by Amy Lane
Larx panted, kneading the muscles of Aaron’s shoulders before tangling his hands in Aaron’s hair.
“That’s awesome!” He ground up against Aaron again, and Aaron sucked a little harder. “Great. Fantastic…. God, Aaron, keep moving down, okay?”
Aaron chuckled against his skin and stuck out a pointed tongue. He swept and tickled and nibbled a little more down to the edge of Larx’s boxers, pushing the comforter down as he repositioned himself.
“This is excellent,” he said, excited as a teenager. “I’m going to taste your penis!”
Larx let out a bark of laughter, and Aaron pulled down his shorts. In the faint light from the window, he could see the thing—the big thing, the thing that many people saw as the difference between heterosexual and homosexual sex.
It was both unimpressive and really fucking amazing.
It lay long, erect, and thin against Larx’s abdomen, and the circumcised head was flushed darkly, leaking as it flexed. Aaron licked slowly from the base to the tip, tongue dragging along the veins under the skin.
The surprisingly soft skin.
He grabbed Larx’s cock in his fist and stroked, using the same motion that would please himself. Larx’s moan gratified him and gave him courage at the same time.
He licked the head, closing his eyes at the taste of precome, at Larx’s greedy whine.
Again, and again, the texture of the skin, the sweetness of the pre, the strangled, incoherent begging sounds Larx made—Aaron ground himself against the bed to ease the ache in his own cock.
Larx spread his knees, arching his entire groin up, making it clear he was Aaron’s banquet and Aaron could sample as he wanted.
Aaron wanted the whole meal.
He kept his fist wrapped around Larx’s cock and kept that delirious pressure against the head with his tongue and palate. With his other hand, he reached for the lubricant he’d snuck out of Larx’s dresser. It was there, right by his pillow, exactly where he put it, and he snicked the lid open and dumped some on his fingers.
Multitasking—it was the thing that was really hard to do for yourself. Yeah, Aaron had fingered his own ass in the darkness over the last ten years, and he’d stroked his own cock, but it was the coordination that was hard to manage.
He could do that for Larx. Carefully, aware that this could be an intrusion—and that Larx had said it hadn’t happened in a while—Aaron slid a single digit past the cave of mystery into the little puckered porthole.
Larx moaned and hunched down, taking his finger in to the second knuckle as Aaron wiggled it around a little, trying to stretch the rim.
“Oh my God…. Aaron… oh God. Not gonna last….” He spurted a little in Aaron’s mouth, just to prove it, and Aaron let go of his cock entirely.
Concentrating on his job, he shoved Larx’s thighs up until his knees were spread and his ass was splayed open for Aaron to play with.
Ignoring the taste of the lube—which was vaguely salty—Aaron pulled out his finger and swiped his tongue across Larx’s pucker, taking heart from the way Larx thrashed, begging breathlessly, that he was doing this right.
“More, Aaron—God—”
“Patience, not your strong suit,” Aaron mumbled, licking between words.
“Want you inside me!” Larx begged, and oh! That’s what did it. Aaron pushed up, shoving his shorts down and wiping lube over his cockhead before covering Larx’s body with his own. Carefully, he positioned his aching erection right at Larx’s stretched, lubed entrance.
“Larx, you sure you’re ready?” Aaron asked, agonized. This could hurt—he knew that. But he wanted to be inside Larx as much as Larx wanted it.
Larx cupped his neck with unsteady hands. “Please,” he whispered. “Please.”
Aaron thrust forward slowly, feeling that tight ring of muscle expand around his slickened bell. He studied Larx’s expression, but Larx’s head was back, his eyes closed, his face slack as he made every effort to accommodate this invasion into the snug haven of his body.
And still he kept pushing, shuddering when the warmth and slickness enveloped his cockhead, kept spreading wider as he pushed inside. Larx shook around him, his limbs pliant, his hands fisting the sheets and releasing in the pulse of the desire that rocked his body.
Oh God. Almost there. Almost there. “Oh yes,” Aaron sighed as he nestled firmly in Larx’s ass.
