Bound for Keeps (Men of Honor) (8 page)

He wrapped the blanket around him to ward off the cold that always hit the body after two in the morning, no matter how many layers you wore. He watched Reed embrace the returning Marine, who’d set his bags down to return the hug.

Now, he was whispering something to Reed, his face intense, but then Reed laughed and Keith’s eyes met Shane’s.

“Hey,” was all he could think of, and Keith nodded. Didn’t seem angry, just not completely back yet. But he looked completely content in Reed’s arms, and Shane felt a sharp pang of jealousy hit him…and he wasn’t sure at first which one he was jealous of.

He realized it was both…and neither. He wanted to join both of them, not get in between them. And that revelation made his head throb.

“Shane, you look a little pale,” Keith said, and Shane cursed himself for ruining their moment.

“No, stay. I’m fine. Keep…ah, doing what you’re doing,” he assured them, slipped back into the office and sat on the couch.

He heard their whispers, wondered if they were conferring about him or going about their other business of reuniting. He hoped for the latter, he thought as he lay curled on the cool leather, because he liked being in here, had come to think of it as the war room.

That was a place he was used to.

You almost gave away your hand, he reminded himself. Would have to be more careful from here on out. When he was sick, he wasn’t talking, helping these men. But now that he was on the mend, the urge to do shit, to get back to his former self, before Kyle, was taking over.

Reed let Keith eat before insisting on checking him over. He knew the company who hired them had someone do that anyway as part of the mission protocol, but Reed always double-checked. Keith always grumbled, but conceded, mainly because he knew it was easier than arguing.

He found contusions, scratches, all expected. He’d already been put on a heavy-duty antibiotic, since jungles and infections did not mix.

“Gonna clear me, Doc?” Keith asked finally, his hands circling Reed’s wrists as Reed looked down at him. They’d done the impromptu exam in the kitchen and were still conscious that Shane was close.

“You might have to try a little harder to get me to sign off on you,” Reed told him now, and Keith raised a brow.

“You’ll get it harder, if that’s what you want,” he said quietly, and Reed’s body ached at those words.

He straddled Keith’s lap, leaned in to him. “Missed you. So did Shane.”

Keith put his hands on Reed’s hips and moved him back to glare at him. “Why are you pushing this?”

“Why are you resisting?”

“We don’t know him.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Besides, he gives a shit about us.”

“How do you know that?”

“He was trying to stay up while you were gone.”

“You let him track me?”

“Come on, Keith, you know I’d never put you in danger.” Reed paused. “But he was the one who told me about the bridge and the road.”

Keith glared at him.

“I had no reason not to trust him.”

“And no reason to trust him. Come on, Reed, there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

“Like what? He was a Ranger. It’s perfectly logical that he would’ve been in the area blowing shit up seven months ago.”

“He was discharged eight months ago,” Keith bit out.

“So he got some dates mixed up. We’ve all done that—it’s hard to remember timing in combat situation, and blowing up a bridge counts.”

“Someone’s mixed up, for sure.”

“Ah, fuck you. And I know you won’t admit it, but the bridge
was
gone, right?” Reed shoved his boots on and headed outside, needing to clear his head. Keith followed in short order, shutting the door behind him, the howl of the wind giving them some much-needed privacy.

“Reed, we’ve got to cut him off. We don’t know him, don’t know what he’s capable of. Just because he was right about a bridge…”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of him? Big, strong Marine like yourself?” Reed shot back and knew he was pushing it. But that was the only way to get Keith to accept anything—Reed’s head hurt from the amount of times he had to be the battering ram at Keith’s door.

And he always won—always.

He wasn’t wrong when he’d showed up at the door eight years earlier, to find Bobby and Keith inside, sharing dinner and watching TV. Wasn’t wrong when he’d stripped for them and let them fuck him, sandwiching himself between their bodies and the soft cotton sheets that had been like heaven.

He’d come home—he’d known that. And he wasn’t about to let Shane walk away—or have Keith push him out.

