While the other cops were not reluctant to help Craig and back him up, Roy had sensed a subtle distance there, perhaps more Craig’s choice than theirs. Craig was part of the brotherhood that all cops shared, but he was also an outsider. It seemed to be more than just the fact his partner was canine instead of another human, though that could be a part of it. Canine officers were kind of a breed apart. The bond they formed with their dog was a tangible thing, and had to be maintained in order to work as the perfect team they were. The cop was the alpha member, but he had to earn and deserve the absolute loyalty and obedience the dog gave him. No question that Craig and Sam had that bond. Roy looked forward to seeing the dog again too.
Finally, Saturday arrived. With a case of nerves so acute he almost turned around and went back home, Roy headed his little Ford across town, following Craig’s map that he’d all but memorized. When he arrived at the Arroyo Apartments, he was relieved to find that, although newer, they were not a big cut above the complex he called home. Craig had a ground floor unit at one end of a building housing half a dozen units. It came with a postage stamp-sized backyard with a side gate, which must be convenient for Sam. Craig, standing over a smoking grill, looked up as Roy approached the gate.
“Hey, come on in! I’m just about ready to throw the steaks on.”
Sam lay close to Craig’s feet. He looked up as Roy came into the yard. The dog got up and shook himself before he paced over to check Roy out. Roy saw the shaved streak along the dog’s left side where his wound had been stitched, but it looked like everything was healing well. He held his hand down for Sam to sniff, careful not to reach over the dog’s head in a gesture that canines found threatening. The dog’s tail fanned in a slow wag as he looked up with a doggy grin.
“He remembers you,” Craig said. “I figured he would. He has a library of smells filed away and he never forgets one, I can guarantee. He’d know you anywhere. He’s not really stand-offish, but he is a little choosy about his friends. Looks like you made the grade. I was counting on that, though. Sam’s a good judge of character.”
“Guess I should be flattered.”
“Honored,” Craig amended. “In fact, I’d say you’re one of his special people. He knows you helped him when he was in a bad spot. Just like you did for me, and I expect he sensed that too. It’s hard to know what they comprehend and perceive, but these Malinois are exceptional dogs. This fellow was bred in one of Europe’s finest kennels and trained by a top police dog trainer in Hungary. To me it’s an honor to be partnered with him.”
“I envy you,” Roy said, which was true. As a kid he’d never been able to have a dog. Maybe it was a good thing because that would have been just one more thing his stepfather could have held over him. Since he’d been grown, he’d either been in the military or in some situation where having a pet was just not possible. So he did envy anyone who enjoyed the loyalty and unconditional love that a good dog gave. He stooped to stroke Sam’s sleek neck and scratched him behind the erect ears. Sam leaned against him for a moment, relaxed and enjoying the attention. Then he padded back to settle beside Craig.
Leaving the grill, Craig crossed to Roy’s side and clapped him on the shoulder. “How do you like your steak? I’ve got some great New York strips and a couple of porterhouses. Sergeant Sheldon likes his well done, in other words, burned to a cinder. Pete Logan and Jeff Tatum are almost as bad. Please tell me medium at the most. I hate to destroy a good piece of meat.”
Roy grinned. “Medium rare is fine for me. Not quite mooing, but definitely not shoe leather.”
“A man after my own heart. What a relief.” Craig chortled as he headed for the open patio door, returning moments later with a big bowl full of meat and a pair of tongs. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, besides your skill in first aid. Drinks are in the tub of ice over there. Help yourself.”
Roy selected a bottle of Corona. He popped the lid with a practiced flip and lifted the bottle to his lips. Maybe a little alcohol in the blood would ease the rest of his jitters. Now that he was here, he could hardly take his eyes off of Craig. In a pair of jeans worn soft by long use and a close-fitting polo shirt, the cop looked good enough to eat.
