Murder Most Deserving

by Hank Edwards

  Instead he hugged Jazz tighter and whispered, “I like the sound of one hundred percent.”

  “Me too. You deserve that.” Jazz rubbed his back as they hugged. “I was so frikking worried about Russell coming after us, letting him fuck with my head, that I almost ruined our honeymoon phase.”

  “Honeymoon phase?”

  “Yeah.” Jazz lifted his head to look at Michael. “Our honeymoon phase. Everything’s been so great between us. Like scary good, ya know?”

  Chewing his lower lip, Michael nodded. “Yeah, I know. But you haven’t ruined anything.”

  “That’s a shocker, considering all this toxic bullshit I’ve brought into your life. Hell, if I hadn’t gone off on Norbert, or made you go to Gruff’s, then Herschel—”

  Michael cut Jazz off by squeezing his lips together. “No, don’t even go there. The only thing you’ve brought to my life is a happiness that I never thought possible. Every day I wake up, and I have to pinch myself that someone like you has decided to notice me. To love me.” His voice trembled on those last words, and he swallowed hard, forcing a watery smile. “And I’d like to think of this ‘toxic bullshit,’ as you call it, as unforeseen adversities. Working through them just makes us stronger.”

  Jazz gave him a wobbly smile. “How did I get so lucky to find a guy like you?”

  “You lost a bet?”

  “Ha-ha, hardly.” Jazz studied him for a moment.

  And then he kissed Michael, soft at first, then more insistent. Hard, demanding. Michael’s body responded at once, but before Jazz could take it further, to where they both wanted and needed, Michael pulled back, gasping for air.

  Jazz would not be denied, and clutched the back of Michael’s neck, tugging. “It’s been a long couple of days, sweetie. I need you….”

  “Wait,” Michael managed.

  Jazz scrunched up his face.

  Heart aching, Michael pulled out of Jazz’s embrace and stood. He needed to tell Jazz about the kiss with Ezra, and at that moment he felt as if he was too tainted and dirty to touch the man he loved. He’d actually avoided initiating anything sexual since the assault, insisting that Jazz follow the doctor’s orders and not do anything strenuous that might induce heavy breathing. Jazz had thought it more of a suggestion than an order, but Michael had been firm.

  And guilty.

  “Sweetie?” Jazz prompted.

  “I have to tell you something else that… happened that day.”

  “You look pale. What’s wrong?”

  “I was so worried about you wanting to go see Russell on your own that all of my staff noticed something was wrong,” Michael began, his stomach in knots. “And Ezra asked me if I was okay, but I wasn’t really paying attention to him because I was thinking and worrying about you. You called all those times but didn’t leave a message, and I was very concerned.” Michael wrung his hands, unable to meet Jazz’s eye for long, but a quick glance at Jazz revealed his troubled expression.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t intend to worry you,” Jazz said.

  Michael managed a distracted nod. Just spit it out!

  “A-and then…,” Michael managed. “Um, he leaned in. And I didn’t realize what he’d intended to do until he… he kissed me.”

  Jazz’s eyes grew so wide the whites all around his cognac irises were visible. “You kissed Ezra?”

  “No, no! I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me.”

  “For how long did he kiss you?” Jazz asked, brows raised and tone firm. “One or two seconds? Or like five to six minutes? And did you get turned-on?”

  “No! I was in no way turned-on, not even a little. And it wasn’t even a second or two,” Michael insisted.

  When Jazz’s eyes narrowed, Michael could feel everything unraveling. He couldn’t stop the shudder that went through his body and the hot wash of shame that followed.

  The first time Michael found a real boyfriend who he’d fallen madly in love with, and he’d ruined it before it had even really gotten started by not seeing Ezra’s attraction sooner and putting a stop to it before things got out of hand.

  “How did this come about?” Jazz asked.

  “I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying or how he was acting, I swear.” Michael took a breath. “He said my name, and I looked at him. Then all of a sudden his mouth was on mine. I guess my lips might have puckered back very briefly, like a reflex action, but I shoved him away really quick. I didn’t knock him over or anything, but I pushed him away and said ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa! Why did you do that?’ I know I hurt his feelings, but I did not want to kiss him. At all. I didn’t want that at all!”

