Civil Liberties

High Ball: Civil Liberties

Copyright © 2007 by J.J. Massa

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ISBN: 978-1-60370-338-3, 1-60370-338-1

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Torquere Press electronic edition / May 2008

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Chapter One Christian Parker looked around the room carefully from his perch on the comfortable barstool. It was dark and quiet. There were no women to be seen and that was just how it should be. This was a gay bar, a men-only gay bar. He made his way through the collected groups of men to a quiet end of the long bar, looking for a pair of piercing, black eyes. This was his forth trip to the quiet bar in three months. Twice before, he’d gotten lucky, he’d seen him, even talked to him--the owner of those eyes. The first time he’d come here, he’d been nervous, uneasy. A gay bar was a risky place for a cop to hang out. Especially a cop who was relatively new in town. His precinct was in a different borough, and anyway, he left his gun and his shield at home when he came here, regulation or not. Another night, he’d sat next to the other man not really sure of what he should do. Knowing you were gay and doing something about it--well that was an entirely different thing, wasn’t it? In his younger years, he had engaged in a few teenaged circle-jerks. Even swapped hand jobs with other military brats at camp. It had never gone any farther than that, though. He’d wanted to do more, really wanted to. The right man hadn’t come along yet. Christian had tried to live the American dream. He’d been a star running back in college, had come away with a bachelor’s degree in criminology. He’d dated, had sex with women. Yeah, he’d tried. His parents always asked if he was seeing a nice girl. His new partner at work teased him incessantly about all the women who flirted with him. He had curly, chestnut hair, eyes the blue of a perfect summer sky; he was the very image of a wholesome young man. The problem was that wholesome young men were supposed to like wholesome young women, not each other. And Christian was attracted to the forty-something gay guy with the sparkling, black eyes, hawk nose and dry, deep baritone. The guy must be gay, right? Christian’d seen him here in the bar…and he was here tonight, right there he was. Christian bit his lip and dropped his gaze, feeling even more uncertain. He was as tough as any cop in New York City. Tougher than some, considering that he’d grown up on military base after military base. Criminals he could handle. Making contact with a guy that he liked, wanted to like, well that was different, wasn’t it? “This seat taken?” The gravelly whiskey voice sounded very close to his ear. “Um,” Christian spoke into his shot of Canadian Malted. “No, it’s empty,” he forced out through a dry throat.

“Scotch, neat,” rumbled a rich chuckle as a warm palm landed on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. A rocks glass slid in front of him and he continued to rub Christian’s shoulder, almost like they were friends, like he had a right to touch Christian, to connect. “Call me Denny,” the older man said warmly. “You’re shy, hmm? I wondered if I’d see you here tonight.” “Christian,” he mumbled back, ducking his head, deeply embarrassed, sure his cheeks were flaming. “Hey.” A warm, long fingered hand cupped his chin and stroked his cheek. “I’m glad you came in tonight, Christian.” Christian looked up, searching his face. “I like that name,” he said it again, “Christian.” Two fingers stroked his cheekbone below one eye. “I like your pretty, blue eyes, Christian.” Christian lowered his eyes and then looked up again. “I like your eyes, too, Denny,” he said boldly. Denny smiled, causing those black eyes to sparkle. Christian thought he looked like an Elvin king, mischievous maybe, a smile to share, but royal, capable, all there under the surface to see. “Let’s get to know each other better, Christian,” Denny said, stroking his cheek one more time before turning to sip at the scotch. “At the risk of sounding trite, do you come here often?” *** Denny looked over at Christian, charmed once again by the faint blush that tinted the fair skin. He knew how often the younger man had visited this bar. Denny’d seen him on what he was pretty sure had been his first visit. On that night and the other times he’d seen Christian, the blue-eyed man had flirted cautiously, been flirted with, and had left unaccompanied each night. He’d looked with interest, even barely concealed hope at Denny the two times he’d seen him, but had gone home alone. Denny came to this bar for the usual reasons--sometimes he needed a man. He liked women well enough. There were just some things they couldn’t give to him. Not only that, he had to be discreet. Sure, legally, nobody could say anything about his choice of bed partner. In reality, though, it mattered. “I’ve been here a couple of times, maybe three or four,” Christian admitted. “I have seen you here before, but I never noticed you leave with anyone?” Denny made it a question on purpose. What would the other man say? Would he explain why he had never engaged anyone else?

Christian sipped at his drink for a minute and then glanced over at Denny again. “I, um, I’ve got this job…I’m not supposed to be gay, or you know, whatever.” Denny chuckled again. “You mean bi?” Christian grinned sheepishly, “Well, I tried to be bi and I don’t think I qualify. Mostly, women just don’t do it for me. My folks couldn’t probably deal with it. My dad’s a military officer. And my job--no way. I, uh, work for the city.” That statement made Denny feel a bit more comfortable. “Yeah, mine’s pretty much the same. I’m a civil servant, myself,” he admitted, enjoying his scotch. “I wonder, Christian,” he smiled to soften his next comment, “You don’t seem very experienced for someone who is so sure that women don’t work for him.” “I’ve gone out with women, you know…it’s just…well, I’ve had some experience with men, just casual.” “My job would frown on it, too,” Denny smiled. “I take it that you’re interested in moving your experience beyond the casual?” he asked, trying to keep it light but get to the point, both at the same time. Christian picked up his shot of whiskey and gulped it; wide, blue eyes looking at Denny, he nodded. “I, uh, think I know what I want…what I need.” “What do you think that is, Christian?” Denny asked, his voice an octave lower than normal. Everything about this sweet, young, blond man was pushing all of his buttons. Christian looked down at the bar and then glanced shyly over at Denny. “I don’t mind being in charge at work…but the rest of the time, I need something else.” Denny tossed a twenty-dollar bill onto the bar and took Christian by the bicep, appreciating how muscular the young man was. Without a word, the younger man let Denny lead him toward the back of the bar and the rear exit. Stopping at a hidden alcove near the door, Denny pulled Christian in tight against him. When the other man gasped in surprise, Denny covered Christian’s mouth with his own. The heady flavor of malted whiskey and healthy young man was overwhelming. They were of a size, though Denny was slightly taller. The slight advantage allowed him more leverage as his mouth caressed over the full, pink lips under his. He was falling into Christian and he wanted more, needed more. Though it happened sometimes, often in fact, Denny didn’t plan to have sex with Christian in the back of the bar. There wouldn’t be a hand-job in the bathroom for them, no. He wanted plenty of time to explore, play, have his way with the honey blond. And, this being Christian’s first full male sexual experience, Denny had every intention of helping himself to any sort of virginity that Christian had left; he didn’t want to do it in the men’s room.

“Where do you live?” Denny asked, once and then again when his words didn’t penetrate. “I’m over in Manhattan. How close are you?”

Chapter Two

Dismounting from the back of Denny’s powerful motorcycle, Christian felt uneasy, unsure. He led the other man through the back entrance from the parking lot and up the stairs to his secondstory walk-up. Christian wanted this man, had wanted him. Now that the man wanted him back, what should he do? Once inside his apartment, Christian turned toward his guest, determined to do things right. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked nervously. “I want you, Christian,” Denny stated firmly, walking right up to him, taking him by the shoulders and pinning him to the closed door. His mouth came down on Christian’s as he murmured, “I want you, every way I can have you.” Oh, Christian was spinning, he felt like he was floating free, yet clinging. Such heady kisses, lips stroking over his, tongue seeking, caressing, sucking on his, and all he wanted to do was climb inside this other man and stay there forever. Before he knew what was happening, his tight t-shirt was over his head and off, the top button of his jeans open, and long, elegant fingers caressing him everywhere at once. “Where’s the bedroom, Christian?” Denny murmured, and they turned, moving toward it. Shoes, socks, pants, boxers, all of them melted off, floated away somehow and both men were naked when Denny tugged Christian toward the large bed that dominated the room. “I can…I can touch you, too, right?” Christian scooted onto the bed, pulling the comforter back. “I told you, I’m sorta new at this and…it’s stupid, but I didn’t know if there were rules.” Denny grinned. “There are rules,” he said, sitting facing Christian, his hand stroking through the hair on Christian’s chest, fingers teasing a nipple. “You can touch me, if you want, but you have to tell me if you do or don’t like something. Do you have lube? Condoms?” The question sent a thrill and a spark of fear through Christian. This was real. The man he wanted was really going to make love…have sex with him. It was real. “In the drawer,” Christian nodded, his words a dry croak. “Hey,” Denny murmured, arms sliding around Christian, lips grazing a faint scar as he drew the other man down on the bed to lie facing him. “It’s okay, relax.” ***

Denny wasn’t giving this up, this beautiful, young body, so clean and cute, so hot and handsome. No, but he would calm his skittish tiger, and then have his way with the man. When Denny’s hard cock brushed against Christian’s half-hard shaft, the younger man groaned, his erection growing again. Denny sucked, nibbled, and kissed his way down Christian’s silky, muscular chest mouthing gently at a bruised rib, over flat, defined abs, finally nuzzling caramel curls and inhaling his musky scent. Rubbing and stroking the firm thighs, Denny mouthed a rounded sac, eliciting a moan from Christian and causing him to spread his thighs wide. Reaching over, Denny snagged the unopened box of condoms and the tube of lube from the otherwise empty drawer. He managed to get the tube and box opened while nipping and licking at Christian’s engorged cock. Coating one finger with the lube, he sucked down the other man’s hot tool, sliding his finger in Christian’s hole at the same time. So easy. “Oh god, oh,” groaned Christian, his fingers brushing Denny’s hair now. “This is good, so good,” he moaned, hips pumping up, heels digging in, legs spreading wider and giving Denny more access. “Good, Christian, good, yes,” Denny crooned, stretching Christian’s muscle ring with the fingers of one hand while he rolled a condom on with his other. How he loved the sweet innocence, the eagerness to please. It was nectar, sweet manna for him. “Oh man, you’re gonna, oh god, gonna…” Christian couldn’t seem to say what he was thinking, head tossing, eyes closed. That’s right, yes, he was. Right now. Denny lined his cock up with Christian’s opening, pushing a little as he pulled the muscular legs apart and over his shoulders. He leaned forward, kissing Christian lightly, pushing a little at a time, tasting him, taking his cock in hand. “It’ll hurt a little at first,” Denny managed, going slow. *** “Don’t stop, I want this.” Christian locked eyes with him, breathing deep and slow. He was trying to relax--he did want this, so much. This was right, he knew it was right; Denny was the right man. “Shh, not stopping, s’okay,” Denny rumbled, pushing a little harder, rocking back and forth, going a little deeper each time. It did hurt, hurt a lot. The tight channel stretched, his muscle-ring burning, protesting. Christian bit his lip, but continued to stare into Denny’s black eyes. So right, he told himself, he knew it was. And Denny’s eyes were right, even if he didn’t see what he needed to see in them. Suddenly, Denny slid that little bit deeper, slid over Christian’s bump, his prostate. Christian saw

stars, felt his cock weeping, throbbing, the older man laying over him now, groaning, too. Christian’s fingers stroked through Denny’s hair, one hand on his face, legs pressed between them, one of them slipping off to wrap around Denny’s hip. “It’s good, so good, you can move, please, you can,” he babbled, urging Denny on. “Mmm,” Denny responded, sliding out and in again, rubbing a thigh, sliding an arm around Christian and pulling him up and angling deeper. “You ready?” Denny gritted. “Um, there’s more?” Christian gasped, gripping Denny’s shoulders. “Gonna fuck you hard,” Denny growled, “You ready?” “Mmm-hmm,” Christian panted, hoping he was. Denny’s thrusts began to speed up, faster, harder, the head of his cock pressing over that sweet place deep inside on every single stroke. It was amazing, and Christian could feel the gathering tide zinging up and down his spine, pulling at his balls, the explosion imminent. The feeling of fullness, the heat inside of him, he felt himself coming, his cream spurting between them, his channel tightening around Denny’s bulk. “So hot, so tight,” Denny gasped, jerking in him, pushing deep, collapsing on top. Neither man moved for long minutes until Denny mumbled, “Gonna rest just a little,” his words ending in a puff of a snore. Christian smiled, rolling him off and sliding out of the bed, coming back with a warm cloth. Yep, he was sore, but it was a good sore. He removed the used condom, wiped Denny’s stomach and then crawled back into bed with the man, snuggling close. *** Denny eased away from the sleeping young man, having emptied himself deep inside of Christian only moments earlier. He had been somewhat reckless, but more asleep than awake when he’d started. He wasn’t too worried. He knew he had so far been the other man’s only lover. Before his eyes were fully open, he’d slid in behind Christian, pushing one muscled leg up with his own and sheathing his rigid cock into the still-lubed hole, so available to him. Oh, how good it had felt, so perfect, so tight. And the velvet-satin sheath had stroked and squeezed him, Christian moaning and pushing back against him. In and out, he’d rocked against the hard, muscular body, nipping at a solid shoulder, stroking and squeezing an erection as hard as his own. Denny hadn’t even realized that he’d forgotten the condom until he’d felt the gathering heat in his balls and the eruption shoot from him at the same time that Christian’s sphincter clamped down on him, milking him dry. “You going?” Christian mumbled, reaching out toward him as he stood.

“I’ll call you,” Denny promised, snagging the hand and planting a kiss on the flat of the thumb.

“You sure?” Christian was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“I’m sure,” Denny smiled, knowing he wouldn’t.

“Um, thank you,” the blond mumbled as Denny backed away from the bed.

A soft snore followed as Denny gathered up his clothes. He didn’t want to take a chance so he

dressed in the front room near the door and let himself out, locking it behind him.

