Free Three the Hard Way by Sydney Croft

Itor had done to him.
    “You can do it,” Ian urged. “Use the powers Itor gave you to give them a big ‘fuck you.’”
    Tag’s entire body trembled. “They tried to make me destroy someone’s pacemaker. They twisted and perverted my powers, and they wanted me to murder—”
    “Tag.” Ian inhaled a ragged breath, his guilt at having put Tag in that kind of position tearing him up. “I’m not Itor, and this won’t kill me. It’ll help me. It’ll help all of us.”
    Tag’s throat worked on a swallow. “What makes you think I won’t draw it out of your body and let it blow you up?”
    “A, it’ll kill you too, and I doubt you want to be dead. B, if you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it by now.” Ian reached over his shoulder and tapped his back. “I know you can do this.”
    “You really trust me?”
    “With my life. Obviously.” Ian turned around and faced the metal wall that was rapidly losing its heated glow.
    Tag hesitated, then removed one glove. “Where is it?”
    “Use your power to find it.”
    Tag cursed under his breath, and then murmured, “Ian,” before touching his bare skin. “This is going to fucking hurt. A lot.”
    “That’s all right. I deserve it. It’s about time you got to cause me pain . . . although being without you nearly killed me anyway,” Ian admitted.
    Tag rested his forehead on Ian’s shoulder. And then Ian felt Tag’s lips press against his shoulder blade, several kisses. At first, he told himself that Tag was only doing it to find the chip, but no—Tag’s finger sat directly over it, while the kisses rained down around it.
    And then the pain began. It didn’t start slowly; it instantly became a searing, shooting slice of heat directly at the source. He closed his eyes and grabbed for the nearest object, a snowmobile.
    “Concentrate on my kisses, Ian,” Tag murmured. He continued mouthing Ian behind his ear, nipping his earlobe, and Ian did as he asked.
    Tag was saving his life. This was the only way he could prove to Tag that he wanted to do the same. But hell . . .
    He was aware still of Tag’s voice, conscious of the fact that he was sinking to his knees because of the pain, the electricity shooting through his body. His head throbbed, his heart beat like it wanted out of his chest . . . and right now, he didn’t blame it a bit. He wanted out.
    “Tag, please, I can’t take this . . .”
    “You can. You have to. You promised me,” Tag urged, without any judgment in his voice. Or maybe that’s what Ian told himself in order to cope with the rest of the ordeal.
    After who knew how long, Ian came to, kneeling, his hands clutching the grips on the snowmobile on front of him. His fingers were cramped from being wrapped around them for a long time. His head throbbed. And he felt the heat from Tag’s body behind him as he pressed his chest to Ian’s back, reached to loosen Ian’s grip, and helped him ease back against him.
    “I guess it worked,” he croaked, since he was still alive, despite actually feeling a bit singed.
    Tag grunted. “Yeah. It worked.”
    Ian sagged mentally with relief. “Now we’re both wanted men,” he whispered. “I’ll protect the fuck out of you, Tag. I tried to tell Itor you weren’t the right fit. You have to believe me.”
    Tag turned Ian so they were facing each other. “I— Fuck, I’d be an idiot to believe you again after what you did.”
    Ian’s heart leaped to his throat. “And?”
    “I guess I’m an idiot.” Tag seized him roughly by the biceps and yanked them both to their feet before pulling him in for a hard, punishing kiss.
    Finally, oh, God, finally . Overcome by relief, familiarity, hell, he could admit, it, love , he let Tag kiss the ever-loving fuck out of him.
    Tag’s tongue licked the roof of his mouth, and he shifted closer to rub his cock against Ian’s. Ian groaned into his mouth. The residual heat from the metal, combined with the heat from Tag’s body, was making him sweat. His