  Jazz was silent, and Michael could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears.

  Finally Jazz said, “One, Mississippi. Two, Mississippi.”

  When Michael realized what Jazz was doing, he quickly insisted, “No, not even two seconds. It wasn’t that long. I swear to you.”

  Jazz’s body seemed to soften before Michael’s eyes, and his expression did as well. Standing, he nodded and shrugged at the same time. “All right. I believe you. It’s okay.”

  Michael was a little stunned at Jazz’s laissez-faire tone. “What do you mean, it’s okay? I cheated on you.” As he said the words, his eyes burned with unshed tears, and he blinked rapidly, trying to stop them.

  Jazz’s chuckle startled him. As did the gentle touch on his arm. “Michael, you didn’t cheat on me. You were talking to a friend, and your friend took it too far and kissed you. That’s not cheating.”

  “But…,” Michael said, fumbling for some way to convince Jazz that what he’d done was horrible. That Jazz needed to be angry at him, like Michael was angry at himself. Though it was completely self-destructive, he couldn’t help but say, “If you kissed someone else, I would die a thousand deaths.”

  Michael couldn’t look Jazz in the eye, even when warm hands cupped his face.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Jazz said in the most conciliatory tone. “That was simultaneously the sweetest and most overdramatic thing anyone has ever said to me. You didn’t kiss Ezra. He kissed you. You said that yourself. And I’m not upset. Really, honestly, I’m not. I might have to give Ezra a ‘keep your grubby mitts off my man, you little home-wrecking SOB’ talking-to, but I’m not upset with you. And for the record, I don’t want to kiss anyone else. Just you, Michael. Just you.”

  “You’re really not upset?”

  “Have you ever known me to mince words? No, I’m not upset.”

  Overcome with relief and a desperate need to replace the tarnished feel of that kiss with the only ones he craved, Michael dove toward Jazz and kissed him for everything he was worth.

  Jazz made a startled sound, but his arms quickly wrapped around Michael’s neck, drawing him in tighter, kissing him deeper.

  Desire shot through Michael, his love for the man in his arms overwhelming him. He pulled back and cupped Jazz’s cheeks, staring at him. “I love you, Jazz,” he said, feeling breathless. “I love you so much.”

  Jazz kissed him again and smiled as he pulled back. “I love you too.”

  Michael grinned. “I love hearing that.”

  Jazz chuckled. “Me too. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. Which means, apparently, I’ve never been in love before.”

  “Really?” Michael’s heart fluttered and he couldn’t stop his grin.

  “Really and truly,” Jazz said. He looked thoughtful, then continued. “We both seem to get distracted and obsess over really small things. I was worried about infecting your life with toxicity and that Russell was lashing out from prison, and you were worrying I’d be mad that Ezra hit on you, just like you convinced yourself that I hadn’t enjoyed that hot, rough sex.”

  Michael’s cock took notice of Jazz’s deepening tone when he said that last part, but he refrained from taking things any further. Yet. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry. I overthink things as it is, and this deep of a relationship is all new to me.”

  “How about we both ag
ree to keeping the internal hamster-wheel thinking to a minimum and talk about whatever we’re concerned about, be it puckering creep-terns or psycho ex-husbands. Deal?”

  Michael smiled. “Deal.” He leaned in for a long, tongue-heavy kiss.

  “Mmm,” Jazz moaned. He pulled back and rolled his lips together and that flutter changed to a shudder of red hot desire. “I do believe the two days of taking things easy has been satisfied, and regular activities can resume. Any ideas on what some of those activities could be?”

  “Oh, I have ideas,” Michael assured him.

  Jazz ran his hands up Michael’s sides, making him tremble with want. “Do those ideas have anything to do with that special drawer in your bathroom?”

  Michael’s face flushed but not from embarrassment like he’d expected. “Why, Mr. Dilworth. Have you been snooping through my things?”

  “Of course I have. I’m a very naughty boy, remember?”

  “Yes, I do. And doesn’t that make me rather lucky?”

  “It does.”