Chapter Three

“You’re here late.” It was his ADA, Reagan Bunch, tall, lithe, beautiful. Denny groaned inwardly. Just because he didn’t want to go home didn’t mean he wanted company. “Yes, I am,” he said, stating the obvious. “Oh look, you’re here, too.” He didn’t care if she took that as a joke or not. “What’re you working on? Maybe I can help?’ she all but purred, sashaying up to his desk. She was new, maybe she really did just want to lend a hand. “There’s a bar just around the corner…or if you want to get more comfortable, we could move this to my place…” Well, there went that flagging hope. Apparently Reagan was not opposed to advancement any way she could get it, or hedging her bets at the very least. She didn’t give off friendship vibes-she seemed more like a predator. On the other hand, he was bigger and meaner. If he’d wanted her he would have had her already. Denny considered himself somewhat discerning and Reagan was a beautiful woman. Still, sex and business were separate as far as he was concerned. Denny looked at Reagan’s soft black curls and thought of the last lover he’d had. Maybe he did need to consider--if not his ADA, somebody. Perhaps he needed to return to that bar. Did he want another man? Christian of the golden butter curls and shy disposition. “No, thank you, Reagan. I’m fine. You can go,” Denny said casually, hoping the woman would take his bald hint and leave. He really didn’t feel like dealing with her just now. “Are you sure, Denton?” Reagan purred, leaning against his desk. The way she twisted as she settled caused the side of her short skirt to ruck up, revealing an extravagance of toned, feminine thigh. He considered the nubile young woman offering herself to him so wantonly. Why shouldn’t he? In times past, she would fill the bill so nicely. And it wouldn’t be that big a deal to have her transferred after if things looked sticky. But he wouldn’t take her. Denny liked to be in charge, to lead. Reagan could take orders at work as well as anyone. Chances were very good that she was not a follower in bed. Not just in bed, but away from the office. At home, at work, it didn’t matter, Denny was a top. If ever he allowed anyone into his life, however temporarily, it would be someone who was comfortable following his lead. “I’m quite sure, Reagan,” he murmured, his voice taking a hard edge. “You can go now.” Not only was she pushing the limit, she was upsetting his neat little world. She was reminding him that he wanted somebody a second time. Every silken syllable, every perfumed rustle and all he could think about was that sweet, naive little police officer.

He trained his eyes on the law book open in the center of his desk, forcing himself to read each line on the page. It wasn’t long before he pulled his legal pad over and began making notations, marking pages. Apparently the beautiful ADA didn’t care to be ignored. “Fine!” He didn’t look up until the door thudded closed behind her. Denny tossed his pen away, surging to his feet. Enough was enough. He would go back to that bar and find himself another pretty boy to roll around with. Sweet Christian Parker wasn’t the only alluring young man to be had in this city. A half hour later, Denny sat back in a shadowed corner considering the healthy male flesh ebbing and flowing around him. So many men to choose from. Generally, after bedding a man, Denny found he didn’t need another for quite some time. Christian had been intoxicating, though. His toned skin, bulky muscles, all flexing underneath Denny’s hungry body, trusting, begging. So beguiling. “You alone?” Denny glanced over at the man who had settled onto the barstool next to his. He was probably in his mid twenties and very well built. A well-muscled young man. “So far,” Denny answered. Something about the guy just didn’t sit right with him. “Want another drink?” without waiting for an answer, the dark haired man turned. “Another drink for my friend here,” he called out. Denny arched a brow. Well…this would never work out. “I’ll get your next one,” he countered firmly. He hoped he didn’t have to spell it out. The guy looked at Denny for a moment and then sipped at his drink. He’d opened his mouth to speak when a bright gold flash across the room grabbed Denny’s attention. It was Christian, just inside the door. “Now that one’s nice,” the other man said. Fury ripped through Denny and he fought the urge to snarl. “You spoke to him before, didn’t you?” “Maybe,” Denny replied, fighting to keep his tone even. Christian looked around and turned, exiting the bar. By the time Denny made the move to follow, the young detective was long gone.

Chapter Four

“You’ve been an asshole for three weeks, man; you need to get your ashes hauled.” Denny smiled wryly, shaking out his newspaper. It had been just a little longer than that for him and he was glad he wasn’t the only asshole not getting any. “Shut the fuck up, Joe,” growled a familiar voice. Denny felt his heart slam in his chest. The man was angry, the voice harsh, but it was still Christian, he was sure of it. Shifting in his chair, he glanced through the vines of the plant blocking him from the other table’s view. He couldn’t really see. “Come on, Chris, every single one of those EMTs woulda given you a tumble, all at the same time if you wanted. Even some of the guys, I think.” The other man was clearly not getting the point from his friend. But he’d called him ‘Chris’. That was pretty telling. Denny heard a chair scrape back and Christian’s growling voice again. “I’ll wait outside; don’t forget we have to be downtown at two.” “He’s too cute to be so hard-ass,” a female voice chirped from behind the plant. “I think he got dumped,” responded the voice of Joe, Christian’s friend. “What kind of a fool would dump him?” the woman asked. What kind of a fool, indeed, Denny thought. He’d seen Christian briefly a week or so ago, but Christian hadn’t seen him. He’d been in a dark corner of the bar where he’d met the younger man to begin with. Christian had stepped inside and then turned right around and left, not looking, not speaking, just crossing the threshold and then leaving. There was no way he’d seen Denny. Denny had no idea what to make of it all and had left shortly after. He hadn’t had sex with a man or a woman since he’d last seen Christian and maybe it was time…or maybe he should call Christian as he’d said he would. He waited for Joe to follow the waitress to the cash register and then, when he was sure that man was gone, Denny followed his path. He, too, had a two o’clock appointment. ***

“Mr. O’Connor will see you in just a few minutes,” the sweet-faced receptionist told them. Christian nodded while Joe walked over to the desk to flirt with her. She giggled and pressed a button on her desk. “Sir, Detectives Parker and Simpson are here for the Martinez deposition.” A door opened to an inner office and Christian heard, “Why don’t we meet in conference room three?” He whipped around, his eyes colliding with the black eyes of the man who’d joined them in the outer office. Denny. Denny was Denton O’Connor, District Attorney. Christian clenched his jaw and stood unmoving. He thought his heart would freeze and break, chills were running up and down his body. Was this his answer? Had the DA simply been slumming? Christian was nothing more than a cheap piece of ass to him, a roll in the hay. He’d never felt so worthless and small in all of his life. What a naïve dreamer. “DA O’Connor, this is Detective Joe Simpson and Detective Chris Parker.” She colored and said, “I mean its Christian, isn’t it?” flashing a coy smile at him. When he didn’t answer, Joe stepped forward and shook Denny’s hand. “Chris?” Christian stepped forward, not extending his hand. He nodded sharply. “DA O’Connor,” he said, by way of greeting. His voice sounded raspy, dry. “Detectives,” Denny responded, his expression unreadable. “This way,” he said, turning toward the door. “Leah, if it’s all set up in there?” she nodded. “Bring some coffee.” Joe dropped back. “What the hell’s the matter with you, Chris?” he asked in a low voice. “’M fine,” Christian answered, teeth still clenched. If he loosened his jaw, his teeth would chatter, he knew it. He was so stupid. How would he get through this? Especially without making a fool of himself. Oh, god, what a mess. They entered a small conference room and were joined by another man, an attorney for someone else. Leah entered with coffee, and Christian couldn’t have been more grateful. He tried to drink the strong brew without spilling it, but found he couldn’t lift the cup--his hands were shaking so bad. Shit! Now what? He had to get hold of himself. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me a minute,” he interrupted whatever Denny was saying, looking at the salt and pepper hair covering the man’s right ear. “Are you okay, Detective?” Denny asked, and was that concern in his voice? Christian rather doubted it. “Excuse me, please?” Christian repeated politely. Just as Denny nodded, Christian’s cell phone began to ring. He reached to answer it and dropped it, open, on the floor.

Joe looked hard at him as he squatted down to get Christian’s phone, answering it as he stood. “Detective Simpson.” He paused a moment and then said, “Yes, sir, this is Detective Parker’s phone.” He cleared his throat. “He, uh, he dropped it, so I picked it up for him,” he explained to whomever was on the other end. Joe held out the phone to him, and Christian took it, acutely aware of all the eyes on him, Denny’s, Joe’s, Leah’s, and the other lawyer’s, all eyes trained on him. He turned his back to the room. “What’re you doing right now?” Lieutenant Alhusa, his immediate superior, asked him. “Sir, I’m at the DA’s office for the Martinez deposition,” he answered, wondering what all this was about. The lieutenant usually talked to either him or Joe, no matter who answered the phone. “Is that something that Detective Simpson could handle without you?” he asked, almost in answer to Christian’s fervent prayers. There had to be a catch, he was certain there must be. He was equally certain that he didn’t really want to know what it was. “Yes, sir, he can handle this without me. What’s going on?” “There’s been a bombing at a military base in the UAE,” the lieutenant said without fanfare. Christian stumbled forward, catching himself on the wall. He felt someone--Joe--move up beside him. “My father? My mother?” he croaked, knowing that the civilian homes could have been targeted. His parents lived together with other American dignitaries and made excellent terrorist targets. He was so not having a good day. “The Red Cross called and they’ll be calling your apartment phone in about an hour. Go home.” “But they…You don’t know if…” “Go home, Parker,” the lieutenant insisted. “Yeah, ‘kay,” he mumbled, snapping the phone shut and resting his head on the wall--he just needed a second. Turning to Joe, he did his best to explain in a low voice, “It’s a bombing overseas. My parents are there and Lieu doesn’t know if they’re okay or not. I’ve got to go home and get a call.” “Go ahead, man,” Joe patted his shoulder. Vaguely, Christian wondered if Joe would’ve touched him if the other detective had known that he was gay. He didn’t know if his own father would…his father. His father who might even be dead or dying right that minute. “Want me to come by?” Joe asked, making Christian feel like shit for doubting his friendship. “Uh, I don’t know…no, thanks, um I gotta go. I’ll call you, all right? You’ll be okay?” “What?” Joe laughed. “You think the DA’s gonna do something to me?” He kept his voice

down; though Christian was sure Denny could hear them. “Dunno, man,” he looked over at Denny, who was looking back at him. His eyes stung a little and he turned back to Joe, handing his partner the car keys. “DA’s a politician isn’t he? They’re dangerous. They lie.”

Chapter Five

Denny cranked up his bike, turning it away from his Manhattan high-rise, instead heading toward the bar and a little beyond, to Christian’s comfortable little walkup. As he navigated the dusk-darkened streets, he replayed the moments from earlier today when he’d seen Christian and Christian had seen him. Those cornflower blue eyes had been shocked, and then hurt, and finally what seemed like a resigned understanding dawned in them. He very much needed to know what it was that Christian thought he understood. And how was it even possible that, in all the years he’d been bedding men and women in this town, this was the first time that he’d run across a conquest in public? He abstractedly wondered if there weren’t more gay cops and attorneys in New York, though he was grateful that none of them had turned out to be under indictment. Regardless of that, Christian had worried him today. Even now he was worried about the younger man. If he wasn’t feeling worried, he’d be heading home, wouldn’t he? Well, he had to see--see what was wrong, absolve himself of whatever wrongdoing Christian had convicted him. But he knew, didn’t he? And he was guilty, yes he was. Christian trusted, in spite of his profession and all the filth he met on the streets, he’d trusted Denny. And Denny had lied. He was guilty of whatever Christian wanted to try him for. He had lied. He’d used Christian and he hadn’t cared about what he left behind. He parked his bike in the secluded, covered spot where he’d left it on his only other visit. It would be fine there, he was sure. Someone else was entering the building so he entered with her, smiling, looking as safe as he could. He raised his hand to knock on Christian’s door. Something halted him and he reached out instead, turning the doorknob, finding it unlocked and open. He went in and looked around. There was Christian, spread out on his sofa, an arm flung across his face, phone in one dangling hand, dragging the floor. Denny closed the door and walked over, taking the cordless phone from him. Christian shot upright, startled. His wild, blue eyes fixed on Denny, confused. “Christian,” Denny murmured. “What? Why are you here? What do you want?” “I was worried,” Denny answered, sitting down on the couch next to Christian.

“Worried? What for?” Christian rubbed his eyes and scooted away from Denny. “You left the office because of what happened in the United Arab Emirates . Your parents?” he reached out to brush a stray curl off of Christian’s forehead. Christian jerked back. “Um, I, uh, they’re …. Well…the old man was injured, but he’ll be…probably be…” Suddenly, Christian stood up and paced across the room, running his hand through his riot of hair. Turning back to face Denny, he demanded, “Shit, what do you care? I’m just poor white trash to you. You were slumming, playing. I cared and I was just stupid. You don’t give two shits about me except that you never thought you’d see me again!” “Christian,” Denny stood and moved toward him. “No. No!” Christian was hurt and angry now, mostly hurt. “I wasn’t real to you. I’m not real. You’re only here now because you feel guilty. And,” his eyes narrowed on Denny. “And maybe you want to get lucky again.” Denny jerked back, stung. Of course that stung. He’d always heard it said that the truth hurts. He’d never realized how physically true that was. He was here, in Christian’s apartment, because he felt guilty. And yes, some part of him had vaguely thought about how the beautiful young man had felt under him, around him. How much had he really cared about what Christian was going through? How much of this visit was about his desires? He looked hard at the younger man, thinking. “Maybe,” he said finally, a dim satisfaction snaking around at the surprise in Christian’s eyes. “Maybe both.” Eyes wide, looking a little misty, Christian shook his head from side to side. Negation? Confusion? “What both?” his voice was husky. “I don’t understand?” Denny could see that Christian was tired, overwrought. He was hurt, confused, any number of other highly-charged negatives in the mix made for a beautiful, curly-headed detective on the edge. He stood, moving toward Christian carefully, as one would approach a wounded animal. “I feel guilty, because I was wrong,” Denny said, closer now, almost touching him. “I didn’t think about you, only me.” He took another step. Christian turned away to a nearby window. Both hands bracketing either side, he could have been looking out into the night, if the window wasn’t obscured by a heavy shade. Denny moved closer, stroking over a muscular deltoid, his fingers creeping up to caress Christian’s neck. “I haven’t been with anyone since you, Christian.” He pulled the other man lightly toward him. “Not anyone. Have you?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Christian turned his head farther away, looking blindly toward the corner of the room. Denny pulled a little harder at the juncture of shoulder and neck and Christian turned, into his arms.

