by Lisa Worrall
“Go slow,” Will begged, gripping Scott’s hips, guiding him.
“You set the pace, babe,” Scott panted. “I’m all yours.” The head of Will’s cock stretched him wide and he closed his eyes, trying to keep his breath as steady as he could until it slipped inside him. “Jesus,” he groaned, the burn catching him a little by surprise. For some reason it always did when he bottomed. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know it was coming. Speaking of which, if he didn’t concentrate, someone else would be coming far too soon. He pushed down, taking cues from the tightening of Will’s fingers, until Will was buried deep inside him.
Will moaned loudly. “Baby, you feel so good.”
“Fuck, gotta move.”
Scott placed his hands flat on Will’s chest and began to lift himself up and down. Being with Will was unlike anything he had experienced with other lovers, and each time was better than the last. Yes, he was more than aware how corny that sounded, but he did not give even the least bit of a shit, because loving Will was the easiest thing he’d ever done. Increasing the pace until he was bouncing up and down on Will’s cock, Scott threw his head back, wrapped his hand around his own cock and pumped it hard. He cried out when Will knocked his hand away and replaced it with his own, jerking Scott with short, sharp snaps of his wrist, swiping his thumb around the glans.
“Come on, baby,” Will panted, beads of sweat on his forehead. “That’s—fuck! Scott!”
Will grunted Scott’s name as he came, the warmth of his seed filling Scott’s channel. The head of Will’s cock slammed into Scott’s prostate one more time and, combined with the grip of Will’s fingers around him, it was over. Scott lost all sense of rhythm as he shot his load across Will’s stomach.
Panting harshly, Scott lifted himself off Will’s softening cock and collapsed onto his back beside him. His muscles twitched as the last vestige of his orgasm pulsed through his nerve endings. He turned his head and smiled smugly at Will.
“Mornin’.”
“Mornin’,” Will echoed, returning his smile. “When you mumbled something about breakfast in bed last night, I didn’t think that’s what you had in mind.”
Scott sighed contentedly, utterly spent. “I was going to go for coffee and croissants,” he confessed, “but you looked so damn hot I couldn’t help myself.”
“So, it’s my fault?”
“Technically.” Scott leaned in and pressed a sloppy kiss to Will’s mouth then reluctantly scrambled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder, gave Will a lascivious wink and said, “You comin’?”
“Again?”
“If you’re lucky.”
One hour and a mind-altering blowjob later, Scott fixed his tie as he waited for the toaster to do its job while, at the stove, Will fried eggs and bacon. He glanced up at the clock, 9.10 a.m., and a knot of anxiety tightened in the pit of his stomach. The autopsy was at ten and to say he wasn’t looking forward to it would be the hugest of understatements. The bread was ejected from the toaster with a metallic ping and Scott gingerly picked out the hot slices and tossed them onto the plate he had ready. He generously buttered each slice, put the plate in the center of the kitchen table, then strode back to the counter to fill their cups with freshly percolated coffee. He picked them up and carried them to the table, putting them next to the egg and bacon laden plates Will had served up.
“You okay?” Will asked as Scott sat down opposite him and took up his knife and fork.
“Yeah,” Scott replied, cutting up a slice of bacon. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Just wondered.” Will’s tone was nonchalant, but Scott didn’t buy it. “I mean, you’ve looked at that clock three times in the last ten minutes but, if you say you’re okay….” Will left the rest of the sentence unsaid. Not that it mattered, Scott knew him well enough to be able to fill in the blanks himself.
“That’s what I’m saying.” Scott kept his own voice deliberately conversational, which he knew would drive Will crazy.
“Good.”
“Okay then.” Scott scooped some eggs and a piece of bacon onto his fork and popped it into his mouth. The flavors burst on his tongue and he chewed happily. “These eggs are great. Did you do something different to ‘em?”
“I added some paprika and some bas—” Will shook his head. “Uh-uh, you’re not going to distract me that easily.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Unfortunately, as well as he knew Will, he knew Scott better, and Will knew that avoiding the issue was a specialty of his.