“I’m not scared—I’m sensible. This kid has been through hell. Combat. I think you remember what that’s like,” Keith challenged, but his eyes had glazed for a second, that faraway place that signaled he was thinking of his time in and the things he’d seen and done. Reed knew he’d recognized the PTSD in Shane for sure…which meant he’d also know they were the best ones to help him. “You’re too fucking impulsive, Reed.”

“And you usually like it.” He was spiraling—fast. He and Keith had been having sex—quiet sex—since Shane had arrived, and it had been barely enough to pull him back from the edge. He needed—wanted—craved more. And Keith could give it to him.

As much as he resisted—and he would really, truly resist—he would know, in the aftermath, that it was the right thing. He’d discovered it the first time Keith and Bobby had taken him in hand and showed him that he could find some peace through submitting to two dominating men.

“I am going to fuck that stubbornness right out of you.” Keith spoke the words quietly, but they echoed in Reed’s ears despite the storm.

“You can try,” Reed told him. “But maybe I’ll fuck you first.”

Keith went after him, but Reed was ready. They crashed through the door, Reed barely able to close it behind him, thanks to the wind, before Keith was ripping at his clothes and pushing him toward the bedroom at the same time.

“Shane is—” he started, but Keith cut him off, his voice low and dangerous. “Should’ve thought of that before you started with me. Maybe next time you’ll learn your lesson.”

“I’ve learned plenty,” Reed spat at him as Keith shoved him into the bedroom. Reed’s jeans were down around his ankles and he tripped his way into the room. The door caught on the rug, closed most of the way but Reed couldn’t worry about that now. His mind reeled and survival instincts gripped him tightly.

He heard himself practically wheeze, even as Keith caught him and yanked at the wet jeans with no finesse. Reed ripped Keith’s shirt off and broke the zipper on the big man’s jeans as well. He’d give as good as he got.

But even though he knew the inevitable would happen tonight—that Keith would win and Reed would end up with Keith’s cock buried deep inside him—Reed still fought. Tonight, for some reason, that was important.

He’d topped Keith before—not often—not nearly as often as Bobby had been allowed to, but it all somehow worked—three pieces of a seamless puzzle when they fell into bed, nuzzling and sucking and fucking until they couldn’t come anymore.

Reed remembered coming home late some nights from a house call to find Bobby and Keith tangled in the bed or heard them fucking against the kitchen counters.

Sometimes, it was so fucking hot all he had to do was watch for a few minutes and he’d come hard in his pants. Like a wet dream without the sleep.

Sometimes, more often than not, he’d join them, end up pulled between the two powerful men, commanded and obeying like the good soldier he’d once been.

The Army had put him through college and med school, and had given him a wicked case of PTSD as a parting gift.

Bobby and Keith had eased all his burdens.

“You gonna calm down now?” Keith asked, backing off a little. Reed was naked, Keith just about there, and for a long moment, there was a standoff. Reed could get out of this.

Now, he slammed Keith, who fell back, surprised. But that didn’t matter—he was up again, taking Reed to the ground. Ripping what was left of his soaked shirt off in a frenzy and rock hard, the way Reed had been since the argument began. Not giving a shit that they weren’t alone in the house, because they were both beyond that.

“Remember, you asked for this, the way you always do,” Keith growled, smacking his ass several times until Reed felt himself backing into the hands, his face surely as red as his ass at this point. He didn’t even bother to try to get away because the first smack gave him the pleasure and pain he craved. It calmed him, brought him right to the edge.

And then Keith stopped cold.

Fucker would make him beg for it. And he would do it, because he wanted…needed. “Fill me, Keith…please…”

“Don’t you move, Reed. This is my game now.”

Keith’s finger played along his ass as Reed swallowed hard. This would be torture—sweet and painful all at once. His skin was drying and he was shivering from that and Keith’s touches and he heard himself groan. His fingers dug into the rug as he tried to be good, stay still. But he couldn’t. He moved back, trying to get Keith’s fingers deeper, and he was rewarded with several hard slaps to his ass.

“You could’ve just asked,” Keith told him. But of course that would’ve been too easy, and Reed was anything but easy. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the pain from the slaps override everything else in his mind.

He opened them only when he was sure he could stay still under Keith’s machinations. The man had two fingers inside him, twisted them, brushed his prostate, and he heard himself beg. It was a keening, needy sound, and he couldn’t hold it back.