Guiding the fluffy head to his shoulder, he felt his young lover shaking, maybe with dry sobs, maybe reaction from everything that had led up to this moment. “Shh, shh,” Denny soothed, running one hand up and down Christian’s back, the other buried in his hair, palm cupping his skull. He held the young man for long minutes, soothing, calming, thinking. He’d known right away that Christian cared about him. He could see it in those eyes, had seen it in Christian’s blushes. He’d known that Christian would be an easy conquest because, for some reason, Denny had been important to him. It hadn’t mattered to Denny why--only that it was so. If for no other reason than the sake of their working relationship and penance for his part in bringing Christian to this fragile state, Denny decided he owed the other man some time and consideration. *** Christian felt the even breathing of Denny as the man slept, one arm draped loosely on him. He had been replaying his memories of that first night, their only night, over and over for nearly a month. Now, to find himself in bed with Denny again, just sleeping, it was surreal. His eyes were adjusted to the dim lights and he studied the man in his bed as he considered how they’d gotten there. Denny’s chest hair was iron gray and salt and pepper, like the hair on his head. It was straight and soft, even slightly thick. He wanted to stroke, to touch it, but he didn’t want to wake the man. Just now, he needed to think about things, about the day he’d had, and now the night. Denny had held him as he’d fallen apart and then guided him to bed, helping him strip, and then climbing under the covers with him, no sex, no demands, nothing. What did it all mean? Long, thin fingers stroked across his cheek and he looked up into sparkling, black eyes. Even in the dark, they seemed alive, vivid. “What’s going on behind those pretty, blue eyes?” crooned Denny’s rough, bourbon voice. Christian’s eyes filled, hot tears threatening, and he closed them. Oh, god! What the hell was the matter with him right now? He was a New York City detective and a military brat. He’d been in more hellholes than…well; he’d seen a lot of bad stuff. “C’mere,” Denny rolled onto his back, holding out an arm. “C’mon,” he urged when Christian hesitated. “We just woke up in bed together, for the second time, in fact, and mostly naked,” he pointed out. Was that a smile tugging? “We’ve had sex with each other more than once and we know where each other works. Hell, I even know where your parents are right now. That’s more than I can say about almost anybody I’ve known over the last twenty years. You might as well come on over here and get comfortable.”

While sad in its way, the statement was reassuring and he wanted to be closer to Denny, needed the comfort, reassurance. Christian scooted over and settled his head on Denny’s chest, stretching an arm across Denny’s waist. “Dunno what’s amatter with me,” he mumbled, exhaling a puff against the soft mat of chest hair. “Too much personal stress--things you can’t control. Just sleep, I’ll be here in the morning. I really will.” Christian looked up at him, seeking, questioning. Denny reached down, tilting Christian’s chin up with two fingers. “I will,” he insisted. Before Christian could respond, Denny leaned down, his lips covering Christian’s, the kiss light and easy, non-demanding, stroking and soothing. It was perfect, and Christian never wanted it to stop, it couldn’t stop, didn’t stop. He drifted off to sleep with the feel of Denny’s lips caressing his own.

Chapter Six

“Denton O’Connor,” Denny growled into the phone. He couldn’t imagine who was calling him in the middle of the night like this. “Excuse me? I’m looking for Christian Parker, please,” a woman’s voice said firmly. It was vaguely familiar, as was the name… Christian Parker? Oh! Christian. “Christian, of course. One moment please.” And how officious had that sounded? “Christian?” he ran his fingers through the riot of butterscotch curls poking out of the comforter next to him. How he loved those crazy curls. Loved? Just the curls; he shook his head hard. “There’s a woman on the phone,” he said. “Woman?” Christian mumbled, clearly as disoriented as Denny had been. He held his hand out for the receiver. “‘Lo?” Denny watched the play of emotions flit across the other man’s face as he spoke. “Mom! Omigod, Mom, are you…um, the old man…” Christian didn’t seem to realize that he was shaking, that tears had pooled in the corners of his eyes and were dripping down his face as he nodded, sometimes talking over the voice Denny could hear rising and falling from the telephone receiver. “Yeah…I was… yeah…oh, god, Mom, you alone? I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there. Want me to come?” Denny couldn’t explain the sudden tightness in his chest. Must be the sympathy he felt for his young, erstwhile lover. After all, he was partly responsible for Christian’s emotional state--and what an asshole he’d been in the face of this tragedy. He’d all but ignored his young lover, treating him as if he was simply another cop. Nobody special. “If we hadn’t been together when Dad was in Kuwait…Mrs. Greeneson? She’s there? Good. How’s Gen’rul Greeneson? And how bad…the Red Cross didn’t know…yeah? Really? Oh man… that sucks, but it's better, yeah.” Denny remembered Kuwait, and other ‘police actions’. He’d been something of an activist in his time; never realizing what the soldiers and their families lived with, lived through. He wished he could hear both ends of the conversation. Christian’s face was a study of fleeting, changing emotion, and now, something new was happening. He could almost see the thoughts playing across the human canvas before him. “Hey, you reckless old bastard!” Christian’s voice was somewhere between gravel and grit. Not booming, although it was stronger, harder. “Why didn’t you fuckin’ duck? Thought you were a soldier?” That had to be the younger man’s father. What an odd relationship, but Christian was still falsely snarling, barking into the phone. “No foxholes for you to pray in? You thought you were goddamned Dangermouse? Stupid sumbitch.” Tears were pouring down Christian’s face now, though his voice was remarkably steady in spite of it.

Denny climbed out of the bed, making his way to the tiny kitchen to seek out a glass or a bottle of water. He could hear Christian clearly; the apartment was small, cozy even. “’M not ready to win the SGLI lottery right now, asshole. Mom, neither…Yeah, shit yeah, I love you. I love you, too.” There was a long pause. Denny re-entered the room, bottle of water in hand. He twisted the lid off, pressing the open drink to the other man’s shoulder. Christian jumped, surprised. “Thank you,” he whispered, taking a long swallow. “I’m here, Mom. Yeah, I did. I told him I love him. You heard him. So he’s gonna live, though? Yeah? Okay… Um, yeah,” he looked up at Denny, an uncertain look on his face suddenly. And what was that about? Him? “I was in his office today when the Red Cross called the precinct. He’s a friend…” Ahh…Denny reached over to thumb away a teardrop under one summer-blue eye, nodding. “He’s a friend,” Christian repeated more firmly, “So, no, I guess I’m not alone either…Okay. Yeah. Love you, Mom.” Denny heard the high-pitched beep of the button. Christian had ended the call. He extended his hand and took the cordless phone, leaning long across the bed to hang it up. Turning back to Christian, he sat facing him. “You okay?” he asked, tilting his head a little. He just wasn’t sure what was going on with the other man. Christian had lowered his eyes, and Denny called his name. “Christian?” he asked softly. Christian lifted his face, biting his lip, and looked at Denny, bright blue eyes puffy, uncertain. “Denny?” his voice was soft and low. He reached toward Denny, resting his fingers on Denny’s knee. “Um…” Denny scooted closer to him. What was going on under all those crazy curls? He thought he knew, hoped he knew. “You want me, Christian?” his voice sounded deep, husky. There was no hiding it; he wanted the younger man, badly, carnally. Christian’s hand moved forward, fingers skimming the tent in Denny’s boxers, stroking through the opening. “Um, yeah,” Christian breathed softly. “I do.” Denny leaned forward, lifting his hips and skimming his shorts off. “You want to fuck me, Christian?” He rose to his knees. It wasn’t his favorite thing, but he would let Christian have his way tonight. He owed him, but that wasn’t all. He wanted him any way he could get him, any way at all. He’d let Christian do what he wanted and… But Christian was shaking his head from side to side. No? No what? “I don’t want to fuck you, Denny,” Christian’s fingers were stroking softly up the hard length of him. So good, so good, he was sure he’d go mad if it kept up. “I, uh, I like it the other way best.” And, as if that wasn’t enough, in a whisper, “I need you, Denny.” The words, so low, almost a confession, and he was leaking like a dripping faucet. His slit was swimming as he leaned forward to pull Christian’s mouth to his.

“I’m here.” His own voice was a rasp, a husky, almost harsh sound. Denny tried again. “Whatever you need,” he murmured against the soft, full lips. But he had to be honest, didn’t he? “I need you, too. I want you, Christian,” he confessed. *** Christian pulled away, nodding. He’d known that Denny wanted him. Still, he was glad that the lawyer had told him so. He wanted to trust Denny. Right now, though, this minute, that was lower on the totem pole. He turned his back to Denny, pushing his own flimsy boxers off and facing away, placing both hands firmly on the headboard. Looking over his shoulder at his lover, he asked, “You remember where to find everything?” He didn’t wait for an answer, lowering his head and spreading his knees; he felt the cool air tickle at his entrance, his own cock as hard as the wall in front of him. And the wait was long, excruciating, as the bed dipped, the drawer rolled open. Did Denny find everything? Would it be much longer? Ah, there, the stroke of a long, thin finger over his tight hole. How good, the tingling caused his sacs to tighten, he felt his cock drip, stiff, tense, needing more back there to make everything on this side feel so good. “You want me, huh?” Denny’s aged whisky voice rasped hoarse over Christian’s ears. The finger pushed and slid in, oily, slick. “Please,” he moaned, unashamed. There wasn’t anything left to hide from Denny. “Don’t bother…just fuck me, please, just, I need you to just…” Could he say it? Make himself say it? But Denny knew. He obviously knew. His warmth covered Christian from behind, one hand lacing their fingers on the headboard as the other one guided his blunt, round head into Christian, pushing and pushing and there…with a pop, he was in. “Ready?” “Mm, ‘ss,” But that wasn’t an answer, was it? “’Es,” he forced. Denny’s other arm slid up his ribs, up his arm, hand sliding over hand, fingers weaving in an intimate grip. At the same time, Denny's full cock was pushing into Christian, filling him, spreading him open and then…then soft, furry balls rested against his own, he was full. The head of Denny’s large cock pushed Christian’s hot spot, his bump. “Oh god, ohgodohgod, Denny, Den-ny!” If the older man didn’t move, Christian was sure he’d pass out from too much at once. “Pah-pl-please,” he moaned. “Right here,” Denny growled, pulling back, pushing forward, fingers tight around fingers, in, out, in, out, hot, full, good.

“Can’t, can’t…Denny!” he all but screamed, though his voice was a faint husk. And then he was tight, and hot, and coming and coming from so deep inside, it pulled on his balls and even his stomach. Hot, pearly cream splattered the headboard, and Denny roughly pushed and pulled and jerked and then heat shot all through him. Denny lifted their twined hands from the headboard and wrapped them around him, and the two of them slid down in the bed, still attached, spoons in a drawer, one inside the other. “Denny,” Christian forced, his voice so far away. “Sleep, Christian,” came the gravelly order. “I’ll be here.”

Chapter Seven

Denny prowled the small kitchen, looking for coffee--a newspaper even. He considered ordering it, but didn’t know who delivered in the area. He knew who didn’t… Apparently Christian didn’t enjoy a subscription to the New York Times. Giving up the hunt, he brought himself out to the living room. Avoidance would be a lot easier, he decided, at his own place. In fact, everything would be easier there. But he’d never taken a lover there. He had polite gatherings, catered dinner parties, solitude and safety there. Not sex. Maybe it was time to change that. He was in his forties, making love--no, having sex, just sex, but still, he was having it with strangers, without fail. Sure, from time to time he dated safe, politically correct women, lawyers, debutantes. Sometimes, he had politically correct, polite sex with them. Sex. Not friendship, just sex. Was Christian a friend? Well…he was sex. Christian was also the first person in his entire adult life that Denny had laid down next to for the purpose of sleep. The fact that sex had come of it had been unintended--welcome, of course, very welcome. A muffled curse was his only warning before a very tousled Christian stumbled from the abbreviated hallway. He paused in the doorway to the living room and Denny held both arms open to him, surprised at himself, but somehow unable to keep from it. Christian settled between Denny’s legs, laying his head on his shoulder. Automatically, Denny lifted a hand, running splayed fingers through the soft curls, stroking the dark blond riot of hair like a favored pet. “Thought you were gone. Dunno why I’m so…clingy,” Christian murmured against Denny’s neck. “I could itemize, but I don’t think that would help much,” Denny smiled, planting a kiss on his young lover’s forehead. “How about you come to my place and let me take care of you for a day or two, hmm?” Christian sniffed, snuggling in deep. “Why?” he asked, his voice cracking. “You need it, I want to, and all my stuff is there,” Denny provided, knowing any reasonable answer wouldn’t make much difference. “I have lots of food and a great view. Nobody will bother you there…besides me,” he tacked on. “Why, Denny? Why do you want me at your place when, before yesterday, you had blown me completely off?” Christian asked, his bright blue eyes swimming in emotion again.

“I just do, Christian,” he answered, his voice thick in his throat. “Is that okay?” “Yeah, I guess so,” Christian answered after a moment. “Yeah,” he repeated, angling his head back to look at Denny` Why did it matter so much? Denny didn‘t want to examine it too closely. He dropped a brief kiss on the plush, full lips so close to his own. “Let’s go, hmm? Grab what you need.” “I’m gonna shower,” Christian informed him firmly, levering himself off of Denny and disappearing down the hall. Shaking his head, Denny called and ordered the coffee house near his building to send coffee and pastries over. That done, he made his way into Christian’s bedroom, pocketing the lube. He’d had intercourse twice already with the young detective without benefit of a condom. It was pointless now, really. The lube he could certainly use. Going through several drawers, Denny efficiently pulled out three pairs of faded jeans, two tshirts and a polo shirt, and three pairs of boxer shorts. Finding socks, he added them to the stack. Moving to the closet, he poked around until he located a leather backpack. Denny was stuffing the clothing into the bag when Christian reappeared, naked, rubbing his hair dry with a fluffy towel. Denny’s mouth went dry and he forced himself to turn away. His fingers ached to touch, stroke, feel--how he needed to feel that soft skin, lightly dusted by golden fleece. If he did, though, it would postpone their departure indefinitely, and he was in dire need of a cup of coffee. “I’ve got your clothes,” he called over his shoulder. “They’re delivering breakfast at my place in a few minutes.” Apparently food was all the bait it took, or possibly the fear that Denny would leave without him. Either way, in a short few minutes, the two men were speeding through upper Manhattan toward Denny’s luxury apartment.