“This is getting ridiculous, Scott.” Will sipped at his coffee. “You need to talk to her.”
“No,” Scott said firmly. “I don’t.”
“We work with her—”
“Will.” Scott growled his name. “We just had fantastic sex, so why would you want to ruin it by having this conversation again?” Scott could tell Will was dying to have this conversation again, but obviously thought better of it and replied.
“Fantastic sex?” Will raised an eyebrow. “Just fantastic?”
Scott smiled around a mouthful of food and returned his attention to the plate in front of him, completely ignoring Will when he couldn’t resist adding, “You should still talk to her.” He picked up a slice of toast and bit of a chunk, chewing thoughtfully as Will’s words echoed in his ears. Talk to her? What was he supposed to say? Pathetic platitudes like, it wasn’t you, it was me? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know. I’m sorry? Scott took a healthy swig of his coffee. He crushed her for God’s sake. There weren’t words and, if there were, he didn’t have them. He could barely look her in the eye because, every time he did, all he saw were the tears streaming down her face as she asked him why. Jesus Christ, how the fuck was he supposed to even begin to make it right? He pushed the guilt into a mental closet and closed the door on it. They had work to do. This was not the time to indulge in what ifs or maybes.
Scott swallowed his last mouthful of food and washed it down with what remained of his coffee. “You done?” he asked, motioning to Will’s plate. Will nodded, so Scott cleared the crockery and stowed them in the dishwasher. Although Will tried to hide it, as Scott put on his suit jacket, he couldn’t help but note the tension in Will’s shoulders and the furrow in his brow. He sighed heavily and crossed the kitchen to pull Will into his arms. Will sank into Scott’s embrace and wrapped his arms tightly around Scott’s waist. “I’m fine,” Scott reassured him.
“I just—”
“I know,” Scott said firmly. “I love you, too. But you can’t fix this, Will. This is my mess, and I will deal with it, but in my own time, okay?”
“Okay.” Will’s response, albeit reluctantly given, was equally firm, as was the kiss he pressed to Scott’s mouth. “Okay. C’mon, let’s go.”
“I’ll drive.”
“Why?” Will asked, opening the front door.
“Just making sure you can’t whisk me off to any last-minute dance classes on the way.” Scott laughed out loud at the expression on Will’s face and hastily made his exit. Being safely behind the wheel with the engine running by the time Will locked up was the right decision. He ignored the determined glare Will gave him when he climbed into the passenger seat and pulled off the drive, with the depressing certainty, he would eventually find himself doing the soft shoe shuffle above that goddamn bakery whether he liked it or not.
On the drive to the coroner’s office, Will kept up a constant stream of chatter, for which Scott was grateful, but it didn’t lessen the tightening of the knot in his stomach as he steered the car into one of the reserved spaces in the parking lot behind the building. Will was right. He needed to fix this. Maybe he should invite her over for dinner and Will could—
“Scott?” Judging by the tone of his voice, it wasn’t the first time Will had said his name.
“Sorry?”
“Are you ready?”
Scott nodded, removing the keys from the ignition. “Of cours
e.” He dismissed Will’s concerns with a wave of his hand and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. When Will had done the same, he locked up the vehicle and they made their way around the side of the building to the entrance. The automatic doors slid open as they reached them and they strode toward the reception desk, where a stern-looking black woman tapped ferociously at the keyboard in front of her. She looked up at their approach and smiled brightly, her eyes lighting up with pleasure.
“Why, Nurse Ratched,” Scott said with a smile, leaning on the counter. “You’re practically glowing. Did you hit a jaywalker on the way to work?” He’d known Jeannie for a long time and always looked forward to the back and forth teasing they had perfected.
“No, my aim’s a little off today,” she quipped back, sharp as a tack. “I only grazed him.” She turned her attention to Will and Scott rolled his eyes as her grin widened. “My, my Detective Harrison, don’t you look delicious today? When are you gonna leave Barney Fife here and run away with me?”
