Andrew moaned lewdly, leaving Isaac hard and dripping as he crouched there, yet untouched. He was anxious to finish stretching him before the cold dissipated and sucked on the remainder of the ice as he reached for the lube and condom. He coated his fingers quickly, knowing it wouldn’t take much for Andrew to be ready for him.
Grunting and sighing into Isaac’s careful twists, Andrew accepted a second finger with a pleading nod, already so open. Isaac scissored into him further and further still, feeling the remnants of cold left behind from the ice—
He blinked and was on his back, staring at the ceiling, and felt a swift application of lube up his length as realization dawned on him. His fingers were still slick from being inside Andrew, but now, they were flipped. When Andrew was this impatient, he was superhuman, apparently.
Isaac stared down his body just as Andrew straddled him and started to sit back. “I didn’t give you permission to do that,” he scolded.
“Needed to hurry you along. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on some of this chill you left behind,” Andrew said, voice rough and low, eyes black with lust as he guided Isaac to his entrance but paused, waiting for the go-ahead—especially since he’d once again foregone a condom. He nodded it at, sitting beside them unopened. “Can I? Please?”
Isaac was hard-pressed not to ram up into him. “Go on,” he said, and Andrew took him in inch by careful inch.
The cold. The lingering sensation from the ice was incredible paired with Andrew’s heat, with Isaac’s heat, and the combination made Isaac’s brain stall, until both their mouths hung open from the ecstasy of it all as Andrew sat back fully on his hips.
It always amazed him, the feel of Andrew, the enthusiasm with which he took him all the way in, or likewise sunk deep inside him. He reached for Andrew’s hips as they started to rock, smearing the remaining lube across his skin, his fingers still cold too, and his mouth cooled by that last ice cube that had finally melted.
But no, not the last. There was one more in the bowl.
Andrew’s eyes drifted to it amidst their slow but increasing rhythm. He snatched it up, rocking back harder once he had hold of it, and popped it into his mouth with a grin.
Isaac expected the kiss when he leaned down, never once halting the motion of his hips. Andrew’s warm mouth, the frigid ice, the hot and cold between them where they connected in so many wondrous places, had Isaac on edge and overstimulated in the best way.
If they could manage it, Isaac wouldn’t have minded having Andrew ride him like this for hours—powerful muscles beneath his fingertips, atop him, surrounding him.
They kissed and rocked, sharing conflicting temperatures that seemed so perfectly balanced somehow. They didn’t lose the connection of their mouths until the last bit of ice was gone. Then Andrew reared up, riding Isaac harder, fervent and wild in the way his head dropped back, hands splayed over Isaac’s stomach, tracing fondly across his tattoos.
“Touch yourself…I want to watch you,” Isaac ground out.
Andrew caught his gaze again, taking himself in hand with a familiar coyness, allowing Isaac to keep his grip on Andrew’s hips, urging and controlling an increase in tempo. Andrew’s muscles tensed, rippled, a flush of color all throughout his body. No one else compared to him. No one ever could.
In a rush of emotion as their climaxes built, Isaac felt overwhelmed, overcome, like a combination of that ice and heat had blossomed in his chest. He wanted to share it with Andrew. Wanted to tell him. Wanted to say…so many things. And he almost did, mouth opening to pour his damn soul out—
“Andrew—”
When Andrew kissed him, searing and deep, and whimpered against his lips as he came. Isaac almost didn’t realize that he had come too, because the entire ordeal had felt like one drawn out tumble over the edge. There was dampness in his eyes, he could feel it, feel so much, too…much, and he had to—he couldn’t—
The eruption of a song from their discarded clothes on the floor made Andrew groan from where he’d collapsed atop Isaac, face smushed into his shoulder. “I’m going to murder Steve,” he grumbled against Isaac’s skin.
Isaac sucked in a breath to steel his nerves, to fight back the emotion and tears in his eyes, forcing his voice to sound even as he said, “Sinatra?”
That was definitely “My Way” as Steven’s ringtone.