Chapter Eight

Christian clung to Denny, arms wrapped around his waist, head tipped down, face resting against the back of his shoulder. How had he gotten to this place? He was so damned emotional. He felt like a ticking bomb, in danger of exploding any moment. Sure he’d been through a little bit of shit, he wouldn’t deny that. But it wasn’t Denny’s fault or his responsibility. Well, okay, some of it was--just a little of it. Denny had said he’d call. He hadn’t needed to say that if he wasn’t going to. He could have said he’d see Christian at the bar or something. But really, that was all that Denny was guilty of. Being a jerk. Aside from that, it was Christian’s responsibility for falling in love with an asshole. And he was in love, no question. Had been, in fact, from the very first glance. It didn’t help that Denny was being so incredible right now in the face of what was going on with Christian’s parents. It was wonderful, actually, and terrible at the same time. With a nod to his unsteady emotional state, Christian had made the executive decision to enjoy what came his way right now and try to get himself together. A half hour later, stretched out on the couch, and he still wasn’t sure how together he was. “I’d better let you drink your coffee,” Christian mumbled, pulling back away from Denny and sitting up. Black eyes sparkling, Denny leaned forward, slipping a long arm around Christian’s waist. He pulled Christian against him on the plush, kid sofa and handed him the tall, cone shaped mug he’d been sipping from. “Drink it with me,” he murmured, his deep, whiskey voice rumbling through his chest into Christian. “I want to feel you against me. This is new for me. I want to savor it.” Christian wanted to savor it, too. He couldn’t get enough. It was so intimate, laying against Denny this way, putting his lips where Denny had, drinking from the same mug--sharing. “I-I like this. Um, so you’ve never…” what was he trying to say? What a dip anyway. “I sound like an idiot, don’t I?” Christian finally managed. “I like this, too, Christian. And no…I’m pretty sure I never have. And yes, you do, in fact, sound like an idiot. But I’m good with it.” Denny squeezed his arm a little tighter around Christian and leaned in, kissing a blushing cheek. “Drink the coffee.” Maybe Denny was just making amends. Or maybe Denny did really care. If he didn’t care yet, he might care soon. What difference did it make? He cared enough to bring Christian into his home and coddle him. That was a gift horse Christian didn’t feel like investigating all that intimately. Whatever the plan was, it included a long weekend. Denny had packed enough clothes for three

or four days. Not a problem. Christian knew when to smile nicely and enjoy the moment.

Chapter Nine

Denny held the door open, and Christian moved inside the antique bookstore in front of him. His eyes were as wide as saucers as he moved around, stroking the faded leather and cloth spines. It was one of Denny’s favorite haunts, a place he went when he wanted to treat himself. Today, though, he wanted to treat Christian. Originally, the plan had been to get out, spend time aimlessly walking around and generally just unwind. In the course of talking, Christian had confessed his love of the written word--specifically, classic literature in its original form Something in common. Well, they both worked in the legal field, that was something they had in common, but outside of work, the two men seemed to be complete opposites. Seemed to be, but weren’t obviously, because Christian was lovingly caressing the dog eared pages of a first edition Dickens as if it held the answers to life’s greatest questions. In this case, maybe it did. Denny took great pleasure in offering up his credit card and having the book wrapped carefully. Christian had shown just the right amount of innocent surprise and reluctance and it made Denny feel big, strong, in charge. Physically, Christian could probably do real damage if he wanted to. There was no mystery there. What excited Denny was that the younger man turned himself over--gave himself over to Denny. He chose to be led, needed to. There was nothing hotter than that. It turned Denny on. Had he finally met his…no! Not going there. Christian could be a lovely toy, but there was no soul mate for Denny. That was hogwash, just crap. Denny smiled weakly as his hand settled at the small of Christian’s back. “Is everything okay?” Christian inquired uneasily. Denny could tell that his lover was still off kilter. “It’s fine, Christian,” Denny assured him. “How about a snack?” “I’m not all that hungry.” The younger man looked almost sheepish as he said it, and Denny couldn’t help arch a brow at him. He should feel guilty--he had skipped breakfast. Leading the blond toward a recessed doorway, Denny pulled it open and guided him in. “I’d like you to try to eat a little something, Christian. You’ve had a lot happen in a short time. It’s not healthy to skip meals.” Christian bit his lip. Denny faced him, not worrying about blocking the door. He’d move them if someone headed their way. Christian still looked uncertain, and Denny decided it was time to assert himself a bit. “Christian, let me take care of you,” he murmured, pulling Christian in for a fleeting kiss. Christian ducked his head, though not before Denny noticed his pink blush. “Okay.” “Good.” He’d known Christian would agree, that’s what made it all so special, so dangerous.

Christian liked doing what Denny wanted.

Chapter Ten

Maybe a bay leaf would make the difference…but no. Too strong. A pinch of basil then. That was perfect. Denny turned toward the wide bar separating his kitchen from the rest of his apartment. A minute’s tracking and Denny found Christian out on the balcony, leaning and relaxed as he talked on his cell phone. At the same time, his attractive lover watched intently as several pigeons landed on the balcony railing a few feet away. They were enjoying the snack Christian had put there. Denny shook his head in exasperation. They would make a hell of a mess, a lot of noise, and he’d never get rid of them. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the other man, and he didn’t know why he should. Christian was beautiful. Young and beautiful. What the hell was he doing to himself? He had no idea, but whatever it was, he intended to keep on doing it as long as it felt good. And if it didn’t feel good to Christian? Well, Christian was a big boy…with a very big heart. While Denny didn’t want to break it, he knew he could. Christian was probably in love with him. The sap. Denny smiled, a funny feeling fluttering behind his ribs. That was so cute, Christian being in love with him. And why not? Didn’t Denny deserve to be loved once in his life? Denny forced himself away from the riveting view of Christian gesturing at the birds while he apparently described them to someone on his cell phone. Probably his mother if Denny had to guess. It felt sort of good to know someone that well, and somehow, he did know Christian that well. He caught Christian’s eye as he laid the plates on the table. The grin Christian flashed at him held him immobile while the other man lifted a hand splaying the fingers and mouthing ‘five minutes’. Somehow, Denny managed to nod. He needed to watch himself around this one. Already he’d brought the man home. They’d be sharing Denny’s bed. He was cooking for Christian for heaven’s sake! What next? China patterns? Well, no, Denny already had very expensive china and he had no intention of acquiring more. Besides, chances were good that Christian didn’t care about such things. Denny gave himself a shake, turning back to the kitchen. Two strong arms and a pair of cool lips on his neck took him by surprise. “I was telling Mom about the pigeons. They’re so cute,” Christian murmured, hugging Denny from behind. “Something smells so good.” “Pigeons are feathered, airborne rats, Christian,” Denny chided, but he couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice. “It’s spaghetti, but I make my own sauce. And of course, garlic bread…” “Of course,” Christian agreed, stepping away after another hug. “Can I do something to help?” he asked, darting a guilty glance toward the table. “Guess I let you do all the work.”

“I fully expect you to eat like a starving man, which will justify my hard labor,” Denny teased. “Don’t let me down.” At the table, Denny pulled a chair out for Christian, moving away quickly to slide into his own. As Christian seated himself, Denny filled a shallow bowl with pasta for him spooning thick, rich sauce on top. “Parmesan?” he asked, sliding the grated cheese toward Christian. “Thank you, Denny,” Christian murmured shyly, a light blush coloring his cheekbones. “What is it, Christian?” Denny asked, taking a piece of garlic bread for himself and offering Christian one. “I…um,” Christian looked down at his food and back up at Denny. “I really like how you take care of me.” He looked away. “It’s silly, I guess,” he mumbled. Denny felt moved and a little awkward. He couldn’t have said why he was anticipating Christian’s needs as he was. Yes, taking care. That’s what he was doing, almost as he would with a woman he was dating. It made Denny uncomfortable because he did know why he was doing it, if only he’d admit it. He cared about Christian. Denny wanted the butterscotch blond to have what he needed--to be treated right. “I’m glad you like it,” Denny said simply, winking at Christian and then turning to his meal. “How’s your mom doing? Is your dad feeling any better?” Best to change the subject now. Denny didn’t want to examine his feelings any closer. Not that he had real feelings for Christian. He was just being nice, really. “Mom’s okay,” Christian offered, taking a bite of his meal. “This is really good,” he groaned around a mouthful. “As good as your mother’s?” Denny couldn’t help but ask. “Oh, yeah. Don’t ever tell her I said this but…” Christian leaned in close, lowering his voice as if imparting a dark secret. “Mom’s a horrible cook. Dad said he’d rather eat c-rats than anything that ever came out of her kitchen. For their first anniversary, he hired a full-time cook for her.”

Chapter Eleven

Weak, gray light was filtering through the partially exposed window when Denny heard Christian’s voice. “No, Joe, I’m not home. Just let me call you back in five minutes. I’ll meet you…Damn it! Wait. I’m gonna call you right back.” “What is it?” Denny mumbled, forcing his head to clear. They’d shared a bottle of wine the night before…well, two bottles of dark red. Pinot Noir, Denny’s favorite. That on top of the limited sleep the previous night and Denny was feeling decidedly fuzzy-headed. “Um, I gotta go in,” Christian sighed, moving back to the bed. “Sorry I woke you, but…” “Why’ve you got to go in?” Denny grumbled. “It’s Sunday and I thought they were giving you a few days anyway.” Christian seemed a little embarrassed. “Well, yeah but there’s been a break on one of our cases. Downtown’s been a little testy about our evidence, too,” he teased a little awkwardly. “So, it’s our case and we follow up the leads. Even on Sunday.” Denny picked up his phone, pressing a speed dial button. “Two to go and some rolls, Sam. And a bigger tip if you get it here in five…” He hung up. “Okay, let’s get you dressed. I’ll give you a ride in. Might as well catch up on some of my paperwork.” Christian looked shocked. “You’re gonna go in with me? I mean, not with me. Just because I am, though? Really?” Denny chuckled, sliding out of the large bed. Last night it had seen just as much action as it had the previous thirty nights, but Denny felt better than he had in awhile. “Call Joe back and I’ll get the coffee. Maybe we’ll pass each other in the shower.” He thought that over for a moment. “No, bad idea. If I start on you, I’ll never stop.” Leaving Christian and his alluring pink blush behind, Denny grabbed his robe and made for the door. The coffee service was very close by and he tipped remarkably well even on a bad day. By the time he opened the door to retrieve his newspaper, the girl with the coffee was holding out his order. Denny made her day with a twenty dollar bill and headed for the kitchen to pour the coffee into mugs. A roll wasn’t the best breakfast in the world, but he’d fix a big meal for Christian later. Denny stopped in the act of pouring the coffee. He had lost his mind, no doubt about it. Christian was nothing more than a very attractive roll in the hay. But now, Christian was in his home and Denny was planning supper and bemoaning the fact that he couldn’t fix breakfast for the man. Not only that, he had every intention of compromising himself by driving his young lover to work. Yes, for sure, he’d lost his mind.

***

Buttoning the last button, Christian smoothed out the chambray shirt he’d found in his bag and wandered into the kitchen. “Do you have an old tie I can borrow? And maybe a jacket… well, I can wear mine, as long as I have a tie,” he rambled, not looking up. A large porcelain mug floated into his line of vision and Christian looked up. “Oh,” he grinned, taking the coffee and kissing Denny on the cheek. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” Denny answered, slipping a hand into Christian’s slightly damp hair and pulling him forward for another kiss. “I’ll leave the tie on the bed. Did you call Joe back?” “Um, yeah,” Christian replied, slightly bemused from Denny’s kiss. He couldn’t get enough of that, just couldn’t. He could kiss Denny for hours and not get enough. “I told him to meet me at that bagel place the block before your offices. I figure if you drop me around the corner from there, I can walk up. That okay?” “Sounds good,” Denny agreed, running his hand through Christian’s hair one more time. That was another thing Christian couldn’t get enough of. He was setting himself up for trouble; he knew that. As much as he was loving this time with Denny, he didn’t know how the lawyer felt, though the man must care some. After all, it had been Denny’s idea that Christian stay at his home. And Denny would tell him when to leave. He was reasonably sure about that. Joe was easy to spot, grumbling at his bagel when Christian strolled in the door. His partner appeared to be in a rotten mood. Not that Christian could blame him. They’d both really expected to have this day off. You couldn’t count yesterday. For one thing, Christian had still been sort of recovering from the emotional rollercoaster of his parents’ near deaths. In addition to all that, one day was not too much to ask. “So? Where’d you come from?” Joe growled when Christian sat down across from him. “Gonna eat?” “No, not now. I had something. I came from up the block,” Christian shrugged, pointing behind Joe. It was vague, but that was all he intended to say. “Where’d you stay last night?” Joe demanded, pushing his chair back. “What are you? My keeper? I stayed with a friend. What are we doing today?” he countered. “Thought I was your friend,” Joe snapped. “We’re questioning some people in Queens, by the airport. It’s the Roberts case.” “So we’re being five now? I can have more than one friend.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes at Joe. “Let’s get going then. Where’d you park?” Joe stalked out of the tiny restaurant and down the street, not speaking until he opened their department issue car. He usually kept it with him since he had a small house and didn’t have to pay for parking.

“I been worried,” he said finally, not looking at Christian. “I called you Friday, Joe. I’m sorry I worried you.” He really didn’t know what else to say. There were many weekends when the two of them didn’t talk. Joe exhaled heavily, turning in the seat to face him. “I feel guilty. I don’t really get along with my parents. I tried to go over and visit yesterday. It kinda reminded me why I don’t get along with ‘em. Sorry I’m being such a shit.” Well, that made a little more sense. “Hey, you forgave me for being a shit the last few weeks. It’s only fair I let you slide for one hour of it.” “Uh, this friend you stayed with last night…” Joe began, facing forward and turning the key in the ignition. “Yeah?” Christian asked warily, glancing sideways at him. “Any chance this is the friend that had you acting like a shit the last few weeks?” Joe asked casually. Christian arched a brow, hiding his grin. “I guess there’s some chance,” he mumbled, looking out the side window. “Thought so.”

Chapter Twelve

Denny glanced through the hanging plant and started when he saw Christian sit down with his partner. A little jolt to his memory told him that this was the very same place he’d sat a scant four days ago at lunch time. Apparently the Sunday crowd here was just as vigorous at noon. He scooted down a little in his seat and lifted the newspaper a little higher. “So, Chris…about this friend of yours…” Denny found himself listening intently. “Hal Marcado seemed to think that his nephew Junior was present the night of the killing,” Christian murmured, the sound of a chair scraping suggesting that he wasn’t settled comfortably. “What’re you gonna have, Joe? I know I want iced tea…maybe a salad.” Denny managed to restrain himself from suggesting that Christian eat something more substantial. After all, he’d only had a roll for breakfast. Not to mention that making his presence known would negatively impact his eavesdropping , as well as let the cat out of the bag regarding Christian’s sexual orientation. “Oh, come on man, this is lunch! We’re on break. Now give! How’d you hook back up with your friend? What’s her name? What’s she like? So you staying with her?” Denny froze, wondering what the hell Christian could say to that veritable avalanche of prying questions. The chair creaked again, and Denny twitched his paper, catching a glance of Christian’s bent head and set face. He heard the other man sigh heavily. “First off, my friend heard about the bombing and came to check on me. We…talked.” Joe didn’t say anything, and Denny, on the other side of the dividing wall and plant, listened closely. “It’s a very new, very private relationship and I don’t want to talk about it.” Joe sat quietly for a moment. “What’s amatter, Chris? Afraid you’ll jinx it by telling me a name?” “Maybe…” Christian said, sounding embarrassed. Denny felt like squirming for him. He was actually glad that he had no friends close enough to dare questioning him like that. If he ever admitted to feeling lonely, this would justify it completely. “Oh, come on man, give me something,” Joe insisted. Christian didn’t answer. “What would you boys like? Well hey there, cutie, you in a better mood today than you were last week?” The waitress had made her appearance and was apparently the same one that had bemoaned Christian’s bad mood three days ago. Denny stood.

