Closer: Bay City Paranormal Investigation book 4

by Ally Blue

  Sam swallowed. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Shut up!” Bo advanced on him, a dangerous glitter in his eyes. “My opinion didn’t matter to you then. My fears didn’t matter to you. You didn’t want to hear it. Yet you have the fucking gall to whine about how scared you are of losing me? Well let me tell you something. I wouldn’t be in any danger at the fucking fort if you’d fucking listened to me before, because you wouldn’t be accidentally opening portals again.” His lips curled into a rictus of a grin, making him look more than a little deranged. “Who’s the prick now, huh?”

  Sam’s vision went red. Before he knew quite what he was doing, he’d tackled Bo to the ground, pinning his wrists above his head. “Fuck you!”

  Sam expected Bo to fight back. Maybe even wanted him to. Having an excuse to hit Bo right now would be welcome.

  He didn’t expect Bo to clamp a hand onto the back of his neck, rear up and kiss him.

  Taken by surprise, Sam automatically reciprocated, opening wide for Bo’s tongue. Bo growled deep in his chest. His hand clutched Sam’s neck in a bruising grip, his mouth eating at Sam’s. Sam groaned, excited in spite of his hurt and anger.

  “Yes,” Bo breathed.

  “Huh?”

  “What you said before.” Bo hooked a leg around Sam’s back. His erection dug into Sam’s groin. “Fuck me.”

  Sam stared at him, wondering if he’d gone crazy. “You want to fuck? Right now?”

  “Yes.” Reaching between them, Bo twisted Sam’s nipple through his T-shirt.

  Sam yelped and shoved Bo’s hand away. “No.”

  “Yes.” Bo grabbed Sam’s hair in both fists, yanked his head down and kissed him hard.

  Sam felt his lip split under the assault. The taste of blood flooded his mouth. He dug a hand into Bo’s hair and yanked his head back, feeling a rush of dark satisfaction when Bo winced. “Stop it! I’m not having sex with you when you’re like this.”

  Eyelids dropping to half-mast, Bo licked Sam’s blood off his lips. The movement was slow and sensual, and Sam’s body reacted. He tried to extricate himself from Bo’s determined grip before Bo could notice, but Bo’s smirk told him it was too late.

  “You’re hard, you fucking liar. You want me, just like you always do.” Bo ground his crotch against Sam’s, heel digging into the small of Sam’s back. “Do it, Sam. Fuck me.”

  Sam gulped. “No. Not like this.”

  Bo’s laugh was harsh and ugly. “Bullshit. You want it.” He shoved a hand between their bodies and pinched the head of Sam’s cock hard. It hurt. Sam yelped and tried to jerk away. Bo’s leg remained around him like an iron band, holding him down. “Come on, Sam. Fuck me hard. Or don’t you have the balls to give it to me like I want?”

  The sneer on Bo’s face was what snapped Sam’s wavering control. He pried Bo’s fingers from his neck, grabbed Bo’s hips and flipped him onto his stomach. A hand planted between Bo’s shoulder blades kept him face down on the rug.

  “Don’t you fucking move.” Keeping his right hand splayed on Bo’s back, Sam wrestled Bo’s pajama bottoms off one-handed and threw them aside. “Spread your legs.”

  “Fuck you,” Bo spat. “Do it yourself.”

  Fury boiled up inside Sam. Somewhere in a calm corner of his brain, he knew Bo was manipulating him, deliberately goading him into being rough. He knew it, and he hated that it was working. Angry at Bo and even angrier at himself, yet so turned on he could barely see straight, Sam grabbed Bo’s thighs and shoved them apart.

  Shifting to kneel between Bo’s open legs, he spread Bo’s buttocks to stare at the dusky little whorl of his anus. God, but the sight excited him. He wished it wouldn’t. Bending down, he sank his teeth into one firm ass cheek. He didn’t let go until he heard Bo’s hiss of pain.

  Sam sat back on his heels, both palms still planted on Bo’s ass, and pushed. Bo got the message. He tucked his knees under him and raised his butt into the air. Sam smacked the insides of his thighs, forcing his legs to open as wide as possible without making him fall flat on the floor again.

