the right model to use for The Fantastic Five’s next
media campaign.
“You’ll find him,” Mack said.
“Yeah, remember Talon? He used to do some modeling, or at least he said he
did,” Sawyer replied.
Mack nodded. “Yeah, wonder what happened to him?”
Sawyer shrugged. “Who knows, but maybe if he’s lucky he’ll end up like you
and I.” The two men shared a laugh.
Dean glanced at Adrian standing over by the grill. Though his friend and former
lover had remained quiet during most of the lunch -- spontaneous still wasn’t his style,
though Mack was working on it -- Dean sensed the growing bonds between Adrian and
Mack.
Adrian heaped a platter with juicy hamburgers and brought them to the picnic
table. This was exactly how it should be. The conversation turned to the business and its
recent upswing in sales. Adrian sounded as if the downturn he’d feared would never
materialize, and they discussed Mack’s work at the store.
“I’m thinking about starting culinary school,” Mack said between bites of
hamburger. “I always wanted to cook, and Adrian thinks I should do it.”
“Why not? I know you talked about it on missions,” Sawyer replied.
Dean listened to the banter between the men. As soon as he’d seen the reception
Mack had given Sawyer, he knew the truth. They had once been action figures. It sure
put his work with The Field Medic in a whole new light. “So what did you want to do,
Sawyer?”
Sawyer’s eyes twinkled. “I was thinking about being a smoke jumper.”
Dean’s mouth fell open. No, not after what he’d gone through saving Sawyer
from the rip tide. Just thinking about his lover jumping from airplanes sent a cold chill
down Dean’s spine.
Sawyer laughed. “You should see your face.” He lifted his beer and he and Mack
clinked bottles. “I was only joking.”
Dean pressed the palm of his hand to his chest. “Don’t do that to me. I almost
had a heart attack.” He drew a shaky but relieved breath.
“That’s what you said last night.” Sawyer leaned over and kissed Dean.
Dean returned the kiss, even when throats cleared across the table, and Mack
drawled, “Look at the lovebirds.” The stroke of Sawyer’s tongue against his promised
more to come. Dean couldn’t wait. When the kiss ended, he looked to Adrian and saw
his friend kissing Mack.
“Looks like love is in the air,” Sawyer said.
Dean shrugged. “Nah, it just helps when every man has a mission.”
Sitting next to the still-kissing Mack and Adrian, Hugh had a wistful look in his
eyes. Dean could only wonder what it meant.
Mary Winter
Mary commutes between her dream home near the Mark Twain National Forest
in Missouri, and her current residence in Iowa. She lives with a menagerie of animals
including an opinionated horse and a cat who was a dog in past life. When not writing
spicy tales of erotic romance, she enjoys writing science fiction and fantasy, spending
time with her horse, and enjoying the outdoors. Lucky for her, her partner (hero) shares
these same passions, and usually both of them can be found in their respective dens
writing.
You can contact Mary at mary@marywinter.com or visit her site at
www.marywinter.com.

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Mission: Raw

Copyright ©2008 Mary Winter

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Three days of windsurfing, snorkeling and lounging around on their private

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