***

Christian glanced up and locked eyes with the man on the other side of the half wall. Denny’s sparkling, black eyes. One of them dropped in a wink, and Christian felt a blush heat his cheeks. Denny’s lips twitched in a smile and he dropped a few bills on the table. “What? What is it, Chris?” Joe asked, jerking Christian’s attention away from Denny’s knowing gaze. “Oh…um, just trying to decide what I want to eat,” Christian fudged. “I think I’m just going to get some soup…how’s the tomato today?” “Oh, sweetie, you’re a growing boy!” the waitress simpered. Denny’s brow arched up. “At least have a grilled cheese with that.” Without waiting for an answer, she ran her fingers through Christian’s hair before he could pull away and was gone. Denny’s face had turned dark and his eyes were snapping. Christian opened his mouth, but Denny was gone. It was probably for the best. He didn’t know what he would have said or to whom. He really didn’t know whether he was expected to return to Denny’s building that night, but he did. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Christian went in through the garage. When he rang Denny’s buzzer, the reciprocal buzzer opened the internal door, letting him in. He only hoped that it was him that Denny was expecting.

Chapter Thirteen

The burning in his gut had ebbed just a little, until Denny heard the buzzer. Christian was here. He’d entered through the garage. Ever discreet, his Christian. His Christian? Well, for tonight anyway. He let the other man enter the elevator and waited. His was one of four penthouses, so Christian would still have to come through the door. He knocked and turned the knob. As soon as Christian entered, Denny took him by the hand, leading him wordlessly into the master bathroom. “Denny?” he asked. “Shh,” Denny ordered, unknotting the tie that Christian wore. He made short work of the chambray shirt and dropped to slip shoes and socks off before unfastening Christian’s jeans. Turning away, Denny started the shower, slipping out of his own clothes at the same time. One little tug drew a naked and confused Christian into the tiled enclosure. He knew he was over the top, but Denny couldn’t stand it. He was going to wash that woman’s touch out of Christian’s hair. His fingers, his scent, him, his Christian, for one more night. Denny began with Christian’s hair, palming two overlarge handfuls of his favorite shampoo and lathering the crazy, caramel mop thoroughly. He repeated the process before soaping the younger man’s well-developed chest, his fingers staying to play in the sparse matt of hair. Following the fuzzy trail down over Christian’s abdomen, Denny focused his attentions upon his lover’s erection. Gently steering Christian to lean against the wall, Denny kneeled on the smooth, tiled floor and reached between Christian’s thighs, spreading them just a little wider. He cupped his lover’s sacs in his palm as he steadily stroked up and down the hardened cock. Christian groaned, hands flat against the wall, warm water pouring over him as Denny’s soapy finger worked behind his balls, finding the small hole there and sliding in and out. Leaning forward, Denny took Christian’s silky, hard length into his mouth, continuing to pump his finger deep, in time with his suction. “Denny, omigod, oh…oh!” Christian was insensible, and Denny had every intention of keeping him that way for the rest of the night. *** Denny rose above Christian on the wide bed, holding the younger man’s knees wide open as his cock rested at his lover’s tight entrance. He couldn’t, wouldn’t look away from Christian tonight. Not once as long as they were awake. This meant too much. It was all so intense. Just this one

time, it would matter. He pushed in as his hands slid up Christian’s arms, fingers twining. Christian arched his back, opening his mouth, maybe to speak. Denny followed him down, covering his mouth, drinking deeply the sweet boy taste of him. So wholesome, so perfect. His cock pushed in, slowly, a little at a time. Christian wanted to push, Denny could tell, but the angle was wrong. He’d just have to moan, groan, and rock against him as Denny took his sweet, sweet time, smooth silk gliding in, tight hot as he pulled out and pushed in again, thrusting, picking up speed, fucking his lover. Christian’s blue, blue eyes were wide, surprised, dazed when he came. As if Denny had performed magic in front of him--on him, something so amazing that it was unbelievable. Denny cataloged every gasp, pant and moan. He would never forget this. He would treasure it…treasure the memory of it, because it was something he just couldn’t keep. *** “I’m sorry,” Denny rumbled, his bourbon deep voice vibrating through Christian’s back. One arm held his torso from underneath as they rested back to front, Denny’s other hand splayed on Christian’s hip. They’d been lying quietly, coming down from their overwhelming pairing. “I can’t fall in love with you, Christian. It just won’t work. You understand that, don’t you?” “I…” Christian’s throat was so dry. It felt like he’d just been given his heart’s desire only to have it fall apart in his hands. Oh wait. That DID just happen… “I love you, Denny,” he rasped. What else could he say? “I know. I’m sorry,” Denny said quietly, his long fingers stroking over the pale flesh at Christian’s hip. This is what heartbreak feels like. I thought I knew…now I do know. “I can’t, Christian.” Denny’s fingers rifled through his tangled curls. “When I saw that woman touch your hair today, I knew. It hurt. It burned all the way through. I couldn’t stand it.” “I…Denny, I…we don’t have to…” He couldn’t let it end like this, could he? No, he wouldn’t. He’d… “Denny, I really love you. I’ll do anything. Anything you say, anything you want…” It was all he had. “I’m sorry,” Denny whispered again. “I just can’t.” he leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to Christian’s shoulder blade. Christian let out a painful, pent up breath, allowing Denny to gather him close, pulling him back against Denny’s furry chest. It hurt; he hurt. His entire body felt painful, bruised and tender. How could he have this--be so close to it, only to have it ripped away? Every cliché, every tired heartache metaphor he’d ever heard came into play right then. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t cry. Either Denny was asleep or kind enough to fake it well. It had been hours. Hours since they’d made love, and it had been love, Christian knew it. But Denny meant what he said. Christian

knew that, too. There wouldn’t be any going back. Monday morning was just lightening the New York skyline when Christian unlocked his apartment door. It seemed like so long ago that Denny had packed his bag and hauled him out of his apartment. He’d been on shaky emotional ground then. Now he was on quicksand. He unlocked his door and dropped his knapsack onto the chair, striding over to the window. There was nothing out there. He lifted the shade and secured it open, though he didn’t really care about the view. It was a good place to stand while he replayed his memories. Memories. How crazy was that? He’d had what…two, maybe four nights with Denny? So intense, all of it. Even the first time, probably because it was his first time, things had been intense. And then, of course, there had been the three week lag-time after that. In total, four weeks had devastated his heart. His life…maybe, but his heart, certainly. An emotional hurricane. That summed things up nicely. And it looked like the cleanup was going to take time.

Chapter Fourteen

“So, things didn’t work out with your friend, huh?” Joe observed, circling the block one more time. “Can you tell me her name anyway? I’m just curious…what kinda woman makes you so surly.” “Leave it, Joe. It just didn’t work out. I don’t want to talk about it.’ “Damn it, Chris, you’ve all but shaved your head, you’re biting mine off when you talk at all. I’m worried man. You gotta talk to somebody.” Christian turned to stare at his partner, considering. Apparently Joe believed he was about to be blessed with some long-wanted information. He wasted no time in pulling the car over and parking it near a curb. Exhaling heavily, Christian turned to face forward. “It’s pretty simple. Love at first sight.” He turned to look at Joe again. “For me, anyway. My friend finds love… unacceptable or inconvenient or something, I don’t know. So, basically, it’s over. That’s it. I really don’t want to talk about it again, okay?” Joe reached over and squeezed Christian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. Really. I won’t mention it again.” He turned and opened the car door, closing it as quietly as possible while Christian did the same. The two men walked quietly down the deserted block. Dappled light filtered through the hole in the darkened glass. The warehouse was old, had every appearance of neglect, yet it was the usual hangout of a young Cuban gang--Los Postalitas or The Little Studs. Right. “You called for the cruisers?” Christian kept his voice low as he looked into the dim building. “Yeah,” Joe whispered. “They're on the way, one from the north, one from the south, like you said. Five minutes out, maybe less.” “Let’s go then,” Christian said, moving forward. Joe looked around nervously as he followed Christian through the broken door. Even though his partner was off to his right, Christian kept an eye on the man. Whoever had been assigned the position of lookout was not doing his job, but preteens were like that, Christian reasoned. He doubted that anyone in the gang was much older than thirteen. Which was a terrible shame since one of them was most probably guilty of murder. The sounds of an argument in a far corner of the stadium-sized building caught the detectives’ attention. With an incline of his head, Christian sent Joe in toward the wall, unseen as he

approached the group. Christian would walk straight in. These were children; they really didn’t have much experience in tactical planning. Joe kept the schedule and drove the car; Christian led in the field. He wasn’t the best in social situations, but he was unmatched in the field. They enjoyed their partnership, even on a bad day. It didn’t surprise Christian that the little group scattered as soon as they spotted him. And he wasn’t trying to hide at all. Not even a little bit. What surprised him was when one of the little bastards came flying at him with a knife. If the young person with the weapon had been any taller, he might have hit his intended objective. Since he wasn’t, the knife sliced along Christian’s collarbone. In three fluid moves, Christian had the youngster handcuffed on the floor and was already on his way out the back of the building, tackling an older teen who had stumbled on his way out the back entrance. Seeing another young man heading for a nearby fence, Christian sprinted by, passing a slow police cruiser. In spite of dangerously baggy pants and clunky boots, the boy was halfway up the ten-foot enclosure by the time the detective scrambled up after him. Climbing out of his pants and kicking out of his boots, Christian had no choice but to grab the kid around his thin waist and fall backward to get him off the fence. After securing the youth for the uniforms to pick up, Christian went looking for Joe. He met the other man coming back from the chase. They would round up as many of these youngsters as possible and haul them in for questioning. “Oh god, Chris! You’re bleeding!” Joe shouted, still at least ten feet away. He’d apparently been distracted when the little monster had attacked. “No big deal, Joe,” Christian assured him. “EMT! Over here!” Joe bellowed, waving as the unit parked in front of them. “He was going for my throat, I think. Little bastard was too damned short.” He sighed. “God I miss Denny.” “Who?” Joe asked, confused. “S’okay. ‘M just little lightheaded.” “Excuse me, Officer Simpson, we need a little room here. He’s going to need to come on in. He’ll be fine, but he’s lost quite a bit of blood…”

***

It didn’t really surprise Denny when he heard her voice on the line. He and Amanda Arbuckle had known one another for a number of years. They’d been on again-off again lovers from the beginning. Causal friends, casual sex. “Denton, how are you my dear?” she gushed enthusiastically. He could practically see her sitting in one of her spindly, Victorian chairs, holding her telephone oh so properly, her scheduling book on her lap ready for her to jot down the date and time he would be squiring and then bedding her. “I’m just fine, Mandy, how are you these days?” She hated when he shortened her name, but he chose to interpret it as a mark of their friendship that she let him use the nickname. He wanted to demand she just cut to the chase, but that wasn’t how these things were done. Though he had no intention of attending whatever soiree she felt she couldn’t possibly miss, nor did he have any desire to roll around in her silk sheets, it was bad manners simply to say so. “I’m so glad to hear that, I must say! You were spotted on your own at the country club looking positively morose!” Her tone changed to one of empathetic sadness. “You know how much your happiness means to me, Denton.” And how much would my happiness mean to you if you knew I was pining for another man, Mandy? “You’ve always been one of my dearest friends, Mandy,” he said, keeping his thoughts to himself. Since his dearest friends knew little more about him than his name, job title and whatever they read in the paper, that designation of friend carried little weight with him. “Of course I have, my dear,” she purred. “And that’s why I want you to accompany me to Daddy’s company’s charity dinner the Thursday after next. It’s formal, of course, but…” “Mandy,” he interrupted her. “…black tie is quite acceptable, and you always look positively edible with your salt and pepper hair and…” “Amanda!” he stopped her. “Denton, you don’t need to shout,” she objected, a studied vein of hurt clear in her voice. “I’m terribly sorry, Mandy,” he apologized as expected. “Very rude of me. I don’t know what came over me.” “Well,” she continued to pout. “You might as well tell me what has you acting so out of character.” And that right there clarified that she didn’t know him and wasn’t his friend. Denny knew himself to be controlling, aggressive, had an intrinsic need to be in charge. The sweet, blond detective that liked it when Denny held his chair, liked it when Denny rolled him over, touched him, fucked him--he knew. Denny’s breath caught in his throat, the ache building in his chest.

“Mandy, thank you for calling. I’m in the middle of a very big case right now,” he lied. “I have depositions and meetings scheduled for the next few weeks solid. I can’t tell you what it means that you thought of me like this, but I just can’t break away.” “Oh, my poor Denton,” she crooned. “You’ve always worked far too hard. Do let me know when the case is over, won’t you? Perhaps we can go out for a celebratory dinner…’ “Of course, Mandy, you’ll be the first person I call when I see myself clear to take time off.” After they said their goodbyes, Denny turned to his office window, opening the wooden blinds and glancing out at the city. A pigeon landed noisily on the nearby ledge joined by three others in rapid succession. Denny was frozen in place, pain so brutal that he couldn’t breathe crashed over him. What had he done? Christian loved those stupid pigeons. Where was his lover now?

