by Tinnean
“Fuck me, Mark.” He shifted, spread his legs, and I fell into the space between them. He gripped my waist with his knees. “Please, Mark,” he whispered against my neck, and I shivered from the moist warmth. “Take me now.”
My cock was at his hole, and all it would take for me to be inside him was just a single thrust of my hips.
There would be nothing between us, no latex barrier, nothing to blunt his heat and tightness, the feel of his internal muscles clenching and relaxing, caressing my cock. I’d be surrounded by him, and when I came, he’d be filled with my semen.
That thought made me so hard I ached.
And because I wanted it, because there was nothing in the world that I wanted more at that moment than to be buried balls-deep inside my lover, without a goddamned condom separating us, I said, “No.”
“Mark?”
“I’ll make love to you, Quinn.” I shifted off him and scrabbled in the drawer of the nightstand.
“Mark!” There was desperation in his voice and in the way his hands reached for me.
“Not without a condom.” I smoothed on the condom and coated it with lubricant, then turned him on his side and worked a lubricated finger into him. It was his turn to shiver, and he thrust his ass toward me, easily accepting the second finger I eased into him.
“Please. I don’t need you to be careful—”
“I know what you need, baby.” I spooned up behind him, parted his cheeks, and drove into him, and we both groaned. For long minutes, we just lay like that.
“Are you… are you going to move, Mark?”
“No. I told you I knew what you need.”
“And you think what I need is to be tortured like this?”
I nipped his ear. “No. You need to know you’re safe. That we’re both safe.” I rocked my hips, his internal muscles clenched around me, and it was enough to keep me hard. “I’ve got you.”
“Yes, you do.” He shivered again.
“Now that we’ve got that settled, how about you go to sleep?”
“Always think you know what’s best, don’t you?” he murmured.
“Can I help it if I do? Go to sleep.” I kissed the spot just below his ear, and he hummed in drowsy pleasure and went limp in my arms.
And he didn’t have any more nightmares.
II
IT WAS almost three hours later when I woke up. I disengaged us without waking him, dropped a kiss on the back of his neck, petted his flank, then rose and stripped off the condom.
I disposed of it in the bathroom, used the john, and returned to the bedroom and turned off the lamp. Quinn was still sleeping, a relaxed look on his face. I put on a pair of sweatpants and a New England Patriots sweatshirt and went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.
I’d hold off on breakfast until Quinn woke up. I’d never had the time to cook for myself when I’d been in the field—if I couldn’t do it right, I wasn’t going to do it. Anyway, I hadn’t needed to cook; there were plenty of restaurants that did takeout, and McDonald’s had a pretty good breakfast menu.
Now I had the time. Besides, Quinn had cooked for me on more than one occasion.
I looked from the bag that held the coffee beans to my grinder and swore under my breath. This place was so freaking small. The noise would be sure to wake Quinn, and I wanted him to sleep as long as he could.
There were no outlets in the halls of this building, so I found a long extension cord, plugged in the grinder, and took it and the bag of Peaberry Kona Viennese roast beans that I’d found at Cecil’s Koffee Beanery and went down a flight.
I sat down on the stairs and set the grinder beside me, filled the chamber with enough beans to make a single pot, and turned it on.
It echoed in the stairwell, sounding like a machine gun.
The door of Theo’s apartment was thrown open and Matheson stood there, pointing his 9mm at my head. When he saw it was me, he eased his finger off the trigger and lowered the gun.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Wills, what the fuck…?” It was Theo, grumbling from inside the apartment.
“Mr. Vincent is grinding his coffee.”
“Huh?” Theo came up behind him, running his hands through his chestnut hair and yawning. “How come?”
“I have no idea. You want to ask him?” Matheson lounged against the doorframe.
“Vince? Why are you grinding coffee on the stairs?”
“I have a houseguest. I didn’t want the noise to wake him.”
Matheson’s eyebrow climbed, but he said nothing.
“I have a hand grinder.” Theo hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pajama pants. “You could have used it.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.” I scowled at him. He could have told me about it when I was picking his brains about the best coffee to buy.
“Too late for that.”
“Sorry. Theo, I need a favor.”
“You’ve got it. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve bought a condo in Aspen Reach. The woman who used to own it liked pink, and—”
“Jesus! Don’t tell me you bought Delilah Carson’s place!”
“You’re familiar with it?”
“Are you kidding? I was there!”
“You were there, babe?” Matheson’s attitude was no longer relaxed.
“Well, we’d tricked with her once or twice, and she called to ask if we’d mind working a threesome with her.”
“When was this?”
“Oh, around the beginning of the year. Maybe a little earlier.”
Matheson turned white. Lines bracketed his mouth, and he growled under his breath.
“So? Oh, what? You’re worried I may have gotten fucked? That was my job, smart guy!” Theo smacked his shoulder. “But just to set your mind at ease, I wasn’t fucked. That time. I was in her crawl space, and I filmed it. Spike got to fuck this gorgeous babe’s ass while she deep-throated Pretty Boy, and then the two of them kissed while the john jerked off. Hot stuff, I wanna tell you! I made them a copy. They took it with them, but if you want me to look for the original…. You could take it with you on one of your troubleshooting trips out of town and jerk off yourself.”
