by C. S. Poe
JUN PARKED the car near the back of the sheriff station lot, shaded by palm trees on the left and hidden by a row of empty cars along the right. He shut the engine off and checked his watch. “We still have a few minutes before the meeting.” He unbuckled the seat belt and looked at me. “There’s time for a quick catnap,” he offered.
Tempting. But I had a better idea, and not much can top a nap.
“How many minutes is a few?”
“About ten.”
I looked around the parking lot, but there was no one hanging out. A few guys taking a smoke break, but they were all the way near the front doors of the station. I turned back to Jun and smirked. “We’ll even have time to cuddle after.”
“What?”
I pushed the console between us back and scooted close enough to unbuckle Jun’s pants.
“Whoa, Aubrey, are you crazy?” Jun asked, grabbing my hands.
“Are you talking back?” I asked, raising my brows. I leaned over Jun, kissing him. “If you don’t want to,” I whispered, “just say no.” I reached down and cupped him through his jeans.
Jun grabbed my face and held it as he kissed me back hard. “Make it fast,” he murmured against my lips.
My mouth curled into a devious grin. “Considering you’re already hard, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
I still hadn’t seen Jun’s cock, and like the classy guy I was, the first time was going to be in a freaking parking lot. I unzipped his jeans and reached in to pull him free.
“Ho, ho, okay,” I said, kind of laughing. “Jesus.”
Jun sort of woke from his trance and looked at me critically. “What?”
“What’s the saying—hung like a horse? What the fuck do you feed this thing?”
No joke. Jun’s dick was huge and gorgeous. Not long, but wide—stuff you like a Christmas goose kind of wide. Forget blowing him, I couldn’t wait to get him in bed and have that beast driving home because it was mocking me as if it were a personal challenge. Like climbing Mount Everest. Only the bravest would ever dare.
I quickly kissed him because I didn’t want Jun thinking the wrong thing. “You’re absolutely beautiful. I mean that. And you know what I’m gonna do now?”
Jun shook his head obediently, despite it not taking too many brain cells to piece together my plans.
“I’m going to cram this entire thing into my mouth.” I kissed him again as he groaned. “Think I can do it?”
“Yes,” Jun breathed. He moved his hand down to stroke himself.
I grabbed him to keep his hand still. “No touching. Keep an eye out. We can’t have anyone seeing me going down on you, now can we?”
He shook his head once more.
I grinned and put my head in his lap, swirling my tongue around the head of his cock. Jun sighed shakily and planted his hand in my hair. This was a jaw ache waiting to happen, but that really turned me on, like whoa, so without further teasing, I wrapped my lips around the head and went down.
Jun let out the most devastatingly perfect moan that I’d ever heard a man make. It sounded like not only was this the best head he’d ever gotten, but the moment compared to no other in his life. It didn’t matter that we were fresh into this relationship and I’d jumped him in the parking lot of a station full of cops—oh my God, what the hell was wrong with me!—or that it wasn’t terribly romantic. Everything was perfect because it was him and it was me and, after three years of friendship and loss and flirting, here we were.
Finally.
I pulled off with a wet pop and looked at him. “I want you to come in my mouth, got it?”
“Yes, yes,” Jun panted, putting pressure on the back of my head, silently pleading for me to get back to business.
I couldn’t resist twisting him up just a bit more, though. I put my index finger on his lips, nudging the tip into his mouth, where it met his hot tongue. “Show me what you want me to do to you.”
Jun sucked hard in response, all the way down my finger. He slid his tongue up the pad like it really was a cockhead, and left little nibbles as I slowly pulled it free from his mouth. He was breathless and leaned forward to nab it between his lips again, but I didn’t let him.
“Such a good boy,” I whispered.
I went back down on him, working my way to the root. I closed my eyes when I finally managed to take all of his cock down my throat and his trimmed hair pressed against my nose. Jun cried out, his thighs shaking as he resisted slamming up and fucking my face until I lost consciousness. I grabbed on to his hips tight and started moving my head up and down. I sucked hard and fast because we were playing with fire, so the sweet nothings would have to wait until tonight.