Chapter Fifteen

When the phone rang, Christian’s heart clenched tight. But he knew it wasn’t Denny. It wouldn’t ever be Denny again…in fact, Denny never had called him, so why would the man call now? Christian scraped a hand through his significantly shorter hair. At one point, he’d considered shaving his head. He hadn’t, but he’d had it cut pretty short. No curls left. The day had been exceptionally long. It seemed like they all were long lately. That’s how it went when there was nothing to look forward to. His mother’s broken voice filled the room before he reached the phone. “Mom? What is it?” “Your…Your father’s had a heart attack, Christian. He… He’s still alive, but they don’t think…You need to come.” Christian didn’t waste time on platitudes. He quickly wrote down all the information she gave him about the name and number of the hospital. It hadn’t changed. His father hadn’t been released yet after his injury from the bombing. Upon hanging up, he dialed his lieutenant’s cell phone. Even though Christian and Joe had parted company an hour before, the lieutenant might still be at work or he could be stuck in traffic somewhere. The man’s work hours were a mystery. “Alhusa!” the lieutenant barked after one ring. “Sir, this is Detective Parker,” Christian began. “What is it, Parker, and this better be good,” he growled. “I’m at my little girl’s dance recital.” Shit. Well, it couldn’t be helped. “Sir, I just got a call from my mother. My father has suffered a heart attack and I’m…” he cleared his throat. Saying it himself just made it more real. “I need to go. He’s in the UAE, still in the hospital from his injuries a month ago. There isn’t a lot of time.” “Shit, son. I’m sorry. Is there anything you need to get out of? Court hearings, depositions, whatever?” “Detective Simpson keeps our schedule, sir. I’m going to call him next and then arrange transport. I’ll try to contact you when I know something, sir.” Christian had no idea what was on his agenda beyond getting in the car with Joe in the mornings. Truth be told, scheduling, in general, was not Christian’s strong suit. “You have two weeks, son. I’m sure we can get you more if you need it. Call me in a few days.” He could hear the high, off-tune voices of children singing in the background and a woman’s harsh whisper closer still. There was a rustling, muffled sound and then the lieutenant was back.

“Just tell Simpson to see me first thing tomorrow, Parker. Take care.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Christian dreaded going through the whole explanation again, but there was nothing to do but

push on. He dialed Joe’s cell number and waited.

“Chris! Wassuuuup!” Joe greeted him playfully. “You miss me so bad you gotta call me before I

get home?”

“Joe, um…” Christian heard his voice crack just a little and cleared his throat. God he hated this.

“Chris? You okay, man?” Joe asked softly. He really was a true friend.

“Uh, my dad had a heart attack. I need to get there right away. So...um, I called Lieu and he said

you should see him first thing and all. You know, in case there are things on the schedule…”

“Damn, man,” Joe groaned. “That just sucks. I’m so sorry, Chris.”

“Thanks, Joe.” It was hard to fight his emotions when he was talking to someone who actually

knew him. Things had been a little strained between himself and Joe the last few weeks, but only because his friend and work partner was worried about him. “I’ll call you in a few days.”

Chapter Sixteen

Denny was aggravated. His assistant had left a sheaf of notes on his desk, including trials that would need a continuance largely because of deposition problems. One in particular was aggravating him. An important case was coming to trial -- had been scheduled for trial at least. But the arresting officer needed to be interviewed beforehand. It appeared that said officer, one Christian Parker, was unable to keep his scheduled appointment. It surprised Denny that Christian would pull something like this. He could understand the man’s reluctance to sit in a room with Denny and answer questions, but this was his job. Christian had always seemed professional. He pushed a button on his intercom, lifting his receiver. When his assistant picked up, he ordered, “Get Lieutenant Alhusa on the phone, please. It’s the Seventeenth, Homicide.” A moment later, he heard the ringing. “Lieutenant Alhusa,” the man growled. “Lieutenant Alhusa, this is District Attorney Denton O’Connor. It’s come to my attention that one of your men, Detective Parker, has canceled an appointment for an interview on the Holmes case. It’s important and I need you to make sure he shows.” There was a pause. “Is that some time this week, Mr. O’Connor?” the gravely voice finally asked. “Yes, Wednesday,” Denny answered. He hadn’t expected much more than an emphatic: I’ll look into it or he’ll be there. “Detective Joe Simpson was present for that arrest. I can have him there for you,” the lieutenant offered. “I need the arresting officer, Lieutenant. Is there a problem?” Denny inquired carefully. He was becoming slightly alarmed. “I’m afraid Detective Parker won’t be available for another week. There’s been a death in his family.” The lieutenant paused for almost a minute, and Denny could hear papers shuffling. “I see a faxed request for a further week here initialed by an Army Senior Chaplain…I’m sorry, Mr. O’Connor. Detective Parker won’t be back here for two more weeks.” “All right, Lieutenant, thank you. I’ll notify your office with the rescheduled date. I’m sure I can interview him the day of the trial, if it comes down to that.” What Denny really wanted to do was get off the phone as quickly as possible. “We’ll request a continuance first, of course.” “Appreciate it,” the lieutenant answered.

“My assistant will be in touch.” Denny hung up and leaned back in his chair. It felt wrong to be living his life where he always had, knowing Christian wasn’t. Wasn’t in the city, was probably not in the country. Everything just felt wrong. Which parent had died? He was reasonably sure it was Christian’s father. His stomach clenched, thinking about his lover’s pain. A week ago… this had happened just a week ago. Christian loved his father despite their seemingly antagonistic relationship. No doubt Denny’s foray in and out of his life only made this sad event even harder. He buzzed his assistant. When she picked up, he ordered, “Request a continuance for the Holmes case--bereavement. As soon as you get a date, reschedule with the arresting officer. You can get whatever paperwork you need from his lieutenant.”

Chapter Seventeen

Christian sat in the District Attorney’s conference room, hands tight on the arms of his chair, willing himself to relax. Denny had yet to be seen, but he’d be there any minute. Joe was sitting further down the table, flirting with the stenographer and throwing him concerned looks. Christian had tried to drink his coffee, splashing it everywhere and resulting in a miniature lake filling the saucer. He hadn’t even tried to get it to his mouth. This would be the first time he laid eyes on Denny since he’d left the man's bed eight weeks prior. Then, suddenly, he was on his feet, shaking Denny’s hand, those dark, elfish eyes holding his. He couldn’t breathe for a minute. Denny stepped forward and pulled Christian’s chair a little closer. Then Denny’s hand was on Christian’s shoulder, light pressure guiding him back into his seat. Denny smiled and something loosened in Christian’s chest. It was just the two of them. Christian couldn’t look away. Why would he? “Let’s get this out of the way, hmm?” Denny asked, his voice nearly intimate. “How about some coffee?” With a wink, Denny reached over and poured Christian a fresh cup, sliding it in front of him. He reached over and put a couple of Danish on a small plate as well. “I’m going to read some things into this record, ask your partner a couple questions since he’s here, and then we’ll get to your part of it. Plenty of time for you to eat.” His intense gaze never wavered. “Um, okay,” Christian agreed. He wanted to form more coherent words. Unfortunately, his brain was working in slow motion. At the mention of his partner, Christian glanced down the table. Joe smiled and nodded, no doubt encouraging him to eat--something the other detective had become very annoying about over the last few weeks. “Good,” Denny winked again and then turned, picking up a sheaf of papers. Settling back in his chair next to Christian’s, he began to speak. The rich, smooth voice that Christian had missed so much flowed over him, stroking his senses, giving him a feeling of safety, rightness. He found himself drinking his coffee, eating his Danish, no spilling, no clattering, no queasiness or hollow spot. This feeling might not last--might not be available to him for much longer, but right this minute, Christian would take whatever he could get. Absently, he wondered what Joe thought, sitting down the table, his dark brow furrowed, carefully considering the questions Denny put to him. Finally, it was Christian’s turn. “Detective Christian Parker, Seventeenth Precinct, Homicide Division, was the arresting officer in this case.” He turned to Christian. “If you are Detective Parker,” Denny arched a brow at Christian, making him want to laugh, “Will you please state your name for the record?”

Christian sat up straight and cleared his throat. “I am Detective Christian Parker, Seventeenth Precinct, Homicide Division,” he intoned, his voice as officious as he could make it. He relaxed into an easy manner as Denny questioned him about the case at hand. Far from the arduous ordeal he had envisioned, this was easily the least painful deposition or court preparation that Christian had ever experienced. He was surprised and somewhat disappointed when it was over. Of course, that could also be because any time spent in Denny’s company was just that-time spent with Denny. “Thank you for coming, Detective Simpson, everyone,” Denny nodded at the rest of the table before turning to Christian. “Detective Parker, if you have a few minutes over the lunch hour?” he looked at his watch and then back at Christian, dark eyes sparkling. “I’d like a few words with you in private?” Christian nodded, surprised. “Good,” Denny smiled. “I’ll wrap up here and then we’ll walk down to my office.” Joe dropped into Denny’s vacated seat. “He wants to talk to you privately?” “’S what he said,” Christian mumbled, wide-eyed, watching Denny talk to the other attorney in the room. “Just don’t piss him off,” Joe warned. Christian frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Look, Chris. You’ve been in a bitchy or mope-y mood for a month or more. Not that I blame you, but Lieu will be especially vicious if we alienate the DA’s office.” “I promise,” Christian blushed, nervous as he glanced up to see Denny heading his way. “I’ll do my very best not to make him mad.” “Make who mad?” Denny asked as he walked up. “Uh, I, um, I’ll just be going,” Joe stammered as he shot to his feet. “I’ll catch you after lunch, Chris.” “Meet you at Central Booking at one fifteen,” Christian assured him, standing up. “Sounds good, man,” Joe agreed. “Right this way, Detective Parker,” Denny murmured, his hand on Christian’s elbow as they turned toward a door at the far end of the room.

Chapter Eighteen

Denny led Christian up the corridor and into his office, not speaking, just guiding. At some point he realized that he had his hand at the small of the younger man’s back and dropped it. Seconds later, he noticed that he’d taken Christian’s elbow. It was a good thing they hadn’t met anyone else along the way. He supposed it would always be like that with the headstrong, lionhearted younger man. His body just went on automatic pilot. This time, Denny decided he would just go with the flow. When it came to Christian, his brain apparently took time off. Everybody needed a break sometime, didn’t they? Denny closed the door and locked it after as Christian kept moving, straight to the generous windows. Denny had noticed that about him. Wherever he was, Christian always had to find the window and look out, first thing. Stepping in behind him, Denny wrapped both arms around Christian and turned his face into the short, fluffy curls. “I missed you. I’m sorry about your dad,” he whispered low into the soft ear at his lips. “Denny…” Christian’s voice broke, breath catching in his throat. This must have been the plan. He didn’t know if there actually had been a plan, but some part of his psyche must have had some idea…some notion. Denny turned Christian slowly, keeping both arms around him, and lifted a palm to his face, stroking his plush lips with a long thumb. “Let me, Christian, please,” Denny entreated, his voice husky. Leaning in, he replaced his stroking thumb with his lips, sliding Christian’s suit jacket off at the same time. He traced the seam, his tongue taking advantage when those soft lips parted, sinking in deep as he gathered Christian close. “Let me,” he murmured against Christian’s full, sensual mouth. Christian groaned, consumed. “Always,” he managed. It was the closest Denny could come to saying I need you; maybe I love you. To see Christian was to want him and to want him was to have him if there was any way at all. He should have known that, remembered that. If he could touch him, he would. And right this second, he could touch. “I want you,” Denny growled, his fingers flying over Christian’s tie as he pulled it loose. “In you. I want in you,” he clarified as he removed the button down shirt Christian wore, tossing it onto his desk. “Oh, god,” Christian groaned, fingers tugging at Denny’s shirt, finding their way to his belt buckle.

One hand stroking over Christian’s broad, smooth and muscular back, Denny reached with his other hand and searched his desk drawer for hand lotion. Never, as long as he’d held this office, had it ever occurred to him that there would be someone present, anyone, but most of all, some man--that he would want so badly he couldn’t resist. He situated Christian over his desk, naked, braced with arms spread wide, feet apart, beautiful. Christian’s muscles rippled under creamy, golden skin lightly dusted with fine, yellow-gold hair; Denny was hard and burning. He leaned in, planting a kiss at the base of Christian's tailbone. One long, lotion coated finger pressed against Christian’s tight, pink opening. The younger man groaned, spreading his feet a little wider as he pushed back into Denny’s foray. Bringing two fingers together, Denny pushed harder, pressing them in, spreading, stretching. It was a little faster than usual, but he was hungry, Christian was shaking. They needed this. “Now, Denny, please now,” Christian begged, pushing back again, head down. “Shh, I don’t want to hurt you.” But he lined his slick cock against the slightly stretched hole, pulling his fingers out and beginning to press in. “Here we go,” he mumbled. “Here I come.” Christian moaned, obviously fighting to keep it down, pushing back as far as he could with Denny’s hands on his hips holding him still. The hitching breaths, the gasps, the choked moans drove him on, harder and harder. His lover would have ten fingertip bruises on his hips for days. Denny just kept on, driving them both higher. “Gonna come, Denny,” Christian panted. “So good. Gonna come like this.” Denny thrust harder, not able to spare the breaths that speaking would claim. He managed to pry one hand loose and wrap it around Christian’s silky, hard cock. That’s all it took. Christian’s body froze, clamping down on him as Denny pulled Christian upright and surged in, coming so hard he thought he’d pass out. Some part of Denny wanted to stay there, buried deep inside of Christian, holding him motionless in the heat of passion forever. Part of him wanted that. Another part desparate for a future Denny’d refused to imagine, wanted to sit with him, look at Christian, touch him and talk to him. Grabbing their boxers, Denny led Christian to the small office bathroom and wetted a hand towel, turning his lover left and right as he cleaned the lotion and ejaculate from him. Christian didn’t say anything the entire time, which worried Denny somewhat. “Sit with me a few minutes?” he asked the other man. Christian nodded and followed Denny back across the room, stopping to pull on his pants. He sat next to Denny on the glossy leather sofa, still unspeaking. “You got your hair cut,” Denny observed, reaching up to run a hand through it. The ends were just barely beginning to curl. “You got it cut because of what happened with me, didn’t you?” Christian bit his lip and looked away. “Yeah,” he rasped.

Denny reached over, cupping Christian’s jaw and turning his face back. He didn’t know what to say, so instead of speaking, he covered Christian's lips with his own. The kiss lingered, long, satisfying, pulling back, diving in, for long minutes, maybe half an hour, not nearly long enough. A voice echoed through the office, startling the two men and breaking the slow, sensual kiss. “Are you still at lunch, sir?” Denny laid one finger over Christian’s swollen lips. “Don’t forget your one o’clock, sir. It’s twelve twenty-five now.” The sound of a click followed. “I really don’t know what to do next,” Denny murmured, his fingers gliding over a thin, pink scar before wrapping his arms loosely. “It’s still you,” Christian sighed, leaning sideways against Denny’s chest. “Maybe someday…but right now, it’s still you.” Denny tightened his arms around Christian. “I can’t stand to think of anyone else’s hands on you. I can’t keep my own hands to myself if you’re anywhere near me. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with a man or woman, but especially not a man and a cop.” He shook his head in disbelief and kissed Christian’s temple. “We’ve got to get dressed.” “Just...” Christian expressed a heavy sigh and pulled away, moving to his feet. “I don’t know what else to say, Denny. It’s still you. Always you.” Denny handed Christian his pants, helped him into his shirt and watched him closely as the other man slipped his socks and shoes on. “Let me do it,” he said when Christian reached for his tie. He flipped up the collar on Christian’s twenty-two dollar dress shirt. He threaded his own tasteful, two hundred dollar tie around the collar and knotted it quickly, holding up the suit jacket when he was finished. Christian slid into the jacket and stood in front of him while Denny carefully knotted the other man’s purple and white paisley tie around his own neck. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking one last long, slow kiss before he stepped away, opening the door.

