Not My Spook

Quinton Mann, a highly ranked CIA officer, is used to being called the Ice Man. He’s astounded to discover himself in a relationship with Mark Vincent, not because Vincent is a man, but because he’s a top-rated WBIS agent. There they are though, for a total of five glorious days. But when Mark uses the excuse of going to Massachusetts for his mother’s funeral to end their relationship, Quinn’s not buying it.<br><br>No one screws with Mark Vincent. Even Mark doesn't screw with himself. Once he realizes how close he's allowed Quinton Mann to get to him, he does what any self-respecting spy would do -- he makes tracks out of there. But Quinn does something no one else ever has -- he comes after Mark. Maybe this relationship thing with a spook isn’t such a bad idea.<br><br>Meanwhile, something strange is going on in the intelligence community worldwide. It takes Quinn’s disappearance while investigating a rogue antiterrorism organization that results in Mark making up his mind. Quinn may be a spook, but he’s Mark’s spook, dammit -- and once he gets Quinn home, he intends to keep him. He knows without a doubt he’ll find Quinn. The question is, will he find Quinn in time?

Tinnean · LGBT+

Not enough ratings

102 Chs

Chapter 51

* * * *

I made the arrangements, and after buying a pair of casual trousers, jogging shoes, and a lightweight jacket for me—as I’d suspected, Mark was a big proponent of Sears, and he broke speed limits getting us to the nearest store and back in time—we went whale watching. Mark complained when a whale breached and he got a noseful of fish breath. Since it was a three hour trip, the boat returning shortly after one thirty, we had the afternoon to while away.

We whiled it away in bed.

I made the arrangements, and we went fishing in the tide rips. Mark was smugly pleased when he landed more striped bass than I did. That was a half day trip, and we had a similar problem in the afternoon.

We spent those hours in bed as well.

I made the arrangements, and in a sixty hour period, I had never fucked or been fuckedso much. I had to keep shifting in my seat on the flight home, and Mark was walking with a noticeable limp.

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