by Sam Burns
“Mmm?”
“Are you too tired for sex?”
“Is that a joke?” Devon ran one hand down Wade’s side and around his back to grab his ass. “That’s the only way I can imagine that question making sense.”
Wade rolled his eyes. “What if I’d asked you yesterday when I got you home from the clinic?”
“For you, my dear Deputy Wade, I’d have tried to stay awake. I can’t imagine wanting to turn you away.”
While rolling them over so Devon was beneath him, Wade still managed to turn and make sure Devon’s injured ankle didn’t get tangled up in the sheets.
“Is your life goal to make everyone else look like a bad person?” Devon asked. “Because the level of perfection you insist on displaying is ridiculous sometimes.” He leaned up for a kiss, but Wade put a finger to his lips and pushed him back down.
“Still seem so perfect?”
Devon, in lieu of an answer, opened his mouth and wrapped it around the finger.
Wade sighed in exasperation. “I’m trying to be a jerk here. My boyfriend is injured, and I’m trying to get him to have sex with me.”
“See,” Devon answered, letting go of the finger, “that would only be a jerky thing to do if you knew I weren’t interested. But you know I am.” He pressed up into Wade to demonstrate how interested he was. He was too enthusiastic, however, and his ankle reminded him of its presence with a sharp pain. He hissed and stilled.
“Do I need to tie you up to keep you from hurting yourself?” Wade asked, incredulous.
Devon considered for a moment before trying the answer he wanted to give. “No?” He breathed a sigh of relief when the word came out. “Oh, thank goodness. Not that I have a problem with a little bondage, but I’d hate to think that was the only answer.”
Wade put a hand over his eyes and shook his head in the most “what have I gotten myself into” gesture Devon had ever seen.
“And I love you,” Devon added, like that was going to make it better. It seemed that once the words had come out for the first time, they kept getting easier to say.
“And I love you,” Wade answered immediately, though he was sighing while he did it.
Then, problem-solver that he was, Wade pulled Devon’s right ankle up and over his shoulder. It was a bit of a stretch to get it to move that way, and Devon’s muscles were sore from all the walking and strain of his time in the woods, but he couldn’t say he didn’t like it a little because of that.
“Getting a little kinky on me here, big guy?” Devon asked.
Wade gave him a wolfish smile. “I’ve been getting the feeling, recently, that you’re expecting me to take charge. Maybe even waiting for it.”
“A guy doesn’t like to be the boss all the time.” He reached up and trailed his fingers down Wade’s chest. “And this is a partnership. Nobody’s the boss. You’ve just been giving me my way all the time, even when it hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me.” Wade didn’t wait to continue the conversation, just manhandled Devon’s other leg up to join the first and used the position to strip off his briefs.
“That was efficient.”
Wade reached for the nightstand and pulled out the lube. “I’m an efficient kind of guy. It’s the thing you didn’t expect to like about me, but kind of do.”
“Here I thought I was the one who said awkward things because he couldn’t lie.”
Tossing the lube on the bed next to him, Wade pulled down the elastic on his boxers, exposing his cock but leaving them on. For some reason that kicked Devon’s arousal into high gear. “I don’t like lying, even if I can do it. The truth is easier. Now shut up and kiss me.” Wade let Devon’s left leg fall back into place beside him and kept the right one pressed to his chest. “Is this okay? Is it hurting you?”
Devon glared at him. “Are you going to stop if I say yes?”
“Yes.”
“And if I say a little, but I don’t mind?”
Wade tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes at Devon. “Don’t mind like ‘I can live with it,’ or don’t mind like ‘I kind of like it?’ ”
Devon felt a blush spread across his cheeks, all the way down his neck and into his chest. Stupid pale skin. Being a redhead sucked sometimes. He scowled at Wade and mumbled, “The second one.”
Without judgment, Wade leaned down and kissed him, careful not to force his leg down any further, just holding it in place. “Okay then.” He kissed him again. “All you have to do is tell me what you want, Devon. I’ll give it to you if I can.”