Chapter Nineteen

“Hey, Chris! Over here!” Joe called out from the car. The two men had met as planned and interviewed the detainee intrinsic to their case. Now it was time to follow up on the information they’d ferreted from him. Christian slid into the passenger side, buckling his seatbelt as Joe merged into traffic. “Where we headed?” Christian asked, turning to face his partner. “The corner of third across from that posh new supermarket opening up,” Joe explained. There was still plenty Christian didn’t know about the city. Joe had grown up here. “So, what’d you do after you got finished with the DA?” Christian frowned. What on earth did Joe mean by that? “I came to Central Booking. What do you mean?” “You spent nearly two hours hanging with the District Attorney? What’s up with that?” Stopping at a red light, Joe turned to look at him more fully. “Did you…” He frowned, his sentence trailing off. “Did you cut your hair again?” Christian’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what was going on with Joe. “Um, no, no haircut.” He reached up and ran a hand through it. “It’s almost fluffy again. Didn’t cut a single one.” “Something’s different,” Joe insisted, glaring at him. The light changed and the car began moving again. “Uh, that’s third right up there, isn’t it? What’s with the media and all?” At first he’d meant to tug Joe’s attention away from him, but the sight of two news vans startled him. They were uncomfortably close to whatever was going on with the media, but Joe cruised past and pulled to the curb around the corner and just past the fire hydrant. “There’s some sort of store opening or whatever,” Joe explained, turning the car off. “Whatever,’ Christian shrugged, eyes narrowing as he planned their confrontation with the potential interviewees they’d come to see. “Okay, I’ll go in head on, you wait for a minute. If things look calm, stroll up. If things look tense, call for backup and come on in weapon drawn.” “Got it,” Joe agreed, watching as Christian stepped out of the car, flipped his badge out and tucked it in his belt so he could show it easily, and strode away.

***

“What am I watching here?” Denny asked, fingering the purple paisley tie that clashed so badly with his blue and brown striped Canali dress shirt. They were sitting in front of the twenty-seven inch television in his office. “That’s Anderson, the wannabe DA attending the opening of the new Weisenhaur’s super grocery. It’s supposed to be your complete experience for everything kitchen and culinary--bar none. That’s the catch-phrase.” “And it’s news because?” “Some big campaign contributors own it. It’s supposed to be bringing much-needed jobs and income to the area. It’s all hype, but it is hype, you know?” His assistant was very bright, even though she didn’t always make sense to him. “The same people that own the new store apparently have shares in some of the local channels. That’s what I found out from the research you had me do on Anderson.” Denny ground his teeth, struggling to bite back a foul comment. “Why haven’t you mentioned this sooner?” He was fast becoming tired of politics. So long he’d played the game, going for the top spot. He had achieved the pinnacle he’d sought and now he fought to keep it. District Attorney. Sometimes he wondered if he really wanted it anymore. “Didn’t you think this was important information for our campaign?” “Uh…hey, that guy’s a hunk…pretty hair.” As diversionary tactics go, it was weak, but Denny couldn’t help but look. “Christian,” he murmured, watching his lover apparently talking to two beefy looking men directly behind and some hundred yards away from the dedication gathering. “Huh?” the assistant asked. Denny ignored her. “Holy shit, they’re fighting!” she yelped. And they were. The cameraman had given up all pretense of focusing on the grand opening of the new super supermarket and was zooming in on Christian and the two men. One of them had tried to hold Christian’s arms behind him, but the detective had simply slid out of the suit coat, elbowing his would-be captor in the face. With the improved zoom of the camera and the thin cotton of the shirt Christian wore, Denny could see his lover’s heavy muscles bunch and ripple as he drew back and solidly punched the man in front of him. “Cut feed!” Denny heard over the still droning voice of his opponent for the District Attorney’s chair. The camera was on the men across the lot, but the sound was still focused on the gathering. Until a popping noise was heard. On the TV screen, Christian jerked, turning on his heel, though not before a red spot began to bloom on his side. “Where’s his goddamned partner?” Denny growled, terror freezing him, his mind sluggishly

processing what he was seeing. “Cut the feed!” Christian had drawn his weapon and was facing a man who was also holding a gun. It seemed to be happening in slow motion, though the entire thing was surely over in seconds. The man facing Christian somehow managed to squeeze off two more shots before he went flying backward, blood spilling from him as he dropped. Denny had moved forward, out of his chair, hands gripped tightly on either side of the armoire where the television was housed. His assistant stood, just behind his right shoulder, anxious to see what would happen next. As the man fell, Christian did as well, his cheap, white shirt bloody red now, the tie Denny had so carefully knotted at his neck soaked in it. “Cut the goddamned fuckin’ feed now!” a man’s voice bellowed in the background, replaced suddenly by first a test pattern and then two rather harried looking news anchors awkwardly apologizing for any trauma. Denny struggled against a cacophonic array of thoughts and emotions, now gripping the frame of the television so hard the plastic around it developed tiny cracks. The cameraman would simultaneously lose his job and no doubt receive countless industry awards. The station he worked for would be heavily fined and have to defend themselves and the man against FCC violations. “Find out where they’ve taken that police officer,” he choked out. “His name is Christian Parker.”

Chapter Twenty

Christian tried to tell Joe that he wanted Denny. His mind wasn’t making sense. He knew what had happened, sort of. He remembered walking up to the suspect, introducing himself as Detective Parker, and then having to deck the guy before the crazy asshole gutted him. How was he to know that the man was ambidextrous and had a gun in his other hand? More importantly, how was he to know that they guy’s friend was going to circle behind him and shoot him in the back? Joe should have been there, would have no doubt, but got slowed down by something. Either there was a third person, or something else stopped Joe. He’d find out eventually, though from all the fuss swimming in and out of focus, things were pretty bad. Maybe he’d die. Seemed like he got hit two or three times. Well, shot. Hit once, shot two or three times. So cold, too. Christian couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this cold. There was blood everywhere, most likely his own. “Denny’s tie,” he groaned. “Chris?” Joe squeaked. “Don’t try to talk, man. Just hang in there.” It sounded like Joe was crying or something. He wanted to tell Joe that cops weren’t supposed to cry, but he didn’t want to embarrass his friend. Besides, talking was a big issue for him just now. He couldn’t seem to get much past what felt like a huge hole in his gut. Denny’s tie was probably ruined. Damn it. Everything felt blurry, far away, and he was just so damned cold. Maybe he really was dying. “Bury me…” he panted. “Bury me in Denny’s tie,” he managed. His voice was a husk of hot breath and a wheeze. He hoped Joe understood. If he actually did die, maybe his spirit could stick around long enough to make his wishes known. He must be losing it. Dying and losing it--in which order? What would happen to his mom if he died? Denny? Joe would be devastated and most likely blame himself. He’d be counseled, though, the force insisted on that. His mom would…well, who knew? She was a strong woman, but it would hurt her so soon after his father. And she loved him. She was a great mom. But Denny. Denny was an enigma. He was everything to Christian. If the tall, thin man with the sparkling, black eyes, hooked nose, and salt and pepper hair had told Christian to quit his job, he would have. If he wanted Christian to come out about being gay, he would have. Denny was the other half of him. But if he needed to leave for Denny to be happy, actually, he did, didn’t he? If he died, at least he had gotten one last time with Denny. “Denny’s tie, Chris?” Joe was tapping his cheek, holding his hand now as the EMTs worked on him. “Who’s Denny? Chris, who’s Denny?

***

“DA O’Conner, does the DA’s office have anything to tell us about this attack?” “Mr. O’Conner!” Denny stopped at the entrance doors and turned. He had to say something, though he really

couldn’t wrap his mind around all that. Still, he owed it to the people of his district and the office

he represented--he had to say something.

He took a deep breath and tried to channel his inner politician that was never all that far away.

Unfortunately, today it was on the fritz.

“While the DA’s office is of course shocked and greatly concerned about this attack and

violence, I am not here in an official capacity.” The crowd had quieted a great deal and the lights

from the various news stations were heating his skin. “I am here as a private citizen having

watched someone I care deeply about be shot several times. The hospital’s public relations

department will most likely offer what information that they can as soon as possible.”

Not waiting for questions, Denny ducked through the sliding doors and made his way to the

elevators. His assistant was very efficient and had provided him with details such as which floor

Christian was on for his surgery and where the proper waiting room was.

“District Attorney O’Conner! I didn’t expect you here.” It was Christian’s lieutenant.

“Lieutenant Alhusa of the seventeenth precinct,” the stocky man reminded him, offering his hand

for a shake. “What can we do for the district attorney’s office?”

Joe stood stock still, eyes wide as he pointed. “The tie…Chris’s weird, purple tie.”

Disregarding the outburst, Denny accepted the lieutenant’s handshake and turned to shake Joe’s

hand. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m not here on behalf of the office I hold. Detective Parker and I

have a personal relationship.” He knew he should probably keep his mouth shut, but nothing else

seemed to matter right then. He wouldn’t draw them a picture, but he wouldn’t deny Christian

anymore either.

Joe, on the other hand, wanted details. “You’re the friend, aren’t you? He kept saying to bury

him in Denny’s tie. You’re Denny!”

“Bury him?” Denny turned back to the lieutenant. “How bad is it?” he was holding on by a

thread. The idea, the merest hint that Christian might require burying struck cold terror in him.

Lieutenant Alhusa looked from one to the other, a frown wrinkling his brow. With an impatient

shake of his head, he seemed to marshal his thoughts.

“We don’t know just yet. Why don’t you have a seat? Simpson, how about going and finding

some coffee?” Joe looked back and forth between the two men before shuffling off. It was quiet

for a full minute before the lieutenant spoke again. “That’s not the ugliest tie I’ve ever seen, but

I’ve had several opportunities to consider it. Is there some special reason why you’re wearing

Detective Parker’s purple tie, Mr. O’Conner?”

Denny gave some thought to ignoring the man, perhaps telling him to mind his own business.

Ultimately, there wasn’t much he could say. Christian wasn’t able to speak for himself, and it

wouldn’t be fair to speak for him.

“It’s personal, Lieutenant,” Denny told him evenly.

The other man regarded him soberly for long seconds. Finally, he nodded, looking away.

Chapter Twenty One

“He probably won’t really know you; he won’t remember talking to you later. It’s the drugs.” Denny nodded solemnly, fighting the urge to shove the nurse out of the way and go in. He needed to see Christian for himself, needed to touch. Finally, the way was clear, a hundred admonishments given, and Denny stood beside Christian’s bed looking down. “What am I supposed to do here, Christian?” he mumbled, reaching out to trace one golden eyebrow. “Mmm,” Christian groaned, hissing when he tried to shift. Denny took Christian’s hand, leaning down to press his lips against Christian’s forehead. “I saw you getting shot. I thought you were dead.” Christian opened his eyes a crack, his hand flexing slightly in Denny’s grip. “How could you do this to me?” Denny growled, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t want to care about you; I just wanted to fuck you.” Christian sighed and moved his head. Denny reached to cup his jaw. “This isn’t okay with me,” he gritted. He raked his fingers gently through Christian’s fluffy hair before carefully pressing a gentle, desperate kiss to the side of Chris' mouth. “Mr. O’Conner,” the nurse called from the doorway. “Detective Parker needs to rest, sir.” “We’re not done here,” Denny warned Christian in a low voice, murmuring directly into his ear. “You rest now.” He turned his cheek to rest against Christian’s temple, carefully avoiding the tangle of tubes and wires. “You rest and get better. I’m not going to just let this go. Do you understand me, Christian?” “L-l…D’ny,” Christian wheezed. Denny turned so that his lips skimmed Christian’s forehead. “I won’t be back for awhile, but this isn’t over. I’m not finished with you yet.” With difficulty, Denny stood, taking a moment to run his fingers along Christian’s pale cheek. The other man turned toward the light caress, already sleeping again. Forcing himself to pull away, Denny pulled the sheet up, adjusted the blanket around the sleeping man, and then stepped back. Christian was out of it, drugged to the gills against pain. There was nothing more that Denny could do here. He nodded to the nurse at the door who was regarding him quizzically. Absently, he pushed

through the double doors at the end of the ward, not paying attention to whoever might be coming, going or just standing around. It was late and visiting hours had already ended. Now that he’d seen Christian and knew for himself that his lover--in his lifetime, nobody had ever held that nomenclature, but Christian was his lover--would most likely live. Sure, pneumonia was a danger, any number of germs could threaten, but Denny refused to give that more than a cursory consideration. Christian was out of danger; he would live. What now? Did he want the younger man for himself? Christian wasn’t a pet; it wasn’t as if he could buy special toys and a bed and keep the man forever. Then again, Denny knew himself very well. If he was even entertaining an ongoing relationship with the blond man, it would be on his terms. All or nothing. *** Will you still do anything? Maybe I don’t have the right to ask. I’m asking anyway. Denny Christian read the card again, hands shaking. What did it mean? He was so tired. Would he still do anything? All he wanted was for Denny to come in and…Christian stopped himself. Looking around his hospital room, his gaze rested on the ceramic vase of purple flowers with a stuffed bear attached to the side. Next to it was an early edition of The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. On the dresser sat a bed tray brimming with cookies, crackers, tea, and word search puzzles; a plethora of delicacies for the temporarily immobile. Each and every one of these gifts and countless others had been courtesy of Denny, and today’s note had accompanied an orchid plant in a designer pot. “Is that from your friend, Denny, dear?” Christian looked from the note to his mother. She’d been there since the day after the shooting. He didn’t like the tiny lines bracketing her mouth--sure signals of the stress she’d been under. His father had only recently died. She’d had to move from the UAE back to the States. Finally, she had traveled from the west coast all the way to New York to be with him under the most frightening of circumstances. “Yes, Mom, it’s from Denny.” No use lying to her. Even though Denny had been gone by the time his mother had arrived, both Joe and the lieutenant had mentioned him one way or the other. She’d never asked what his relationship with Denny was, and Christian didn’t offer. He could see the speculation in Joe’s eyes. The lieutenant seemed a bit uncomfortable with him as well. But that wasn’t why he didn’t bother hiding the note from his mother. Denny called and spoke to