  Sam took a moment to admire the sight of Bo in this vulnerable position—cheek pressed to the braided rug, ass in the air, cock and balls swinging beneath his spread thighs. A perfect set of tooth marks, still wet with Sam’s saliva, blazed red on his right buttock.

  Twisting his upper body, Bo glared over his shoulder at Sam. “What’re you waiting for? Do it already.”

  Sam gritted his teeth. He lunged for the bottle of piña-colada-scented lotion Cecile kept beside the sofa, poured far more than he needed into his palm, and slicked his cock. He spread the rest over Bo’s hole.

  “You want me to fuck you? Fine.” Not waiting for an answer, he spread Bo open with his thumbs and penetrated him with one swift, savage thrust.

  “Fuck!” Bo’s body tensed, fingers clawing at the floor. “Jesus. Move.”

  Sam clamped his hands onto Bo’s hipbones and held still with a mighty effort, in spite of Bo’s demand. Bo was so tight Sam knew even the slightest movement would hurt.

  Bo was having none of it. He rocked backward, forcing Sam’s cock deep inside him. His face contorted in silent agony, and Sam felt a flash of pure hatred toward Bo for making him do this to him.

  “Don’t stop.” Bo’s eyes screwed shut. His voice was tight with pain. “Fuck me, come on.”

  Angry and confused and hating himself for being this excited, Sam shut his eyes and let himself go. His hips pistoned, driving his prick into Bo with brutal force. With each thrust, he heard Bo grunt, felt the slap of his groin against Bo’s ass, the hot clutch of Bo’s insides around his shaft. The room smelled like sweat, sex and coconut.

  Bo let out a soft little “oh”, and Sam suddenly thought about the night he’d spanked Bo and fucked him against the wall. That had been all about pleasure, not pain. Love and mutual desire, not anger or the need to punish. He wanted it to be like that again. He didn’t like Bo this way. More than that, he didn’t like himself this way.

  The telltale pulsing of Bo’s hole forced Sam’s eyes open again. Bo’s eyes remained shut, his mouth falling open and his back arching as his orgasm hit. His prick, untouched by either of them, spattered the floor with globs of white. Sam came almost in spite of himself, fingertips digging into Bo’s hipbones as his cock emptied deep inside Bo.

  He pulled out so fast it hurt. His own pained noise echoed Bo’s. Letting go of Bo’s hips, he stumbled to his feet, staggered backward and dropped onto the sofa. Bo fell forward onto the floor with a muffled thump. Sam thought he looked like a broken doll, lying face down with eyes closed and limbs splayed, semen leaking from his ass.

  “I didn’t want to do that,” Sam said, sounding harsher than he’d intended. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  The corner of Bo’s mouth hitched up in a bitter half-smile. “Right.”

  “It’s true.” Sam drew his knees up and rested his chin on them. He felt tired and depressed. What he and Bo had just done wasn’t their usual lovemaking. It was fucking, rough bordering on violent, and it left him hollow. “This isn’t normal. You can’t pretend it is.”

  Bo rolled onto his side. His eyes opened, and their icy regard made Sam wish he’d left them closed. “It’s just sex, Sam. Just a little rough sex. Maybe I want that once in a while.”

  Sam blinked, surprised. “You do?”

  Wincing, Bo pushed to a sitting position and climbed to his feet. He stood there swaying, his nude body glistening with sweat and semen. “I’m not a china doll. I won’t break. I’m sick of you treating me like some delicate little toy.”

  Sam’s mouth fell open. “What the fuck? I’ve never done that.”

  “You’re doing it right now! Sitting there telling me I’m not normal for wanting you to be rough with me sometimes—”

  “I didn’t say that, dammit!”

  Bo plowed on as if Sam hadn’t spoken. “And telling me I’m not fit to work just because of a few nightmares and…and things.” His hands clenched into qu
ick fists, then relaxed. “And, and now you’re ignoring the fact that there was no portal activity at Fort Medina until you showed up, and trying to make out like I’m somehow causing it. You’re the focus, Sam, you’re the one with the fucking psychokinesis, not me. But oh no, Bo has a bad reaction to a virus so that must mean it’s his fault. Well, fuck that, Sam, it’s you causing it, not me! You’re the one with an ability you won’t even consider getting rid of, not me. Maybe it gives you a power rush to know you can manipulate those portals. Is that it? Huh? You like the power rush?” His voice, which had been rising, dropped to a husky whisper. He cupped his balls in one hand, his cold gaze turning soft and sultry. “You sure seemed to like fucking me till it hurt. I bet that’s it. You get off on power, don’t you?”

