Eventually I got us over to a booth on our own with some excuse, and blocked him in. "You gonna be okay?" I asked, looking at his eyes, trying to judge his expression.
He nodded hard and looked down into his soda, hands clamped around the glass. His jaw muscles were so tight they showed a slight trembling. I put a hand on his back and rubbed the tiniest amount to comfort him. Even that was too much and sent a sexual zing through me. I wished I hadn't touched him at all.
"Honey, are you gonna be okay?" I repeated. I'd never have called him honey outside of the safe confines of The Boys Are.
His cheeks heated again. "It's just … new," he said. "It's been a while."
Yeah, I supposed it had. Probably since before he'd met the abusive boyfriend. Hell, maybe he'd even met the guy in a place like this.
Would Gruver have liked this place? Would he have fooled everybody into thinking he was a great guy? Abusers were often good at that. It made me sad to think of Sky falling for somebody like that and getting hurt, when he'd most deserved and desperately needed to feel safe.
"You won't tell them about him, will you?" Sky croaked, swallowing visibly.
"Of course not. I'll just act overprotective for some other reason if you need some space."
He laughed a little at that, and raised his grateful gaze to meet mine, confiding and shy, and somehow … yearning. "We won't stay long, right?" He touched my arm. "I thought I'd be cooler than this."
I hugged him against me, one arm around him, tugging him against my side. "It's cool."
I wondered if Josh or Kenny was up for a quickie in the bathroom.
Paul wouldn't be pleased, but he'd just have to lump it. "This is a classy joint," he'd lecture me later. But hell, I had to get some action tonight or I'd burst. Sky was just too appealing, impinging on my consciousness all the time lately.
His scowl darkened as if he guessed the direction of my thoughts. He leaned a little closer and whispered, earnestly and very clearly, "You know I'd be better in bed than two guys you've never even thought of lately. You know I would!"
"Whoa, is that where this trip was going?" I raised my hands and backed off a little, acting surprised. My heart was sinking fast.
He nodded shyly, and looked back down at the table again, blinking quickly — probably hoping I couldn't see the glint of tears in his eyes. "I was h-hoping."
"Sky." I sighed. "You deserve a real boyfriend, and we work together."
"I d-don't. I wouldn't out you."
"What if things went south? Huh? We'd be stuck together all the fucking time, or have to find some excuse not to be — and come on, you read my every mood. I read most of yours. What if we weren't both totally into it — or you wanted me to come out, and I couldn't stand to?"
It wasn't hypothetical. That was non-negotiable for me.
"You think the captain would just reassign one of us without a good reason?" I pushed.
"That won't—"
I interrupted, not letting him finish his denial. "No. He wouldn't."
Sky gripped my arm hard. "Please. Just think about it."
"I do," I said through gritted teeth. I removed his arm carefully from mine, extra careful not to use pressure. "Now you need to let me go and get laid. And if you do anything, be safe."
"Hunt. Please."
"Don't beg for sex, honey. It's not classy."
I scooted out of the booth and went towards the bathroom, walking kind of slowly, and waiting till Paul wasn't paying attention before catching Kenny's eye. He put down his beer, straightened up a little, and tugged at his shirt self-consciously. It was something green, probably bought at Tractor Supply.
He glanced at Sky, then the bar. I went into the bathroom and washed my hands for something to do. After a minute, Kenny joined me.
"Hey," he said, breathless and grinning. He caught hold of me and kissed me. He tasted like beer and peanuts, his hard mouth feeling welcome after all these months, even with the clash of remembered awkwardness and discomfort.
"Let's hurry. I gotta get him home."
"What, you're his keeper? For real?" He arched a tattered eyebrow. The man was as scarred-up as an old alley cat. All that farm machinery and barbed wire, and twelve-hour days.
I nodded. I hadn't seen him in a while. I pushed my hands up under his shirt, feeling the muscles, hard and hot and as twitchy as I was feeling.
