The sound of a truck filled the air, cutting through the peace. Ah. Erik. Waiting for Erik to come through to the deck, he grinned as he remembered their last weekend. Erik had played sub and it had been glorious. Wouldn’t it be funny if Erik drew the short straw twice in a row after having gone so long without being the bottom?

Their Nordic god came out the kitchen door and grinned, blue eyes twinkling. “Hey, boss. How’s the promotion going?”

“It’s a lot of fucking work.” Standing, Tork held open his arms, wrapping Erik in a strong hug. God, he’d missed this. The time between their weekends felt longer every time, even though it wasn’t.

Erik nodded and grabbed him, squeezed him tight. “Good to see you, man.”

“You too.” Tilting his head, Tork pressed their mouths together. Oh, fuck, Erik tasted good. All fucking male with salt and sweet - Erik must have eaten a doughnut on the way up. There was probably a fucking box of them on the kitchen table now.

Erik’s hand wrapped around Tork’s skull, the tongue fucking making Tork’s knees weak, and he cried out. Clinging to Erik, he let the man take his mouth. Barring when he got the short straw, no one else could, but they were a physical match - of a height, a size - and Erik knew how to kiss. It was fucking stunning. Damn, if he was the sub this weekend, he’d be more than happy for more of this. Tork opened wider, groaning, inviting Erik to continue.

“Hungry man.” Erik moaned, dragged their bodies tight, hips rolling their cocks together.

“Been three months.” Tork didn’t have anyone outside of these men. Aside from not really having time, these were the guys he was into, he cared for, who cared for him.

“Want a quickie?” Erik asked, humping against him. “I got blue balls.”

“Oh, I have to see these blue balls of yours. I might take pictures.” He gave Erik a wink, nodded. “Hell, yes, I want a quickie. I’ve been here for three hours. On my own.” Nothing to do but think and wait and wish someone was there already to get off with.

“Oh, man.” Erik sounded genuinely sympathetic. “Come to the big couch.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Tork went to the barbeque and turned off the gas, then brought the cover down. It would have to do. Better to re-warm the burgers than have them completely dried out.

Food put off for later, Tork followed his favorite Greek God’s ass back into the house.

Erik started to strip down, that new knife wound from the last get together now covered with a tattoo - a black dagger pointing all the way down Erik’s belly.

“Jesus, ‘Rik that is stunning.” Tork moved closer and traced it with his fingers, the muscles of Erik’s abdomen fucking sexy.

“You like it?” Erik flexed those amazing muscles for him. “I got it during an undercover sting.”

“Shit yeah. It’s enticing.” He grinned, stroked his fingers over it again. “I want to lick it.”

“It’s healed.” Erik had his jeans open, but not off, and he took a wide stance. “Go for it.”

Tork nodded, dropping to his knees and leaning in. He breathed in, pulling Erik’s scent deep into his lungs. He swore he could tell his men each by scent alone. Erik smelled of Speed Stick and grass and the barest hint of soap.

Opening his mouth, he slowly dragged his tongue over the handle of the dagger. Erik’s belly went rock hard, jerking at his touch. Moaning, he traced the rest of the knife with the tip of his tongue.

“Mmm. It covered the scar nicely, hmm?” Erik sounded pleased, and more than a little turned on.

“Yeah. I can still feel the scar under my tongue, though.” While he was here, Tork figured he might as well fish out that fucking amazing prick and have at it.