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Hell. Isaiah would put it on repeat if it got him more of Mark’s touches. “Mark. Fuck. You are so good at this.”
Leaning closer, Mark graced him with a soft kiss. “Come for me, Ike. Please. I want to see you go.”
“Faster. Little harder. Fuck. It’s close.”
Mark took the direction perfectly, giving Isaiah the sort of strokes guaranteed to get him off. “Tell me. Tell me when.”
Oh yeah. That hint of bossiness was gonna do it. “Now. Fuck. Now. Mark.”
The orgasm barreled into him, making him shake and shudder as Mark milked his cock for more spurts. Still trembling, he pulled Mark close.
“Come here, you.” He kissed him long slow. “Okay, that wins. Best one yet.”
“Hell yes.” Mark let out a strained chuckle. “Fuck. I liked that.”
“You want a turn?” Keeping his voice light, Isaiah stroked Mark’s impressive biceps.
“Kiss me.” If Mark kept up that demanding tone, going for second helpings wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for Isaiah. He happily complied, quickly wiping off his stomach with his discarded T-shirt, then snuggling Mark close so they could kiss and touch however he wanted.
Mark’s kiss was hungry now, little gasps escaping as their tongues tangled. Isaiah ran a hand down Mark’s torso, stopping right above his cock. “This okay?”
“Yeah.” Mark yanked him in for more kissing, so Isaiah started a slow stroke. Mark’s cock was heavy and veiny and felt amazing in Isaiah’s hand. He’d picked up from Mark’s questions that Mark liked more friction than he did, so he tried a tighter grip, and that got a moan from Mark. Using the kisses as a guide for what was working for Mark, Isaiah varied his strokes, trying different rhythms.
“Ungh. Close.” Mark slid a hand down to cover Isaiah’s, speeding him up. The grip was close to crushing, so Isaiah slipped his hand free.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, moving to kiss Mark’s sensitive neck and shoulders. “Show me how you do it.”
“I’m right there.” Mark panted. “Just...can’t...”
“No rush. You’re so fucking hot like this. You’re going to make me need to go again, watching you.”
“Really?” Mark’s eyes fluttered open. “I want that. Touch yourself now. And kiss me again. On the mouth.”
“Yes, Bossy.” Isaiah lay so his body was pressed against Mark’s, as close as possible, everything touching, even their feet. It didn’t take too many strokes of his own hand to get himself back fully hard, get his body interested in a repeat. “Fuck, this is good.”
“Say my name,” Mark moaned against his lips.
“Mark. Gonna get me off again, Mark,” he groaned, speeding up his hand.
“Need you.” Their kisses were losing all finesse, but Isaiah couldn’t care less. Mark wanted him. Needed him.
“You’ve got me.” Isaiah had never meant words more.
“I’m going to come.” Mark’s voice was shredded now.
“Me too. Do it with me.” Isaiah tightened his grip, riding the edge, waiting for Mark, wanting his orgasm more than his own, wanting to share this with him. He’d never felt so close to another human in his life. He hoped Mark felt it too, this magic around them, the spell they wove.
“Mmm.” Mark’s whole body tensed, and he buried his face in Isaiah’s neck. He loved how Mark usually did that when he came, like he needed that last point of connection. And that was all it took for Isaiah’s own orgasm. He groaned his way through it, cock definitely oversensitive after coming twice so close together. And it was more intense, sharing it like this, knowing Mark was coming too.
“Fuck. Now we sleep.” Limbs like jelly, he cleaned them off the best he could. Mark wrapped him up from behind.
“I think I like you more than my pillow.” Mark yawned.
“Yeah, well, I like you more than lots of things,” Isaiah said in the understatement of the year. Chocolate. The ocean. This house. My life. All that. There wasn’t much Isaiah wouldn’t trade for more of this, more nights with Mark sleeping beside him. And all he could do was hope that Mark felt the same way.
Chapter Sixteen
“Is it good to be back in civilian clothes?” Isaiah asked Mark with a laugh, gesturing at his jeans.
“Sort of.” Mark wasn’t really sure how to answer that. Having a day off after a grueling week of putting the recruits through their paces was weird. And Mark needed to enjoy it as he might not get another Saturday for a while due to their rotating schedules. Hell Week loomed large—the third week of BUD/S when the recruits would get limited sleep and be put through exercises night and day. It was the week when a lot of candidates would “ring out” of training. Mark hoped his favorite recruits made it through.
And okay, he wasn’t supposed to have favorites. But he totally did. There was Swenson, the oft-injured recruit trying to make it through on his sprained ankle. And Jordan who wanted to get into the medic program and peppered him with questions. And Ballinger whose buddy had rung out yesterday, and whom Mark was pulling for to make it on his own.
