by Pandora Pine
Ten stared right back. Without using his gift, he’d guess the files were the guys’ way of welcoming Ronan back to work. Opening his gift wide and giving his husband a quick scan, he could see there was more to it than that. He was intrigued. “What did the letter say?” Ten gave him a curious look to try to hide the fact he’d been reading Ronan.
“Don’t give me that look, Ten. I know you were using your brain powers to read me.” Ronan raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You’re lucky we’re stuck together forever and eternity.” He took a sip of water.
Ten noticed the way Ronan’s platinum wedding band caught the candlelight when he raised his glass to his lips. The band matched his own exactly, minus the diamonds. Ronan had said Ten sparkled enough for the both of them. It was true. Ronan shone like a diamond in other ways. He didn’t need to put it on public display. “Yes, I read you. You’re intrigued by what the letter from the rest of the Cold Case Team said. Obviously, I’m curious because you are. Spill it.”
Ronan laughed. He leaned over to kiss his husband. “You’re impossible. You know that? Forget it. That was rhetorical, but you knew that.” Ronan smiled brightly. “I brought the letter home to show you, but the long and the short of it is that the ten files sitting on my desk were cases that the other detectives worked as far as they could and now they want you to finish.”
Ten was silent as he thought that over. He knew what Ronan meant by saying the cases had been worked as far as the other detectives could take them. All of the old witnesses had been re-interviewed, the old evidence had been re-examined and if possible, re-tested. They’d been taken as far as police instinct and their five senses could take them. What these cases needed now was Tennyson to use his sixth sense, speak to the victims, and get some answers. “How do you feel about us being the finishers, so to speak?”
“I’m fine with it since the other detectives are. You know how touchy cops are when it comes to other cops stepping on their toes in an active investigation, but in this case, we’re being asked to help. I say let’s do it.” Ronan sounded convinced.
“Hold on there a second, Columbo. I’m guessing this is in addition to your caseload, not as a replacement for what’s in your queue, right?” This would lead to overtime and a lot of late nights spent on cases, rather than naked and enjoying newlywed life.
Ronan nodded. “It would be a lot of extra work for us, but I think it’s worth it to help these families. I mean, my colleagues got their hopes up by reopening their case and now, unless we step in, the detectives are going to have to go back and tell them that their loved ones’ killers can’t be found.” Ronan grimaced. “I know not every cold case can theoretically be solved, but Ten, with you as our secret weapon, I feel like more of them can be.”
Ten hated to admit it, but Ronan was right. “Okay, I’m in, but we pace ourselves. We don’t do them all at once.”
A slow grin spread over Ronan’s face. His cerulean eyes sparkled in the candlelight. He set his silverware down against his plate with a clank and pushed back out of his seat. “Speaking of pacing ourselves, I’m full. How about you?” He held his hand out to his husband.
“Oh, hell yeah!” Ten’s pants were already starting to cut off the blood flow to his legs. Now was a good time to stop eating and start working off some of this meal. He placed his hand in Ronan’s.
Before Ten knew what was happening, he was being hauled over Ronan’s shoulder. “Oh, you beast!” Ten slapped playfully at Ronan’s shoulders.
Ronan growled. “You ain’t seen nothing yet!” He headed toward the stairs. “Come, Dixie.”
“Uhh, Ronan?” Why was Ronan inviting their dog to come upstairs with them?
“Don’t want her getting into our leftovers. Nothing ruins a night of hard fucking more than a trip to the doggie ER. We’ll move her bed into Fitzgibbon’s old room. She’ll be fine in there for a few hours.” Ronan slapped Tennyson’s ass as he started climbing the stairs.
Dixie barked sharply and raced up the stairs after them.
Ten’s little princess thought that Daddy Ronan was a threat to him. What the tiny dog had no way of knowing was Tennyson was turned on as fuck. His erection was digging into Ronan’s shoulder as he was being carried up the stairs by his newlywed caveman. Let the games begin.
3
Ronan
Ronan had to admit that telling Tennyson all about the stack of files on his desk at work was an effective way to keep his mind and the conversation off the letter from Tank Hutchins. To be honest, it was the only thing Ronan had been able to focus on for most of the day.