Larx shuddered around him. And again. And then he wrapped his legs around Aaron’s hips, and—eyes at half-mast, too submissive to even look at Aaron and see him—he begged, “Fuck me now, sweetheart. Please. I need it so bad.”
Wow. Just…. Aaron pulled back, feeling the squeeze and glide of that band of muscle, and then he thrust forward, the pressure around his head exquisite. Larx moaned, moving his hands to Aaron’s shoulders, and Aaron did it again and again and again.
“Faster!”
“Nungh!”
Faster, harder. Larx was sturdy, strong, body knotty and weathered, a runner, muscular and tough. Aaron rocketed inside him, the slap of his thighs against Larx’s backside satisfying and dirty at once.
Larx moaned, eyes drifting closed, and Aaron felt the first convulsion of orgasm rock his body. He looked down just in time to see it, a white ribbon in the darkness, striping Larx’s abdomen, painting his chest and the little patch of gray-and-black hair in the center. Larx’s limbs shook, and the things that did to Aaron’s insides….
It was Aaron’s turn to groan, and he muffled the sound in Larx’s neck, wanting to lick up his come and taste it but too engaged in the act of fucking, I’m fucking a man, I’m fucking Larx and he wants it, he came, it’s sticky and bitter under my skin to stop. Larx bucked and keened, lips clamped together in an attempt to keep quiet.
So. Damned. Sexy.
Aaron’s orgasm washed hard, tightening his taint and his asshole, pulling his testicles up into achy little balls, clenching his stomach and throbbing through his cock with a giant, almost painful spasm. He bit down on Larx’s shoulder and Larx made a deep, throaty, satisfied sound that defied description.
Aaron bit again, his entire body convulsing as his orgasm rocked him hard enough to blacken his vision.
He was coming, ejaculating, shooting his spend inside Larx’s body.
Larx was sated, half-conscious, beautifully submissive to Aaron in a way Aaron had never imagined, his thighs splayed, his hands patting limply at Aaron’s neck as he half sobbed into Larx’s ear.
Oh God. Oh God, they’d done it, and it had been beautiful, overwhelming, stunning.
Aaron closed his eyes so tight the tears slipped through, and when Larx tightened his arms around his shoulders, he had no choice but to let go, surrender to the comfort of his lover’s body as his lover had surrendered to the invasion of Aaron’s flesh.
“Oh Larx,” he whispered when he could talk again—could breathe again. “That was so very very—”
“Important,” Larx said, and the desolation in his voice made Aaron’s chest ache.
Oh Larx, you aren’t in this alone.
“Important,” he seconded, licking a drop of sweat as it ran down Larx’s jaw. “Necessary. God…. Larx, I can’t live without your body in my bed. Not anymore. You have to know that now.”
“Good,” Larx whispered, wrapping his arms and legs completely around Aaron’s body and shivering hard. Aaron’s cock slid out, and Aaron felt the loss of that warmth, that shelter, keenly. “I can’t… I can’t go back to life before you,” he said, voice broken. “I don’t know how there was ever a life before you.”
They were grown men, nearing fifty, but it didn’t feel ludicrous at all. Every touch, every whisper, every shiver between them was brand-new. It wasn’t young love—it was worse, bigger, more painful. They’d lost before. They knew the dangers of love. And they fell anyway, whispering each other’s name in the dark, their bodies coated in sweat and come, vulnerable to the cold.
Aaron wanted to be the only warmth Larx would ever need, but eventually he pu
lled the comforter around their shoulders and rolled to his side. Larx pillowed his head on Aaron’s bicep, and they touched softly in the protection of their blanket fort, grown lovers, as lost in the dark as children.
AT SIX in the morning, Aaron’s phone rang next to the bed. He had to practically crawl over Larx to get it, and Larx barely grunted.
“Eamon?” he asked, voice bleary. He thought that was the name on caller ID.
“Deputy? I know I gave you yesterday off while we canvassed the neighborhood and tried to ID the corpse, but something’s come up, and we need you.”
“Come up?” Oh yes, something had come up the night before. It took a minute—Aaron had to shake himself before he realized that the only people who would want to talk about that were him and Larx.
“Yessir. Our canvass team found some blood on one of the docks out here at the lake. It’s a private dock—it serves ten of the residences here, and we have warrants to search the grounds and the garages of each of those houses.”
