by Ardy Kelly
A champagne bottle was chilling in an ice bucket. “At least this proves Trisha doesn’t know I’m pregnant.” He pulled the bottle out and stared at the label. “Uh oh. It’s non-alcoholic. Did you tell her?”
“Nobody said anything to her. But as my aunt always said, ‘You can’t hide any secrets from a hotelier.’”
“Seems like a strange thing to say.”
Chet shrugged. “She ran a B&B.”
“So, why did you ask for romance? Does everyone in Timber Crossing know we’re dating?”
Chet unbuckled his gun belt. “They’re kind of insisting on it. Which is another good reason to get out of town. How am I doing? On the romance meter.”
“I’m not the best judge. I don’t really have much experience with romance. Mostly it feels awkward.”
“Not sure that’s what I was going for.”
“What were you going for?”
“Special. I want you to feel special.”
“I’m pregnant. Special is overrated.”
“Okay.” Chet unzipped his bag and pulled out a bottle. “Why don’t we skip to the part where I give you a massage?”
“You sure you have the energy after a hard day of fighting crime?”
“There’s a convention for evil masterminds in Reno. All of Timber Crossing’s villains are out of town.”
Chet reached for David’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head. “You’ll need to be naked for this.”
David’s fingers began unbuttoning Chet’s uniform. “That makes two of us.”
They slowly stripped each other. There was no rush tonight. Lit only by the flickering candles, hands roamed, followed by lips and tongues as they explored each new area of skin revealed under the discarded clothing.
By the time David got Chet’s pants off, the sheriff was already hard.
“Gonna be tough giving you a massage sporting this chubby. The damn thing will only get in the way.”
“I doubt that’s the only thing it will do.” David waggled his eyebrows.
“Lay on the bed,” Chet instructed.
“Wait.” David grabbed some towels and spread them over the mattress. “Don’t want to ruin Trisha’s bedspread.”
Chet held up the massage oil. “Water soluble. Nobody wants to get on Trisha’s bad side.”
He laid David on his stomach, sitting by his side, as he warmed the oil between his hands. Wrapping his fingers around David’s shoulders, he gave a gentle squeeze. “You’re really tense up here.”
“I’m tense everywhere.”
Chet pressed his thumbs into the base of his neck. “Breathe into it.” Working his way down David’s back, he expelled the tension in each muscle before moving on to the next.
When he reached the lower back, Chet climbed on the bed and straddled David. “You’ve got a great ass.”
The relaxation had wormed its way into David’s voice. “So I’ve been told,” he murmured.
“I brought condoms.” When David’s back tensed, Chet flattened his hands. “I understand if you’re not ready.” He slid his palms up, coaxing the muscles back to relaxation.
“I…I just need a little time…last weekend, we got a little rough…I’m still tender down there.”
Using the heel of his palms, he pressed along David’s spine. “You could fuck me if you wanted.”
David turned his head as far as it would go, peering sideways to read Chet’s expression. “Really?”
“We’ll have to go slow. It’s been awhile, and your dick is intimidating.”
“Not once you get to know it,” David replied. Chet moved up on the bed as David twisted on his side to face him.
“You don’t mind if I spend some time getting acquainted, do you?” Chet’s hands, warm and slick, cupped David’s balls as his cock flopped along Chet’s forearm.
“As long as I can meet your little friend.” David gasped. “Sorry. I didn’t mean ‘little.’”
“No worries,” Chet assured. “He’s never had any complaints.”
Chet’s shaft hardened under David’s gentle stroking. “How social is he?”
“He doesn’t get out much anymore,” Chet replied. “I think he’s seeing someone.”
David felt the warmth in his words. Chet’s insta-love made him wary of the sheriff at first, but as long as he didn’t go full-tilt Penn Badgley in You, he knew he could trust the man.
And when they kissed, David realized he could do more than trust the man. He could fall in love with him.
