Dead Silent

by Pandora Pine

  “You always make me feel good, Ronan.” Ten set his hand on top of Ronan’s.

  Ronan would have to disagree with that assessment. If it were true, Ten wouldn’t have been so worried that he was going to dump Ten’s ass the minute he found out that Ten lost his gift. “You really knocked it out of the park with booking us a room at this place.”

  “You can thank my massage for part of the reason we’re here. My masseuse taught me a visualization exercise.”

  Ronan shot him a confused look. “What’s that?”

  “It’s where you picture yourself in a happy place. She told me about this time she was in Maui on a beach lying in a hammock. While I walked through the exercise with her, I realized that I’d never been on a real vacation before, aside from when I went to Maine. All these years I’ve lived here in Massachusetts and I’ve never once been to the Caribbean or Florida even.”

  Ronan nodded. “The only real vacation I’ve ever had was when the department made me go to rehab after the Manuel Garcia shooting last year.”

  “That wasn’t a vacation, Ronan.” Ten squeezed his hand.

  “Yeah, well, I have a shitload of vacation time stacked up like cordwood. Maybe after we wrap up the Owens case I can look into taking some of it. Maybe we could come back here.”

  “Really?”

  “I like this place and the guys who run it. Maybe Gregor could teach me how to make crab cakes.” Ronan stood up from the table and held his hand down to Tennyson.

  “I like the sound of us coming back here together for a real vacation, Ronan.” Ten took his hand and let his lover pull him to his feet.

  “This is a real vacation, babe.” Ronan kissed him under the light of the glowing lanterns. “Let me take you to bed.”

  Ten nodded and let Ronan lead him back into the hotel and through the dining room.

  “Good night Mr. Grimm. Detective O’Mara,” the night desk attendant called out with a wave.

  “Night, Presley! Can you email the details on your Fourth of July bash? And put a hold on the Captain Kidd room if its available for the week of and the week after the Fourth?”

  Presley laughed. “Will do. Have fun guys!”

  Tennyson laughed as Ronan tugged him up the large main staircase of the hotel.

  13

  Tennyson

  As soon as the door was shut and locked behind them, Ronan was pulling at Ten’s purple polo shirt, rucking it up over his abs and then over his head. “You are gorgeous, babe. Especially now with the little bit of color you got on the beach.

  Ten looked down at his skin. Where this morning his stomach was pale white like the vampires in Twilight, now he was pleasantly pink. “You’re the one who got the color.” Ten pulled off Ronan’s shirt, marveling at the tan skin on display. “How did you manage to tan instead of burn. You’re Irish for God’s sake. I thought all Irishmen did was burn to a crisp in the sun.”

  Ronan shrugged. “Good genes, I guess.” Pushing down his hibiscus patterned board shorts over his erection, Ronan licked his lips. “Now, do you want to stand here discussing my tan lines or do you want to do something about this.” Ronan ran his right hand down his cock, moaning at the contact.

  Even though they’d been together for months now, Ten still founding it amazing that he did that to Ronan. Ten grinned, stripping off his cargo shorts. “Oh, I want to do something about your dick, all right, but weren’t you the one who said you were going to make me feel good tonight?”

  “I can kill two birds with my massive cock, Nostradamus.” Ronan bounced his eyebrows up at Ten.

  “Thank God your cock isn’t the size of your ego,” Tennyson giggled. “It wouldn’t fit in my mouth.” Ten hit his knees and swallowed Ronan down to the root.

  “Damn, babe.” Ronan grabbed a handful of Tennyson’s dark curls and used them to pull Ten back. “I thought this was supposed to be all about you.”

  “I love sucking your dick, so right now, this is all about me.” Ten winked and licked out at the wet head of Ronan’s cock. He loved it when Ronan pulled his hair like this.

  “Mmm,” Ronan slid Ten’s mouth back down his shaft.

  Ten watched Ronan’s eyes stray to the large floor-to-ceiling windows. “What are you thinking?” he asked when Ronan pulled him off his cock with a pop.

  “You in the mood to be Daddy’s bad boy tonight?”