Well, that was a big job—but usually one they could leave to the poor deputies who were working that weekend.
“And you need me for this because why?”
“Because one of the names on the list of homeowners was Olson.”
And that suddenly, Aaron was wide-awake. “Olson?”
“Whitney and Carl Olson.”
“Oh my God.” Aaron’s side of the bed backed up against the wall, so he made moves to slither out at the bottom. “Have you spoken to either one of them? Their lawyer? Anything?”
“See, that’s where you’re needed here. This is going to be a complete and total surprise—and if you’re here, we can serve three houses at the same time, which means—”
Aaron slid completely down and landed on the ground with a thump. “We can catch them by surprise,” he said excitedly. “Bright and early, seven in the morning, found the body, found the blood, we can search everyone’s house. ‘Oh, hey there, Mrs. Olson, we didn’t know this was you, fancy that, do you have any idea who was floating in your lake two days ago?’”
Eamon’s chuckle was decidedly unfriendly. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“I’m totally in,” Aaron muttered, standing up and shivering. They hadn’t turned on the thermostat the night before—Larx was probably one of those heathens who waited until it got really cold before he did that, which meant that Aaron was running around naked in a room so chilly he could see his breath. “Just let me get dressed.”
“Meet us at the entrance to Mustang Estates,” Eamon told him. “I’ll bring coffee this time if you promise to bring me some of Larx’s fifty-fifty tomorrow.”
Aaron paused in the act of pulling boxer shorts from his knapsack. “I’ll, uh, tell him,” he said, realizing that would mean he’d spent the night at Larx’s three nights in a row.
“Is that going to cause a problem?” Eamon asked mildly.
Aaron’s cheeks burned, and he shimmied into his boxers as fast as possible while he spoke. “Just trying to find a sleepover rhythm,” he mumbled.
“Rhythm? Boy, if you fit into a man’s life as easily as you fit into that man’s kitchen, your rhythm is that you go to sleep in his bed and you wake up in his bed and you go to sleep in his bed and you wake up in his bed. Jesus, do I have to show you where to put your pecker?”
Aaron flipped his T-shirt over his head. “No, sir,” he said, his entire body sweating by now. “We figured that out on our own.”
“I am relieved to hear it. Now get your ass in gear and get down here. You’ve got forty-five minutes.”
Eamon signed off, and Aaron pulled his pants on and slid his cell phone in his back pocket. Then he slid his khaki shirt on and clipped on his badge before tucking everything into place and buckling on his holster. His gun had been packed in a locked case in his knapsack, and he pulled it out and snapped it in place with fingers long accustomed to the task.
“I forget,” Larx mumbled from the bed, startling him.
Aaron grabbed socks and boots from the bag and went to the edge of the bed, shoving Larx back a little so he could sit down.
“Forget what?” he asked, keeping his voice soft. He wanted to think of Larx warm and sleepy as Aaron got ready to face his day.
“You and the gun.” They’d kept the lights off the night before. Larx hadn’t been able to obsess about Aaron’s scars, but Aaron knew a reckoning was coming.
“Yeah. I have one,” Aaron admitted, leaning down to kiss Larx’s temple. “I rarely draw it, but it’s what I do.”
Larx cupped his cheek. “Such a gentle lover,” he slurred. “Hard to believe you carry a gun.”
Aaron’s heart swelled to the point of aching, and he captured Larx’s hand and placed a kiss in his palm. “I’ll always be your gentle lover,” he promised. “My job won’t ever change that, okay?”
“Deal.” Larx smiled, and his hand slipped down limply. “Where you going?”
“To serve a warrant to the Olson family.”
Larx’s eyes tried hard to open. “For reals?”
“For really really,” Aaron told him. “I’ll call you when I’m done, okay? Maybe bring you coffee?”
“Bring yourself, Deputy. No new holes. It’s all I ask.”
“Well, start the bonfire without me if I can’t make it before afternoon,” Aaron said—it was only practical. “And maybe let Kirby go get some more clothes if Christi is taking Kellan to the hospital as well.”
Larx groaned. “I might as well get up now.”