Jun brushed hair back from my eyes, holding it so he could see my face. “I’ve dreamed about this,” he whispered. “Aubrey…. So good….”
I moved back up to the head, moaning around the mouthful I had. Jun bucked up hard in response, battering the back of my throat, and I fucking loved it. I moved one hand from his hip to his crotch and pressed gently, groping his balls through his pants. Jun’s breathing quickened, everything now trembling.
He really was everything.
I wondered how different my life would have been at this point if I’d met Jun at the bar instead of Matt three years ago. Would we have hit it off? Dated? Would it be as intense as it was now? What I was certain of at least was that, after the Mattocalypse, I appreciated men like Jun more.
Men like Jun, who treated me nice, who wasn’t afraid to say he loved me, and practically worshiped the ground I tripped on. I dug that—being treated like a real boyfriend and not a fucktoy. I could definitely see us committed for the long haul. No matter where I lived or where in the world he was working, coming home to Jun was something I think I’d wanted for a long time.
Maybe… I’d even been in love with him for years but never realized it.
“Aubrey,” Jun said. “I’m almost there. Please….”
Christ, he sounded so sweet when he begged. I’d have loved to say a few naughty things in reply and watch the way his body responded to dirty talk, buuut… I was sort of busy. I started jacking him off as I sucked the head. Jun squirmed in his seat, and I felt all of his muscles stiffen. And then came the fireworks.
Jun groaned, one hand still gripping my hair, the other wrapped so tight around the steering wheel, I could hear the material protest. He spurted into my mouth, powerful jets of cum that if I hadn’t been a part of this morning’s events, I’d have figured he hadn’t gotten off in a week or two.
I eased off his cock, wiped the string of salvia from my lips, and settled on the edge of my seat. “Good?”
Jun chuckled. “Perfect.”
“Hey now, don’t let it go to my head. Leave room for improvement so I keep practicing.”
Jun smiled and turned to look at me. He reached out and touched my face—always so gentle. “Wish we were home,” he murmured.
“Why’s that?”
“So I could hold you for a while.”
Aww, geez… there goes the pound, pound, pound of my make-believe heart condition again. I tilted my face to rest against his hand before kissing the inside of his wrist.
Jun made a content sound and started righting himself and his clothes. “Do you have any more Skittles?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Want some?”
“It’s that or we need to find some cigarettes immediately.”
I laughed loudly, dug through my bag of candies, and held the open package out. Jun took a handful and thanked me before he got out of the car. I followed, trying to discreetly adjust myself while telling my body to behave for now because tonight would be worth the wait.
Jun walked around to the passenger side, then patted bits of my hair down as he got close. “I’d told myself the entire plane ride here that we needed to go slow.”
I snorted. “Yeah. Same. That worked for about, oh, a few hours.”
“Can’t fault us too much. There was a lot of Skype flirting before I got here.” J
un smiled and with a nod, led the way into the station, munching on candy.
BURT TILLMAN was not too tickled to see Jun. Or me. In fact, he probably could have gone the whole day without even thinking of either of us.
“Agent Tanaka,” he said, offering a stiff handshake. “I am in the middle of a homicide. I hope you understand my time is precious.”
“I’ve no intention of taking you away from your case,” Jun replied. “It so happens that Mr. Grant and I ran into a few of Cassidy’s friends this morning and gathered a bit of information that might be of value to you.”
Tillman eyed Jun, glared at me, then nodded and turned to lead us down a hallway. We entered a large room that had several desks with plain-clothed officers sitting at them. Each had towering piles of papers spread across their workspace, and a phone seemed to always be ringing from somewhere. Tillman walked toward the back, grabbed two plastic chairs, and hauled them up in front of what I presumed was his desk before he sat behind it.
Jun and I both took a seat.
“So?” Tillman asked.
