by Rhys Ford
“Hey, sometimes really good sex can leave you hurting a little bit. Or at least as wrung out like you’ve just done a six-hour session.” Ivo flicked the packet with his fingers. “So, you wanna see what your dick looks like with skulls all over it? Or do you want to talk about my brothers some more?”
Sucking his breath in through his teeth, Ruan ventured farther up Ivo’s kilt, mildly disappointed at the discovery of a pair of boxer briefs beneath the tartan. Shaking his head, he pretended to think for a moment, then gave Ivo a salacious wink as he said, “I think the skulls win.”
“EVER HAVE sex on your couch before?” Ivo whispered, exploring Ruan’s mouth with dips of his tongue into its warm, sweet depths. “And good call keeping the cat busy with an extra can of food. Probably gave us at least a minute or two to get some stuff done over here.”
“He’s in the bathroom,” Ruan reminded him, gasping into their kiss when Ivo’s long, talented fingers gripped his shaft tight around its base. “And you’re the first one I’ve had sex with in this whole damned apartment. Explain to me why… shit.”
He was getting too old for spontaneous sex, or at least Ruan thought he’d been, but a few kisses and Ivo’s teeth working the zipper down on his jeans brought his cock up to full alert. And after coaxing Spot into the bathroom with a dish of albacore tuna, he hobbled back to the couch, trying not to trip over his clothes while holding his pants up with one clenched fist. It’d been years since he grappled and groped on a couch, a long-distant memory of a kid named Jimmy in the lower-level family room of someone’s parents’ house during a college party. This was a delicious, scandalous celebration of a long day spent together, and most of all, something silly enough to lift away any of Ruan’s reservations.
All because of a condom with flaming skulls on its latex shaft.
He thought his dick looked silly with the grinning fiery skulls dancing around its length, or at least he had right up until Ivo wrapped his lips around Ruan’s cockhead and sucked his willpower right out of him. After that, he was more than willing to wear anything around his dick, so long as it made Ivo happy and kept a smile on both of their faces.
Except now he was slouched back into the corner of the sectional, his jeans splayed open and his shirt shoved up over his neck, his nipples wet from Ivo’s spit and his cock pulled free of his boxers and wrapped up in Ratchet Studio’s branded latex. Ivo’s shirt was somewhere on the floor, possibly even torn, because Ruan heard something rip when he pulled it off, his need for Ivo driving any care he had for their clothing right out of his mind.
Whatever company that tattoo shop used for their condoms went overboard with their lube, not something Ruan ever thought would cross his mind. After Ivo’s third try to roll the slippery latex down, they scraped as much of the vanilla-scented lotion off onto Ruan’s fingers and he slid his hand down between Ivo’s legs, using the excess lubricant to coat Ivo’s cleft. The exploration was short this time, driven mostly by Ivo’s growling need and the thick pounding throb beginning to form along Ruan’s cock.
“Shit, is this stuff heated?” Ruan huffed, the scrunch of his chest cutting into his breathing. Shifting upward, he nearly unseated Ivo, but a quick grab at his hips steadied his perch. “Nope. It’s just… me really wanting to be inside of you.”
“I can help you with that.” Ivo’s fingers were back, a gentler touch this time but no less insistent. Guiding Ruan’s tip to the edge of his entrance, he kept Ruan’s gaze, watching intently while he worked himself down Ruan’s length. “Fuck, I’m going to have to go slow. I don’t want to but… damn.”
It was the perfect moment. The lights were dimmed down, but Ruan could still see every bit of emotion on Ivo’s beautiful face, every line in his gorgeous body as the spotty darkness teased and played with the tattoos on his skin. Ivo’s whole life was captured under his skin, from the slightly wonky nautical star he wore as a devotional to his brothers, to the crazy, wild, firecracker-embellished lion leaping over his ribs, a testimonial to Ivo’s fiery soul. There were small bits scattered about, as well as a few scars, each with stories Ruan wanted to hear and a few he knew would be told later with more ink, weaving memories down into places Ivo would always wear.
He didn’t move when Ivo bent forward, arching his back and driving down his hips. Ivo’s shiny black hair fell over both their faces, blocking out the light when Ivo pressed his lips to Ruan’s mouth. It was a long, agonizing slide of Ivo’s heat around his cock that took Ruan’s breath, and his heart skipped a few beats when Ivo ground down on him, rolling his hips and squeezing his ass before lifting up again.