When he pulled away, Devon leaned up and captured his lips again. “I know. It took me a while, but I figured it out.”
Wade went back to the lube. He slicked himself up and reached out to prep Devon, but stopped himself. “You really . . . ?”
Devon pulled the lube out of his hand, flipped it closed, and tossed it away. “I really.”
It was great that Wade cared about his feelings, but caring about what he wanted was much better. It felt free, despite the fact that he could barely move with his leg held in that position.
Wade pulled one of his pillows from the head of the bed, lifted Devon’s hips, and slipped it beneath.
“You’re going to have to put up with me asking if you’re okay once in a while,” Wade told him as he finally stopped fussing, held Devon’s hips up, and started to slide in.
Devon let his head fall back and groaned. “Fine. Don’t care. I’m okay. So, so, so okay.”
The slight burn followed Wade all the way in, until his hips were flush against Devon’s ass. He looked like he was breathing hard, and Devon was panting too. He figured he looked ridiculous, but part of the mates thing was that Wade didn’t seem to care. So instead of worrying, he gave Wade’s chest a light shove. “Move. You may have taken charge, but it’s conditional on you doing something.”
Wade leaned down and kissed him. Usually, Wade let Devon take control of everything, but not this time, and not this kiss. He pushed Devon down into his pillow, pressing his advantage, kissing Devon until he was gasping for breath.
And while he kissed him, he moved. The burn disappeared, replaced by a warmth pooling at the base of his spine. His thigh started to ache where Wade had it over his shoulder, and all he could do was whimper.
Pulling out almost all the way, Wade leaned back and let his thigh relax. “You okay?”
“Shut up and fuck me,” Devon demanded. He wished the man were wearing a shirt so he could use it to yank him back down. Wade obliged regardless, thrusting back in, this time quicker, and it sent electricity zinging up Devon’s spine. He tried to call out Wade’s name but couldn’t find the breath as Wade sped up.
“Better?” Wade asked, that wolfish grin back on his face, like he knew Devon was incapable of answering. Fuck, that was hot. And he knew it wouldn’t take more than a gesture to stop Wade cold, which made it even better.
Wade was his partner in every way and wanted what Devon wanted.
His world narrowed to just the bed, just Wade, driving into him over and over, using so much force he pushed him up toward the headboard, so Devon had to reach up and brace his hands to keep his head from banging into the wood.
“Fuck, Wade,” he managed to breathe out. “More.”
Wade pulled out a little more slowly, and Devon was afraid he was going to slow the whole thing down and torture him, but he pushed back in faster. Devon’s eyes rolled back, his body tensing as his orgasm rushed through him like a bolt of electricity, whiting out his vision and leaving him gasping Wade’s name.
He almost missed Wade’s orgasm, so closely following his own that it seemed triggered by it. Even in orgasm, Wade didn’t collapse on him, overextend his leg, or anything so ill-mannered. He froze in place, moaning, head thrown back. It was a moment that deserved to be immortalized in painting or statue, with those perfect cheekbones, kiss-swollen lips, and that ecstatic expression. Devon wanted to capture it and keep it forever.
Finally, Wade
reopened his eyes, still bright and sparkling. Ever so gently, he released Devon’s thigh and set his injured ankle aside, then climbed from between his legs. Slipping back into the bed beside him, he wrapped his arms around Devon’s waist and nuzzled his neck. “You okay?”
“Perfect.”
“I think so.”
Devon didn’t even have the energy to swat Wade for deliberately misunderstanding him. They both lapsed back to sleep, twined together. Devon had never managed to sleep wrapped up in anyone’s arms before, but with Wade, on this morning, it just seemed to work.
8
The Storm to Come
Monday morning found Devon looking out the window to clear, sunny skies for the first time in three weeks. Everything was still covered with snow; it had gotten up to nearly four feet in some places before stopping. He wondered if that was some kind of local snowfall record.
