The Last One to Let You Down

by K. L. Hiers

  Cypress laughed softly, biting down on Tom’s neck until he groaned. “Mmm. You bet your fuckin’ sweet little ass I did. I missed you so much. Your laugh, your smile… how you say my name when I’m inside of you.”

  “Cypress,” Tom whispered, fingering himself hard enough to stir up a loud moan, losing the sound in Cypress’s hot lips.

  They writhed together, claiming kisses and bites, the tension building until Tom thought he might scream. He had opened himself up, his hole slick and soft, and his fingers weren’t enough. He could feel Cypress’s cock so close to where he wanted him, and he was ready to start begging.

  Not yet. No, Cypress wanted him to wait, to be patient, and he would be rewarded. Tom knew they weren’t in a scene, but the intense desire to be good—to be a good boy—was consuming his thoughts.

  He could do this. He could wait, and it would be worth it.

  After what felt like hours, Cypress’s cock began to press inside of him finally. Tom’s head flopped back against the pillows as he felt the familiar stretch, willing his body to relax and take every fat inch of cock.

  “So good, it’s so good,” Tom moaned, grabbing onto Cypress’s broad shoulders to keep himself anchored to reality. He needed this, he needed to be filled, to be fucked, and he couldn’t wait for Cypress to give it to him.

  Cypress thrust slow, deep, his cock gliding in and out so patiently that they both felt every second of the sweet drag. He nuzzled Tom’s throat, their hands joining as he pressed them into the bed.

  Being held down like that felt good, and Tom squeezed his legs around Cypress’s hips as he started plunging forward with more force. Tom was grateful for his strong grip to keep him from scooting up the bed from the force of each delicious slam. Every one was followed by a brief pause, just long enough for Tom to savor the resonating sting in his ass before another thrust stole his breath away.

  Tom squeezed Cypress’s hands, seeking release to touch. The second it was granted, he reached down to feel where they were joined, wet and hot, his body so tender where Cypress’s cock was stretching him out. He dared to tug at the edge of his hole, pressing the tip of his finger in to make himself moan.

  “Fuck, Tom,” Cypress growled, his hips snapping forward, and he gazed down at him adoringly. “You want more, huh? My fat cock and a toy up in here? You wanna get all fuckin’ blown out, don’t you?”

  “Mmm, fuck, yes,” Tom moaned, trying to force his finger in, his mind running wild from the lewd suggestion. He could do it. He could take it. “Oh, fuck… Cypress…! Please!”

  Cypress was practically purring, rearing back to grab Tom’s legs and hook his feet over his shoulders as he started to pound him toward the finish line. “Please, what, baby? What do you need?”

  “Ah, fuck!” Tom gritted his teeth, trying to adjust to the new rhythm and shifting his hips to angle Cypress’s cock right where he wanted him. “Mm, just like that, just like that.”

  Cypress kissed Tom’s calf, his teeth grazing his shin as he kept thrusting away, his pelvis pivoting like a machine. “Come on, baby. Come on, give it up for me… you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you come…”

  Tom whined, on the edge of having an absolute fit. He was right there, and God, he could hear a thunderous roar in his ears stealing all other sounds away except his own labored breathing and the fierce thumping of his heart. He pushed his finger inside of his hole, slick and tight, and there—it was too much, too much inside of him, and he was coming. He let himself sob, get loud, and his legs jerked as his cock squirted across his stomach.

  “There you go, there you go, baby,” Cypress sighed, sounding so proud and happy. He sped up, fucking Tom frantically and letting out a low groan as he came.

  Oh, God, Tom could feel Cypress’s come leaking out of him as he thrust, slowing down to a languid crawl as they both fought to catch their breath. He felt around his hole, slippery with lube and hot come, whispering in awe, “Fuck, that was so good.”

  “Mmhm.” Cypress eased Tom’s legs down so they could kiss, growling playfully and nipping at Tom’s lip. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

  Tom grinned, scratching Cypress’s beard. “Mmm, God, so are you. Damn, I needed that.”

  “Feeling good?”

  “Oh, so good.” Tom let his arms and legs flop against the bed, laughing happily. “I almost don’t even care we have to talk to Fox tomorrow.”