What he didn’t know was whether or not the other man was the least bit interested. First in any relationship…and second in one with Roy. How did he go about finding out? It would have to be in private so no one would be too embarrassed if things didn’t quite come off right. That meant hanging around after the party was over. Well, he didn’t have to be anywhere until two o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Should be plenty of time for whatever happened—if anything. Meanwhile he’d just try to enjoy some rare sociability, a good steak, and getting to know the other friends Craig had invited.
For a pleasant evening, the time passed at a ponderous pace. They ate and drank beer, laughed and joked, played poker and kidded one another as men do. Playing for pennies as they were, no one was going broke. Two of the cops were married, and they both confessed they couldn’t afford to lose much or their wives would have hissy fits. Neither one seemed to be embarrassed or dismayed by the fact or even admitting it. In some ways Roy envied them, although he knew family and marriage were not for him.
They were a great bunch of guys, but only one really held Roy’s interest. He both wanted and dreaded a few minutes alone with Craig so he could—maybe—find out if the other man was even half as intrigued as he was. The chance finally came, late in the evening, as the rest left one by one.
“I’ll help you clean up,” Roy offered. “No one’s waiting up for me to get home.”
“You don’t have to,” Craig said. “I was going to leave most of it for tomorrow. I’m not on duty until three o’clock.”
Roy grinned. “It won’t look any better in the morning. In fact, it’ll probably seem worse. This way, it’ll be done.” He found a trash bag and began to stuff empty bottles into it. With a grimace of disgust, Craig emptied an overflowing ash tray into a coffee can with sand in the bottom. Roy had noticed the blond cop didn’t smoke. That was a relief. He couldn’t stand the smell of stale butts. It was one of the worst things about the bar.
Craig turned to face Roy. “Here, I’ll take that.” Roy tied the bag shut and handed it to him. Their hands somehow tangled over the process. The bag fell to the floor between them as both jumped back with a start at the zinging awareness that shot through their nerves from the accidental touch.
“Whoa,” Craig said. “Did anyone ever tell you you’ve got an electric personality?” His smile took the sting out of the words. “Felt like I stuck a finger in a light socket there. Wow.”
For a half-dozen heartbeats they stood and stared at each other. They were both still feeling the voltage generated by that one brief contact. Roy had touched Craig much more intimately, high on the thigh, when he did the first aid, but that was a very different situation. Now they were on equal footing. Now they were alone, with no one else around to barge in on them. Now they were facing the potent truth of the attraction between them.
Craig moved first, settling his hands on Roy’s shoulders. “I noticed your earring and some mannerisms the other night, little things about you. I could hardly define what I saw, but I picked up on them and started to wonder. I know the earring thing is iffy anymore, what with everyone getting pierced here, there, and everywhere, but it used to have a meaning. I’d probably wear one too, but it’s not allowed with the uniform.”
Roy returned the taller man’s steady gaze. He felt the first sparkles of dizzy delight begin to dance behind his breastbone. They sent a new zing of energy south in an instant. Yes, he’s interested. He did notice, and it was more than gratitude that made him ask me over.
“I’ve worn it ever since I got out of the Navy. Like the police force, they didn’t allow it with the uniform, and I wasn’t supposed to advertise my preferences anyway.”
“The Sundown isn’t a gay bar, is it? I never got the impression it is.”
“It’s not. I woul
dn’t work in a gay bar. It’s never wise to mix work and pleasure, and I’m not sure I want to hook up with the guys who hang out in bars anyway.” Roy grinned and shuffled his feet a little. Craig made him nervous, but it was a good nervous. “It’s just a job, but as jobs go, it’s okay. I don’t want to sponge off anybody. My friend Frank promised I’d never be homeless or in need as long as he was up and going, but I’m not going to be a user.”
“Frank? What kind of a friend is he—a fuck buddy, a real mate, or just a friend? I mean I don’t want to horn in on somebody else’s turf, even if I really like your looks, your style.”
“Just a friend. He’s bi and, yeah, we’ve been together that way, but now he’s found Kerry again, the first girl he ever cared about. I think he’d really rather swing that way. And I want him to if that’s what he needs.”