Ruan’s hands roamed, memorizing every hard line of Ivo’s body, then settling on his hips, keeping Ivo’s strokes short. He wanted to lose himself in Ivo, plunge up into every bit of warmth Ivo gave him and bask in it. The lube’s sweet scent was swept away by the raw musk of their bodies working toward a climax, Ivo’s chest glistening from a light sheen of sweat. Ivo’s kilt lay mostly behind him, pushed up over his hips so Ruan could almost lick his glistening cockhead.
The slap of Ivo’s ass on his hips drove Ruan wild, and he began to meet Ivo’s thrusts, cradling Ivo’s hips in his hands to match their now-frenzied pace. He felt alive. Humbled and freed by the slightly tamed spirit who’d found him wedged into the crevices of a staid life, moving from one case to the next, only engaging in the world when he stepped outside of his front door armed with a gun and a badge. Ivo forced him into the sun, laughed when the rain struck down hard from the skies, and bristled when someone said anything against him.
“Love this,” Ivo murmured, capturing Ruan’s face in his hands, then kissing him deeply. “And this is as stupid as fuck, but screw it… love you too. You and your damned sock-stealing cat. Don’t want this to end.”
“Doesn’t have to,” Ruan promised, the rush of his climax building up in his body. He reached for Ivo’s shaft, running his palm over its head, smearing the damp he found there down to give himself a slick slide. Working at Ivo’s cock, he squeezed and teased, pulling at his lover until Ivo dropped his head back, trembling in Ruan’s grip. “Don’t let go of me. Whatever you do, Ivo… just don’t let go, because I sure as hell am always going to hold on to you.”
Their release hit them nearly at the same moment, or at least that’s what it felt like when Ruan’s body uncoiled, letting out everything he’d held in, and he was struck by the warm rush of Ivo’s climax across his stomach. Ivo continued to ride him, a slow roll and a hitch, milking Ruan dry until his cock grew too tender and he hissed, stilling Ivo’s hips with a gentle push of his hands. Pressing his fingers against the small of Ivo’s back, Ruan got him to slide down, lying against Ruan’s chest despite the stickiness of their wet skin.
“I love you too,” Ruan murmured, kissing Ivo’s sweat-damp hair, blowing at the dark strands until he could see Ivo’s face. “And I meant what I said. I don’t want to know what life would be like without you. Not now. Not now that I’ve had you here.”
“Won’t be a problem,” Ivo whispered, tossing his head back, then inching up to bite at Ruan’s lower lip. “Now, catch your breath there, detective, because I’ve got a whole handful of those condoms left in my pockets, and you’ve got a shitload more places in this apartment we’ve got to try out.”
Twenty-One
IVO LIKED baseball. Within reason.
Mostly he liked watching men in tight pants and sitting next to his brothers on the days they gathered around the television to watch a game, their throats raw from shouting, and frequent trips to the fridge accompanied by yells for whoever got up to bring back something to drink or eat from the depths of their pantry. He’d lied his ass off about loving baseball when he was first dropped off on the brothers’ doorstep. Back then he’d been desperate to do anything possible so he wouldn’t be turned over to CPS. He’d tried to fit into every box, be good at everything everyone liked or was into, becoming everything his brothers might have wanted him to be… except himself.
&nbs
p; Now, while he knew baseball fairly well, he wasn’t as enamored with the sport as the others were, but from the sounds of it, Ruan could easily step in and take his place on the couch, his shouting as powerful as Bear’s once Mace’s team hit the field.
“What the fuck are you seeing there?” Ruan screamed at the umpire, gesturing to the outfield. “That was off the foul line!”
“You blind? Do you need glasses?” Rob added to the noise, pacing along the bleachers, wearing one of Mace’s too-stained-to-wear-on-the-field jerseys, its voluminous folds nearly swallowing him with every turn he made. Shorter and smaller than Mace by a good fifty pounds of hard muscle, Rob still made a powerful presence on the steps, cupping his hands around his mouth to yell encouragement at Mace’s team. “Come on, Rey. Pick up the pace. You’re playing center field! Not sitting in the parking lot!”