the nurses every day. He sent gifts every other day. Some nights, Christian was sure Denny was nearby, standing by his bed at night, but he never saw the man. Still, Denny wasn’t keeping a low profile, even though he wasn’t physically present. He’d been so confused, so frustrated. What was Denny doing? What did he want? Now he knew…or did he? Would he still do anything to keep Denny? “Christian? What is it, dear?” Christian looked away, folding the note carefully. “Son? Tell me what’s wrong?” “I can’t, Mom,” he said finally, wishing he could talk to her. This thing with Denny was confusing--it had been from the start. “Christian…do you want to talk about Denny?” she asked, regarding him steadily. Charlotte Parker wasn’t a beautiful woman, though she was plenty feminine. Christian had been told time and again that his father’s genes were responsible for his strong build and handsome face. He knew he looked like his father, but he was more like his mother in every other way. But could he tell her that? What would she think of him? Looking at her, Christian took a deep breath. His father was gone and he had nearly died. She was all he had left really. And possibly Denny. His mother stood and helped situate him in the bed. “You haven’t said, so I can only assume that you’re nervous, son. I just want to reassure you that I’m not your father.” His mother’s eyes filled with tears as she looked away, and Christian felt guilty. “I know, Mom. I just…I never wanted to disappoint either one of you.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “I can’t deny that I’ve always wanted grandkids…” She sniffed discreetly behind a tissue. “You being happy, though, that’s more important. I won’t lie about your dad. He was old school and would have been…well…” She sighed delicately. “I can’t help but think that he would have been more enlightened now, with the experiences he’s had.” “So you know how I feel about Denny?” Christian asked, glancing at his mother and then looking away. “No, son,” she answered, eyebrow arched, eyes fixed on him. “A man doesn’t just send expensive gifts every other day, even to a dear friend. I think I’m beginning to understand how Denny feels about you. How about you tell me how you feel about him?” Christian closed his eyes, tilting his head back with a gusty sigh. “I’ve been in love with Denny from the second I saw him.” Without opening his eyes, he turned his head toward his mother. “I saw him several times, sat next to him maybe once, but I never had the guts to talk to him.” He glanced at his mother and closed his eyes again. “Denny was my first man…my only man.” He took a deep breath, ordering his thoughts. “Before me, I’d say that Denny doesn’t do serious relationships with anyone ever. But with everything we’ve been through and as hard as he’s

tried…I think we, um, yeah…” He handed Denny’s note to his mother. “Oh, honey…” Charlotte sniffed and snatched a tissue to dab at the corner of one eye. “What do you think that means to him?” “I think it means that he needs me to turn myself over to him and let him take care of things,” Christian answered her slowly. To make it clear to her was to articulate it to himself as well. “That’s what your father needed from me, and I guess it’s what I needed from him, too,” she confessed, her voice little more than a whisper. The sound of a throat clearing at the door startled Christian, and apparently his mother at the same time. As Joe walked into the room, she moved to her feet, mumbling something about coffee. Joe waited politely until only he and Christian remained in the room. “I’m not sure I want to know what all that was about,” he grumbled uncomfortably. “How long were you there?” Christian asked. No sense beating around the bush. Joe either was or wasn’t his friend. He’d learned not to jump to conclusions about his partner. Now didn’t seem like a good time to start. “You two were talking about the DA. You’ve had a thing with him for a while. You’re gay, man.” Joe still wasn’t looking at him. Christian began to feel tight and heavy. “Yes. For two or three months, I’ve had a thing for him--had a thing with him,” Christian admitted. “Does that bother you?” Might as well get it all out. “Yeah, it does.” Christian let his breath out slowly. How bad was this going to be? “Does this mean we aren’t friends anymore?” “Chris, man, all this time, I had your back and…” He looked at Christian, who arched a brow at him. He had the grace to hang his head and look away. “Well… I tried. And you’re gay. That’s a lot for me to take. I…I don’t know if I can be friends with a gay guy.” Joe wouldn’t look at him. “Joe, it’s up to you. I’m not different than I was before when you thought I was sleeping with a woman. I’m still the same guy.” “No!” Joe barked, shooting to his feet. “You are different! You aren’t who I thought you were at all. Everything about you is different. I gotta go!” Joe stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. “Mr. Parker, are you all right?” The nurse hurried in after him, responding to the erratic beeping of the machines attached to Christian’s skin by various wires. “I’m fine,” he managed. “Just got a little emotional there.” He kept his eyes closed and let the

nurse pump him full of whatever drug she felt the occasion called for. Right this minute, a chemical vacation sounded just right.

Chapter Twenty Two

His desk was clear. Almost clear. For the last two days he’d worked like a maniac, plowing his way through paperwork, letters, press releases. He wanted nothing at all in his way when he opened the envelope that had been delivered the morning before. It could go either way. Just because he’d showered Christian with presents didn’t mean anything more than that his gifts had been accepted. What he needed from Christian was acceptance on a much larger scale. Denny reached across his desk and lifted the plain, white envelope. His hands were shaking just slightly when he tore it open, removing the single sheet of paper folded inside. Yes. His eyes drifted closed and he sighed. Yes. He wouldn’t allow himself to relax, however. As soon as Christian learned what ‘anything’ entailed, he might change his mind. Standing, Denny pulled his jacket on and straightened his tie. He wasn’t one to hide when the time came to act. This business with Christian had come to a head. He’d tried to avoid this and he’d failed. Christian had made a place for himself in Denny’s heart. His mind was blessedly blank as he made his way to the room that had been Christian’s home for the weeks since the shooting. Denny didn’t know what was happening with the men who’d shot him. At this point he really didn’t care. They weren’t likely to come looking for him now, after all. Standing in the doorway, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Christian. Minutes passed while Christian lay, fingers stroking the leather cover of an antique book, eyes closed. “It’s easier to read if you open it and look at the words,” Denny murmured, not moving from the door. “Denny!” The hope and joy in Christian’s voice made Denny’s heart race and he found himself leaning over the bed. Cupping Christian’s skull in the palm of his hand, Denny bent down, his lips skimming his lover’s open mouth as he traced Christian’s parted lips. Before long, he was lost in the kiss, only just reminding himself that regular breathing was a necessity, at least for Christian. Lowering himself to sit at Christian’s hip, Denny allowed his fingertips free reign as he traced the other man’s face, cheekbones, chin, eyebrows, lips. “You said yes, Christian. Do you know what that means?” Christian nodded. “I’m controlling, dominant…I like to be in charge.” Christian rolled his eyes. “No, really?”

Denny tapped him on the nose with his fingertip. “I want to take care of you, Christian. I can’t stand to see you hurt, pushed around, threatened, uncomfortable. You’ll have to quit the department.” He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “Nobody can touch you. We’ll go to New Hampshire or New Jersey and make it legal. You’ll wear a ring.” His eyes narrowed as they bored into the beautiful blue of the man next to him. “Mine,” he stated firmly. “I know how it sounds but…it’s what I need.” Christian didn’t look away. “I can’t stay locked in a tower. I have to do something.” “Something where people don’t shoot at you and women don’t paw at you,” Denny growled. “Okay,” Christian agreed. “Whatever you want, Denny. It’s always going to be you.” Denny buried his face in Christian’s throat with a sigh of relief. He knew what Christian wanted, needed. He gave him the best that he could. “You, too, Christian.”

Chapter Twenty Three

Christian’s laugh was uneasy. “I don’t know why I feel so nervous. It’s not like I’ve never done this before.” “It’s the first time since the shooting. It’s the first time since we’ve gotten married.” Denny leaned forward and briefly kissed him. “So, this will be like new for both of us.” He let his hand glide down Christian’s chest, fingering his jacket. “Shall we get rid of this?” Tossing it away, Denny made his way down the line of buttons one by one until Christian’s shirt draped open. He eased it off his new husband’s muscled shoulders and shifted closer to nuzzle along the side of Christian’s face, rubbing cheeks like an affectionate cat, scenting, tasting, feeling the heat rise, feeling his lover’s heart pound. Christian’s head went back, and Denny had to lean in and nip at his pounding pulse. He guided Christian gently backward onto the bed and covered that body with his own. Christian pulled impatiently at the starched shirt Denny wore, tugging it out of his pants and off before covering Denny’s mouth in another needy kiss. Long, elegant fingers teased at his nipples only to trail down to caress his ribs, glide across the flat planes of his stomach and settle at his waistband. Christian flexed his hips, allowing Denny to push his pants and boxers off. Denny paused to gaze down at him, and Christian was humbled by the expression of love he saw in his lover's face. He closed his eyes, trying to control his own emotions as Denny’s mouth followed the same route those hands had taken. Christian shivered as Denny’s hair tickled lightly along the inside of his thighs, while Denny’s lips planted soft kisses along the sensitive skin toward his groin. Warm breath sighed across Christian’s erection, making him tremble all the more, but it wasn’t Christian’s cock that Denny took into his mouth. Christian’s breath caught in his throat as Denny lips surrounded one of his testicles, gently mouthing and sucking on the egg-sized sac, while one hand gathered up the other and tugged, squeezing and stroking it. Christian reached down, resting his hands on Denny’s head, an anchor in a wild sea of emotions. Denny’s oral attention went from the velvet sacs to Christian’s cock, already erect and moist at the tip with pre-come. “Oh…oh….” Christian cried out as Denny sucked him in, teasing and tasting his throbbing cock. He rode out the erotic torture for as long as he could and when he could feel his orgasm threaten to explode, he tugged on Denny’s hair, trying to draw Denny's attention. He tugged the mussed hair again and this time Denny followed his direction and slid back up his warm body for a kiss The kiss was deep, hungry, filled with all the unspent passion that had built up between them. Christian would have been happy for it to go on forever, but he was on the razor’s edge of orgasm and wanted to come while his lover was inside him.

Christian rolled over, a wordless request, and sighed with satisfaction as Denny stretched flat along his back. Denny buried his face in Christian’s hair, one hand reaching down, skimming Christian’s cleft. Parting his legs a little more, Christian moaned eagerly, excited, wanting, needing Denny badly. For agonizing minutes, Denny teased him, brushing Christian’s puckered opening, barely breaching it and pulling away, still stretched out along his back. Finally the finger pressed forward, slick and warm, spreading him, joined by a second finger, in and out. “More, Denny, more,” Christian gasped, trying to thrust back against the invading fingers, but held in place by Denny’s lean frame. He moaned and wriggled as Denny finger-fucked him and, when the invader rubbed along his prostrate, he almost came. He pressed back against his lover, feeling the hard prod of Denny’s cock between his upper thighs. *** “Ready?” Denny rumbled into his ear. Denny knew Christian was ready; he just needed to tease him, make him want that little bit longer. Denny slipped his finger out and grasped his cock, lining it up with the slick entrance to Christian’s body. He pressed forward and felt the muscle give. Denny had to pause, not for Christian’s sake, but for his own, his control ragged, barely there. He took several deep breaths, slowing his heart rate down, and pushed his cock deeper in short, gentle thrusts until he was buried all the way. The tightness squeezed along his length as Christian, unable to remain still, began to rock back. Denny fucked Christian as slowly as he could, but his arousal was becoming painful. His hands tangled in Christian’s hair and gently tugged the blond head back and to one side, nipping and biting with a groan. “More, Denny,” Christian begged. Sensation, emotion, wave after wave of needing, wanting, loving this sweet and sensitive man crashed over him. Denny thrust again and again, teeth embedded in Christian’s shoulder, but not too tight, not to hurt, but to claim. “Mine,” he hissed, his balls tightening, bolts of heat climbing up the base of his spine. “Mine,” he growled. “Always you, Denny,” Christian whimpered, his body freezing as Denny wrapped a hand around his burning erection. A keening wail was the only warning before Christian’s body clamped down on Denny’s pumping cock. Hot cream filled his hand as he thrust raggedly into Christian’s clenching hole,

nearly blacking out from his own release. “We should move…clean up,” Christian offered tentatively. “Gonna be stuck like this pretty soon.” “I can live with that,” Denny mumbled, climbing to his feet in direct contradiction. “How are you feeling?” Christian had been out of the hospital for two months now, but his injuries had been extensive. “I feel wonderful,” Christian assured him, smiling to prove it. “I don’t want you overdoing it, Christian,” Denny insisted, sitting next to him to wipe the slick and ejaculate from between Christian’s legs. Christian, for his part, lay quietly and let Denny do as he wished. “I promise, Denny. I’m taking it very easy, you’ve made sure. I won’t let anything mess up our time together…” His ears took on a pink tint as Denny watched. “Our honeymoon.” Denny slid off the edge of the bed, tapping Christian lightly on one toned buttock cheek before returning the washcloth to the bathroom. “I want you rested before we visit the bird sanctuary tomorrow. You should look around before you decide that you really want to raise birds. I think you should take some classes. There isn’t a big need for Carrier Pigeons anymore.” “What about you, Denny?” Christian asked, tipping his head to the side. He’d scooted to a sitting position. Denny slid in next to Christian, pulling his new spouse against him. “Have you decided what to do about being DA? I mean, I know New York recognizes same sex bonds…well, you know. But, what are you going to do?” Denny leaned down and kissed the top of Christian’s head. The mop of crazy curls had grown back, tickling his nose. “I’m going to let the voters decide if they want me--my days as a civil servant may be numbered. Aside from that, I find that my priorities have changed. I’ll do whatever makes it easiest to take care of you. I’m a very good lawyer and I can teach if it comes to that. Someone has to make sure you stay out of trouble. Being DA seems to interfere with that. I’m just not as politically ambitious as I used to be.” Christian closed his eyes, leaning back against Denny, nearly asleep. “It’s a shame about Joe. I miss him. I love you, Denny,” he sighed. “It’s funny how all this worked out.” Denny looked down at the young man who’d changed every single aspect of his life. “I love you, Christian,” he murmured, aware that Christian’s breathing had evened out. His partner was dozing now. “It’s pretty amazing how it all worked out.” Carefully, Denny wrapped both arms closely around Christian and guided him down to rest his head on a pillow. “Absolutely amazing,” he mumbled, drifting off to sleep.