  Jazz kissed Michael again, cutting off any more witty banter. As with every interaction Michael had with his man, things escalated quickly. Their shared passion was always lurking right below the surface, and the faintest touch ignited it like kindling.

  Overcome, Michael devoured Jazz’s mouth with desperate, grateful kisses. Jazz’s hands found Michael’s ass and grabbed tight, pulling him close so they could grind together. Teeth banged, shirts were yanked from pants, and moans and whimpers of ecstasy amplified.

  Mr. Pickles released a loud meow of disapproval, and a shuffling sound indicated the cat had leaped from the couch and disappeared.

  Their lips broke apart just enough for their eyes to meet. They both started chuckling at the same time.

  “Do you know how many times we’ve probably traumatized poor Mr. Pickles?” Jazz asked.

  Michael threw back his head and laughed louder. “Do you know how many times he’s traumatized me by licking himself where his balls used to be? Turnaround is fair play.”

  At that, Jazz kissed Michael lightly on the lips, his eyes bright with happiness, and the darkness lingering within him all but gone. Michael imagined Jazz still had a lot to work through, but after their profession of love, it seemed the weight of their own guilt and worry had disappeared, and it was simply the two of them, Michael and Jazz.

  Exactly how it was supposed to be.

  Jazz took Michael’s hand and raised it to his lips to kiss the knuckles. “C’mon, let’s go do things in your bedroom that we can’t let Mr. Pickles know about.”

  Struck with inspiration, Michael took Jazz’s hand and led him into the kitchen. “I have an idea.”

  “As much as I love fucking in your kitchen, I think our kitty is already too disgusted with us.”

  Our kitty… oh, I adore the sound of that.

  “No, not that… yet,” Michael said as he opened the pantry drawer and grabbed the corkscrew. He handed it to Jazz, who smiled, catching on to Michael’s plan.

  “I like the way you think.”

  Michael went for the glasses, and Jazz retrieved the bottle of pinot grigio in the refrigerator and grabbed the bottle of sauvignon beside it.

  Michael raised his brows when he saw the second bottle.

  “What?” Jazz said. “We’re going to get thirsty.”

  Laughing, Michael gestured for Jazz to lead the way up to the bedroom. They remained PG as they went upstairs. The Fourth of July weather turned out to be as tempestuous and unpredictable as Lake Michigan herself, and it had been a surprisingly cool evening, so Michael didn’t have on the AC and the french doors were open, the screen in place, letting in the night air. They’d had coffee on Michael’s second-story deck more than once, but there was one thing they had never done out there.

  Make love under the stars.

  Hopefully Jazz would be up for the idea.

  Michael followed Jazz out onto the deck, closing the screen behind him. The flowers and vines blooming on the trellis ensured privacy, as did the large oak to the right. If Rob Wilkerson across the alley behind Michael’s house went into his garage’s attic, he’d be able to see them, but the risk of getting caught just added to the excitement. Jazz set the sauvignon on the table beside the lounger and then popped the cork on the pinot grigio. He filled the glasses in Michael’s hands.

  The Cheshire Cat Moon—as Grandpa always called it—provided plenty of light. When Jazz reached for the timer to turn on the twinkling lights, Michael said, “No, let it stay dark. I plan on making love to you under the stars.”

  Even in the soft glow of moonlight, Michael saw Jazz tremble with desire.

  Jazz stepped closer and slipped an arm around Michael’s waist. He held up his glass. “To new love and us.”

  The toast was so succinct, yet so utterly perfect, another tear—but this one of joy and wonder—trickled down Michael’s cheek. It must have caught the light, because Jazz reached up with his hand holding his wineglass and brushed it away with the back of his fingers. “No crying. We’re celebrating.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes. It’s America’s birthday. We’re alive. We solved another mystery with true Brock Hammer panache. We’re in love.” Jazz startled Michael a bit with his casual reference to Russell’s books. “We also have wine, and neither of us need Viagra yet. I’d say that’s plenty of reasons to celebrate, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I suppose when you put it like that, it is a celebration.” Then Michael repeated the toast, and they clinked glasses and shared a sweet kiss before they sipped the wine.

