by Abigail Roux
Ty rolled his eyes. Zane wondered how much longer Ty would go before he put a stop to the lecherous comments Zane intended to keep making. He watched his partner, appreciating the view as Ty went to sit on the sofa, propping his feet up on the table in front of him. “I’m bored,” he told Zane grumpily. “How do people live like this?”
“I have no idea,” Zane murmured sleepily. He was bored too. But at least he could go to the casino and feel like he was doing something worthwhile, even if he hadn’t discovered anything useful so far. He’d seen Vartan Armen twice outside of their poker games, but only for the seconds it took for Armen to nod and move on. It obviously wasn’t “time” yet.
They’d been dancing, shopping, touring, swimming, and neither really had any interest in shuffleboard. Zane had been only half joking when he suggested the country-Western line dancing lessons, which had set Ty to cackling. Aside from those options, Ty was stuck… sunning himself and making nice with Signora Bianchi, whom he desperately avoided every chance he got. It had moved past funny into ridiculous a day ago.
Ty dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned miserably as he rubbed at them. Zane opened one eye to peer at him. “What’s wrong?” he asked. The rubbing looked like more than simple tiredness. “Are you that restless?”
“Yes,” Ty answered in frustration. “I haven’t gone for a run in a week,” he grumbled as he sat up, and his knee began to bounce rapidly. “The only thing I’ve managed to do is climb half a rock wall and then nearly fall off. And paddle lazily around some private island.”
“So go for a run,” Zane said easily, ignoring the sarcasm. “There’s a really nice running track around the upper outside deck. You’ve got the body of a runner. No one would think anything about it.”
“Oh, I have the body of a runner, huh? Zane,” Ty said slowly, closing his eyes as he leaned forward, as if he were about to broach a complicated subject with a small child, “I have never been leered at so much in my life,” he said with emphasis. “By men or women. There is no way in hell I’m going to any of the gyms or running anywhere unless it’s nighttime and everyone’s at the clubs trying to get laid.”
Zane couldn’t hold in the quiet laugh. “Poor baby. You cannot tell me you haven’t been ogled a lot in your life.”
Ty looked at him with wide eyes, his frustrated expression one of complete sincerity. “No,” he insisted. “At least if I was, I never fucking noticed it!”
Zane frowned. “You’re serious?” He looked Ty up and down significantly.
“Yes,” Ty said in an affronted voice. He shifted uncomfortably under the sudden scrutiny and stood. “Why?” he asked defensively as he began moving toward the balcony.
“Because….” Zane had seen Ty use his good looks to his advantage. He knew that Ty was aware of how he appeared to others. He could turn on the charm and all but the coldest of hearts would melt for him, and half of that battle was physical. But Zane suspected what Ty was talking about now was a different type of ogling, and he thought better of a flippant answer. He studied Ty for a long moment, realizing that blowing off the question wouldn’t make his partner feel better. “You’re a very handsome man,” he settled on, keeping his voice low and serious.
Ty turned and looked at Zane over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised as if he expected there to be a joke following the statement. When he saw that Zane was serious, he gave him a slight jerk of his chin and snorted at him before turning to look out at the ocean that rolled past the ship.
Zane rose to his feet and walked over to stand behind him, curling his arms around his waist. He was getting used to this being-able-to-touch thing. “What’s the matter?” he teased gently. “It’s all fun and games ’til somebody pays you a compliment?”
Ty was silent, his head bowing as he looked out the balcony doors diligently. “I guess you catch me off guard when you’re being honest,” he finally decided with a wry twist to the words.
“I think we’re honest with each other,” Zane murmured against Ty’s cheekbone. “We just don’t… volunteer much to be honest about.”
Ty turned his head slightly, tensing briefly under Zane’s hands before he relaxed again. “Volunteer,” he repeated carefully.
“Neither one of us is much for sharing,” Zane stated, one of his thumbs beginning to rub Ty’s belly.
“I share,” Ty argued stubbornly. His hand slid into Zane’s hip pocket in an unconscious gesture.
Zane cleared his throat in a disbelieving sound. “Such as?”
Ty was silent, obviously trying to come up with an answer. Finally, he grunted. “What do you want me to share about?” he asked. He sounded uncomfortable.