Wade was dressing in the spare uniform he always kept at the apartment, getting ready to try to get to the station for work.
“Are you sure you can make it out there?” Devon asked, trying to pretend it was a serious question and not a petulant one, because he wanted one more day of being snowed in. It had been nice.
Wade, still buckling his belt, crossed the room and kissed him. “I’d love to stay, but I only got the weekend off to take care of you. The station doesn’t close for snow. Jen and Fletcher and Takao need days off too, especially since the sheriff still can’t get back into town.”
“Main road still isn’t plowed?”
“Nope. He’s getting antsy, talking about buying an off-road vehicle and meeting someone at the county road, since Uncle Nate managed to keep it clear. I keep telling him he knows nothing about driving an off-road vehicle, but he’s worried.” Wade looked around, like there might be someone hiding in the kitchen listening in. “I think Mizuki might be pregnant.”
Devon stared at him. “Are you kidding?”
Wade just cocked his head and raised an eyebrow as if to ask, “Do I seem like the kind of guy who would do that?” And that was fair.
“Huh. Well, good for them.”
“You going to open the store today?” Wade asked, heading over to the nightstand to pick up his wallet and keys. “I’ll dig out a path to the door before I go.”
Devon thought about it for a minute. He’d told Salli not to worry about coming in until she could drive back safely, so she wasn’t likely to show up. Even if they didn’t get customers, it might be better for his sanity to do something, even if it was inventory that had already been counted.
Or he could try working on that sock again.
“I ask the tough questions, huh?” Wade asked, a big grin on his face. He came over and wrapped his arms around Devon. He’d been even more tactile than usual since they had gotten back, and Devon was surprised to find he was okay with that. They would be moving in together after all.
“Hey,” he said, pulling back. “When are you going to go get your stuff from your parents’ place? I wouldn’t be much help, but I can press Jesse into service. Wait. No I can’t.”
Wade winced and nodded. “Yeah, we’ll leave him and Sean be for now.”
“Yeah. I feel like I should bake something for them.”
“I wouldn’t. They’re going to get more baked goods than anyone can eat in a year over the next week, even with Jesse. Do what you do best. Go see them and let them talk about their problems sometime.” He leaned over and grabbed Devon’s crutches, which were against the wall next to the window. “But for now, just take care of yourself.”
Devon grudgingly accepted the crutches. His ankle was wrapped up tight, and they felt unnecessary. Well, they did until he tried to walk without them, then not so much. “We’re supposed to go see Oak soon.”
“Didn’t you just talk to them?”
“Yeah, but they said they wanted to see us after the storm.”
Wade stuck next to him as they headed for the door, watching Devon like a concerned spotter at the gym. “It would be hard to get through all that snow. Maybe give it a week or two for some of it to melt.”
“Good point. And I don’t think Cassidy is a big fan of snow.”
Looking at him like he’d spoken in another language, Wade drew his brows together in confusion. “Cassidy? Why—”
There was a loud knock from downstairs, and they both turned toward it.
“Is that the front door?”
“Think so,” Wade agreed, and ran down the stairs. He paused at the bottom to look back up at Devon. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Devon snorted. “As if.”
He continued trying to make his way down the stairs as he listened to Wade run to the front door, unlock it, and greet whoever was outside. He managed a whole two steps before Wade was back, bounding up the stairs to help him. “I told you not to move.”
“And I told you ‘as if,’ so don’t give me that wounded look. I made no promise to stand there like a mannequin.”
Wade rolled his eyes and lost patience with the slow march down one step at a time, because he grabbed the crutches and handed them to Devon, then swung him up into a princess carry. “I know, I know. Stop hovering. You’re not helpless. Believe me, I know that. But I think you’re going to want to get down there. It’s the mayor, and he looks like something is wrong.”
Devon didn’t make a sound, just let Wade manhandle him down the stairs and into the shop’s main room.
