In Deep

by Bailey Bradford

  “I’d like to tell you why I became a police officer,” Martinez said after a moment. “It’s not something I share often or want to think about. I still have nightmares and see a therapist because of it.”

  Titus finally managed to look at the deputy.

  Martinez tipped his head to the left and touched his neck, back by his hairline. “My brother was six years older than me. He was a gangbanger in SA. He terrorized my parents and me from the time he was fifteen on. Lots of people don’t understand how a kid could rule a household, but those people didn’t live it. Jaime had a history of violence, but my folks didn’t want people to know about the pets he killed or the cruel threats he made. That would have brought shame on our family. Instead, they lived in fear and so did I. Jaime hurt all of us.”

  He touched the spot. “This is from the last time, when he was going to shoot me in the head. If he had hit where he’d been aiming, I’d have been killed. He’d already murdered our parents in a fit of rage. I was twelve when I was shot. I don’t remember much after that. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, and everything came rushing back to me. I tried to tear out my IV. I didn’t want Jaime to find me. There was no calming me down except with a shot of tranquilizer than knocked me out. It happened again, then a third time, and I probably would have lost my mind if it hadn’t been for one cop, the man who inspired me to be who I am today, agreed to show me that Jaime was dead. Now, I know Jaime is dead, but he’s still here.” Martinez tapped his temple. “He still haunts me and terrifies me sometimes, so I do understand, Titus. And there’s no shame in that fear, in what was done to you. The shame is on him, on the person who would and does hurt others for fun or whatever twisted reasoning they come up with.”

  “I’m sorry,” Titus rasped. “For what happened to you.”

  Martinez inclined his head. “Thank you. I’m sorry, too. For me, for you, for everyone who is a victim. But your boyfriend is right. We’re not going to let the man who hurt you win.”

  Titus stared at Martinez, then turned to Draven.

  Draven pulled him into a hug that ended up with Titus on his lap.

  “I want to go home,” Titus murmured. “After we finish here, I want to go home.”

  “Your house will need to be—”

  Titus shook his head at Draven. “No. Home. With you.” He needed that and needed to be away from the words that had desecrated the house he’d lived in for years. He stood. “Thank you, Deputy Martinez. I’m sorry I fell apart.”

  Martinez shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I told you, I still have nightmares and bad moments. You’ve got to learn to let go of the guilt. That’s the hardest part, sometimes. Forgiving ourselves for not being the epitome of machismo society tells us to be.”

  The truth in that statement hit Titus in the chest. He took a half-step back and nodded. “Yes, you’re right.”

  “I’ll contact you when I have something more to tell you. We won’t get the fingerprint results back for weeks. If this were a TV show, I’d already have them along with hair follicles, footprints and a convenient neighbor who decided to come forward and tell me he or she saw it all.” Martinez walked past them and opened the door for them. “Unfortunately, reality is a lot slower.”

  “I understand.” Titus itched to be out of town, back in the safety of Draven’s home. He was growing calmer by the minute, but the need for his lover was not diminished.

  After a few more words with the deputy, Titus and Draven finally left the police station.

  Titus hesitated on the sidewalk and glanced around. A few people were out and about, but no one seemed to be paying him and Draven any mind.

  “What’s wrong?” Draven asked, touching his lower back briefly.

  “Nothing. Just…thinking.” Titus looked at him. “This really isn’t home to me. All those romantic stories about home being found in someone, not in a place—they’re all right. I love my job, but I’d love teaching anywhere.”

  Draven smiled tentatively. “Are you hinting that I should ask you to move in with me, permanently?”

  Was he? Titus pursed his lips. Had he been hinting? “No, I think I was being more obvious than hinting. I want to live with you, and I can probably find a job teaching somewhere not too far from…from home.”

  Draven’s smile broadened. “I’d love that. Will—?”

  “Titus!”

  Titus ignored Stacy and Michelle calling his name. “Will I what?” His heart raced. “What were you going to ask?”

  Draven sighed. “Another time.”

  “But—” Titus closed his mouth. Stacy and Michelle were less than a dozen feet away. Whatever Draven had been about to ask—if it were what Titus hoped he was going to ask—Titus would prefer it to be done in private.

  On the beach as the sun is setting… But I don’t have to wait for him to ask. I could ask—

  “Titus, I’m sorry.” Stacy hugged him. “Michelle and I will repaint the walls once we can get into the place. Let us do that for you.”

  Titus hugged her back and met Michelle’s gaze over Stacy’s shoulder. “I think you should know, I’m probably not going to stay there. Here.”

  Stacy hugged him tighter. “That’s okay. We’re still going to clean up your house and paint the walls, do what we can to help. Whether you live here or not, you’re my best friend, Titus, and I love you. Michelle and I will do anything we can to help you. That’s not dependent on you living in this town and working at the school here.”

