“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Rey said, but there was no conviction to his tone, just thick need, barely suppressed.
The garish light from the neon motel sign lit the side of Barrett’s face and highlighted the rugged handsomeness. Rey’s chest felt tight as he looked at his partner, Barrett. Partner in the Springfield police department, that is. Not his lover. Or at least they hadn’t been.
But their mouths were inches apart and Barrett’s grip on his shirt was tight.
They’d been skirting this moment for weeks now. Months of getting to know the man under the stoic façade, months of noticing the width of Barrett’s shoulders, the solidity and heat of his body, and months of fighting it. Weeks of wondering what his mouth tasted like. Days of being holed up in this motel together and trying not to stare at Barrett’s chest, broad and lightly furred, damp from the shower as he walked around the room in a towel.
“You think I don’t know that?” Barrett’s voice was a low rumble and Rey felt his gut clench as he imagined that sound in his ear as Rey pinned him to the bed.
No, he knew Barrett understood the dangers as well as he did: work conflict, the danger of being found out by their colleagues, Barrett’s family.
Barrett half-rose in his seat, pulling Rey toward him.
Rey’s head swam; his brain entirely incapable of rational thought anymore. The throb in his groin and the need in his chest overwhelmed everything else. They shouldn’t … and yet …
Barrett’s mouth landed on his, tasting of whiskey and need.
This week’s flash is short, but hopefully sweet.
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I look forward to seeing you next Monday!