In fairness though, he had read every single accordion folder the other detectives had left for him, along with all of his mail, both physical and electronic. The last thing he’d done before he’d gone back and reread the letter from Hutchins was to check on his own work-in-progress cases. Predictably enough, with him on the shelf for the last two and a half months, there had been no movement on any of them.
Ronan didn’t want Ten to know anything about The Riverside Ripper’s letter. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it yet and he wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.
That wasn’t exactly true. Ronan knew what he was going to do about it and didn’t want Ten talking him out of it.
“Here we go, little love.” Ronan set Dixie down in the spare bedroom that Fitzgibbon had occupied for the past few months. He could still smell his boss’s cologne if he took a deep enough breath. He put her pink princess dog bed down in the center of the room and started to back away.
Dixie charged at him. Her black ears were perked up and she was whining for all she was worth. The look on her face was one of pure heartbreak. “Please don’t leave me, again, Daddy,” it said.
For some reason Ronan couldn’t quite figure out, the tiny puppy had chosen him as her person. She liked Ten but she loved Ronan. Fitzgibbon had been sure the dog was going to die from grief while Ronan had been in the hospital. It had been the nightly Skype calls between Ronan and Greeley that had saved a grief-stricken Dixie.
Ronan had only been out of the hospital and back home with his one true love for about three weeks before he and Ten had gone to Kansas to bury David Grimm. What should have been a five-day trip, tops, had turned into a two-week odyssey, courtesy of Ten’s difficult mother and an even surlier tornado. Dixie was still gun-shy about Ronan leaving her alone for any length of time and they’d been home now for almost a month.
“Daddy Ronan and Daddy Ten are gonna spend some quality naked time together, but I’ll be back to get you once we’re cleaned up and dressed. I promise.” Ronan crossed his heart and backed out of the room. He shut the door on Dixie’s cries.
It hurt his heart to hear his baby cry like that, but it would hurt his dick more if it had to stay in this current state of hardness for a minute more without Ten’s plump lips wrapped around it.
“Christ, Ronan! Are you coming?” Ten bellowed. “A man could die like this!”
Ronan poked his head around into their bedroom doorway and saw Ten in the center of their king-sized bed, naked as a jay bird, on all fours with his perfect heart-shaped ass perched high in the air. “Someone’s a little impatient.” Ronan slapped Ten’s right cheek.
Ten howled. In pain or pleasure, Ronan couldn’t tell at the moment. He thought it was pleasure, but he’d need a second swat to turn his hypothesis into a true scientific theory. He slapped Ten’s left cheek a bit harder.
“Oh, fuck!” Ten moaned, burying his face into the comforter.
Pleasure... Ronan grinned at the twin red handprints on Ten’s ass. “Sometimes I think you’re a mouthy boy on purpose.” Climbing up behind his husband on the bed, Ronan swiped his tongue over Ten’s eager hole.
“Jesus, Ronan!” Ten was panting now. He pushed his ass back against Ronan, presumably hoping for a repeat performance.
“You’re awfully greedy for such a bad boy,” Ronan teased. He climbed off the bed. Shit, he was still fully dressed. He could feel his coc
k soaking his boxers. If he kept going at Tennyson like this, he was going to come in his underpants like a teenager.
“Teasing, bossy, asshole, bastard!” Ten bitched.
“Ah, you forgot one!” Ronan waggled his eyebrows as he unbuttoned his dress shirt.
“Ladies don’t say that word!” Frustration and need slashed through Tennyson’s voice.
“Funny, I was thinking you forgot, ‘husband.’ What word were you thinking?” Ronan raised a questioning eyebrow as he painstakingly slid his boxers down past his aching cock. It had only been a little more than twelve hours since it had last seen action, but that was far too long where his husband was concerned.
“I, uh, ummm.” Ten was staring at Ronan’s drooling cock. “What were we talking about?”
Ronan grinned at his distracted husband. It was quite a thing to render your man speechless with your dick. “You want a piece of this?” He slid his hand slowly from root to tip.
Ten nodded.
Ronan crooked a finger at him. He would have crooked his cock, but he wasn’t that talented.