  Sam gaped, speechless in the face of Bo’s increasingly paranoid and nonsensical rant. If he hadn’t been worried about Bo before, this would’ve done it. He had no idea what to say or do, if he should try to placate Bo or talk sense into him. He was out of his depth, afraid to say a word or make a move for fear of how Bo might react.

  God, is he turning psychotic? What the fuck do I do?

  He was saved from having to act by Bo turning on his heel and stalking out of the room, still naked. “Don’t bother coming to bed,” Bo sneered over his shoulder. “I don’t want to look at you right now.”

  Bo’s bare feet thudded up the stairs. The bedroom door squeaked open and slammed so hard the sound echoed through the house.

  Sam sat there staring at the painting of a sailing ship cutting through stormy seas hanging on the opposite wall. He felt numb and shell-shocked. Bo was acting irrationally, without a doubt, but some of the things he’d said had a ring of truth Sam couldn’t ignore.

  Had he really dismissed Bo’s fears to the extent Bo claimed? Had he truly been that insensitive to Bo’s desire to see him safe from the portals? And what about Bo’s unexpected confession that he liked near-brutal sex sometimes? Had Bo been giving him clues all along, and he just hadn’t seen?

  Did he really know so little about the man he claimed to love?

  “God, I can’t think about this right now.” Pushing to his feet, Sam snatched the discarded pajama pants off the floor, un-wadded them and tugged them on. He shuffled into the kitchen and wet a hand towel under the faucet. Back in the living room, he scrubbed the congealing spunk off the rug. Leaving the towel wadded up on the floor, he curled up on the sofa and turned on the TV to drown out his racing thoughts.

  Worn out with worry, hurt and fear, Sam slept. If the nightmares came, he didn’t remember them.

  ***

  He woke to the sound of the front door opening and hushed voices coming closer. He sat up and squinted at the clock on the VCR. It read three-thirty a.m.

  Cecile stopped, eyes widening when she saw Sam. “My God, Sam, what happened to you?”

  “What to do you mean?” He yawned, grimacing when the twinge in his lip reminded him of what had happened earlier.

  “Your lip’s split,” David pointed out, setting a camera case in the corner. He grinned. “What, did you and Bo get in a fist fight or something?”

  “Not exactly.” Sam turned his face away when Cecile sat beside him and tried to get a better look at his mouth. “It’s okay. It’s nothing.”

  “Not if Bo’s the one who did that, it isn’t.” Grabbing his chin in a firm grip, Cecile forced him to look at her. A crease formed between her eyes. “Sam, what happened?”

  Irritated, Sam pulled away. “He didn’t hit me. It was just… I mean, we…um…”

  He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound crude. Evidently his blush gave him away, though.

  David snorted. “They just had a little rough sex, Cecile. Stop fussing.”

  It was uncomfortably close to what Bo had said earlier. To his horror, Sam felt tears prick his eyes. He blinked until it went away and forced a smile. “I’d rather not discuss my sex life right now, if it’s all right with you. Tell me about the investigation tonight. Did you find anything?”

  Cecile gave him a sharp look, but let it drop. “I got some video of the woman some people have seen in the courtyard.”

  “And I caught something else on thermal,” Dean added, wandering in at that moment with a bag of cables in his hand. Andre trailed behind him, a canvas bag in each hand. “Not sure what it was. It moved so fast I couldn’t really tell. Maybe we can figure it out when we go over the evidence.”

  “Sounds like you had a productive night.” Sam looked at Andre. “What about the portals? Did you and Cecile sense anything?”

  Andre shook his head. “The EMF and the general energy of the place seem more unstable than they did the first night we went there, but they were unchanged from the past two nights. We didn’t sense anything that felt like a portal, or even a potential one.”

  Sam let out a breath, the tension draining from his body. “God, that’s a relief.”

