The Missing Butterfly

by Megan Derr

  Though he was all for finding a more accommodating surface and disposing of their clothing, for the moment Malcolm kept the kiss slow and easy, like savoring a fine wine until Cassidy began to soften and relax in his arms, until it no longer felt like Cassidy would shake himself apart any second.

  "Cass," he said softly when the slow kisses finally stopped, brushing feather-light kisses across his face, nuzzling one cheek. "Please, don't be scared of me."

  Cassidy surprised him by clinging, and Malcolm was really starting to wish they weren't in his damned car. "You're my boss, and I need that job, and what happens when you no longer need me but I need the job?"

  "Fuck that," Malcolm said. "I don't need the job. I'll quit if you want me to, because this isn't about me being your boss."

  "Quit?" Cassidy demanded, recoiling. "How can you—but I guess money is no object, is it?"

  Malcolm yanked him close and kissed him again, but this time it was hard and bruising. He wanted Cassidy to feel it long after the kiss ended. "Stop it," he said when they broke apart. "Stop finding fucking excuses. Yeah, I have money. But I didn't ask for it, and I don't flaunt it. Are you even going to give this a try, or are you just going to keep looking for excuses to hide away?"

  The very last thing he expected Cassidy to do was laugh. "So a Maserati isn't flaunting?" he asked, ducking his head to hide his amusement.

  "Oh, shut up," Malcolm replied, mouth twitching. "Besides that."

  Cassidy nodded. "As hot as your not flaunting it piece is, I would really prefer we go somewhere more comfortable."

  "Sure," Malcolm said and started the car again. Then he realized he had no idea where they were. "Just tell me how to get back to the highway."

  "You got us lost?" Cassidy asked, doing a poor job of smothering a laugh.

  "Oh, be quiet," Malcolm said. "I was more interested in calming you down. I swear, man, it's depressing how scared you are of me by day and holy hell, how different you are by night." He wanted to explore those tattoos with his tongue for a very long time, and then the rest of the lithe, compact little body.

  Cassidy made a choked noise. "I'm not scared of you. I was freaked out by wanting my boss, and then trying not to die of pent up lust after that night in the car followed by you having no fucking clue."

  Malcolm groaned. "It is so very weird to hear Mr. Proper Little Office Monkey talk like that."

  This time, Cassidy's laugh was low and husky. "Weirder than knowing it was me straddling your lap and all but begging for a ride?"

  "Stop that right now!" Malcolm said with a strangled laugh. "I still have to drive. Fucking hell, your little office routine hides a hell of a lot of evil."

  Cassidy said nothing, but there was a lingering smirk in his voice as he said, "Turn right here, then left at the light, that should take us back to the highway."

  Malcolm nodded and asked, "So where are we going? Are your siblings expecting you back anytime soon?"

  "They told me it was my birthday weekend, and if I came back before Sunday afternoon, they'd resort to blackmail and other nefarious means," Cassidy said, amused and aggravated. "Speaking of people making decisions and doing things for me, am I ever going to be allowed to pay for my food at Carlos'?"

  "No," Malcolm said. "Not if you're dating me."

  Cassidy was silent, and Malcolm wondered if he'd gone too far too fast. Or maybe Cassidy didn't want…

  "I'm not a very good bet," Cassidy said, so quietly Malcolm barely heard him. "Too much baggage."

  Malcolm nearly stopped the car right then and there, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Fuck that," he finally managed to say, unable to form a more intelligent, adult response. "You want baggage, we can compare sets. I don't give a damn about baggage. I just want to know if you're willing to give us a try. And by the way I won't take no for an answer."

  Cassidy sighed. "I can't believe you fucking found me. I can't believe we've never crossed paths before, at least at Jim's."

  "Me neither. Apparently you popped in here and there, and I never noticed."

  "I never noticed you either," Cassidy replied. "You gave me a fucking heart attack that night."

  "Yeah, well, you left me with a hard on and massively confused," Malcolm replied. "It's really not fair you've known this whole time, and I was the drunken clueless one."