Ten sped off the bed in a blitz of color. He sat on his knees in front of Ronan, looking up at his husband, his dark eyes nearly black with need.
“You’re gorgeous like this, babe.” Ronan ran a hand through Ten’s springy, dark curls. He’d never get enough of doing this. “Open up for me.”
Ten obeyed, moaning when Ronan slid his cock into Ten’s willing mouth.
Ronan hitched his hips forward, fucking himself deeper into Ten’s mouth, feeling his cock jerk when his husband gagged. He chuckled. Nothing stroked his ego more than his dick being too much to swallow. He pulled back and out. “You ready to get fucked?”
Ten nodded, wiping off the line of drool and pre-come that had landed on his chin.
“On the bed or here on the floor?”
“Bed, remember the rug burn you got back at the Hawthorn Hotel?” Ten bit his bottom lip at the memory.
Ronan snorted. How could he forget his own wedding night? The rug burn had been epic, but it had been so worth it. He’d come so hard he’d blacked out and Ten spent the next morning feeding him breakfast in bed and sucking his cock. He’d only ended up with tiny scabs on both knees.
Ten licked out at the head of Ronan’s cock, a look of longing in his dark eyes. He got back to his feet and walked to his night stand. Grabbing the lube from the top drawer, he snapped open the cap and went to work opening himself up.
“Jesus, Ten!” Ronan felt like he was rooted to the spot. His eyes were glued to Tennyson’s fingers and the way his body was responding to them.
“You gonna get your dick ready for me or are you gonna stand there with it in your hand?”
“Who’s bossy now, babe?” Ronan loved it when Ten was sassy in the bedroom. Not that he was going to tell his husband that. Oh, no, he had other plans for his mouthy man instead. He peeked into the nightstand drawer that Ten had left open and saw just what he was looking for, the red ball gag he’d gotten after their summer vacation at Sand Dollar Shoal. “You know what mouthy boys get?” Ronan asked, his voice low and menacing.
“Spanked?” Tennyson shivered as he spoke the word.
“We tried that. It didn’t work.” Ronan nudged his hard-as-steel cock against Ten’s loosened hole but made no move to breech his passage. “Open up,” Ronan commanded.
“Ronan, what?” Ten squeaked but obeyed.
“That’s better.” Ronan bent forward, the head of his cock slowly pushing past the first ring of muscle as he set the red ball between Tennyson’s teeth. It was hard to concentrate on securing the gag behind his husband’s head, but he managed somehow. “You good?”
Ten gave him a thumbs up, their pre-arranged sign when he was gagged and couldn’t speak.
Ronan pulled Ten up from all fours onto his knees, wrapping his left arm around his torso and holding onto Ten’s right shoulder. He used his right hand to grip Ten’s right hip. This left Ten’s hands free to signal Ronan or to take the gag off himself if the play got too real for him. “Ready, babe?”
Ten moaned and nodded his head.
That was good enough for Ronan. He pulled back and nearly out and slid back in slowly. Giving a bit of an evil laugh when Ten groaned. “Oh no, babe, this isn’t going to be slow and sweet. Bad boys like you don’t get that. Hold on, brat. We’re going for a ride,” Ronan growled low in his ear and set a punishing pace. The only sounds in the room were his own harsh breathing and the slap of his flesh against Tennyson’s.
Ten whimpered. His hand went to his cock. Ronan watched over his shoulder as he jacked himself off.
“That’s it, babe. Come for me. Paint your chest.”
Ten roared around the gag. Come ripped from his cock.
The first blast hit Ten in the face, triggering his own orgasm. Ronan held on tighter, digging his fingers into Tennyson’s hip. His cock continued to pulse deep inside Tennyson’s body long after Tennyson’s storm was over.
When Ronan could suck in a deep breath again, he released the gag.
Tennyson fell forward on the bed and started to laugh. “Holy shit,” he muttered into the mattress.
“You’re telling me.” Ronan backed off the bed and tried to catch his breath. “I keep telling you to be bad more often. I’m glad you finally listened to me.”
“I love you, Ronan,” Ten called after him as he headed toward the bathroom.