  Ten felt his cock jerk against his stomach. Damn, he knew how riled up the word Daddy made Ronan, but he had no idea how turned on it would make him too. “Depends what you have in mind.” Ten got back to his feet and wrapped his hand around Ronan’s cock. “Am I gonna need bail money, Daddy?”

  “Jesus, Ten.” Ronan gasped. “Up against the window. Now!”

  Being that they were on the third floor of the hotel with their window facing the ocean, Tennyson went around the room shutting off all of the lights, but for one hurricane lamp which he turned down to its lowest setting. The lamp cast the room in a soft glow that reminded Ten of candlelight. Once the room was lit to his satisfaction, he went to stand in front of the center window.

  “Nice,” Ronan growled. He came up behind Ten, rubbing his cock against Ten’s crack. “But, not quite what I’m looking for.” He picked up Ten’s hands and set them against the window casings. “Stay.”

  Ten shivered, despite Ronan’s body heat against his back.

  “Do you feel exposed like this? Hmm?” Ronan whispered, his breath tickling against the shell of Tennyson’s right ear.

  “Little bit,” Ten’s voice shook with excitement. “I also feel free.”

  Ronan chuckled. “Well, anyone walking on the beach right now is gonna get a free show, that’s for damn sure, babe.” Ronan bit the hot skin in the crook of Ten’s neck. “Don’t move.”

  Tennyson knew damn well that there wasn’t enough light in the room for anyone on the beach to see them from up on the third floor, but if Ronan wanted to think people could watch them getting it on, then he was more than willing to play along.

  Hearing the cap snap open on the bottle of lube, Ten tried to relax and open himself up to Ronan’s invasion.

  “That’s it. Let me in. God, Ten, you’re so hot and tight. I can’t wait to fuck you loose, baby.” Ronan tugged on Ten’s earlobe with his teeth while his index finger breached Ten’s back entrance.

  Ten pushed backward against Ronan’s finger, needing Ronan to know how desperate he was for Ronan to do just as he promised. “More,” Ten begged.

  Ronan added a second finger without bothering to ask if Ten was sure.

  “Fuck, yesss,” Ten fucked himself backward against Ronan’s hand. He was making little mewls in the back of his throat, urging Ronan on.

  “Noisy tonight, aren’t you?” Ronan withdrew his fingers and pulled away.

  “Ronan, no!” Ten whined.

  “See, you’re making my point for me.” Ronan came back a moment later. “Open your mouth, baby.”

  Obeying, Ten didn’t understand why Ronan wanted his mouth open. Understanding dawned on him when a length of silk was placed in his mouth and quickly tied behind his head. Ronan’s tie.

  “Can’t have you making so much noise that our neighbors complain, now can we?”

  Tennyson mumbled. None of his words were intelligible, the gag saw to that.

  “Much better. Makes me wonder why I never thought of that before.” Ronan smacked Tennyson’s right cheek. The slap echoed loudly in the high-ceilinged room.

  His hands digging into the wood of the window casing, Tennyson moaned. His cock jerked hard against his stomach as pre-come smeared against his skin. Ronan was behind him, the heat of his body melting into his own skin. Ten felt the slicked, blunt head of Ronan’s cock nudge against his hole and with no warning from Ronan, it surged into his body.

  Ronan didn’t wait for Tennyson to adjust to his invasion. He started fucking Tennyson with hard thrusts.

  All Tennyson could do was brace his hands against the window casing to give Ronan resistance a
nd moan his approval.

  “That’s my dirty boy, taking it like a man. You liked getting fucked hard, don’t you, Ten?” Ronan’s voice was harsh and pitched low.

  Ten moaned loudly against the gag. What he wanted to shout was “Fuck yes!” Or “Harder, Daddy!” He knew the latter would send Ronan’s cock shooting off like a Roman candle on the Fourth of July, so it was just as well that he was gagged. That might have been part of Ronan’s rationale for shutting him up as well.

  Digging his hands harder into Tennyson’s hips, Ronan picked up the pace. “You love this, don’t you? Love being taken for all the world to see. You love that everyone can see that you’re mine!”

  “Yours!” Tennyson mumbled against the gag. He knew Ronan would understand what he was saying around the gag.

  “You gonna come for me, cock untouched like a good boy?”