“Don’t bother. Mr. Vincent.” Matheson gave a brief nod and reentered the apartment, his stride stiff and angry.
“Y’see, Vince? I knew he was living in a dream world! It’s dawning on him, what I did, and he can’t deal with it!”
“You think so?”
“What else am I to think?” He looked miserable.
How could he be so dumb?
“Bascopolis, her murder was all over the front page of every newspaper in town around the beginning of the year. You think maybe he was worried you could have been in her condo at the same time she was killed? That maybe it could have been your body found there as well?”
“Yeah, but….”
“You said you were up in the crawl space? How come?”
“He was a new client. Delilah said she was a little unsure of him. After he left, she laughed and said she felt really silly about how nervous he’d made her beforehand, but I could see she was still nervous. I asked her if she wanted me to make copies of the tape. She said yes, and Spike begged me to make one for him and Pretty Boy too.” He looked sad. “She was dead before I had the chance to give her the original and the other copies.”
“Yeah, well….”
“Funny thing. I happened to see a picture of him in the Post a couple of weeks later.”
“Who, the john?” That startled me.
“Yeah.” He snickered. “He was with the Pres in the photo, and he had his clothes on, but it was him. And y’know what was even funnier?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
He went on as if he hadn’t noticed my sarcasm. “The Pres was commending him for being such a morally upright member of the intelligence community.”
“Really.” Now that was a very interesting tidbit. “Do you happen to remember his name?�
�� You could never tell when information like that could come in handy.
“No. Sorry. You know I’m not into politics.”
I knew that, but it was worth asking. “What happened to the original tape?”
“It’s around somewhere.”
“Mind looking for it for me?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He didn’t ask me why I wanted it, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about being thought a voyeur.
“Uh…. You really think Wills was worried about me? I… I never even thought of that.”
“Yeah, well, check with him before you start assuming you know what he’s thinking.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He started to turn to go into his apartment. “Oh, good luck with the condo. It really was pink.”
“Thanks. It still is. If you have some time, would you be interested in overseeing the redecorating?”
“I’d get to choose the colors and arrange all that neat furniture you bought? You bet!”
“Thanks. I’m taking some time off…. Oh, very funny.” He’d staggered back, his hand on his chest, as if the shock had given him a heart attack.
“Well, I’ve never known you to do that before. Anyway, I’ll go to Home Depot and pick up some paint chips. Maybe I’ll pick up some power tools too. For Wills.” He grinned and winked at me, then entered his apartment.
I looped the extension cord over my arm and went back up to my apartment. Did he think buying his lover toys would make it up to him?
Maybe it would, but I knew if Mann misjudged me that badly, I’d mop up the apartment with his skinny ass—
His ass really wasn’t skinny. Under those Brooks Brothers suits he wore, it was actually one of the best I’d ever seen.
Well, I’d just fuck him into next week.
Maybe Matheson would do that, although from what I’d learned, he usually bottomed for the rent boy.
I shook my head, locked the door, and started a pot of coffee brewing.
III
I WAS sitting in bed, propped up against the headboard, my feet crossed at the ankle, reading the Washington Post. A bare arm had been flung across my waist, and a dark head was buried against my hip. I rested my hand on his hair, and occasionally I’d run my palm over the soft strands.
On the nightstand, a cup of coffee was steaming gently, and I reached for it, took a deep sip, and then replaced it.
The grip on my waist tightened and just as quickly relaxed, and I knew he was awake.
“Good morning, sunshine.” I tossed the newspaper to the floor.
“I’m sorry, Mark.”
“For what?”
“This can’t have been the most restful of nights for you.” He rolled onto his side and pushed the hair out of his eyes.
“Not for you either. How are you feeling?”
“All right. Better.” Quinn sounded surprised. “I was actually able to sleep.”
“Good. Want some breakfast?”
“I’d like that. Is that coffee I smell?”
“Yep. Fresh ground too.” I took the cup from the nightstand and offered it to him.
He took a cautious sip. Usually he preferred his coffee with a little half-and-half and sugar. “This is good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. Of course it’s good.”
“Of course.” He laughed, gave me back the cup, and got out of bed. I did too. What was the point of staying in bed if he wasn’t there with me? “I’m going to shower.” He eyed the casual sweats I wore. “Why don’t you get changed? As soon as I’m done, I’ll dress, and we can go out for breakfast.”
“I’d rather stay home today.”
“Oh? You don’t have to baby me, Vincent. I’ve had nightmares before, you know.”
“Look, Mann. Me wanting to stay home for a change has nothing to do with you. Did you ever stop to consider that I might have had a shitty week?”
I didn’t like playing the guilt card, not with him, but as I’d hoped, he didn’t question the fact that I never complained about how my week went.