"I thought maybe…" His voice trailed off. Then he shrugged. "I wondered if he was your guy. He seems to want to be."
"We work together," I explained.
He gave me a surprisingly knowing look on his hard, mostly blank face. "It's the scars, ain't it?"
I tried to look like a wall, no expression at all.
"C'mon, tats like that don't happen by accident. You think he's crazy or something." He poked my chest and barked out half a laugh. "You got that hottie and you're settling for me because you think he's too fragile or some shit."
I pushed him away. "C'mon, don't be a dick. Let's do this or not. If not, I gotta—"
"Yeah. Go take him home. I get it."
His eyes were knowing, and I was getting pissed off.
"C'mere." He pulled me in for a rough, hard, hot kiss, and soon we were touching each other some more, making out, getting ready to do the deed, all other thoughts evicted from our heads.
#
The door to the bathroom was pushed open so loudly it banged against the wall. Like scared teenagers, we jerked apart. His jeans were half open, and he was panting. So was I.
It was Sky, murder in his eyes. His mouth twisted miserably as he glared at us. "You. Out." He spoke to Kenny, and then marched up to me. He had to stand on his tiptoes a little to poke me in the chest as hard as he wanted to. "You wanna fuck? We'll do it. Just me, nobody else. And it'll be in a nice bed at home where we won't be interrupted."
Kenny watched us, biting his lip, looking more amused than pissed off. He zipped up his jeans carefully, wincing a little. The dude had to be uncomfortable. I was. For many, many reasons.
From the bar, I heard Paul's voice, raised in amusement. "You tell him, girlfriend!"
Fuck. We were under surveillance.
"Sky—" I started, trying to catch his wrists.
He snatched them away from me. He'd never looked gayer, fiercer, or — heaven help me — more attractive. Fire in his eyes really lit him up, incandescent.
I swallowed hard. Other bits of me were hard, too.
His gaze softened, looking at me. "I promise I won't make trouble for you professionally," he said, leaning closer. "No matter what happens or doesn't, I will never make trouble with your boss, and I will do my best by you." He leaned in closer and kissed me.
My mind went completely blank. I kissed back.
After a while, the world came back into focus as he drew back, took hold of my hand firmly and dragged me towards the bathroom door. Kenny wasn't anywhere in sight.
Everybody in the bar watched as Sky dragged me towards the door.
"Add it to our bill!" he called back to the bartender, a triumphant little smile on his face.
Somebody whistled.
"He's too pretty for that fucking cop," muttered somebody else under his breath.
I had to agree.
#
We got in the car and headed home. I had no clue what to say. We were going there, were we? I was in a tailspin, but I was following his lead.
Here was the thing: we were both attracted to each other. And apparently we weren't going to ignore that any longer. Whatever happened from this point on was going to be dangerous. For one or both of us.
We didn't talk the whole way home. Then he spoke.
"You know," said Sky with a hint of laughter and a hint of trembling in his voice, "most people want to get an empath in bed."
I finished parking the car and looked at him. "Really?"
"Yeah, I mean … the sex is fantastic. Because I know what you like when you like it. It's not awkward and there's practically no learning
curve. I aim to please." He laughed uncomfortably. He was hugging himself, cold now in the night air, even with his light jacket thrown over the tiny t-shirt.
"Should've worn something warmer," I observed.
"Yeah," he agreed glumly.
"Come on." I got out and slipped my own jacket over his shoulders on the way into the house. He dared to lean against me, and I dared to let him.
We got inside and I got out some microwave dinners from the freezer. "Meatloaf okay?"
"Yeah."
"We'll go back to diner eating soon, okay? I know this gets boring."
"Yeah." He leaned on the counter near me, watching me work with an expression of determination on his face. He also looked frustrated. "We're not doing this, then?"
"Can you see it going anywhere good?"
"Yes," he said softly. He touched my arm as I moved past, and I scowled. "Hunt," he said gently. "I don't feel safe with many people. I feel safe with you."