  Cassidy snorted. "Stop getting drunk and stumbling into bar fights. Speaking of, you get into a lot of fights, don't you?"

  "Not on purpose," Malcolm replied. "Mostly I just have bad taste in boyfriends. Until now, anyway."

  "We'll see," Cassidy said softly, but Malcolm would take it, because 'we'll see' was a definite maybe, possibly even a 'yes' and the rest was just details.

  "So we still haven't decided where we're going," Malcolm said. "If you don't decide in the next five minutes, we're going to my place." His words were met only with silence, and Malcolm wondered if he'd gone too far again. It was going to take getting used to, Cassidy's odd blend of bad boy and straight-laced. "No suggestions?" he finally asked, when he couldn't take the silence another second.

  He could just see Cassidy's mouth curve, from the corner of his eye in the dark. "I was waiting five minutes."

  Malcolm was silent a moment, startled—then laughed and laughed and really wished they did not still have an hour's worth of driving still to go.

  Chapter Nine

  Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god. He was in such deep shit, but how was he supposed to care when Malcolm tasted so fucking good—hot and male and a hint of beer. They hadn't even made it out of the parking garage, and he couldn't care about that either, not when his hands were shoved up under Malcolm's shirt and Malcolm's hands were gripping his ass—

  He moaned and scraped his nails across sweat-slick skin, already half in love with the way that made Malcolm shiver. God, it was so fucking stupid to be giving in like this, no matter what Malcolm said or how convincingly he said it, but nothing else felt so good and right outside of standing behind a microphone and singing his heart out.

  "You know," he managed to say between kisses and moans. "This still isn't talking."

  "No," Malcolm agreed, sounding almost cheerful, and nipped along the length of his throat, interspersing the sharp bites with laps of his tongue at random points. "We'll get there. Eventually."

  Cassidy couldn't bring himself to argue with that, and said only, "Why don't we get to your bed? Or at least your place, and not your parking garage."

  Chuckling against his mouth, dropping once last hard, long kiss upon it, Malcolm pulled away and led the way across the parking garage to an elevator where he had to use a key before he could push the button for his floor.

  Then Malcolm dragged him close again, and Cassidy went easily, drunk on how it felt to be so free and easy with Malcolm, that Malcolm obviously loved what he was seeing. Alcohol had nothing on the buzz of being seen and wanted.

  The chiming of the elevator broke into the kiss, and he pulled his hands out of the back of Malcolm's jeans only because they had to leave the elevator.

  He got a glimpse of a kitchen, living room, the city lights beyond, hallway, and then he landed with a grunt on what seemed to be a very large bed. Then Malcolm was covering him, his weight pressing Cassidy into the bed, and it could only be better if—"Naked," he gasped out and suited word to deed by fumbling for Malcolm's shirt and getting it off, raking his nails down Malcolm's smooth chest, completely in love now with that little shiver.

  Then the rest of their clothes were dispensed with, and he drank in the sight of a naked Malcolm, committing all the fine details of it to memory, the way the dimmed lighting turned his skin a warm gold, the sheen of sweat upon it, the soft brown hair tousled by Cassidy's hands. "You are too goddamned pretty for your own good—or mine."

  Malcolm laughed and grabbed hold of Cassidy's right wrist, lifting it to his mouth and kissing each butterfly he could reach, tongue sliding across them as though enjoying some treat. "I'm pretty? Fuck, Cass, you're positively deadl
y."

  "Only if you don't fuck me," Cassidy replied and abruptly shoved with his free hand, sending Malcolm toppling over with a startled yelp. Snickering, Cassidy straddled him—but the laughing rapidly turned into moaning then, when they both had the breath left to make any sound at all.

  "Stuff is in my nightstand," Malcolm managed to get out, and Cassidy rolled off him so Malcolm could get to the nightstand.