Roy paused a moment and then went on, sensing Craig wanted and deserved the whole story.
“I met him when he was in the Marines and I was a Navy corpsman assigned to his unit in Iraq. We both grew up with some bad shit and sensed that common ground, I think, so we started to hang out together. When I got out, I was pretty fucked up for a while—saw some really bad stuff go down, and it brought back what I went through as a kid. I was in the psych ward for a while. When I got out of the hospital, he was there for me. He’d already retired on a medical due to his wounds, but it doesn’t slow him down much.”
Thinking of some of the things Frank did, Roy shook his head. For a man still carrying some lead and those patch jobs of steel and plastic in his body, Frank was damn tough.
Awareness flared in Craig’s eyes. “Wait a minute. Your bud is Frank Ogden, the guy who’s hooked up with that FBI gal, Agent Satterfield. If I was into women, I could go for her myself. She’s a knockout, but always had that ‘hands-off’ air about her. I never quite knew what to make of him.”
“I’m a free agent, my own man. Frank’ll always be my friend, almost like a brother, but we aren’t really a couple. We realized it would never work that way.” It was important that Craig understand this. Roy sensed the honor and principles the other man lived by, an innate part of who he was. He would never cheat on a partner or try to take anything that wasn’t his.
Craig smiled, a bright, fast, dazzling smile. “Great! That makes us good to go, right? How about spending the night? Any place you need to be before tomorrow?”
Roy shook his head, then nodded, so overcome for a moment that words would not emerge. “No…err…I mean, yeah. It’s all right. Like really all right!”
With a whoop of delight that had Sam scurrying in to see what was going on, Craig gave Roy an exuberant, crushing hug. For a moment, Roy thought he was going to be picked up and swung around in a circle, but Craig didn’t go that far. Sobering, he released the embrace and raised both hands to cup Roy’s face.
“I know you’re older than you look. My first impression that night was what’s this kid doing working in a bar? You looked about sixteen, but I know you’re older. How much older?”
“I’ll be thirty in September. Your face is young-looking too, but a man doesn’t get the assurance you have without some experience and surviving tough times. I’m guessing early thirties.”
Craig nodded. “Thirty-two this past May. I did a hitch in the Army and then went through law enforcement training. I worked with a dog a few months as an MP. A chance to become a K-9 officer was a dream come true for me.”
“You and Sam make quite a team. Maybe you and I can too. If you’ll get your handcuffs out and put them on me, I’ll do anything you want.”
Craig’s grin and eyes both sparkled. “You know, I think that’s an outstanding idea. I wasn’t ready to ask, but since you brought it up, why the hell not!” He turned and started down the hall Roy was pretty sure led to the bedroom. Roy lost no time following him. It occurred to him at that moment he’d gladly follow Craig Rommel through hell, high water, or just about anything.
When they reached the bedroom, Craig stopped in the middle of the room, near the foot of the king-size bed. Roy noticed the elaborate carved headboard at once. It looked like something from old Europe, craftsmanship and exquisite care lavished on elegant dark wood. A second look revealed the hooks and rings cleverly embedded in the design of twining vines and leaves. It was a bed made for seduction, for bondage and discipline as well. A shiver of pure excitement flashed though him.
Craig turned around one time. When he again faced Roy, his face was set in a stern, somber expression. “You’re under arrest, boy. I don’t bother with strip searches. Get out of your clothes.”
Roy hurried to comply with the order. He peeled off his black T-shirt, emblazoned with a vivid sunset behind a dark bottle of Tecate. Loosening his belt, he lowered the zipper on his jeans and let them slide down his legs. He kicked off his athletic shoes as he stepped free of the jeans. That left him only in his dark green briefs. He glanced at Craig.
The other man stood with his arms folded across his chest, his face inscrutable. His posture told the whole tale. He would give no mercy, would not weaken or give in.
Good, that’s what I’ve been wanting, needing. Frank could never do it, not even when I asked.
Roy rolled down the briefs, sliding them past his growing erection, and let them drop to his feet.