Sure enough, the mayor was sitting in one of the faded, eggshell-blue chairs, looking tense. His leg was bouncing up and down like he was barely containing the urge to jump up and do calisthenics, and he clutched a thick manila envelope tight in both hands.
He hopped up when he saw Wade and Devon, turning toward them. “I’m sorry for bothering you at home, De—Councilman Murphy.”
“You’re allowed to call me Devon, Uncle Tommy. You’re married to my favorite aunt.”
Wade lifted an eyebrow. “Your only aunt?”
Devon shrugged. “Still my favorite.”
“It’s council business,” the mayor said. He sounded exhausted.
After a closer look at him, Devon decided that he was exhausted. He looked a decade older and more sleep-deprived than the night he’d spent awake and searching the woods.
Devon shoved at Wade’s chest. “The chair. Put me down.”
Wade complied, taking Devon to the chair across from the mayor’s and putting him gently into it. He stood back up and cleared his throat. “Should I go?”
“No,” Devon told him without waiting for the mayor to answer. “You should call the station and tell them you’re going to be a little late, because you have town business to deal with.”
The mayor nodded, his eyes on the carpet. Devon was worried the man was going to be sick right in the middle of the room.
Wade pulled out his phone and started typing.
“There’s not another troll, is there?” Devon asked. His heart was in his throat, blood rushing at the thought of another member of his community hurt.
The mayor shook his head and held up the envelope. “Only the one. This is—if only I’d looked, Devon. Oh god, I might have known. This is my fault.”
“This is not your fault,” Devon answered simply, and he’d never been so glad that he managed to get a sentence out. “Now what’s ‘this,’ and why did you think it was your fault?”
With trembling fingers, the mayor pulled at the clip holding the envelope closed but failed to open it up.
Wade put his phone back into his pocket and took the envelope from the mayor, who let it slip from his hands. He continued staring at it, like a man staring at his death warrant.
The clip opened easily for Wade, and he leaned over and slid the contents of the envelope out onto the low table in the middle of the room then knelt down, looking through the objects inside.
There were a dozen papers of various colors and shapes. Devon couldn’t read them from his distance, but they looked like invoices. There wa
s a stack of pictures, and the top one was of a troll, chained inside a cage far too small for its bulk. The cage looked like it had been intended for some imprisoned circus animal, and the troll had to hunch over to fit inside.
Wade rifled through the photos. “Nothing identifying.”
The mayor shook his head. “I didn’t find anything either. There’s a flash drive with a video. It’s shaky, but it shows the back of a man. He’s giving orders, as they load the thing into a truck. I didn’t recognize him. But—” He leaned over to Wade and plucked something from behind the stack of pictures in his hand.
Wade grimaced. “I don’t imagine you thought to have any of this fingerprinted?”
“I checked,” he promised. “As soon as I realized what I was seeing, I checked. But there was nothing. Whoever sent the package scrubbed it clean of anything; there wasn’t so much as a stray hair.”
“Someone knew what kind of town they were sending it to,” Devon observed.
Nodding, Wade took the single folded paper back from the mayor and opened it up. He set it down on the table. It looked like an old-school ransom note, made from letters cut out of newspapers. It read:
He’s sending it. This is only the beginning. He wants you all dead.
—A Friend
The mayor wiped his hands down his face. Devon looked at him again, really looked at him, and realized just how hard this had hit him. He felt as though he were responsible for Leah Anderson’s death because someone had mailed this to him.
“When did it come?”
“Thursday morning. I hadn’t gotten to the mail yet when the storm came up, and after that, I didn’t even think about it until I got back to the office today. No one sends me important things. It’s all bureaucratic nonsense, because I’m good at that. I—” He dropped his head, shoulders shaking. “If I’d checked the mail Thursday . . . ”
“You wouldn’t have been able to change anything,” Devon concluded. The mayor looked up at him, wounded. “Uncle Tommy, you weren’t going to evacuate the schools because someone sent you this. It’s some receipts and pictures of a troll, with a threat. You couldn’t have known where or when it was coming or if it was even true.”
