The Hitman's Weakness
Copyright © 2018 by Kelex
Carter had had a little too much to drink, along with a bit too much dancing. He’d taken off his shirt about an hour before. Sweat glistened off his bare chest as he moved and swayed under the pulsing lights of the dance floor.
The smile on his face was the best part of all.
If only I could be that carefree.
Tony watched them moving from his spot in the shadowed booth. The pair moved in time to the music, writhing against one another much the same way he and Carter would later tonight, when they were back at their rented flat, alone together.
Seeing Carter like this was… stimulating.
It shouldn’t have been. The whole reason he’d paid for Carter’s remaining education was to ensure the man stopped his career as an escort. The thought of another man touching what was his…
But this was different.
Even though he wasn’t involved in the touching—and someone else was caressing his man—being a spy to it was a turn-on he struggled to comprehend.
After a moment, Carter’s stare moved in his direction. Did his lover know the thoughts going through his mind? Tony held that stare, even though he wasn’t sure his lover could see him in the dark. He hoped Carter could sense the lust he felt across the gap separating them. Suddenly, he felt quite sure the man could. Carter’s hips began to sway in a much more seductive manner. He licked his lips, the desire on his handsome face intoxicating.
Tony’s cock twitched. He moved slightly, adjusting himself as he grew thicker.
The song ended. Carter’s dance partner urged him to keep dancing, but Carter’s stare kept moving toward Tony. He stalked back to the booth, his body language setting Tony’s libido on edge.
His lover was horny, and it came off in thick waves.
Carter climbed onto his lap, straddling him.
There was no doubt they were both hard as stone. Carter pressed his lips to Tony’s, tasting of the sweet mixed drink he’d imbibed not long before. Tony moved his hand to the back of Carter’s neck and deepened the kiss, marking his claim.
When they were both breathless, they parted, gasping for air.
“Dance with me,” Carter mumbled into his ear.
Tony turned to look at his lover. The music was too loud, or maybe he was too old. He was barely forty, but felt like the old man out compared to the crowd in the club. He knew he was living vicariously through Carter. Tony had never lived a life where he could be so carefree and without looking over his shoulder.
There was a lightness to Carter. It matched Tony’s darkness.
He had an unexplainable need to be near the man.
It had nothing to do with his looks, although Carter was exceptionally handsome. Given where he’d grown up, Carter should’ve been harder, rougher around the edges. Something had allowed him to escape that place without a dark mark on his soul.
Like Tony’s suffered.
But then, Tony had been raised by a low-level mobster and mentored by a mafia boss. Everyone around him had evil in him.
A wave of disco lights washed over his lover, illuminating the man in bright pinks and blues. They shifted to gold and then to silver. In any light, Carter was stunning. He only grew sexier as the days passed… as Tony felt the connection they had strengthening.
“I don’t dance,” Tony murmured against Carter’s ear.
“You dance every single night with me,” Carter answered back. He sat up straighter, his eyebrow continuing to rise even after he stopped moving.
Visions of what Tony had planned for later twirled through his mind. We’ll be dancing, all right. He grinned slyly.
“Come on,” Carter pleaded against his ear. “I don’t want to dance with other men. I want to dance with you.”