“Kevin stole my phone last week and changed everyone’s ringtones to Sinatra songs. Steve is ‘My Way’, Kevin’s ‘That’s Life’, and Candace was ‘Luck Be a Lady’. Less fitting now…I better get it.” He rolled off Isaac to rummage through his clothes.
Isaac rubbed at the wetness in his eyes before Andrew noticed. “As a joke? Because you hate Sinatra?”
“I love Sinatra!”
“But this is jazz.”
“It is?” Andrew furrowed his brow, but then discovered his phone and answered it in a flurry. “This isn’t the best—” He cut off. “Yeah, Steve, sure. I can clarify on a couple questions.”
He looked to Isaac apologetically. If possible, him turning out to like jazz without realizing it endeared him to Isaac even more.
Taking the reprieve to go clean up, while Andrew sagged down onto the edge of the bed, Isaac slipped out to the bathroom to rinse off in the shower. He came back with a towel around his waist just as Andrew was wrapping up.
“No problem, Steve. Talk to you later.” Andrew dropped his phone right back onto the pile of clothes. “A shower sounds awesome. Do you mind?”
“Knock yourself out.”
Andrew got up but stopped on his way past Isaac to steal a kiss.
It shouldn’t have simultaneously made Isaac’s stomach flip and his insides feel lighter, but it did. Just a simple press of lips made him want to chase Andrew’s mouth when he pulled away.
Isaac put on a pair of soft, worn sleep pants and a T-shirt, feeling a rumble in his stomach for lunch—and for distraction. He pulled out a cookie sheet, covered it in tortilla chips, then leftover shredded chicken, salsa, chives, banana peppers, and finally cheese. He’d add sour cream once the nachos came out of the oven.
Maybe he could distract Andrew with food and sex forever, and he’d never have to explain this ache in his chest whenever they were apart. Then he wouldn’t have to explain that he didn’t just want Andrew in his bed more often, he wanted him to stay—the night, other nights, every night. He focused on the nachos to avoid overthinking it, placing them in the oven for ten minutes.
Isaac had only rinsed off, but Andrew took his time, finally appearing just as the nachos came out to cool.
“Look what I found.”
Isaac turned, seeing that Andrew had also decided on something soft and cozy to wear—his own shirt and sweatpants that Isaac had taken at Christmas. “Hey. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”
“Yeah, and now I possess them again.” Andrew was positively smug and glowing, making Isaac’s heart stutter in his chest again. “You made nachos? Oh my God, I love you!”
And then his heart stopped, body tensing as Andrew’s eyes widened at the realization of what he’d said.
“Shit, uhh…I, um…I didn’t…”
Mean it, Isaac supplied. Of course, he didn’t mean it. He was meant for grander things than some old thief.
Andrew scratched the back of his neck, only to grip tight, eyes clenched closed before they opened, staring down at the floor between them instead of into Isaac’s eyes. He wouldn’t even look at him. It was all a matter of time before more pieces of this chipped away. Isaac was such an idiot for imagining things could end differently.
He tried to back away, to head off what was coming, say anything to prevent the words on Andrew’s tongue. “Andrew—”
“That isn’t how I wanted to tell you. Please don’t freak out.”
“…what?”
Andrew’s pleading eyes finally glanced up, downturned brows drawing his mouth into a similar frown. “I know you’re freaking out. I mean I just said I love you over nachos—which s
mell amazing, by the way, I can’t believe you made me food again, you’re actually really thoughtful—”
“Andrew.”
“Right, uhh…” He gestured outward toward Isaac with the hand that had been gripping his neck. “Remember I said to ask me again when this was over if I forgot something? That was the something. I know it’s only been like two weeks, but then I think…no, it’s been months. And when I really think about it, it’s been over two years.”
“Admitting you had a thing for me even while you were with Miss Park?”
“Maybe. I spent years with her that I thought meant something, and it was all bullshit. And now it’s been two really weird years for us, and I feel like I know you better than I ever knew her.