“I’m sorry, Mark.” He blew out a breath. “I don’t want to come off like a prima donna, but I’m really not in the mood for Aunt Jemima or Jimmy Dean.”
“I’m going to cook you breakfast.” I glanced at the clock. “Brunch.”
“You don’t cook, Mark.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re not the only one who can have a dossier on someone, you know.”
“You’ve been looking into my background?” I put all the affront I could into my expression.
“Ass.” It didn’t work. He knew me well enough to know I’d expect nothing less from him. And that from him, I’d accept it.
“Trust me, babe.” I ran my knuckles under his chin, and he slitted his eyes and just about purred. Damn, I was good. I leaned down and licked his lips. I could taste the coffee on them. “Just take your time. Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done. Dress is optional.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.
He rested his palm against my cheek, then slid it to the back of my neck, pulled my head down, and kissed me.
“Thank you, Mark.”
“For what?”
His lips twisted in a lopsided grin. “For getting me through the night?”
I shrugged. “Well, you would have done it for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes. I would. I hope you know that.”
“Well, there you go.” This was getting too sappy. I whacked his butt. “Go take your shower.”
IV
ABOUT half an hour later, Quinn sauntered into the kitchen. He looked more at ease than he had since the weekend we’d first gone riding together.
“Good timing.” I put a couple of small crockery pitchers of maple syrup into the microwave to warm.
He gave me an absentminded smile and held out his arms. “How did these get here?” He was wearing the clothes I’d left on the bed for him, a pair of casual black slacks and a turtleneck jersey that brought out the green in his eyes. “I don’t remember leaving these the last time I slept over.”
“You didn’t.” I’d picked them up when I’d realized that most of the times he came here, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, and he had to go home in the same clothes he’d worn that day. I studied him carefully. “Those clothes look good on you.”
Color warmed his cheeks. “Thank you. Let me know how much I owe you.”
“Sure.” I grinned at him.
“I’m serious, Mark.”
“Did I say anything that would make you think I wasn’t taking you seriously?”
“You don’t have to say a word. It’s in your expression. Look. My clothes aren’t your responsibility.” He frowned. “I should have brought a change of clothes with me. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
“Probably because we usually spend the weekend at your place.” And we would have done that last night if he hadn’t been so exhausted he’d picked a fight with me, revealing the level of his exhaustion. I decided to change the subject. “Wait until you see the closet in my new master bedroom. There will be plenty of room for your stuff. You could practically move in!” I thought about him moving in, living with me, of us making love every day—maybe even twice a day—working side by side in the kitchen, but then the reality of our situation descended on me. WBIS. CIA. I sighed and let it go.
“Oh?”
“What?”
He was smiling. “Nothing.”
“Yeah.”
He glanced around the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”
The table was already set. “I’ve made a fresh pot of coffee. Pour us a couple of cups, would you?”
“Sure.” He went to the cabinet that held the cups, and I got a funny feeling in my gut. I realized it was because he knew where stuff was in my home. “Something smells good. What did you make?”
“Monte Cristos.” I’d figured breakfast would be a fairly simple meal to prepare, so I checked out recipes online
and printed the ones that looked interesting. “By the way, I called the Lexus dealership.”
“Thanks, babe. When did they say it will be ready?”
“Monday afternoon.”
His mouth tightened. “The oil filter was supposed to be replaced this morning.”
“Yeah, but apparently some bolts sheared off.”
“Don’t tell me. They had to call New York for replacement bolts. Dammit.”
“Not to worry. I made a phone call, and a rental car will be in your driveway when I take you home tomorrow night. Of course, it’ll be there anyway if I take you home Monday morning.”
I arched an eyebrow and waited for him to tell me tomorrow night would be fine, that he had work in the morning.
Quinn watched me steadily. “I’d like that.” He gave a huff of laughter at my surprise. “I have plenty of vacation and personal time. I’ll take the day off.”
“Cool.” I’d thought about taking the day off too and going down to the dealership with him, maybe having a little chat with them, but he was a big boy, and I wasn’t sure how he would react to that, so I’d rented the car for him instead.
Meanwhile, it shouldn’t be hard to find things to keep him occupied after our ride with his mother tomorrow. Maybe I’d build us a fort of sofa pillows and blankets in the living area. Quinn could supervise. On second thought, he was too intense to settle for just supervising. He’d want to be a hands-on kind of….
My mouth went dry at the thought of him being hands-on with me, and my cock twitched. Oh, yeah. We’d definitely have to build that fort. With effort, I brought my mind back to the present.
I took a stuffed sandwich off the griddle, humming softly, and slid it onto a plate.
“‘Blue Champagne’?” Quinn sounded surprised.
“Yeah. Someone I know has it for the ringtone on his cell phone.”
“Really.” There was a smile in his eyes. He was pleased that I’d recognized it.
I sliced the Monte Cristo from corner to corner so I had four triangular pieces. Melted cheese oozed from the edges. I did the same with a second sandwich, lowered the heat so the two remaining would stay warm but wouldn’t burn, and took the plates to the table.