“Love you more, Nostradamus, but you already knew that.” Ronan winked at his husband. Round two would be sweet and gentle with Ronan taking his time to thank his man for the romantic dinner he’d taken the time to make for them.
4
Tennyson
Dixie walked into West Side Magick the next morning like she owned the place. Her ears were up as high as they could go, as was her head. She was queen of the store.
“Morning Ten. Your highness!” Carson called out before he bowed to the tiny dog.
“Stop feeding her ego. Ever since Ronan started letting her sleep with us, she’s been acting like royalty.”
Carson bent down and unclipped her leash. “You are royalty. Aren’t you, sweetheart.” He scooped her up and cuddled her close.
Ten watched while his dog loved on Carson. Dixie had stayed with Carson and his husband, Truman, when Ronan had been in the ICU after he’d been shot and also when they’d been in Kansas after David Grimm had passed away. Ten didn’t blame his dog for being especially close to his best friend.
“You have a full day, my friend.” Carson grinned. He set Dixie down and swiped at the dog slobber on his face with the cuff of his grey shirt. “Totally booked thanks to the rerun of your Dateline episode on the Michael Frye case.”
“Seriously? I spent hours yesterday calling my client list to let them know I was back in town and it was the Dateline rerun that filled up my calendar for the day?” This happened every time some cable network aired that episode. Not that Tennyson was complaining.
“Not just for the day,” Cole Craig, Carson’s brother, chimed in. “For the rest of the week too. It filled up mine and Carson’s calendars with in person and phone readings as well.” Cole slapped a hand on Ten’s shoulder. “Can’t thank you enough, man. Laurel’s college fund is getting fatter by the day.”
“We wanted to talk to you about that, Ten, before our first appointments show up.” Carson wore a serious look on his face.
Ten looked back and forth between the brothers. He’d known there was something important they’d wanted to talk to him about for some time now. With Ronan being shot, then his father passing away unexpectedly, and then with his and Ronan’s wedding, there hadn’t been time.
To be honest, Tennyson hadn’t tried to read either of his partners. His best friends had repeatedly told him that he was the missing third Craig brother. Ten believed them. If it was bad news, he’d rather they just come out and tell him. “Okay, hit me with it.” He braced himself for the worst news possible: being kicked out of the Magick shop partnership.
Dixie growled. She ran to Ten’s side and stood in front of him. She barked sharply, staring Cole and Carson down.
“Whoa, Cujo.” Cole grinned at Dixie. He turned back to Ten. “We’re not kicking you out of the partnership.”
Ten narrowed his eyes at Cole. He quickly scanned the other psychic and saw that he was telling the truth. Ten turned to Carson.
“On the contrary. We’re thinking of expanding,” Carson said.
“Expanding how?” The brothers had Ten’s attention now.
“Well,” Carson said, his blue eyes twinkling, “For starters, I’d like to bring in another psychic or two. We were thinking maybe someone with a different talent than any of us have.”
“What, like Broughan Beals and his talent for energy healing?” Ten loved the energy healer. Broughan had been a big help when he’d lost the use of his gift a few months back.
“We thought about him, but we were also thinking about a talent who does astrological readings, birth charts, crystal work, past life regression, or something along those lines.”
Ten nodded. Those were all really good ideas. “What about house cleaners?” It was an idea he’d been kicking around in his own head for a long time now. Living in Salem, they would have plenty of clients who inquired about getting unfriendly spirits out of their house. Ten had a bit of experience with that kind of work, but not on the level of a professional ghost hunter.
Cole and Carson exchanged a silent look.
Dixie ran away from Carson’s side and happy-barked at thin air. She sat down, and her tail started thumping against the floor.
“Damn, Ten. It’s like you read their minds,” Bertha Craig cackled.
“Hi, Mom!” Carson and Craig chorused together.
“Is that so, Bertha?” Ten grinned at his favorite mentor from the other side. “Seems like you’ve also managed to charm my dog.” He raised an eyebrow at the spirit.
“Maybe this bit of fluff would love you more if you didn’t keep running off and leaving her.” Bertha bent down and ran her hand over Dixie’s back. The dog yipped and rolled over onto her back.