“Why is Uncle Rob yelling at Uncle Rey?” Chris shouted into Ivo’s ear. “It’s very mean.”
“Yeah, just go with it. Uncle Rob’s lost his mind,” Ivo reassured his nephew. “Here, hold your breath. You’ve got mustard all over your face so I’m going to smear a wet wipe all over it.”
“Is Ruan your boyfriend?” The kid mispronounced Ruan’s name badly, slurring it into rolling.
“Yep,” Ivo replied. “Close your mouth or this stuff’s going to get in there with your tongue and you’re going to be hating life.”
“Do I have to call him uncle too?” Chris squeezed out between his pressed-together lips.
“What the fu… fudge did you do here, dude? Smash your face into the hot dog? How the heck did you get it in your ear?” Getting all of the mustard off proved to be a chore as Ivo realized Chris had gotten the condiment all up his cheek, into his ear, and somehow stained his blond locks a vibrant yellow as well. “And no, you don’t have to call Ruan uncle. You don’t call anyone uncle if you don’t want to.”
“Even Rob and Rey?”
“Yeah, even them. And our family’s got to start dating guys from another letter besides R. Calling someone uncle is a sign you like them and you trust them. Don’t call someone that just because someone tells you that you have to.” Ivo studied the kid’s face, seeing way too much of himself in his nephew’s features. “You know, like hugs. You don’t have to hug anyone you don’t want to, and you don’t have to call anyone auntie or uncle either. Same thing. There. Next hot dog, try using your mouth instead of your forehead to eat.”
“Can I go yell at Uncle Rey too?” Chris squirmed in his seat, kicking at the bleacher below, scuffing his already broken-in Converses with the dirt clinging to the supports. “I can go down by myself. I don’t need help.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely a Scott. Stubborn. Sure, go scream your head off, but when you get down there, you know the rules, right?”
“Grab hold of Dad’s belt or hand,” he parroted back one of the many things they’d drilled into his head. “I know. I’m not a baby. It’s only four steps.”
“Hey, kiddo. Take it slow.” Bear stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hands full of soda cans and a water bottle for their nephew. Handing the water to Chris, he waited until the kid reached Gus before heading up into the bleachers. Reaching the row Ivo sat at, he jerked his chin up a few times. “Move over. Stepping over your legs is like trying to jump over a drunken llama.”
“Yeah, well, screw you too, man. I can’t help it if you’re a dwarf,” Ivo grumbled at his oldest brother, taking the Diet Coke Bear held out for him. “I had to de-mustard the kid. I thought we weren’t eating until after the game. You’ve got a whole cow marinating in that ice chest in the back of the Scout.”
“Kid gets hungry. You feed it. Pretty simple rule in life, because they get very grumpy if you don’t.” A bag of jalapeno-elote chips emerged from Bear’s thick jacket, and Ivo swallowed, hating how even the sight of the package made his mouth water. Tucking the chips into Ivo’s lap, Bear said, “Don’t let the kid see you eat those or you’re going to be sucking crumbs from the bottom of the bag. Don’t know what Jules ate when she was pregnant, but Chris has got a mouth lined with asbestos. Caught him and Luke eating the habanero peppers off the bush while they were weeding the garden. Makes my stomach twist just thinking about it.”
“That’s insane,” Ivo agreed, surreptitiously opening the bag and placing it between them, shifting his legs to hide it. “I mean, I like hot, but that’s nuts.”
“Luke’s kind of nuts,” Bear drawled, chuckling when their brother, who probably had eyes and ears at the back of his head, glanced up at them from his spot on the fence. “And bet you he heard every word we just said.”
“That’s what happens when you work with kids.” Ivo snuck a chip into his mouth, letting the spices seep into his tongue before biting down on it. “You get mom-hearing or something. Luke can hear a gnat fart a block away in a wind storm. Ruan’s like that. It’s their super power—ultrasonic hearing.”
“Speaking of your cop.” Bear chuckled when Ivo stiffened next to him. “Don’t be getting like that. I like him. He’s a good fit for you. I was worried there for a bit, but he works. Works with you. Works with the other guys.”
“Luke’s kind of an asshole about him, but that’s probably because he’s a cop.” Another chip and Ivo felt his mouth catch on fire. “You know how he is about anyone with a badge.”