“You absolutely will not!” Aaron laughed, putting his hand on Larx’s arm to keep him still. Larx’s mouth might have been saying “Get up!” but his muscles were abandoned and limp. “You, my friend, are going to stay here and sleep until at least eight o’clock. I know you’ve got a day of phone calls and home improvement in front of you, but the least you could do is get enough sleep to get it done.”
“You sound all bossy. Just because you topped doesn’t make you the boss of me. Wait until I top. I will be so sweet and submissive to you the next day, you’ll have to check to make sure it was my cock in your ass.”
Aaron laughed throatily, not sure if it was the sleep or the man talking but thinking he was funny and uninhibited this way. “I’ll definitely know whose cock was in my ass,” he whispered next to Larx’s ear before nibbling a moment on the lobe. “Now be good and I’ll turn on your thermostat before I leave.”
Larx groaned in pure hedonism. “You do love me.”
It wasn’t even a question. It was as simple and as real as falling in love with his wife had been. “Of course I do,” Aaron whispered into his ear.
And then he kissed Larx on the cheek one more time and slipped away before Larx could realize what he’d said and panic about it. It was no more than the truth.
LESS THAN an hour later, he, Sheriff Mills, and the entire complement of deputies were standing in a huddle near Eamon’s unit, waiting for their warrant assignments.
“Everyone know where to go?” Eamon asked, and of course they did.
“Yards, pool houses, outbuildings, garages, cars,” Aaron said smartly. “The line is drawn at the door to the house. If we find anything interesting, we get Andrea and Gracie”—he indicated the two forensic investigators—“to collect it and test it for residue. If we find blood, bodies, or weapons, we have probable cause and we can search the house. Did I cover it, boss?”
Eamon nodded. “You make sure you cover your asses,” he said seriously. “These people are rich. Most of them have lawyers to validate their morning dump, and if you so much as sneeze on their Bentleys, we’ll be the ones up on charges. Are we clear?”
“Yessir!”
Aaron looked at Warren Coolidge, who was the guy he usually ended up partnered with when they did things like this. “You want me to serve while you poke around a bit?” he asked.
“I understand she’s a ripe bitch. You’re welcome to her.”
Aaron nodded and then remembered Larx’s opinion about t
he two crimes being linked. “Look, keep your eyes open for anything. Clothing, signs of trying to destroy evidence, hunting knives—”
“But wasn’t this guy shot?”
Aaron huffed out a breath. “Two violent crimes in what? Two, three days?”
Warren was younger than Aaron—pretty, with blue eyes framed with black lashes, and a full, red mouth—but he had a content, uninquisitive sort of mind. Aaron had seen him lots of times without his shirt, but never, not once, had he felt the urge to follow him anywhere and beg him not to run in the road. It was starting to occur to him how much he had enjoyed Larx’s person—and not just his pretty, shiny chest.
And finally—finally—Warren arrived at the conclusion that Larx had beat them all to the day before.
“You think the kid getting stabbed was connected?”
Aaron shrugged. “It’s an idea,” he said. He remembered Larx saying that Whitney had arrived late, out of breath, with wet hair. Mustang Estates was about twenty minutes from the high school. Fifteen if you sped like you were covered in blood and didn’t want anyone to see. How long had they waited for the ambulance? How long had the paramedics worked on Isaiah before they left the scene? How long had it taken to round up the kids and start the spotlight search? Long enough for a woman to run to her car, drive home and shower, then drive back?
Think… think… think…. Well, it would depend on where she’d parked her car, wouldn’t it?
Aaron remembered seeing Julia in a corner, texting furiously—not to a friend in the crowd.
“George!” Eamon barked, and Aaron pulled his mind to the here and now.
“Yessir, we’re moving.” Warren had ridden with Eamon, and Aaron gestured for him to get in the car along with Gracie.
His stomach vibrated in anticipation, a thrill of electricity riding him. The last time he’d felt like this, he and Warren were knocking on the door of a mom-and-pop weed operation, and it had been the reason he’d heard the click of the gun before the first shot. Listening to this humming had saved his and Warren’s lives that day—he was hoping it would serve them just as well now.