They stayed that way for a while—kissing, stroking, and exploring each other’s bodies—until Chet reached for the condom and lube. He knelt by the bed, ripped the foil package open with his teeth, and slowly slid the latex sheath down David’s throbbing cock.
“God, that feels good,” David moaned. “You can put a condom on me anytime.”
“My pleasure,” Chet replied. “How do you want me?”
David studied the sheriff’s tall, muscular body. “You’re making me self-conscious about my height. Why don’t you bend over the bed?” He grabbed a pillow and spread a towel over it. “Put this under your hips.”
As Chet positioned himself, knees not quite reaching the floor, David squirted lube into his palm. After slickening his cock, he squeezed a thick line of lubricant between Chet’s butt cheeks.
He grasped Chet’s cock with his free hand while spreading the gel around his ass. “You’ve taken such good care of me,” David said. “It’s my turn to take real good care of you.”
He slid a finger inside, massaging the tight hole as he stroked Chet’s cock. The sheriff propped himself up on his elbows and rocked into David’s probing fingers.
A second finger worked itself in, pushing deeper. Chet moaned when he felt them press against his prostate.
“There it is,” David cooed. “That’s what I’ll be aiming for.” He squeezed Chet’s dick and felt a drip of warm pre-cum on his hand.
He twisted his fingers as he slid his hand out. Chet’s butt muscles flexed and relaxed as he continued rocking his hips to fuck the fist around his cock.
“Ready?” David asked.
“Yes. Fuck me. Now!”
David positioned his cock at the tight ring of muscle, trying to keep a light pressure despite Chet’s rocking. The empty reservoir tip of the condom lay flattened across the head of his dick, and he watched it disappear as he pressed in.
Chet’s exhale was as ragged as the moan that followed. He dropped his head on the bed, only raising it again when the cock in his ass and the hand on his dick began to move.
“Is that what you wanted?” David asked.
“It’s a good start.” When David thrust a little harder, Chet offered monosyllabic words of encouragement. “Yes. Damn. There. Good. Yeah. Oh.”
Chet’s enthusiastic feedback only made David greedy for the expression on the man’s face. He pulled out and flipped Chet over on his back with surprising ease. “I need to see you,” he explained before driving his cock back into him.
Guiding Chet’s legs over his shoulders, he bent down, eager for the taste of Chet’s mouth.
Chet slid his hand between their stomachs and adjusted his ball sack. He slicked his own cock and laid it flat between them while rocking it against David’s abs. The sound of their hips slapping against each other filled the room as they built toward climax.
David struggled to keep his eyes open. Chet’s ass was incredibly hot and tight, and the feel of the man’s cock rubbing against his stomach was filling him with all kinds of fantasies of what to do with it.
Yet, no fantasy was as hot as the look on the sheriff’s face right now. His pupils were impossibly large, with an electric-blue ring of iris almost glowing, and David lost himself in his gaze.
His jaw tightened as his face took on the agonized expression of someone holding his release at bay.
“Do it,” Chet demanded. “Cum.”
David threw his head back as an orgasm crashed through him. He felt warm cum s
play across his chest and it took a second for him to realize it was Chet’s. His ass muscles pulsated around David’s cock, drawing out the sensations as it milked him dry.
They lay still as their breathing returned to normal. Chet tugged David onto the bed and into his arms. Taking joy in the feel of their bodies intertwined, there was no need for words.
Chapter 9
The next morning, David woke to the glorious sight of Chet, dressed only in a guest terrycloth bathrobe, carrying a tray of coffee and muffins into their room.
“Hmm.” Chet frowned. “Everything is covered in candles. There’s no place to set this down.”
David swung his legs over the side of the bed and began clearing the nightstand. “Coffee in bed is much more romantic than candles.”
“Glad to hear I’m getting better at this romance thing.”
Breakfast in bed led to sex in the shower, which delayed their departure by an hour. It would have been longer if the hot water tank was larger. When they finally dried off, Chet put on a fresh uniform.