  “It sure is.” Yawning, Andre turned and shuffled toward the door. “C’mon, let’s finish unloading. I’m beat.”

  “Coming.” Cecile squeezed Sam’s hand, then jumped up and followed Andre and David out the door.

  Dean set his bag on the floor and walked over to sit beside Sam, his eyes full of concern. “You okay?”

  “Bo and I had another fight. He was acting really irrational there at the end.” Sam probed the cut on his lip with his tongue. “I’m going beyond worried into seriously alarmed here. I have no idea what to do.”

  Dean’s brow furrowed. “What did he say?”

  “He told me that if he was in any danger, it was because of me. Because my psychokinesis can open the portals. And he said…” Sam trailed off, not wanting to admit some of the things Bo had said and how ashamed they had made him feel. “He said a lot of things. Some of it didn’t make much sense.”

  Dean pursed his lips. “Hm. Okay, I was gonna say something this morning, but I didn’t because it just seemed so crazy to think Bo would do this. But after what you just told me…”

  “What?” Sam prodded when Dean fell silent, frowning and chewing his lip. “Come on, you’re scaring me.”

  Dean gave him an apprehensive look. “All right. Please don’t get mad at me for saying this, but does Bo… Well, does he take any kind of medication?”

  “Not for months now, no. They stopped the antibiotics only a couple of weeks after he was bitten, and he hasn’t needed the pain pills since before Sunset Lodge. I don’t see—” Suddenly Sam did see. His eyes went wide. “No, that can’t be it. I’d know if he were still taking prescription drugs for pain.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Lots of people pop ’em like candy without anyone ever suspecting, even the people closest to them. In any case, it’s a possibility we can’t afford to ignore. The blanking-out spells, the mood swings, the irrationality? Acting in ways that just aren’t normal for him? Those are all signs of substance abuse. And prescription narcotics are some of the most commonly abused substances there are.” Taking Sam’s hand between both of his, Dean gave it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t want to believe it either. Hopefully I’m wrong. But I think we should consider that that’s what might be going on here. Addiction does funny things to a person, and it can happen to anyone.”

  Before Sam could think of anything else to say, the front door opened and Andre, David and Cecile came in carrying the last of the equipment. Dean glanced at them. “We’ll talk later,” he whispered. Patting Sam’s hand, he stood and went over to talk to Andre.

  Sam smiled and said good night to the group through a haze of shock and fear. Could Dean be right? Could Bo really be hooked on the narcotics Sam thought he’d taken the last of months ago? The possibility shook Sam to the core.

  But he’s never acted this way before now, Sam’s inner voice murmured. He’s stubborn and irritating sometimes, but he’s never been like this before. It all started with Fort Medina. He can’t be hooked on pain pills. He just can’t. There’s no way he could hide it from me this long.


  Of course Sam’s certainty proved nothing. He was no expert on drug addiction, but he knew Dean was right. A person could be hooked and no one ever suspect. He’d seen it from time to time in his previous job. Working in a hospital, even in computer support, you heard stories. Saw things. If a hospital vice president could successfully hide his narcotic habit from his wife, his children and co-workers, who was to say Bo couldn’t do the same? Sam still didn’t quite believe it, but Dean was right. They couldn’t afford to ignore the possibility.

  Yawning, Sam rubbed a hand across his face. In spite of everything that had happened that night—or maybe because of it—he could barely keep his eyes open.

  I’ll talk to Dean some more later, he promised himself, stretching out on the sofa. Maybe his friend would have some idea where to start looking for more clues, and how on earth to confront Bo if they needed to. The very idea made Sam shudder.

  “God, I hope we don’t have to do that,” Sam mumbled, his eyes drifting shut. Sheer exhaustion sucked him in, and he slept.

  Chapter Eleven

  Toward morning, Sam dreamed again. Another nightmare of frigid, crushing blackness, alive with a sense of intelligent menace. He woke damp and shaking in the gray predawn light. Sitting up, he turned on the lamp beside the couch to banish the darkness. It was too easy to see things in the shadows.

  He was in the kitchen making coffee when he heard the shuffle of bare feet behind him. Before he could turn, arms slid around his waist and soft lips brushed the back of his neck.