  “Really?”

  “I said ‘almost.’”

  “Fair.” Cypress smooched his cheek. “Now, we’re gonna get cleaned up, get back in our little jammies, and get some good sleep so we’re ready for tomorrow.”

  “You’ll be here?” Tom perked up.

  “Flower market isn’t open on Sunday, and I don’t have any deliveries except a few baskets and standing spray to your funeral home, but that’s not until later.”

  “Mmm, good. I think I’m gonna like waking up next to you.”

  “Careful,” Cypress warned, winking slyly. “Might turn into a habit.”

  “You know,” Tom said, smiling up at him, “I really don’t think I’m gonna mind.”

  Waking up in Cypress’s strong arms was definitely something Tom could get used to. He had slept well, and it was nice waking up with a warm body next to him instead of being alone. He stretched his legs and snuggled back against him, yawning softly.

  “Mmm, morning,” Cypress said. He sounded awake.

  “Morning,” Tom mumbled. “You up?”

  “Early riser. Been up, walked Mister Doodles, paid her tribute, came back to bed.”

  “Wow,” Tom laughed. “Look at you go, Mr. Early Bird.”

  “Wanted to let you sleep in,” Cypress said, kissing the back of Tom’s neck. “Big day.”

  Tom sighed as he felt a faint tug in his gut. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll be here the whole time,” Cypress promised. “Still feeling okay?”

  “Yeah,” Tom said, surer of himself. “I feel really good. Happy.” He smiled. “Worried, heh, but happy.”

  “Good. Mm, want coffee?”

  “God, yes, please.”

  They got up and ready to face the day, Tom drinking down two cups of coffee to help him transform into a freshly showered and dressed human. He’d gone ahead and put his scrubs on since he was expecting to go to work later, sitting on Cypress’s couch while he nursed cup of coffee number three.

  He could sense his anxiety creeping up his spine, but Cypress eased it away when he sat down next to him and took his hand.

  “You got this,” Cypress said firmly. “Just gonna be talking, that’s it.”

  “Thanks,” Tom said, trying to sound more confident than he was. He nearly dropped the coffee when he heard a loud knock from downstairs, hissing, “Shit.”

  Mister Doodles barked, snarling ferociously.

  “Easy, easy, both of you,” Cypress soothed. “I’ll be right back.”

  Tom watched Cypress head downstairs, presumably to let Fox in, and he clutched at his coffee cup to settle himself down.

  Mister Doodles came over to stand by his feet, watching the door warily. She barked again when Cypress and Fox returned, baring her teeth at them.

  “Hey, Tom,” Fox greeted, giving him a little wave. He smirked at Mister Doodles. “Guard dog?”

  “Man-eater,” Tom replied with a wry smile. “Hey, Fox.”

  “Well, I’d ask how you’re doing, but Shirley tells me you’re in a world of shit,” Fox said, sitting down on the recliner and leaning forward. His expression was stern, all business and getting right to the point. “Now, depending on what we hypothetically discuss here, I may advise you to get a lawyer. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Tom’s panic was ready to pounce, but then Cypress was right there beside him to keep it at bay with a warm hand on his shoulder.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Fox said, offering a tight smile. “Tell me what’s been going on.”

  Tom tried to think about Fox’s nipple rings, hoping it would make this easier if he
didn’t look so tough, but now he only felt awkward.

  Ugh.

  “So, I was seeing a guy at work,” Tom began. “It was Junior, Gerald’s son.”

  Fox’s lip twitched.

  “And he had gotten into trouble and needed some money. At least, that’s what he told me. He wanted me to get him some of the formaldehyde and sell it for him—”

  “Hypothetically,” Cypress cut in quickly.

  “Oh, right. Hypothetically. It was only supposed to be one time. Just one. And hypothetically he kept making me do it even after we broke up and threatened to call the police on me if I didn’t.

  “I had to embalm a man yesterday named Mr. Seymour Ross. Uh, the, uh, stabbing victim.” Tom took a deep breath. “He’s the man I sold all the formaldehyde to. He came to the funeral home at least a dozen times. And this watch, this watch he had with him? I swear it’s Junior’s. It has his name engraved on the back, and it looks like the flashy ones he wears.”