“You’re working today?” David asked.
Chet shook his head. “I’ve been told that statements have more authority from people in uniform. Since I’m about to tell someone they’re slightly supernatural, I think it’s for the best.”
Trisha met them at the bottom of the stairs. “How was your swim this morning?” Her eyes twinkled as she walked past them. “I hope you’re finished hogging all the hot water.”
“We’ll be out of your hair for the next day or two,” Chet told her.
“Have fun,” Trisha replied.
Traffic was light during the sweet spot between rush hour and lunch. The twisty country roads made David slightly queasy, but his stomach settled when they hit Interstate 5, with its long, straight route to Southern California.
“You want to practice your ‘Welcome to the secret watcher society’ speech on me?” David asked.
“Don’t really have anything prepared,” Chet replied. “Thought I’d wing it.”
“There’s no welcome packet? No binder? No PowerPoint presentation?”
“We’re not that organized. We never connected with each other until recently.”
“What happened recently?”
“A serial killer. Targeting watchers.”
“Really? You would have thought that would make the news.”
“It did. Gus Armon.”
“Gus Armon? The Satanic Slayer?” David paused to consider. “All his killings were in remote areas. Were they all vortexes?”
When Chet nodded, David furrowed his brow. “They never caught him. Aren’t you worried?”
“We got him. There just wasn’t anything left to prove it.”
“You killed him?”
“Not me. Ricky.”
“Ricky?” David stared out the window. “He seems like such a sweet and innocent thing.” David’s stomach gurgled.
Chet laughed. “He is. How about we stop for lunch?”
Unlike many of the exits with huge gas stations and fast-food drive-thrus that clung to highway arteries like plaque, the one they took had a solitary diner.
When they entered, the smell of food didn’t sit well with David. “Hey, how about we eat on the picnic tables,” he told Chet. “After being cooped up in the car, it will be nice to get some fresh air.”
While Chet chatted about the menu, David cursed his luck. Ricky had warned him his magic would wear off. Why did it have to happen when he was caught without his crackers and special tea?
Much as he wanted to hide his distress from Chet, he would guess as soon as David ordered his lunch. “I’ll have dry toast and a ginger ale.”
“Is the morning sickness back?” When the waitress gaped at him, Chet backtracked. “I mean, the sickness from this morning…”
David nodded. “It’s not bad. I just am going to take a precaution. Especially if we’ve got more time in the car.”
“Not too much farther. At least, I don’t think so.”
David waited until the waitress left. “I thought I was all over morning sickness. I hope I don’t ruin your trip.”
“It’s our trip, and I think where we’re going might help.”
“How is a future-telling hot spring going to help?”
“Not all vortexes have the same energy.”
“They do different tricks?”
Chet chuckled. “Tricks might not be the word I’d use.”
After lunch, they drove for another hour. When David started turning green, Chet pulled off the highway. “Let’s pick up some groceries. I have a feeling we’re going to be needing them.”
Chalking it up to Chet’s “intuition,” David didn’t say anything as the man loaded up on enough supplies to feed them for a week. The only time he broke his silence was when a box of muffin mix made its way into the cart. “Put it back. I’ll be in charge of the muffins.”
“Get whatever you need,” Chet replied. “I’ll get some cheap ice chests and meet you at checkout.”
As they loaded the groceries in the car, one of the bags ripped. The groceries tumbled out, revealing the muffin mix box. “I told you to put it back. I got what we need to make muffins.”
“It’s not for us.”
Back on the highway, the flat, barren landscape allowed an unobstructed view for miles—if there was anything other than sand, cactus, and the relentlessly straight highway to see.
Uttering a low, “Hmm,” Chet took the next exit. It wasn’t clear why anyone would want to stop here. Chet scanned the lackluster scenery in both directions before turning left at the faded stop sign. A few dilapidated buildings sat like litter on the side of the road, making the landscape appear even more inhospitable.