  Soon enough they were back to touching and gasping, and Christ, it had been a long damned time since he'd let anyone at his ass. Not in a million years had he thought it would ever actually be Malcolm's fingers pushing and turning and stretching him, though he'd always known that he'd beg this shamelessly if it was Malcolm.

  Above him, Malcolm muttered something Cassidy didn't quite catch, but then he stopped caring, as the fingers withdrew and Malcolm was pushing inside him, so hot even through the condom, and he was tight enough still he'd be feeling Malcolm for days.

  The next time they did this, he definitely wanted to ride, but for the moment he was more than happy to hold on for dear life and let Malcolm fuck him through the mattress until they both came with shouts that filled the bedroom.

  He waited for the moment of panic, the urge to flee, the oh shit oh shit oh shit what have I done, as they cleaned up and settled down. He really should leave, return home, and hope like hell this wasn't going to cost him his job—

  But he was tired, from drinking and singing, the nastiest shock of his life followed by running like a bat out of hell, then all that had transpired with Malcolm… There was also the simple fact that Malcolm felt good, pressed up against him from behind, arm a reassuring weight draped over him.

  It was impossible to feel alone, wrapped up with someone in bed, warm and sated and sleepy. But, responsibility could not be entirely ignored. "I should call home, tell them I won't be home until tomorrow?" He tried to make it a statement, not a question, but it was hard to believe that Malcolm would let him stay the night even if all evidence pointed to that very thing.

  Malcolm yawned, then shifted, rolling away briefly to fetch something from the far nightstand. A phone, Cassidy realized. "What about your car?" Malcolm asked.

  Cassidy froze, then groaned and buried his head in the pillow. He heard Malcolm laugh, then a warm kiss was pressed to his shoulder. Of all the—he'd actually forgotten about his damned car. Christ, he was an idiot. He glanced up as Malcolm started speaking, wondering how the hell he was going to muster the energy to go fetch his car at this hour.

  But Malcolm was talking on the phone, not to him, he realized. "Jerry, hey. Two favors—one, call this number," he rattled of Cassidy's home number, "and tell them Mr. Cassidy will not be returning until Sunday evening. Two, need you to send a couple of boys to go fetch a car from Bridgton for me." He listed all the necessary information about Cassidy's car and finished with, "I'll leave the keys outside the door. That's fine. Thanks, Jerry. Bye."

  Replacing the phone on the nightstand, Malcolm looked at Cassidy. "Where are your car keys?"

  "Uh. Pants. No clue where those are, though," Cassidy looked around the room without really seeing anything, mind awhirl.

  Malcolm smirked, and threw back the covers to clamber out of bed, presenting Cassidy with a splendid, evil view as he hunted around the bedroom for their discarded clothes. It almost made Cassidy forget what was going on. "Did you—is someone actually going to get my car? Linds and Denny are going to give me unmitigated hell, you realize, when they get a call from your whatever that I won't be home." Until Sunday evening, Malcolm had said. That meant they were spending all of Saturday together? The thought terrified and thrilled him all at once.

  He'd barely finished speaking when his phone started going nuts with the chiming—two texts right in a row, and he knew exactly who they were from and what they were about, groaning as Malcolm rifled through the pants he'd located and tossed Cassidy his cell phone.

  The first text was from Lindsay and said, 'Getting laid in style, nice.' He was so going to kill her. When had his sweet little sister turned so damned dirty?

  The second text was from Denny, and said only, 'hahaha' which in Denny speak, meant he would never, ever, in a thousand years, let Cassidy live down the fact a third party had called them to inform them Mr. Cassidy would not be home for a couple of days.

  "I hate siblings," Cassidy said, tossing the phone aside and flopping back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Then he glared at Malcolm. "I'm going to kill you."

  Malcolm laughed. "Be right back." He left the room, Cassidy's car keys jingling, bare ass horribly distracting until it vanished.

  That's when the panic began to set in, pounding through his head ninety miles a minute. He'd just begged his boss to fuck him. His boss lived in a penthouse and drove a car that cost more than Cassidy's house and had arranged for people to just go pick his car up two hours away and oh, god, he so should not be here.