  Fox’s expression hadn’t changed since Tom had begun talking, and Tom started talking faster. He couldn’t tell if Fox thought he was crazy or if he was sizing him up for a cell.

  “Look,” Tom said urgently, “I know it all sounds nuts, but very hypothetically I think Junior might maybe have done it. I mean, you guys think he had something to do with the burglaries, right? And the watch, I can show it to you. I maybe hypothetically borrowed it from work because I was worried Junior might try to steal it back.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Fox said with a firm shake of his head. “I can only assume the medical examiners’ office was done with the watch if they released it with Mr. Ross’s body. I will say, hypothetically, there was only a partial print found on it, and we didn’t find a match in the system.”

  “Wait, it wasn’t Junior’s?” Tom frowned, glancing at Cypress and back to Fox. “What does that mean?”

  “No, it’s definitely his, but no prints does not mean much except Junior hadn’t touched it recently,” Fox replied. “We have his prints from his drug priors to compare. Not a match.”

  “Well, fuck.”

  “Hypothetically, he is a person of interest in Mr. Ross’s death, but he has an alibi. Not a great one, but it hasn’t cracked yet. We asked him about the watch, he admitted it’s his, but he has no idea how Mr. Ross got it. Claims he lost it.” Fox stroked his mustache. “Did anyone else know what you were doing at the funeral home?”

  “No,” Tom replied. “I’m in charge of ordering and inventory for the prep room so I could, uh, cover it up.” He cringed at the confession. “But I swear I’ve stopped. I told Junior I was done, and I didn’t care what happened.”

  “Well, I have some good news,” Fox said.

  “Really?” Tom brightened.

  “I know absolutely nothing about formaldehyde so I have no idea what you could be charged with for selling it,” Fox replied. “Distribution of hazardous chemicals? Maybe there’s a specific state funeral law? It’s not a controlled substance, so I have no idea.”

  “I don’t feel any better.” Tom sagged immediately.

  “You’re about to feel worse. We hypothetically found some of the stolen items from the families you served in Mr. Ross’s home. The burglaries and his death are connected, and I’m looking for a break to nail Junior’s ass to the wall for all of it.”

  “Hypothetically?”

  “You need to watch your ass and stay the hell away from him. I’m guessing he knows where you live?”

  “Yes,” Tom said glumly.

  Fox looked to Cypress. “You okay with him staying with you for a little while?”

  “You think Tom is in danger?” Cypress narrowed his eyes.

  “I think once I start pushing on Junior again, he’s gonna think someone talked, and there’s no one left to talk except Tom.”

  “Fuck,” Tom gasped, fear twisting up his gut. “You think he’d come after me?”

  “Were you gonna tell us about any of this?” Cypress demanded. “What the fuck, Fox?”

  “Look, we found some embalming fluid over at Mr. Ross’s house, but I thought Junior was trading it for drugs,” Fox protested. “I didn’t know Tom was involved until you guys told me.”

  “Junior had me sell it to get cash to go buy drugs from someone else,” Tom mumbled. “I guess ol’ Seymour wasn’t into cocaine.”

  “Why do you keep calling him that?”

  “Isn’t that his name?”

  “Not legally, no. It’s a nickname. His name is actually Samuel.”

  “Oh. The family told us Seymour.”

  Fox looked like he had another thought but didn’t share it. “I’m hypothetically now advising you to take some time off work and stay over here with Cypress until I can find Junior.”

  “I can’t miss work, I’ve got to—”

  “Look, you tell them you’re sick. You tell them you’re pissing out of your ass if you have to.” Fox stood from the recliner. “But don’t go to work. If you see Junior, you call me.”

  “Is he… missing?” Tom felt sick. “I just saw him at work yesterday.”

  “He left the funeral he was working yesterday before it was over, and now he isn’t answering his phone. I don’t think he has the cash to run, but you never know what his father might do to help him. You see him, you call me immediately.”

  “Yeah. Got it.”

  “I would look into getting that lawyer,” Fox said gravely. “I’ll keep in touch. If things go down with Junior like I think they are, hypothetically, I’ll need you to come down to the station and make an official statement.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  Fox shook Cypress’s hand and patted Tom’s shoulder. “Take care of each other.”