The road rose gently, and when they crested the sad excuse for a hill, a lane appeared on the right. It was flanked by two huge tractor tires laid on their sides, making informal planter boxes for large Joshua trees.
A sign faded by the sun faintly revealed their location. The Do Drop Inn. The No Vacancy sign swung precariously from the last remaining hook.
“This is it.” Chet turned onto the lane. There was a large house far in the distance. It was elevated, but the paint color blended so well with the outcropping of rock that it might as well be hidden.
The road was clear, with a debris field on either side. It was the remnants of a flash flood that had barreled through, dangerously close to the house.
Beyond an adobe gate, they passed torn yellow police tape tangled in the shrub by the porch, declaring “Crime Scene - Do Not Cross” in English and Spanish.
Despite the appearance of being deservedly deserted, the bright-orange stripe from a U-Haul trailer caught David’s eye. Its doors were open and the inside was half stuffed with moving boxes.
Chet parked and approached the front door, propped open with a chair. “Hello?”
A man rushed to the doorway. “I’m not trespassing, Sheriff. I’m the trustee. Oscar Berrigan. I have paperwork if you need to see it.”
Chet held up a hand. “No need. I’m here to meet the owner. I’m Chet Thompson.”
David got out of the car, taking cover in the shade of the porch as he studied Oscar. If he thought there might be physical similarities in watchers, these two men disproved that theory immediately.
Oscar was short and lean, compared to Chet’s tall muscularity. He had jet-black hair with soft curls, in sharp contrast to the sheriff’s short and straight blond hair.
He appeared to be in his late twenties, but the thick glasses he wore obscured his face. They were oversized, obviously chosen for effectiveness rather than fashion.
He was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt that read, “I’m sooo over the rainbow.” The paleness of his skin clearly indicated he was new to the area.
One thing Chet and Oscar had in common was a dazzling smile. And David didn’t like seeing Oscar use that dazzle on Chet. He thrust his hand forward. “I’m David. The boyfriend.”
Chet’s smile grew
even brighter as he put an arm on David’s shoulder. “Thanks for clearing that up,” he whispered.
“This is an unofficial visit,” Chet explained to Oscar. “My jurisdiction is up in the Sierras. But I was hoping to find out about the previous owner.”
“You mean Beck Sommers? Are you investigating the Satanic Slayer?”
“You heard about that, huh? Yeah. We aren’t quite sure of his religious affiliation, but he did play with black magic. We’re retracing his steps.”
Oscar’s brows furrowed. “Do you think he’s back in the area?”
Chet hooked his thumbs into his belt. “I can’t comment on an ongoing police investigation, but let me just say that the issue has been dealt with.”
“That’s a relief. I don’t know how much help I can be. Today is only the second time I’ve ever been to the place, and I just got here a few minutes ago.”
“I’m glad to help you move in,” Chet responded. “Then we can talk.”
Oscar and Chet both grabbed boxes from the van. When David reached inside, Chet stopped him. “I don’t want you lifting things. Not until you feel better.”
“It doesn’t require a superhuman feat of strength to pick up a box,” David complained.
Setting his load down, Chet began testing the weight of the remaining boxes. He settled on one marked “towels” and handed it to David.
David rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to do that with each load, my helping will just slow the whole process down.”
“That’s the point. Why don’t you wait inside, out of the heat?”
“Don’t think that uniform is giving you any authority over me.” David dropped the towels down, grabbed Chet’s box, and headed to the house.
Damn, this thing weighs a ton!
“Set it anywhere,” Oscar said as David entered. “I’m just going to open some windows. The house has been closed up since the murder.”
“That was almost two months ago,” Chet said as he entered.
“Actually, that’s pretty fast for probate.” Oscar turned to see David and Chet gawking at the murals that covered every inch of the walls. “Beck did all the painting. I told him he should sell his art, but he wasn’t interested.”
