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"Harder," he growled.
"No," Apollo whispered, and kissed his ear. Apollo's hips moved slowly and steadily, like an engine in neutral. At this hour, Apollo's skin was still hot from the energy of the sun; by morning, he would be cold again.
Midnighter pressed his forehead into the moldy velvet of the couch. The night was still young and they had all the time in the world, but still, he tried to push backwards, tried to speed things up.
"Impatient," Apollo said. He hugged Midnighter closer. His arms were like iron.
"Yes," Midnighter said, and Apollo laughed against his skin.
No dice. He had to relax. Just relax and let Apollo love him.
It wasn't so much that they were exposed--which they were; the location was nothing like secure. They were in the lobby of an abandoned hotel, wrecked, most likely, in a fight between post-humans. Lots of those these days. There was a hole punched through the roof and a burn mark on the floor.
Open ceiling. Open doors. Broken windows. But he and Apollo could fight naked with both arms tied behind their backs and still win. Midnighter ran scenarios through his computer-mind--him and Apollo against ten opponents with machine guns, naked and taken by surprise. Him and Apollo, still fucking, chest to back, against ten opponents with machine guns. Success in either case. A two-man army.
Midnighter bit his hand and arched his back, but Apollo didn't change his stroke. He dropped kisses down Midnighter's spine and licked the sweat back up again.
Long and slow. Apollo *loved* long and slow. Midnighter preferred hard-and-fast, and sometimes he got it. Often he got it. He just had to plan ahead.
Security measure #1: Picking Apollo's long blond hair out of the brick walls of an alley after he tossed his head, shouting, as he came.
Security measure #2: Planning an escape route in each of eight directions before cupping his hand around Apollo's too-exposed groin.
Love in the streets and the corners and the alleys and war in the same places.
Midnighter groaned and reached back. Apollo grabbed his hand. "I love you too," Apollo said, and he kissed the still-soft skin inside Midnighter's upper arm. Dammit. Apollo was right. Thunder in one ear and Apollo breathing in the other. Apollo hot-skinned and hard-muscled against his back, his favorite lover, the only one he'd ever been in love with.
Thunder and the first patter of rain. Rain struck the burnt floor through the hole in the ceiling and the smell of mildew and burnt plastic rose in the air. "Harder," Midnighter whispered.
Apollo bent down and kissed the back of Midnighter's neck, and then he shoved Midnighter forward over the arm of the couch and thrust harder. Much harder, short and sharp and strong, and Midnighter dug his fingers into the rotten upholstery until he found wood to cling to.
Water ran in rivulets over the floor. Sweat dripped from the end of his nose. The wood creaked as Apollo slammed into him--forceful but not full-force, of course not, Apollo wasn't trying to *kill* him--oh God that felt good. Breathing through his mouth, breathing in the dust and mold and mildew and the rank too-long unbathed smell from both their bodies, as the sound of the thunder mixed with Apollo's soft breathy cries against his shoulder.
It felt good, it felt incredibly good, but he was still--unsettled; it was a crawling feeling along his spine. He had to relax and let Apollo watch his back, just trust him. A partner was someone you could turn your back on when you were weak. Midnighter trusted Apollo with every inch of himself, inside and out. He just had to trust enough--to let go--and come--
The crawling feeling turned inside out as the electrical storm of orgasm rushed up his spine. He came and Apollo came with him, shuddering down to his bones and out to his skin, wrapped up in Apollo's arms.
Then they rested. Apollo's head nestled in the crook of Midnighter's neck and one hand stroked Midnighter's side from his hip to his ticklish armpit. Trust. Apollo knew Midnighter was ticklish, but always refrained.
"It's raining," Midnighter said.
Apollo kissed the back of his neck. "Shower."
"Yes." The water would be cold, but they were used to it by now.
Apollo stood; he picked up their boots from the floor and placed them on the end of the couch with their uniforms, and then he gave Midnighter a hand up. Midnighter stood with his arm around Apollo's waist, his legs wobbling slightly. His guts hummed happily to themselves. It wouldn't last long. It never did.
Midnighter leaned in and kissed Apollo. "I love you," he said. He said it every day, because life was uncertain and cruel.
"I love you," replied Apollo, and his grin could light up cities.