That got my attention. I stopped moving and looked at him. A blush rose on his cheeks, but he just nodded and gulped a little. "It's been a while. I know you find me attractive. It's … it's hard to miss. We could be good together — in bed. I'm not asking you to come out, and I won't let anybody at work find out. And if you end up not liking it…" He shrugged helplessly. "Well, you won't."
He always got his man off, huh?
I moved forward and took him by the arms. "What if it's not good for you? All this talk about knowing what I enjoy, making sure I'm happy … what about you? Huh? You gonna pretend something's okay if you're freaking out on the inside? Why is it all about me?" Was it some holdover from his abuse — and one of the reasons Gruver had wanted to keep such tight control over him?
He looked at me with wistful hope and desire in his eyes. "I could probably get off just looking at you," he said hoarsely. "But if I don't like something, you'll know. You can always read me, and I won't try to hide."
I took him into my arms. Reason fled, all my other objections falling away like dust in a breeze. I kissed him again. He was my beautiful Sky, trembling and cold and needy in my arms — and then warm and passionate and certain with want.
"Can we take this to bed?" he mumbled after a moment, sounding half-drunk, even though I knew he hadn't had anything stronger than soda, and not even all of that.
"Y-yeah."
"Mine?" He clasped my hand and looked at me, checking. When I nodded, he drew me there after him, with a certainty of want it was impossible to ignore. He wanted me badly.
He looked like a gorgeous guy from some model shoot come to life, warm and touchable and even more attractive in person. But he was also my friend. I trusted him, liked him, and when he made a little shuddering sound in his throat and closed his eyes, I knew it meant he liked where I'd just kissed.
We didn't try anything fancy, just touching and kissing and rubbing our bodies together, exploring this attraction between us. It was enough — more than enough — to make us both feel really good. He was so touchable and gorgeous, and just as interested in touching and kissing me.
When we were both done, I flopped down beside him, panting. "You're so pretty," I said, and kissed him on the cheek tenderly.
He laughed softly and curled in to me, wanting to cuddle closer. "So are you."
"Hah." I put my arms around him and kissed him again on the mouth, and enjoyed the way he snuggled in to me sleepily, like he really did trust me more than anybody.
"Oh man, your thoughts," said Sky, with a rich, sleepy enjoyment. "I can't tell you how much of a turn-on it is to be so gorgeous in your eyes."
I rubbed his back a little. "I think you're gorgeous in a lot of eyes."
"Not like that. Thank you." He sighed softly, and promptly fell asleep.
#
The next few days were a whirlwind of sweet and loving moments. He'd been right: he was an amazing lover, so in tune to me. At the same time, my worries about him enjoying it were unfounded. It was easy to tell if he stopped liking something. I'd learned to read the man well — and let's face it, he was pretty expressive.
I liked how happy the sex made him, the slightly smug look in his eyes when he looked at me, as if he was thinking how lucky he was. How much he trusted me. I loved how he focused on me, drew strength from me, and always seemed to sleep better when we shared a bed.
I felt warmly towards him every time I looked at him, and I just wanted any excuse to touch, cuddle, kiss, or make out with him in bed.
We were good together: more playful and less "get it done" than I'd expected. It wasn't just about getting each other off, or hitting certain goals, or even trying certain positions. We were about enjoying each other sensually, sometimes in a ragged hurry to reach pay dirt, clothes off at the end of the day and tumbling into bed, sometimes just a sweet, lazy exploration, kissing and murmuring, and lots of cuddling.
He was totally a cuddler. Apparently I was too.
At work, we stayed circumspect. If anything, we probably seemed like we were fighting or something — very closed off from each other. I still helped him whenever needed, but even then we didn't sit as close. We rarely talked outside of necessity, and we never exchanged hot looks like we did at home.