  "Hey—"

  Cassidy jumped, and wondered when Malcolm had returned. Anything Cassidy might have said was cut off by a kiss, slow and deep and soothing. He loved how it felt when Malcolm sank a hand into his hair, tangling his fingers in Cassidy's curls.

  Malcolm shifted, so that he was laying half on top, half alongside Cassidy on the bed, a tangle of limbs and linens. The kisses were a low burn, and Cassidy did not really mind when the steady fire consumed his rush of panic.

  "Stop looking so scared," Malcolm said when they at last broke apart, brushing a last soft kiss to his jaw. "I promise, Cass, I have no intention of hurting you. Leaving you sore, yes. Hurting you, no."

  Cassidy managed to smile at that. He just couldn't… he wanted to be here, so damned much. Common sense said he should get dressed and grab a taxi, figure out his damned car tomorrow. But common sense wasn't being loud enough to drowned out want and need, which cried out to stay put.

  So stay put he did, against all sense, pulling Malcolm down for another long session of kissing, and whatever else they could muster the energy to do.

  The smell of coffee woke him, and the growling of his stomach kept him from any chance of going back to sleep. Yawning, refusing to think too much because that would only lead to panicking, Cassidy sat up in bed and swung his legs over the edge. He scrubbed at his face, then took in the bedroom for the first time and wasn't that sad. But, there'd been no real chance last night. Beyond stumbling to the bathroom, then back to bed, he hadn't paid any attention to his surroundings.

  It was a handsome room, green and gray, mellow wood. All high quality stuff, that was easy to see at a glance. He moved to the window on the far side of the room, and drew back the curtains. Then he had to pick his jaw up off the floor when he saw the view of the city below. He knew this building, it was the only apartment building in the city tall enough to look down on the city this way. The Swallow building. A penthouse here… if he even dared to think about the cost, he'd give himself a heart attack.

  Dropping the curtain back in place, he turned and headed for the bathroom. This, too, was nicer than he'd bothered to notice last night. Black and white was the theme throughout, but it didn't come off as cold as he would have thought.

  He wondered briefly if he should ask or something before getting a shower. Malcolm was the reason his ass was sore, however, so he could permit Cassidy a shower.

  Cassidy was really hoping Malcolm hadn't changed his mind, and Cassidy would be sticking around until Sunday. Come Monday, he'd have a hell of a lot of thinking and decision making to do, but he could play pretend for a day and a half, right?

  Putting his tangled thoughts aside, he turned on the shower and once the water was right, slid inside. Oh, that felt wonderful. It didn't matter how he fiddled with his shower, he could never really get it as nice as he would like. This was fantastic, it felt like bliss.

  He was just reaching for the soap when he heard the door open, turning when he heard the shower curtain move and felt cold air from outside slip in. "Good morning," Malcolm said, looking him up
and down, eyes at a low burn when they met Cassidy's.

  Cassidy groaned. "Stop looking at me like that. You've had at me enough for now."

  Malcolm laughed. Fuck, Cassidy could stare at him forever and a day. "I was just coming to see if you were amenable to being awake. I guess so. Coffee's on. Breakfast is on its way." He leaned into the shower, uncaring that his head was getting soaked, and stole a quick, hard kiss.

  Then he was gone, leaving Cassidy bemused but smiling.

  So he obviously wasn't being kicked out quite yet. Cassidy finished his shower quickly, then returned to the bedroom. There, he found his clothes were nowhere to be found. On the bed, however, was a pair of black lounge pants and a worn and faded green tank top. Pulling on the clothes, he kept the towel to scrub at his hair as he wandered down the hall to the main portion of the house.

  Like the bedroom, the living room was handsomely done, but in tones and colors that made Cassidy think of a sunset. Most of it also looked new, and he wondered idly if Malcolm had lived here long. He shrugged the thought off, though, far more interested in the smell of coffee—good coffee.