Zane just shrugged. “It was more of a comment on past information,” he said. He wasn’t about to push Ty to “volunteer” anything right now. They hadn’t seriously argued in two days. He enjoyed the bickering and teasing much more.
Ty was chewing on his bottom lip, one hand in Zane’s pocket, the other resting on top of Zane’s. “I don’t mind questions, you know,” he finally said softly. “If I can’t tell you what you want to know, I’ll just tell you that,” he assured Zane. “Just… for future reference,” he said.
“Like if I asked about the phone calls in the middle of the night that send you off to work without me?”
Ty was silent for a moment, and then he lowered his head slightly and leaned forward. “I can’t tell you what you want to know,” he answered, voice low and monotone.
Zane nodded. He’d known Ty wouldn’t be able to talk about the odd jobs, but he’d asked anyway. He had his suspicions. After a few months of practically living with Ty, little clues had added up. Ty’s Force Recon background gave him a special set of skills for wet work, he was a skilled undercover operative, he disappeared “on assignment” unannounced—sometimes for one night, other times for days—and he was unusually close to their boss’s boss, Richard Burns, Assistant Director of the Criminal Investigative Division of the FBI. If somebody higher up in the Bureau, like Dick Burns, was going to tap anyone for a little “side job” that needed a special touch, Ty would be a clear choice. Zane’s other theory had to do with high-class prostitution rings and a sketchy office fantasy football league.
“In a way, it’s a relief to at least hear that,” Zane said quietly. He could feel Ty holding his breath, the way he did when he wanted to speak but didn’t plan to. “It’s okay. I do understand why you can’t talk about it.”
Ty jerked his head in a nod, but he still hadn’t exhaled. “Maybe one day I can tell you about it,” he finally said tightly.
“All right,” Zane murmured. He cast around for something to distract Ty from the tension. “How about something off the wall? What’s your favorite dessert?”
Ty turned his head, and his cheek brushed against Zane’s lips. Zane could feel him relaxing as the subject changed. “I don’t like chocolate,” he answered after a moment’s thought. “But turtle pie. You know what that is?”
“Ice cream with caramel and pecans,” Zane said. “But it’s covered in chocolate.”
Ty smiled slightly. “Walking contradiction, ain’t I?”
Zane hummed as he squeezed his arms around Ty before loosening them again. “Always have been, always will be,” he confirmed. “Drove me nuts when we first met.”
“Well, you returned the favor,” Ty muttered. He pulled away and turned around. “What do you mean?” he asked as an afterthought.
“Didn’t want me as a partner but made sure I wasn’t hurt. Hated me but took care of me when I was hurt. Acted like a muscle-bound idiot but displayed intelligence at odd times.” Now that he thought of it, Ty still did that. Zane paused, remembering those first days fondly now that they were further removed. “Fought with me the whole time but missed me when I was gone,” he added with a smile.
Ty moved in front of him, stepping farther away. Wincing internally, Zane let his hands fall free rather than holding on to him. He feared he’d shared too much; Ty was
never comfortable when they started reminiscing or talking about feelings, something Zane tried to keep in mind. Inhaling deeply, he shifted his weight to give Ty some room.
“Odd times, huh?” Ty finally asked in an amused voice.
Zane paused after only moving a step. “Well, at first,” he allowed, his lips quirking into a relieved smile. “You were dead set on having me think you were a total asshole.”
Ty grinned slowly. He’d obviously enjoyed it at least a little bit. He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands as the smile faded. “I was hoping… to keep you at arm’s length,” he admitted as he looked back up at Zane and winced.
Zane frowned. “What do you mean? Keep the pansyass poster boy an arm’s length from the case?”
Ty shook his head wordlessly, his eyes serious and slightly sad.
“You mean….” Zane shook his head. He didn’t need to dwell on the past. “And now?” he asked instead. “I’m closer than an arm’s-length away.”
Ty smiled slightly. “It wasn’t personal, Zane,” he offered. “I’d just lost my partner. I didn’t want another one.”
Zane relaxed. He remembered that now. It had only been a year or so since Ty’s partner had been killed when Zane first met him. Nodding, he went back to the chaise and sat, stretching his legs out. “I hated you, but you knew that.”