“I’m probably screwing this up forever by saying the one thing we never have, we’ve never even talked about what this is, what it means, what we want from it, but…it’s not just sex for me. Or the fun of being at odds. Or being on the same team lately either. It’s those not too many in between moments too. It’s the way you…made nachos.” He laughed, gesturing at the stovetop. “It’s the way you’re just…you.
“So yeah, I think I love you. And I know it’s probably just me, I am so going to stop talking now…” He ducked his head again, blush filling his cheeks, tension in his body as he feared all the things Isaac had been fearing.
Miscommunication. Rejection.
Not living up to what the other person wanted…
“It’s not just you,” Isaac said.
“Really?” Andrew’s eyes snapped up.
“But it is complicated. If we work together, it might get more complicated, which should be a big red flag that this is a terrible idea.” Isaac grimaced, waiting for Andrew to backtrack as he gave him that out.
He didn’t. “But it is addicting, right?”
Isaac tried to settle his heartbeat and relax into what was so obviously out of his control, as Andrew drew closer, lifted his hands to Isaac’s face, holding him between his palms, and kissed him. He tasted so right, even with only the barest press of lips.
“Yes,” Isaac said, letting their foreheads fall together, “addicting enough that I don’t want to give it up.”
Andrew’s renewed smile was blindingly beautiful. “I totally would have sicced Steve on you if you’d said otherwise.” He chuckled, as he released Isaac’s face.
“Dalton would be more dangerous, trust me.”
Again, that laugh—that wonderful laugh. Andrew didn’t seem to mind that Isaac hadn’t followed up any of that with an answering ‘I love you’. It seemed the moment had passed to not feel like a fool forming the words.
“Nachos?” Andrew suggested.
Isaac huffed, almost choking on his own laughter, as his emotions settled back to normal. He was suddenly starving. “Sour cream first,” he said, and turned on his heels to get it out of the fridge.
They sat on the sofa in the living room with the nachos on the coffee table, Isaac eating about a third, maybe not even quite that, and Andrew devoured the rest.
“I forgot to ask,” Isaac said, smirking as he nodded at the bedroom. “Was that your job interview?”
Andrew’s brow scrunched. “My firm didn’t tank. We’ll merge. Working together doesn’t mean you get to be the boss.”
“You think you get to be the boss?”
“I figure we can alternate.” He made a point of eating a chip very slowly, widening his mouth and darting out his tongue. Alternating was what they did best. “But no more questionable behavior.”
“Questionable?”
“Illegal.” Meaning the police uniform, the radio hacking, and a few things Andrew didn’t know about.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Isaac grinned.
Andrew was reaching for the last clump on the tray when his phone burst out with “My Way” again. He shook his head, answering the call quickly. “Forget something?”
Isaac could hear Steven faintly since they were seated so close. “Just family dinner for next week. Wednesday again?”
“Sure. Maybe we can expand again. Ford, Dalton, Kevin, and invite the rest of Ford’s associates too?” He looked at Isaac hopefully.
“After all this, I’d welcome any of them,” Steven said. “Does that mean Ford didn’t cut and run now that the thief is caught?”
Isaac took the phone from Andrew, said, “Not yet, Detective,” and clicked End Call.
Andrew dissolved into laughter. “You’re lucky Steve’s starting to like you. Never thought I’d say that.”
Neither did Isaac.
“Though you still need to meet our dad.”
That he’d been actively trying not to think about.
“For the record,” Isaac ran one hand up Andrew’s thigh while depositing his phone onto the coffee table, “that is more the music I’d dance to. That club crap is closer to torture. I only gave in because you were in those ridiculous skinny jeans.”
“You mean Sinatra? Really?” Andrew snatched up his phone again.
“What are you—?”
In moments “My Way” started playing again, not mid-song like it did when Steven called, but right from the beginning.
“Oh no…” Isaac shook his head, pressing back into the cushions.
Andrew was too fast for him though, already seizing his wrists and tugging him to his feet. “Oh yes. Dance with me, Arty!”