“Hands behind your back.”
Roy complied, turning to put his back to Craig. The metal cuffs were cold and implacable on his wrists. He felt the faint strain on his shoulders and arched his back a bit to ease it. Craig circled to stand in front of him. Fisting a hand in Roy’s hair, he tipped his head back. Then he covered Roy’s lips with a savage kiss. Bruising, just short of brutal, Craig’s mouth crushed Roy’s lips against his teeth.
“Open.” Craig growled the word in a tone that made Sam back away from the doorway where he’d stood, watching the two men with a puzzled expression. Roy complied, giving Craig complete access to his mouth. The fierce thrusts of Craig’s tongue made Roy tremble. A tumble of erotic images swept through his mind. This is going to be so damned good.
After a moment, Craig noticed Sam. “I need to crate him for the night,” he said. “Don’t go away.”
Sam’s crate was in the second bedroom, right across the hall, a room that was in effect the dog’s own. Roy watched the whole brief ceremony, touched that, even while caught up in passion, Craig took care of his canine partner.
The crate was large and comfortable, a secure haven where Sam obviously felt safe and at ease. At the command, he went in, turned around once, and lay down. Craig shut the crate door, made sure the water bowl was full and that a couple of Sam’s toys were there where he could reach them. Then he turned back to Roy, a lupine smile on his face. Craig shut the door when he left Sam’s room.
Craig paused in the doorway of his room, sweeping his gaze over Roy from head to feet. He nodded at last. Then he began to undress, scattering his clothes on the floor. From the tidiness of the room, Roy knew this was a change from his common habit. That puzzled him, but only for a minute.
With a sweep of his hand, Craig indicated the mess. “Pick them up. Put them in the basket.”
With a jerk of his head, he indicated the wicker basket just inside the half-opened closet door.
It was awkward to pick things up with your hands locked behind your back, but Roy managed to comply. He would crouch and twist, capture a garment in one hand, and then carry it to the basket. When he was done, he turned to await further orders. Now Craig was also nude, and Roy couldn’t take his gaze off the other man. Dressed he was gorgeous, but naked and aroused, he was magnificent.
Craig’s cock stood erect, thrusting out of the golden tangle of hair in his crotch. Almost maroon with darkening blood, it made Roy think of a mahogany nightstick. A droplet of pre-cum glistened on the tip, shining like a diamond in the glare of the overhead light. Roy ran his tongue across his lips. He could just taste that cock, the sharp, salty flavor of man and sex. It was all he could do not to blurt his eager
ness, but he sensed that the roles they were playing forbade him to take the initiative. He waited for Craig to make the next move.
With a jerk of his head and a gesture, Craig sent Roy to the foot of the bed. “On your knees.”
Roy hastened to obey, almost losing his balance in his haste to get down. Keenly aware of the vulnerability of his position, Roy rested his forehead on the smooth, cool fabric of the bedspread. Every nerve was drawn taut with expectation. He was ready and eager to be used however Craig chose to. I just hope he doesn’t back off at the last minute.
Roy should have been ready, but the sting and crack of a hard hand striking his buttocks caught him by surprise. He gave an involuntary gasp, almost a whimper. His cock jumped in response to the burn. Yes, oh, God, yes. Hurts so good…
“How are you at sucking cock? Do you give a good BJ?”
Roy nodded. “I…I think so. I try to.”
“Well, we’ll see. If you give a really good blowjob, maybe you’ll earn a reward.”
Craig pushed him back enough to slide between him and the bed, and settled on the edge, legs extended on either side of Roy. That put his powerful dick right in Roy’s face, right where he wanted it, where they both wanted it.
“What’s your word?”
The sharp question took Roy by surprise. His head jerked up as he looked up at Craig’s stony face. “Word?”
“Your safe word…the one to say if something gets to be too much.”
“Oh, yeah. Daniel, I guess. That was my stepfather’s name. I hated his guts. It’s not anything I’d say normally.”
Canine Cupids for Cops Page 14