“Something he’s got to push through. He’s doing better. Working down at the center helps. He comes into contact with good cops instead of—”
“His asshole father?” Ivo finished for his brother. “Don’t put flowers and glitter on it. Luke’s carrying a lot of shit, but I don’t want him to throw any of it on Ruan.”
“Give him time. You know how he is.” Bear snuck his own chip out of the bag, shoving it into his mouth before any of the others could see him. It was a bit of a game they’d played before when Bear would sneak Ivo a Sno Ball and they would sit on the back deck, watching the stars while nipping off bits of coconut-covered marshmallow and moist chocolate cake. “In a lot of ways, you two are a lot alike. Once you’ve got your teeth into something, you don’t want to let it go. It’s what made you both survivors. You both just waited things out and pushed to get what you wanted.”
“You shouldn’t have to survive your childhood, Bear, but yeah, we did. All of us. We’re just dragging a bit of shit on our shoes from it, but we’re all mostly okay. So’s Ruan.” Staring down at where Ruan stood shoulder to shoulder with his cheering family, Ivo watched as his boyfriend leaned down and caught Chris up so he could sit on the flat bar running along the top of the bleacher rail. “I love him. It’s too soon for us to say anything other than we want to be with each other, but my gut tells me he’s the guy. That one. I’m not ready to change my life. There’s too much I’ve got to do. Like take care of you. And then there’s the shop. My life’s set in stone right now, and I’ve got… shit, I can’t leave you in that house by yourself. I’ve got—”
“Kiddo, how about if you just enjoy what you have, and when things firm up, we look at where our lives need to be?” Bear suggested in his comforting, deep voice. “Everyone’s got their own way of living their lives. We’re not a normal family. Who’s to say we’ll do things like everyone else? Build a life with him. Build it however you guys feel comfortable. And that means you live however you need to. The house… the family… is always going to be there for you. However you need it to be. And if he’s the one for you, then it’ll be there for him too.”
Ivo nodded, letting Bear’s words sink in. “I like… planning.”
“I know. People wouldn’t think that about you, but you like to know things are all plotted out and staying the course,” Bear said with a chuckle. “And I’m telling you, let yourself breathe on this one. Whatever you need will be there. You don’t have to manage it. You don’t have to push it along some track. Don’t make yourself crazy leading your life someplace it’s going to end up anyway. Ruan’s good for you. He seems like he knows who you are, and you respect him and respe
ct who he is. You’ll know when it’s time for a change. You’re good at that. Trust your guts, kiddo, but most of all, trust your heart. There’s no one else I know who loves as hard as you do, and if you think Ruan is someone who belongs in that very big heart of yours, then he’s already a part of this family, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
“WEIRD TO be cheering on firemen,” Ruan croaked at Ivo, then chased the grit in his throat with a gulp of sweetened iced tea. “Normally it’s badges versus hoses. And if you tell anyone about this, I’m going to deny it up one side and down the other.”
“Yeah, can’t be seen supporting another first responder. What will people think? Next you’ll be helping little old ladies across the street or jumping into the bay to rescue a drowning dog,” Ivo drawled, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to go see if Bear needs some help with the grill. What are you hungry for? Hamburger? Ribs? Chicken?”
“I’m up for whatever you bring. First thing you learn as a cop is to eat what’s in front of you and eat when you can, because you don’t know when you’re going to get a second chance.” Ruan scanned the small crowd of people gathered on the park’s lawn, spotting a few familiar faces from the bleachers. “Today’s been nice. My throat may never be the same after yelling so much, but it’s been nice.”
The brothers had done well in picking their spot, bringing with them three pop-up picnic tables and a massive gas grill. Set up beneath a small gathering of old, widespread trees, the shade gave a welcome retreat from the bright sun, and if the baseball game wasn’t enough, it looked like someone set up a short-field soccer game on a flat span of grass a good twenty yards away from the brothers’ barbecue. Ice chests the size of steamer trunks held a variety of drinks and cold foods, and he’d spent a good ten minutes covering the tables with plastic cloths, taping down the edges to the undersides with thick black duct tape. Ivo’s family apparently took their recreational activities as seriously as they did their work, moving with a military-like precision while throwing around a lot of banter, puncturing egos as they went.