Ty smirked. “That was my goal. You didn’t have much choice,” he offered flippantly as he turned back toward the balcony.
“No shit. And I hated even more along the way that you forced me to keep revising my opinion.”
Ty lowered his head and glanced over at Zane. Zane wondered what he was thinking. He almost always wondered what Ty was thinking when he couldn’t read his emotion in his face. Now, though, he thought he just might be comfortable enough to ask. “What?”
Ty shook his head and moved toward him. “Let’s let the past stay in the past for now, huh?” he murmured as he sat down next to Zane and sprawled gracelessly.
“Yeah,” Zane murmured. Then he shrugged. “Your turn.” He leaned back and yawned, arching his back.
Ty looked at him in surprise. “My turn for what?” he asked.
Amused with himself, Zane laughed lightly. “To ask an off-the-wall question. It’s a game, baby. Get with the program. I thought you were bored.”
Ty snorted and looked over Zane carefully. “Why’d you switch over to guys?” he asked.
Zane’s nose wrinkled. That wasn’t a question he’d expected, but he didn’t mind answering. “It came up during a long-term assignment. Tried it, liked it, stuck with it. And it reminds me less of the past.”
Ty nodded and looked away. He seemed like he wanted to ask something more, but he remained silent, idly playing with the ring on his finger that he hadn’t been able to get off.
“You can ask, too, you know,” Zane said after watching him for a minute.
Ty sighed heavily and looked up at him with a small smile. He held up his hand, displaying the silver ring. “Got any tricks for getting these things off?” he asked. It was painfully obvious that it was not the question he’d wanted to ask.
Zane fought the urge to frown and growl at him to just ask the damn question already. Instead he rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Go soak your hand in cold water and then use some soap under it,” he said quietly.
“I already tried that. Tried the Astroglide too. Useless,” Ty mumbled as he looked down at it. He sighed and stood again, pacing away from Zane.
After watching him walk back and forth, Zane did finally growl at him. “For fuck’s sake,” he said tiredly. “Ask the damn question. I’m not going to take your head off for it.”
“I know,” Ty answered immediately, not at all surprised that Zane knew he had something more to ask. “I just… I don’t think I want to know the answer,” he admitted.
Zane considered that silently and decided there was nothing he could say. He crossed his legs at the ankles and waited. Ty would either ask or move on to something else, and he would have to let it go.
Ty just nodded at him. He ran his hand through his bleached hair in a nervous gesture Zane rarely saw, and then he turned away and moved toward the balcony again. He seemed drawn to it, like it represented freedom or something equally nebulous. Zane kept his head turned to watch him and, after a couple minutes, shifted to pull his legs up on the chaise so he could lie down and still see Ty. It made him wonder: what could the question be that would make Ty so nervous? Something to do with what he’d asked Zane? Maybe he was afraid Zane would ask him the same question. It had crossed Zane’s mind.
The muscles of Ty’s back and shoulders tensed as he stood there. It was weird to see him without the dark hair and the tattoo on his arm. It was also weird to see him in those clinging linen pants, but Zane would never be complaining about those.
Zane blinked. Tattoo. “Feel like some coloring?” he asked, deciding a change of subject would help Ty relax.
“Huh?” Ty asked as he turned around and looked at Zane like he’d lost his mind.
“Coloring. My tattoo,” Zane prompted. He was surprised by how taken aback Ty was. He must have really been lost in thought.
“Oh,” Ty murmured as he turned around and moved closer. “Hell, I’ll try anything at this point,” he agreed easily.
Zane told himself to forget about the unasked questions and focus on what could possibly be coming. If he played his cards right, he might be able to seduce Ty into topping him. Ty hadn’t broken character in the entire week they’d been here, and Zane missed being fucked. With Ty it was always an incredible thrill. “The pens are in my dopp kit on the vanity,” Zane told him.
Ty moved to get them without another word. Zane got up off the chaise, shrugged out of his shirt, pushed down his pants and briefs, and climbed naked onto the bed, settling comfortably on his belly. He’d hoped Ty would emerge from the bathroom without those nicely fitted linen pants, but Ty either wasn’t thinking ahead or Zane would have to try harder.