  “We will,” Cypress promised. “And if you hear anything you think we should know—”

  “I will call you.” Fox shrugged. “Hypothetically.”

  Tom wished there was booze in his coffee as he sipped it, waving farewell to Fox as he left. He waited until he heard the back door slam before mumbling, “I never want to hear the word ‘hypothetically’ ever again.”

  “That makes two of us,” Cypress agreed, letting out a long sigh. “Well, shit. You okay?”

  “Heh. Junior still could be a murderer, and Fox thinks he might come after me. So, uh, not so great.” Tom set the coffee down and rubbed his face. “Ugh. This sucks.”

  “I know.” Cypress hugged him close, kissing the top of his head. “I can’t believe they haven’t arrested that little shit. I get he has an alibi for the murder, but what about the damn burglaries?”

  “He was working services when most of them happened,” Tom explained. “I figured that out talking to everybody at work. He could have done a few of them, but not all.”

  “Maybe he had help,” Cypress suggested. “Think about it. He meets with the families, figures out how much money they have and if it would be worth breaking into their homes, and he gets a second person to do the dirty work.”

  “Wow,” Tom laughed. “You really are Sherlock, huh?”

  “Makes sense, right?” Cypress grinned. “He can’t be in two places at once, so I guarantee he’s got someone helping him.”

  “Yeah, but there’s a problem with your genius plan. He didn’t meet with the majority of those families, so how would he know which ones to break into?”

  “Well, he would have access to their paperwork, right? Look up their houses on Google?” Cypress shrugged. “I’m just saying the simplest answer is usually the right one. We think Junior did it, but he couldn’t have done it on his own. So, logically, he had a partner.”

  “Who could be anyone,” Tom said glumly.

  “Fox is a great detective.” Cypress kissed Tom’s brow reassuringly. “I know he’s doing everything he can to find out who’s doing this, okay?”

  “And I’m supposed to what, lay low until he catches him or whoever?” Tom bowed his head down. “What am I supposed to tell Gerald? Sorry, I think your son might try to kill me so I can’
t come in today?”

  “Tell them whatever you need to. You’re more than welcome to hang out here for a little while.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. I guess I’ll think of something.” Tom held up his head stubbornly. “But I’m still going in to finish Mr. Lundy.”

  “Tom—”

  “Look, I have to finish him,” Tom insisted. “No one else can do it. Let me go in this afternoon, fix Mr. Lundy up, and I’ll tell Gerald and Mr. Crosby I need to take some time off.”

  “Let me give you a ride at least,” Cypress offered. “I’ve gotta make a delivery at the funeral home anyway, and I can wait for you outside. Then we can go by your place to pick up some more clothes. Whatever you need to crash here.”

  “Thank you,” Tom said sincerely. “Look, if it gets to be too much trouble, I can go to a hotel.”

  “I think we’ll be fine,” Cypress said with a smile. “You wanna go ahead and get going?”

  Tom tugged at the collar of his scrubs. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

  Mister Doodles got one more walk before they left, and Tom helped Cypress load the arrangements he had to deliver in the back of the flower van. Cypress held his hand the whole drive over to the funeral home, parking right beside the garage doors.

  “Thank you,” Tom said suddenly, hesitating to leave. “Really. For all of this.”

  “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t help keep you safe from a potential crazed murderer?” Cypress teased.

  “But seriously, thank you—wait.” Tom turned to face Cypress, laughing. He couldn’t quite believe he’d heard him correctly. “Boyfriend?”

  “If you’re still interested in dating.”

  “Yes,” Tom said without hesitation.

  “Well, we’d better figure out how to keep your fine ass out of jail because I was serious about not dating criminals.” Cypress winked, beckoning Tom over for a kiss.

  Tom sighed happily as their lips met, but he was also very aware someone from work might see them. He started to pull away and caught a glimpse of Cypress’s dazzling smile.

  Fuck it.

  Unbuckling his seatbelt, he surged forward to kiss Cypress again, his desire cranked from zero to a hundred in mere seconds. This was it. They were dating. He had no idea what changed Cypress’s mind, and he didn’t care.