“Andrew,” Isaac tried to growl, but he looked so adoring, so adorable and inviting when he pulled Isaac into his body a few feet from the sofa, one hand up along his shoulder, and the other taking his hand, letting Isaac lead. “I don’t—”
“Shut up and dance with me, Isaac.”
Isaac sighed. Better than Arty, and he did love this song. He loved a great many things. He did not love dancing. But with Andrew…
With Andrew…
Accepting Andrew’s hand, he slid his other arm around Andrew’s waist, keeping to a slow, half-timed two-step, as he led him across his living room.
“You liar. You dance just fine.”
“Never said I couldn’t, just that I don’t.”
“Guess we’ll have to change that.”
“Now that we know you’re not a complete heathen who hates all jazz, I may be more amenable.”
“Does that mean karaoke?”
“Don’t push it.”
He pulled Andrew closer, forgoing form so he could hold him with both arms around his waist, and Andrew encircled his neck. They rested their heads on each other’s shoulders and settled into a slow sway.
The music, the closeness, what they’d shared earlier in the bedroom—finally in a bedroom—and what they’d shared just as remarkably sitting on Isaac’s sofa and talking over nachos, made everything—made anything—seem possible.
“I love you,” Isaac whispered over the final lyrics.
They stopped. The song stopped, leaving them in silence. Isaac felt like a raw nerve. Back on that cold Christmas night, he never could have imagined that one day he’d be here, but when Andrew raised his head, there was nothing but joy, nothing but love staring back at him.
Epilogue
The chicken salad at the café really was something special. Isaac got it nearly every time he and Dalton went there for lunch—like today.
They both had plans for the afternoon, but like always with the two of them, seeing each other three to four times a week was the norm, if not almost every day. It felt like family, the way Kathleen and Luke had always been, but with a touch of something more that had been missing from Isaac’s life.
Understanding maybe? Hope? Light? Whatever it was that Dalton brought with him, Isaac hoped he never had to learn to live without it.
“Star Trek marathon this weekend?” Dalton asked.
“I’ll be there.”
“So will Riley. Be nice.”
Isaac scowled. He still wasn’t sure he liked something blossoming there, but he couldn’t control everything in his son’s life. “I’m always nice. I
hired him, remember? What’s this?” he asked when Dalton set a bag on the table.
“I almost forgot. Housewarming for your new apartment. But I can’t take the credit. I saw Andrew earlier. He knew we were meeting for lunch and asked me to give it to you.”
“I’m meeting him later. Why not give it to me himself?”
“He said you’d know once you opened it.”
Intrigued, Isaac tugged the bag open and removed the tissue paper.
Inside was Andrew’s Santa mug and a note.
Enjoy lunch. I’ll be waiting at 1:00 with Bruce. Your move.
“Santa? I don’t get it,” Dalton said.
Isaac made sure he couldn’t see the note. Bruce was the gargoyle from their rooftop encounter. He didn’t mind a repeat of that, but if Andrew was giving him Santa, then he planned to be on the same rooftop this time. “Inside joke.”
“Okay, Dad. Have fun today.” Dalton went for a hug as soon as Isaac stood from his chair. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Kid Cunning.” The name had stuck, so Isaac figured he might as well accept that Dalton was a part of all aspects of his life, even the ones he wished he could keep him safe from. At least now he had a lot more people to help watch his son’s back. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get some hot chocolate to go.”
The walk to Bruce’s building was short, Isaac arriving just a handful of minutes before one o’clock and ascending to the roof. Andrew painted a lovely picture stretched out on the ledge beside his gargoyle friend. He’d paint an even lovelier one once he shed his clothes.
“Larson asked for another run on their security now that the updates have been finished,” Andrew said, “but that’s not for an hour. Care to pass the time?”
“I have only one question.” Isaac strolled closer and held up the mug. “Who gets to drink the cocoa?”
THE END
ABOUT AMANDA MEUWISSEN
Public Enemy, Undercover Lover Page 20