“All I need is a time and place, Jeannie,” Will said, reaching out for her hand and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “Time and place.”
“Promises, promises,” Jeannie said on a sigh, then slapped at Scott’s arms. “What have I told you about putting your elbows on my counter?”
“You let him,” Scott said, nodding at Will.
“I like him better,” she snapped back, waving them both away from the desk. “Now go on, you know I don’t allow loitering in my reception. She’s waiting to start. Room four.”
“How’s the temperature of the water?” Scott pushed himself off the desk and stood upright, he knew when to do as he was told.
“Put it this way,” Jeannie replied. “I wouldn’t take a loaded gun with you.”
Scott grimaced. “That good, huh?”
“He’ll be okay.” Jeannie nodded at Will. “But then he didn’t break her heart at junior prom.”
“Ouch,” Scott winced. “You, too?”
“Well, didn’t ya?”
Scott sighed heavily. “Yes.”
“A girl doesn’t forget her first broken heart, Matlock,” Jeannie said sagely. “If you want my advice, don’t turn your back on her.”
“I’ll remember that.” Scott turned to Will and stretched out his arm toward the double doors to the left of the reception desk. “After you, delicious.”
Will snorted and shoved Scott toward the doors. “Get going, Barney.” He cursed under his breath when Scott hesitated and strode ahead of him. Scott sighed heavily, squared his shoulders and followed Will into the morgue, trying to ignore the seeds of tension burrowing deep into the pit of his stomach. Will stopped so sharply at the door to room four that Scott barreled right into him.
“What—?”
“Be nice,” Will hissed through gritted teeth.
“I’m always nice,” Scott snapped back. “She’s the one who—”
“If you ladies have quite finished!” yelled a voice from inside the autopsy room. “Some of us have work to do!”
“See!”
“Sweet Jesus.” Will’s frustration was loud and clear, as he opened the door and shoved Scott into the room.
Kimberly looked up when they walked in, her gaze as condescending as Scott knew it would be. “You’re late,” she snapped, finishing the last suture to close the standard ‘Y’ incision on the victim’s torso.
“No, we’re not,” Scott said, his stunned gaze flitting between her and the body on the table. “We were told 10.00 am!”
Kimberly shrugged, nonchalantly. “We had an extra slot.”
“You did this on purpose!” Scott stared at her in disbelief, the tension in his stomach turning to anger. “You knew we were coming, and you started early on purpose just to piss me off!”
“My God,” Kimberly spluttered. “Not everything is about you.” She ripped off her paper scrubs and tossed them into the waste bin. “Oh, wait, I forgot, it is.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Scott threw his hands in the air. “I can’t—”
“You can’t what? Take responsibility for your own failings?”
“My failings?” Scott shook his head. “Are you for re—?”
“Am I for re—?”
“Stop!” Will yelled, stepping between them. “That’s enough! I’m sick and tired of this Tom and Jerry shit! It stops, now. Do I make myself clear?”
Scott waved a hand at Kimberly. “Me? She start—”
“Zip it!” Will snapped. Out of the corner of his eye Scott saw Kimberly open her mouth to speak, but Will stopped her in her tracks with a single word. “Don’t!” He ran his hand through his hair, the movement jerky and frustrated, a sure sign to Scott he was holding on to his temper by the skin of his teeth.
Kimberly opened her mouth and took a step forward, but Scott held up his hand and shook his head. The glare she tossed him was belligerent, but he knew Will Harrison a whole lot better than she did and, whether she realized it or not, he was doing her a favor. If his usually cool, calm better-half lost it, she did not want to be in the metaphorical splash zone.
“This man,” Will waved his hand at the body on the table, “is someone’s father, someone’s husband, and his family are expecting us to work together to give them answers. They are not expecting some twenty-year-old grudge to take precedence! You,” he turned on Kimberly, “grow-up, you,” it was Scott’s turn to flinch, “grow a pair and act like the professionals you’re supposed to be, or you’re on your own.” He glared at them both. “Understood?”