  Arm in arm, they walked over to the railing and took in the view. The sky was dark, save for the moon and stars, the occasional hiss and pop of a private firework going off to the south, and the Lacetown Light shining its beacon to their right. A blanket of rich navy velvet with diamond stars and a crescent moon hung above them while cicadas sang and the oak tree’s leaves rustled. It truly was a magical moment.

  They didn’t talk, just sipped their wine and enjoyed the view. When they both drained their glasses, Michael turned to Jazz and said, “You get us refills, and I’ll be right back.”

  He opened the screen and crossed his bedroom. In the hallway, he retrieved the puffy old comforter from his childhood bed from the linen closet. Then he flipped off the light. Now the only light came from nature and the soft night-light in the hallway. Their eyes would adjust to the darkness so they could see each other as they made love. Grabbing a pillow from his bed, he rejoined Jazz on the patio and shut the screen door behind him.

  “What do you have there?” Jazz was pouring wine into their glasses.

  “So we can be comfy,” he explained.

  “While we make love under the stars?”

  “Exactly.”

  Michael folded the comforter to fit the length of the cedar lounger. He hoped it would be comfortable enough on Jazz’s knees—depending on which of them ended up on top, that is.

  Grinning, Michael made a mental note to go online and order a dense cushion for the lounger so they could do this again. At least he’d bought the streamlined lounger without armrests so they would have plenty of mobility. He lowered the top half of the chair so it was flat, and put the pillow in place. His groin stirred and his dick inched down his leg at the prospect of having Jazz all to himself outside.

  After he made their cozy bed, he turned to look at Jazz. The mark on his neck made Michael’s heart ache.

  Thank God he hadn’t lost him. It had been close, too close. But Herschel would go to prison and never hurt anyone again.

  How many people has he murdered?

  No, Michael wouldn’t let himself get distracted with such dark thoughts. He’d leave the mystery solving to the police and Joe this time. There were more important things for Michael to take care of right now. Like making love to the man who’d made his every wish come true.

  Michael had gained even more than he ever dreamed possible.

  Jazz loved him.r />
  “Jazz?”

  “Yes?”

  “No one’s ever told me they loved me before,” Michael whispered. “I just thought you should know that.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Jazz said in the gentlest tone. “I hope you like hearing it, because I plan on telling you all the time.”

  Arms as wide as the grin on his face, Michael gestured to the lounger.

  Jazz placed both of their glasses on the table next to it, then sat down, opening his legs. Michael quickly sat in the space he created. But as soon as their bodies were in close proximity, their wine refills were forgotten as hands and lips explored.

  Michael gently pressed Jazz onto his back, then took his time kissing every inch of Jazz’s exposed neck and then up along his jaw. Jazz explored each contour of Michael’s back and arms with his fingertips. When Michael pushed Jazz’s T-shirt up his torso to tongue-bathe first one nipple and then the other, Jazz trembled beneath him.

  “How naked do you wanna get out here?” Jazz whispered. “You have neighbors.”

  “I don’t care,” he all but growled as he worked his tongue and kisses downward to his navel. “You’re not getting off this lounger until I’ve kissed every inch of your beautiful body and we’re both covered in cum.”

  Jazz laughed, his stomach fluttering against Michael’s chest from the action. “Well, if you don’t care about giving the neighbors a show, neither do I. Especially when you make declarations like that.”

  “Not a declaration,” Michael assured him. Resting his chin on Jazz’s rounded stomach, Michael gazed up at him. “It’s a promise.”

  Jazz smiled and cupped the back of his head. He traced the fingertips of his other hand along Michael’s jaw. His eyes were wide and glistening in the moonlight. Michael locked gazes with Jazz, and his lip quivered a little because he still had trouble believing this was all really happening.

  “I love you so much, Jazz, that it… it scares me.”

  “You don’t ever have to be afraid with me,” Jazz promised.

  Those whispers of doubts faded away, and Michael threw himself into the moment. He devoted himself to kissing and exploring Jazz’s naked torso, nibbling and teasing his nipples. Then he drove his tongue into Jazz’s belly button until Jazz panted and writhed beneath him. Michael was still fully dressed, Jazz only in jeans, but their cocks both strained for freedom.