  Ten whimpered against the gag. He would if Ronan would angle his hips a bit more to the left. He took matters into his own hands and moved himself against the fury of Ronan’s thrusts. Just that tiny movement was all it took for Ronan to be hitting his prostate on every pass.

  “That’s it, baby. Come for me. Come for Daddy!” Ronan rested his head against Tennyson’s.

  Ten could see Ronan staring at their joined bodies in their reflection in the window. It was the hottest damn thing Ten had ever seen in his life. He was so close. Only one or two more thrusts and he’d be there.

  “Ten!” Ronan shouted.

  Ronan’s cock jerked deep within his body. That combined with the way Ronan was shouting his name, triggered his own release. Wave after wave of sweet cream burst from his cock to coat his stomach and chest, while Ronan continued to cry out his name like a prayer.

  When the storm had passed, Ronan untied the gag before he slipped his arms around Ten’s torso and rested his head on his lover’s shoulder. “Do you think the neighbors heard us?”

  Ten snorted. “I think the neighbors heard you!”

  “What are you saying, babe? That next time I should be the one gagged?”

  Tennyson’s spent cock twitched at the thought of riding a gagged Ronan. He nodded at his lover’s reflection in the window and started to laugh.

  14

  Ronan

  Two days later, Ronan was still sore from their twenty-four-hour vacation on Cape Cod. They both had misty eyes when they’d pulled out of the Sand Dollar Shoal parking lot. Ten claimed it was the salt air making his eyes water, but Ronan knew better. Neither one of them wanted to leave the hotel and the new friends they’d made.

  What lessened the sting of leaving was the fact that they’d be back in two short weeks. After a little creative maneuvering by Griffin Fox, the owner of the hotel, they were able to book the Captain Kidd room for two weeks, including the Fourth of July. It wasn’t goodbye, it was just so long, for now.

  Instead of lounging around in bed this morning, they were headed north on Route 95 to Portsmouth, New Hampshire to interview Shawn and Debbie Owens. What Ronan wanted, more than almost anything, was to have the Owens case wrapped up by the time they drove back over the Sagamore Bridge with their suitcases packed for two weeks of fun in the Cape Cod sun.

  Of course, the other thing Ronan wanted was to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of Tennyson speaking with a ghost. So far though, no dice. The only upside to that was that Tennyson was sleeping like the dead. He’d never looked more refreshed or healthy in all the time they’d known each other.

  “You never told me what was in Shawn Owens’ interview,” Tennyson said, breaking Ronan out of his own head.

  “You’re right, I didn’t.” Ronan had spent the day in the office alone yesterday, while Tennyson had spent the day with Carson and Truman’s babies. Their usual sitter was off on a trip to a local casino with her senior citizen center and Truman had tapped Ten to fill in for Luisa Salazar and her sister Inez.

  Ten always said how peaceful it was spending time with the babies since their auras were pure and they had no spirits glommed on to them. The plans had been made back before Ten had lost his gift. What Ten hadn’t counted on was all three babies being fussy and downright grumpy. He’d said it was like spending the day with three mini-Ronans. Ronan hadn’t taken that as a compliment.

  “When Shawn was interviewed by BPD it was just as a witness. The detectives on the case assumed that it was either Hope or Maxine who killed Harold, so there was no need to look any further than the two of them.”

  “On the outset it does sound like an open and shut case.” Ten shrugged.

  Ronan shot Ten an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me, Ten? You work the case until you get a confession or until the evidence leads you to your suspect. Having two suspects who maybe could have killed Harold isn’t good enough, which is how this case ended up twenty years cold.”

  “Okay, calm down, Columbo. So, did Shawn offer anything earth-shattering in his interview?”

  “He just said that Hope had an awful relationship with their father through her teens and early twenties. Said she was the kind of daughter who constantly threw a fit if things didn’t go her way and was always telling her father that she hated him.”

  Ten snorted. “Sounds like pretty typical teenage behavior to me.”

  “I agree and from what little we know about Harold, he was a real bastard. Not that being a bastard means that he deserved to get his head bashed in…” Ronan trailed off. “Shawn also said that his mother didn’t have much of a temper, but once she lost it, look the fuck out.”