“You wouldn’t!” Kimberly exclaimed.
“Oh, he would,” Scott replied, crossing his arms like a petulant teenager as he sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine.” He turned to Kimberly. “I’m sorry if I was… unprofessional.”
“Yes, well, I’m…” Kimberly trailed off, obviously struggling with the ‘s’ word. She groaned when Will cleared his throat pointedly. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry…, Will.” Will? Scott ground his teeth so hard he was surprised they didn’t hear the crunch. “Do you want the report or not?”
“Thank you, doctor,” Will replied. “That would much appreciated, wouldn’t it, Scott?”
Scott nodded, ignoring Kimberly’s look of satisfied smugness as she walked to the table and picked up a fresh pair of latex gloves from the tray. How the hell did she still have the capacity to make him feel like a naughty schoolboy, even now? Not that Will had been much help, dressing them down like children. He glared at Will, who glared back. Scott narrowed his gaze and noted the immediate flush on Will’s cheeks. Good. Will had gotten what he wanted, more or less, but he knew Scott wouldn’t let it go, and there would be consequences. Pleasurable consequences, certainly, but consequences, nonetheless.
“Most of the wounds are fairly superficial,” Kimberly said, pointing to the slices on Petersen’s torso. “Shallow, didn’t do much damage. As I said at the crime scene, the one that punctured his lung was the killer. But even that seems….”
“Hesitant?” Scott finished when she trailed off.
“Yeah,” Kimberly replied. “That and the fact there seems to be little weight behind them.” She traced her fingertips over one of the wounds. “Most stabbings are rage crimes. There’s a lot of force behind each swing of the knife, but not here.”
“Well, the wife says they woke up to find a man standing over the bed with a kitchen knife.” Scott scratched his fingers through the scruff on his chin. “Any thoughts?”
Kimberly frowned and pulled the sheet up to cover the victim’s body, then pulled off her gloves and tossed them into the bin. “Having completed my examination, I would say it is much more likely that the person wielding the knife was of a very slight build, probably female. The wounds would be much deeper if the suspect were a man, even if they were the result of necessity rather than design.”
“Yeah,” Scott sighed. “That’s what we thought.”
“Bravo,” Kimberly drawled. “I’m surprised you needed me at all.”
“Do you ha—”
“Thank you, Dr. Stein,” Will cut Scott off and nudged him toward the door. “Enjoy the rest of your Sunday.”
“Will you stop pushing me,” Scott complained as the door to room four closed behind them.
“There are a lot of sharp instruments in that room,” Will muttered, herding him back through reception. “I thought it best to remove you from temptation.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to—”
“I was more concerned about your safety than hers.”
“You’re alive.” Jeannie looked up from her keyboard as they strode through reception.
“You sound surprised,” Scott said, ignoring the snort of amusement from Will.
“Ain’t you?”
Scott smiled and blew her a kiss. “Give my love to Oscar and the kids.” Jeannie tipped him a wink in response and returned to her keyboard as Scott followed Will out into the fresh air.
As they walked back to the car, a beep signaled the receipt of a text and Scott pulled his cell out of his jacket pocket. “CSI guys are finished with the crime scene,” he informed Will.
“Back to the station?” Will asked, unlocking the car.
“Crime scene, actually,” Scott replied. “I want to take another look at the study before the clean-up crew arrives.” He climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door behind him, waiting for Will to get in before continuing. “If she wanted to make it look like a robbery gone bad, why was the desk the only thing disturbed?”
“Because that’s where it was.” Will started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.
“Where what was?”
“Whatever she was looking for.”
“Wow,” Scott said in mock-awe. “You’re good. Have you ever thought about being a detective?” He gasped at Will’s response. “Jeez, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“No, dumbass,” Will scoffed. “It’s the one I kiss you with, why do you think it’s so filthy?”
“There’s something seriously wrong with you,” Scott deadpanned.
“Yeah,” Will agreed. “You.”