Jun took over this part, and I was only more than happy to let him. Keep this between lawmen, you know?
“We spoke with a few people down at Barnacles today. Curtis Leon, Peg Hart, and Josh Moore.”
Tillman nodded, rolling a pen between his thumb and index finger.
“Seems that Curtis was already aware of Cassidy’s death.”
“Yes, he was having breakfast with Glen Porter, Cassidy’s employer, when I went down to speak with Glen.”
“Were you aware they are amateur treasure hunters?”
“I vaguely knew,” Tillman replied. “I know Peg—she owns her own boat. I’ve heard a few stories about the four of them going out to search for sunken treasure.”
Jun leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs and seeming completely at ease. “Peg mentioned a diary that Cassidy had, about Captain Rogers.”
Tillman narrowed his eyes. “I’m not familiar with this man.”
“He was captain of a merchant vessel from 1854 to 1871,” I piped up.
Tillman looked at me. “Let me guess. The skeleton is Rogers and he killed Cassidy?”
“I think the skeleton might actually be Smith,” I corrected. “Thanks, though.”
Jun cleared his throat.
I didn’t roll my eyes, but man, I came close to it. “Cassidy got the diary because it mentions Smith and One-Eyed Jack supposedly being one and the same, and I told you yesterday how hell-bent he was about proving me wrong. The point is, that diary was stolen a year ago from a museum in St. Augustine.”
“I suspect a man that’s stolen from at least one museum, with the intent of perhaps stealing from Aubrey’s,” Jun began, “likely has more than one hot item in his possession.”
Tillman looked down at his mass of paperwork, thoughtful. “We’ve been to his apartment. Nothing like an old diary was found.”
“I know an Agent Dixon in Miami who works with the Art Crime Team,” Jun stated. “I’m sure she would be more than happy to assist.”
Tillman sat back in his chair. “This St. Augustine museum would first need their local law enforcement to submit an entry to NSAF.”
Tillman knew more about FBI policies than I did. Check.
Jun smiled. “Of course. But I’m sure with a few phone calls, I can get the ball rolling, considering the situation down here. What do you say, Detective?”
Ha, ha, ha, checkmate.
Tillman frowned.
“I’m not looking to take over or interfere with your case,” Jun stated. “I’m only here for a week and half, and when I leave Aubrey, I want to sleep at night knowing that he’s not being harassed or in danger at his place of business. That’s all.”
Tillman looked between the two of us.
I nodded and offered a smile.
After a beat, Tillman let out a heavy sigh and shifted some of his papers around. He picked up a small evidence baggie that held a key fob. It was bright orange and seemed to have some sort of room number on it. “We found this in Cassidy’s apartment. It belongs to a unit at Store Yourself in New Town.” He offered it and Jun accepted.
“What’s the chance of getting a search warrant?” Jun asked, turning the fob around absently.
Tillman smiled this time and held up a form. “Just got it, twenty minutes ago. Cassidy has a record of theft. Appears he’s been obsessed with this pirate Jack guy most of his life.” He stood. “As a courtesy to you, Agent Tanaka, and because I’m not well versed in the diaries of merchant sailors from the 1800s… I’ll extend the offer of you being present while I serve this. Unofficially, of course.”
“Of course.” Jun stood, and they shook hands again. “I suppose we’ll bump into each other there. It just so happens that Aubrey is qualified to offer assistance regarding anything you might find in the unit.”
Tillman looked at me. “That he is,” he said tersely.
WE’D FOLLOWED Tillman from Stock Island to New Town and parked outside of Store Yourself about thirty minutes later. Jun turned the car off, leaned over me to unlock the glove compartment, and revealed a gun and holster.
“Whoa, you came to Florida packing?”
Jun looked at me briefly before grabbing it. “I don’t go anywhere without a service weapon.”
“Even on vacation?” Because I found that sort of… sad.
Jun didn’t respond, just put the shoulder holster on. He opened the door and said, “Would you grab the suit coat in the back seat?”