In a burst of bravery, I got him an e-reader without any excuse, and hooked it up to my own online account. He didn't have a credit card, but no worries. I'd pay for his books from now on. When I gave it to him, he seemed flabbergasted, as if he didn't know what to do or where to look. It was almost like nobody'd ever given him something nice before. Or maybe, not without expecting something in return.
Anyway, we made love a lot, and settled in together very cozily. Outside these walls, we were coworkers, barely friends. Inside, we cuddled on the couch, watched TV together, and had lots of hot monkey sex. It was all good.
We each had moments of insecurity. We tried to guard each other when that happened. When I got freaked out about the captain possibly finding out about us, Sky was extra gentle and careful with me, respectful of my need for space at the precinct, and didn't ever judge me for my fear.
"After all," he told me quite seriously once, in his soft, sweet voice, looking down at his hands, "it's not as though I don't know what it's like to be frightened."
He did; he really did.
And he had some justifiable cause for it. Gruver still hadn't been apprehended.
I had little doubt that, if he was, he'd be charged more appropriately this time. Violating his parole, kidnapping, assault with deadly intent, etc. But most of all, I knew he'd be charged appropriately this time because he'd messed with a cop.
Sky counted as a cop — or close enough — now that he worked with the department. And that meant his case wouldn't get shunted around and bargained down to help some overworked people lighten their case load. It had been easy to ignore or refuse to take seriously before because, after all, it was only a man being domestically battered. A man, who, according to his file, had struggled just to file charges.
No, this time, we'd take care of our own. But it made me sick that he needed to be "our own" before he'd get decent justice. Maybe if they'd sentenced that damned bastard appropriately in the past, Sky wouldn't have been put through it all over again. It made me furious.
And the truth was, he was only alive because he was very, very lucky — and probably because of his empathic talents. He'd trusted them more than he had in the past. He'd picked the one person most likely and able to help him, and he'd called immediately for someone he knew would come straightaway, without going through channels.
I'd been that person for him this time — but he hadn't had anyone like that in the past. And nobody had stepped up to the plate to protect him. Not like they should've. Or at least that was my thought.
He caught me brooding on the subject once, and he touched my cheek, looking into my face and searching my gaze tenderly. "Honey, they did help," he said softly. "The paramedic — he held my hand. He held the hand of a crying gay man to comfort me. And the co
ps who took my statement? They got me somewhere safe. They put in the effort to follow up. They even got me into the empath licensing program. People did step up for me."
I was surprised. "Just how much of my thoughts do you hear, Sky?" I tugged him into a kiss, and held him close, arm around his waist.
He smiled, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges. "You've been scowling and muttering to yourself for the past few minutes." He tossed his hair back a little. "I wouldn't have to be an empath at all to guess where you were going with it."
I laughed and tugged him closer, into a playful, wrestling sort of kiss. He was giggling at the end of it, and reached up to smooth back my hair from my face. His touch was gentle and cherishing, and his gaze was warm. "I'm so glad you care, you know."
I kissed him again, because I didn't have the words to tell him how much. It scared me a little, how much I cared.
#
"See the captain for your pep talk, faggots," said Officer Pitney on the way past, his voice snide, pitched just for our ears.
Sky jumped, twitching a little.
I ignored them both. My jaw was set like steel as I led the way into the office. No time to talk with Sky about it or threaten Pitney.
Not that I thought I could make him clean up his language. I wished I could. But the fact was, I couldn't draw attention right now, and I was afraid I'd make it harder on Sky if I did somehow manage it. The guy would send out even more hostile vibes — and those affected Sky just as much as hateful words. So, should I get the captain to intervene or just try to keep Sky away from him?
I was still trying to figure it out when Sky shut the door quietly behind us and we faced the captain.
He was standing. Two men were there, looking at us, waiting. One of the men held out a hand, then dropped it quickly. His smile was awkward and a little scared. The expression, oddly, reminded me of Sky when he was getting a reading he wasn't comfortable with — like everything in the world was too close and painful.
SAFE (Men of the ESRB Book 1) Page 6