Keith must’ve taken pity on him, or else the bastard was too horny himself to wait, because soon the man’s thick cock was brushing his hole.

“Going to fill you, Reed.” As he spoke, he yanked on Reed’s hair, forcing him up on his knees so his back was against Keith’s chest. He circled Reed’s cock, stroked it hard several times and then stopped.

“Bastard,” he bit out and Keith laughed.

“Just the way you like it.”

“I’d like you to fuck me right now.”

“You’d better say what I need to hear.”

He wanted to do nothing of the sort. Had fought this from day goddamned one with both Bobby and Keith. But they’d worn him down in the most blissful way possible and now, Keith knew he needed it again.

His eyes burned with tears—he didn’t want to be humiliated. Didn’t always understand where these needs and wants came from. But he would get nothing without the words—Keith was a hardass when he needed to be.

When he opened his eyes, he knew something in the room had changed. Without turning to look, he realized that Shane was watching through the small opening.

Reed could feel the kid’s gaze on him as surely as Keith’s dick pressing his ass insistently. And if Shane wanted to see what he’d be getting, Reed was more than happy to give him access to the entire show.

Chapter Ten

Shane leaned against the doorjamb silently, not wanting to disturb the scene he’d almost walked in on. He’d heard the commotion and he’d forced himself up to make sure Guthrie hadn’t found him. He had a knife he’d picked up from the desk where Reed must’ve left it earlier—Keith’s lucky knife, Reed had called it—and now, he let his hand drop to his side as he tried to control his breathing.

Because the scene in front of him was nothing like he’d expected.

Keith and Reed. Naked. On the floor, obviously having just come in from the outside storm, their wet clothing strewn in a path that led from the front door to where they currently lay.

They looked more like they were wrestling than fucking—Shane supposed that’s how it was with those two anyway—a fight to dominate one another—this time with Keith ultimately winning.

What did Keith want Reed to say? He could see the words nearly forming on Reed’s lips, but there was a stubbornness inside of that man that burned brightly.

“Reed, you need to say the goddamned words.”

“Ineedyoutofuckmeandthenspankme.”

The words came out in a rush and Keith smiled and took no time at all to prove his dominance.

Shane’s cock grew impossibly hard as he watched Keith pin Reed down on all fours and bite the man on the back of the neck—a show of the ultimate alpha, all while his cock pistoned in and out of Reed’s ass.

Reed’s face contorted—the line between pleasure and pain Shane longed for—and he found himself shoving his hands down his sweatpants and fisting his own cock in response, barely able to hold back his own moan.

Keith and Reed were loud enough that it wouldn’t have mattered. Thought he was safely tucked away, out of earshot.

“You like that, don’t you, baby?” Keith asked and when Reed didn’t say anything, he tugged the other man’s hair, bringing his head up. “I don’t hear you.”

“Fuck you.”

“That what I’m doing to you, baby. And you love it—love when I fuck you this hard.”

It took a while before Reed gave in again—Keith slammed his prostate until Reed’s mouth hung open, his hands fisted on the rug in front of him, until he finally cried out, “Yes, Keith—you know…just fuck me—please don’t stop fucking me.”

Keith smiled then—and Shane thought it was the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. Because, until that point, Keith had scared him—and Shane was a man used to violence. Now it seemed like Reed really did need this—the look on his face was pure heaven.

Suddenly, without a second of warning, Keith’s gaze caught on him. Shane froze, hand on his exposed cock, mouth opened with impending orgasm, and waited.

Keith didn’t stop what he was doing. If anything, he began to pump into Reed harder, grabbing his hips and drawing him closer, staring at Shane the entire time.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked, and Reed moaned in response, but Shane knew he wasn’t talking to Reed at all. And so he nodded and began stroking his cock again, his body relaxed against the door, his eyes glued to Keith’s.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day—all night—wanting it. Ready to open your ass to me,” Keith continued and Reed was pretty much incoherent by this point, barely able to hang on to anything because he was being filled so hard—and so good, and again Shane nodded his consent, pictured himself in Reed’s spot, with Keith pounding him…