  “Christ, so he threw them both under the bus.” Ten shook his head, obviously not impressed with Shawn’s character or lack thereof.

  “Right, back at square one.” Ronan hadn’t been surprised to read that Shawn was just as reprehensible as the rest of the family.

  “What about the wife? Was she ever questioned?”

  Ronan shook his head. “Their two-year-old daughter, Ophelia, came down with a stomach bug that night and Debbie took her to the ER. We have hospital records that put her there from 5pm until 7am on December 26, so there’s no way she could have murdered her father-in-law.”

  “Wait, Shawn wasn’t at the hospital too?” Tennyson sounded confused.

  “Father of the Year, he isn’t. When the detectives asked him why he wasn’t at the ER, his response was something to effect of, ‘What was I supposed to do? Sit around and watch my kid shit and barf?’ So, yeah, I’m guessing he learned how to be an asshole father from his old man.”

  “Christ, people like that shouldn’t reproduce.” Ten grimaced.

  “No kidding.” Ronan craned his neck to see out Tennyson’s window. “Okay, this one is it. Number twenty-two. Do you want to play bad cop this time?” Ronan waggled his eyebrows.

  Ten bit his bottom lip. “No, you do that so well, Ronan. Plus, if you’re a bad cop, that means I get to punish you later…”

  “Christ, now I’m popping wood. We’re gonna have to sit here for a few minutes while I think of the ugliest man I know.”

  “Oh, who’s that?” Ten gave him a curious look.

  “The president! Who else do you know who has an uglier soul than him?” Ronan laughed.

  “Point taken. You ready?” Ten had his hand on the door handle.

  “Yeah, my dick wilted like a hothouse flower in an ice queen’s hands.” Ronan grinned.

  “Let it go, Ronan.” Ten giggled and hopped out of the car.

  Ronan looked over at the pretty row houses in the Portsmouth neighborhood. It was nice here, not as nice as where Hope and Maxine were living, but this wasn’t exactly Skid Row either. It was a blue-collar neighborhood in a blue-collar town.

  Back in 2007, Shawn had been working as a plumber’s apprentice. It would be interesting to see if anything had changed or if he were still in the shit, as the saying went.

  “They don’t know we’re coming, right?” Ten asked as they climbed the brick stairs to the front door.

  “Nope! Shock and awe baby!” Ronan winked at him.


  Ten rolled his eyes. “People don’t actually say that, you know.”

  Ronan hooked his thumb toward his chest. “I say it.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “Can I help you?” A sweet, almost melodic voice floated out through an unseen speaker.

  Ronan flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Ronan O’Mara and this is my partner, Tennyson Grimm. We’re here to speak with Shawn and Debbie Owens.”

  “Jesus Fucking Christ!” The once sweet voice practically spat. “Shawn!” She screeched.

  “I take it that means there won’t be a marching band here to greet us?” Ten grumped.

  “No, but there could be a twenty-one-gun salute.” Ronan un-holstered his gun. “Live free or die. Fucking New Hampshire bullshit. Get behind me, okay.”

  “Help you, buddy?” A deeper voice asked through the speaker.

  Christ, this was getting old, fast. “As I told your charming wife, I’m Detective Ronan O’Mara from the Boston Police Department. I’m a member of the Cold Case Unit. My partner and I are here to speak with you about your father.”

  “My father is dead.”

  Ronan was dealing with a master of the obvious. “Listen, Mr. Owens, we can do this the easy way with you letting me in to speak with you or we can do this the hard way, which would involve me getting the Portsmouth Police out here with lights and sirens while I wait for a warrant for your arrest and to search your house.”

  “Warrants for what?” Shawn Owens boomed.

  “You are a material witness in a murder investigation and you’re refusing to cooperate. Only guilty people refuse to cooperate, sir,” Tennyson chimed in.

  Damn if he didn’t sound official. Ronan would have to pat him on the back for that one later.

  “Jesus Christ, fine.” The front door yanked open and Ronan was standing face to face with Shawn Owens.

  The younger Owens stood about 5’10” and had a receding hairline with a thick goatee that fell below his chin. He reminded Ronan of the lead singer of Anthrax. He was fifteen years too late with the grunge look, but hey, Live Free or Die.