A moment later Ty ran his fingers up Zane’s spine, barely touching the skin as he sat down on the bed next to him. Zane shivered and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what it was about Ty’s touch, but it was electric every time.
“Better a pen than a pocket knife this time,” Ty murmured to him. He pressed a kiss to Zane’s shoulder before uncapping the pen. “Ooh, these are the smelly good ones,” he said with an obvious grin.
Zane chuckled. “So easy to please,” he teased. “Be sure to color inside the black lines, not the white ones, please,” he requested, referring to the pale criss-cross of scars and pock marks already decorating his back. Some of those marks had come from said pocket knife when Ty had scraped glass and metal shards from an exploded computer monitor out of Zane’s back.
“Hey, I know my ink, okay?” Ty said in an offended voice. “It’s got a lot of curly things, huh?” he mumbled as he ran a fingertip over the design. He then put his free hand on Zane’s shoulder, letting his fingers slide across Zane’s scarred skin as he bent and pressed the tip of the pen to his back. He moved the pen in slow strokes, unconsciously moving his face closer and leaning more of his weight against Zane as he worked.
Closing his eyes, Zane focused his will on not twitching. The pen was almost a tickle, just barely firm enough to keep from triggering an unfortunate reaction of wiggling and helpless laughter. So he tried to think more about Ty’s weight on him and how he hadn’t been fucked for too long.
Just as he’d started on that line of thought, Ty began to blow on the pieces of the tattoo he’d drawn in already, and God help him, Zane squeaked.
Ty raised his head to look up at him. “Okay?” he asked in confusion. “It doesn’t burn, does it?” he asked dubiously.
Zane cleared his throat. “Ah, no, it’s okay. Just caught me by surprise.”
Ty shifted to his other knee, patted Zane’s bare ass, and then continued with the drawing. He moved slower on what Zane assumed were the thinner parts, his hand sliding acro
ss Zane’s skin in graceful arcs and curls, following the lines of the tattoo. And then he would stop and blow gently. Each time Zane inhaled sharply as his gut clenched and dug his fingers into the duvet.
“Almost done?” Zane asked through gritted teeth. He thanked God that the ink dried in about fifteen seconds—the woman at the spa had likened the pen to a Sharpie—and wouldn’t smear when he rolled over on it.
“One more curly thing,” Ty muttered. He blew on it carefully and then sat up and put the top on the pen with a snap. Zane almost made it, but that last flicker of breath across his skin sent a tremor through him, and he gasped quietly.
Ty finally took note of his reaction, and he placed his hand over Zane’s back, bent to kiss his shoulder, and then moved slowly to lean more of his weight against Zane’s body and whisper into his ear. “You’re so easy.”
Zane groaned and curled his hands into the coverlet. “Guess you’ve got my number,” he said hoarsely.
Ty’s hand dragged across his shoulders and down his arm as Ty nuzzled against his neck. He kissed just below Zane’s ear, nipping at his earlobe and the ruby stud there. Zane hummed encouragingly and tipped his head to the side, exposing more of his neck as he pushed his ass up against Ty’s groin. Ty pulled at his shoulder, urging him to roll onto his back. He ducked his head to brush his lips against Zane’s as Zane shifted his weight and moved, his arms wrapping around Ty as he did. Zane bit gently at Ty’s lower lip and sighed, happy to feel his lover’s weight on top of him.
Ty moved until he was settled over Zane’s thighs, leaning into Zane heavily as he kissed him languidly. Both hands tangled in Zane’s hair, his elbows resting on Zane’s biceps and pinning his arms to the bed. Zane flexed his fingers and let his hands fall limp, investing himself in the kiss and the thrill of having Ty over him. Ty’s thigh rubbing against his aroused cock just made it more enjoyable.
The kiss became more heated as Ty moved his body against Zane’s, the soft material of Ty’s pants the only thing between them. Ty growled suddenly as he pushed up onto his hands and knees, and he hooked his elbows under Zane’s arms and dragged him into the center of the oversized round bed. Zane’s pulse picked up, thinking about the possibilities. When Ty was truly hot and bothered, it could be an amazing experience, like being mauled by a lion without the fuss of needing stitches after.