I partially climbed over the console to reach the folded G-man coat before getting out of the car. “You came prepared.”
Jun adjusted his weapon as he came toward me, took the coat, and hid the gun as he slid it over his shoulders.
“You think there’s something dangerous inside the unit?” I asked, looking up.
“I’d rather not take any chances. Stay behind and out of the way, okay?”
Tillman climbed out of his car beside us and removed the folded warrant from an inner pocket before leading the way.
“Regarding Josh Moore,” Jun said, the scuff of his shoes on the pavement echoing over his words. “Aubrey hired him to paint the first floor of the Smith Home. He finished that two weeks ago.”
“Is that so.”
“It might account for the broken window in the parlor,” Jun continued.
Tillman stopped and turned to face Jun.
“He’s similar in appearance to the description Aubrey gave of the second intruder.”
Watching Jun work Tillman was pretty awesome. I think his good-cop thing was making it difficult for Tillman to even be properly annoyed, since Jun was technically helping. Just, you know, sort of passive-aggressively.
“I don’t suppose he shared yesterday’s whereabouts with you?” Tillman asked.
“He did not.”
Tillman looked at me briefly before nodding and walking toward the business once more. “I’ll look into it.” He opened the front door, held it for us, then approached the counter. He flashed his badge at a disinterested woman.
“I’ve a search warrant, ma’am,” he said, sliding the form over. “Unit 513, belonging to a Lou Cassidy.”
She chewed her gum loudly, popping a bubble while glancing over the legal form—like anyone actually read that mumbo jumbo. “Fine with me,” she stated after a moment. “He’s a week late on payment. Will the police be paying that?”
Tillman just smiled. “Do you have bolt cutters?”
She sighed and got to her feet. “Yup. Head on through that door,” she said, indicating a door to our right. “Unit 513 is down the middle aisle on the left side. I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Appreciate it,” Tillman said, and I swore if he had a hat on, he would have tipped it.
Jerk never used his hat-tipping voice on me.
Then again, I had been sort of a sassy smartass with him the last few—er, all the meetings we’d had so far.
Jun opened the door
leading to the units, holding it for Tillman and me before bringing up the rear. “I must admit,” he said quietly. “Curiosity is getting the best of me.”
“You and me both,” Tillman called. “Man’s apartment is a shrine to all things nautical. I can only guess as to what’ll be in here.” He stopped outside an orange door about four by four feet. He looked at me and Jun. “I’ll be disappointed if it’s Christmas decorations.”
The office door opened behind us and echoed loudly as it slammed shut. The woman from the counter was walking toward us with a hefty pair of bolt cutters. “Here you are, gentlemen,” she said, handing the tool over to Tillman. “Please don’t make a mess. I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”
Tillman thanked her and waited until she’d slammed the door again. He took the clippers to the combo lock on the door, quickly snapping it. He slipped it free and pocketed the lock pieces before setting the cutters down on the floor.
Jun took my arm and gently maneuvered me to stand behind him. He removed his gun and took a readied stance as Tillman yanked the door open.
The missing skeleton from yesterday came tumbling out, breaking as it smashed into the linoleum floor.
Chapter Ten
I YELPED.
Or… more like… okay, I screamed.
I screamed way louder than I meant to, but hello! I was prepared for pretty much anything to come falling out of the packed unit but Skelly. I jumped back instinctively, despite the skeleton hardly posing any sort of threat.
Jun turned around and put a hand firmly on my shoulder. “You okay?”
My eyes widened, but I nodded. “Uh, yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Startled.”
Jun holstered his weapon.
Tillman crouched down, looking the skeleton over. “Don’t suppose you could verify that this is the same one you saw yesterday, Aubrey?”
I gave Tillman a look. “Yeah, sure,” I mocked. “Spitting image. How many other missing skeletons have there been in the last twenty-four hours?”
“Aubrey,” Jun said in that “you’re in trouble, and not the good way” tone.
Tillman stood, staring at me. “I may owe you an apology.”