  A burden Titus hadn’t known he was carrying lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you. That… You are…” He gave up trying to explain and just held on for the hug.

  Eventually, he and Stacy separated. “Are you heading back?” Stacy asked. “I’d invite you to our place, but until this is settled, I think staying away from here is the wisest choice for you.”

  Titus knew he was blessed when it came to friends. “Yes, we’re heading back. I can’t be here right now.”

  Stacy hugged him again, this time a quick moment of contact before she stepped back. She turned to Draven. “Keep him safe.”

  “Always.” Draven touched Titus’ back again, but this time he kept his hand there. “You are welcome to come over any time. I have a guest room you can stay in, and the beach is right out through the back door.”

  Stacy hugged Draven, too. “You made the offer, and we’re going to accept. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Draven replied.

  “Be safe,” Michelle said. She hugged them each.

  Then Titus was walking to the car with Draven beside him, hand still resting on Titus’ lower back.

  It felt like a goodbye, not to his friends, but to the town itself. The roots he’d started to grow here had been hacked off and the ground thoroughly salted.

  He should have felt sad, but all he experienced was relief as he watched the sign for the town grow smaller in the rearview mirror.

  “The farther we get from there, the better I feel,” he said to Draven. “Free. I feel free. Whatever I do next, wherever I work, I’m not hiding who I am, or who I love.”

  “Good,” Draven replied. “I want to be able to bring you lunches and hold your hand while we’re out in public. Not all the time, because I think you’re as reticent there as I am, but…I want to get past that.”

  “So do I,” Titus admitted. “We shouldn’t have to be afraid.”

  “We shouldn’t, and we won’t be.” Draven slid one hand up Titus’ thigh, stopping with his fingers just centimeters from Titus’ balls. “And when I get you home, I’m going to make love to you all night long.” He moved his hand that little bit more, and caressed Titus’ balls through his jeans.

  “Sounds like the best idea ever,” Titus scraped out, his throat dry as need began to coil in his gut. The drive back is going to take forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Oomph!” Draven barely had time to close the door before Titus was on him.

  He flushed with need as Titus pus
hed him against the door and kissed him. There was nothing gentle or timid about the kiss. Titus was owning him, claiming him, and Draven’s insides quivered with excitement.

  Everything I ever wanted, and never thought I’d have. It was his last coherent thought before Titus blew his mind, sliding down Draven’s body, licking, kissing, nibbling, leaving marks after he shoved Draven’s shirt up.

  “Want you,” Titus mumbled as he began to unfasten Draven’s pants. “Need you.”

  Draven tried to agree, but Titus mouthed his cock through the denim, and Draven’s eyes rolled back as he moaned. He buried his fingers in Titus’ hair, more for support than guidance.

  Titus hummed, and Draven’s legs trembled. Chances were good he wasn’t going to remain upright for long.

  When Titus shoved Draven’s pants and briefs down, then licked over his leaking tip, Draven cried out. He started to slide down, then the world tipped and Draven was utterly confused. By the time he figured out that Titus had hoisted him into a fireman’s carry, Draven was being flopped onto the bed.

  Then Titus was back on him, nearly ripping Draven’s shirt off. Draven couldn’t keep up. His head was spinning with the force of his need. He tried to help get his clothes off, and whether he did, or whether he hindered Titus’ efforts, he couldn’t have said.

  But he was naked, and Titus was kissing him, and nothing else mattered. Draven touched Titus everywhere he could reach. He fed off the warmth and strength of his lover, off the desire they shared.

  Titus tugged on Draven’s bottom lip, having caught it between his teeth. The sting went right to Draven’s cock, and he thrust his hips, grinding against Titus, desperate to get more of him.

  Titus released Draven’s lip and began nipping his way down Draven’s body once more. He loved on Draven’s nipples, sucking and pinching them until Draven clawed at the bedsheets. “Please,” he rasped, the word finally forming and escaping past his dry lips.

  “Please…suck you?” Titus asked.

  Draven spread his legs and tried to get his knees up to his chest. He couldn’t speak, but he had no shame in showing Titus what he needed.

  Titus scooted down, then his hot, wet mouth was on Draven’s cock. Draven cried out and clutched at his knees. Titus showed him no mercy, palming his balls and tugging them gently while he took Draven’s shaft in completely.

  The pleasure enveloped everything. Draven was helpless to do anything other than feel as Titus sucked his cock. Only the grasp Titus had on Draven’s balls kept him from coming.

  Then Titus pulled off and flipped Draven over. Draven was still lost in pleasure, still had it thrumming through his system.

  Titus pulled him to his knees, then pressed Draven’s head down. He spread Draven’s cheeks and licked over his hole.

  Draven had been lust-dazed before, but it was nothing like where he went and what he felt as Titus rimmed him. Titus fucked him with his tongue until Draven was babbling nonsense, then used his fingers to open Draven up.

  And finally, Titus slipped his cock into Draven with a slow, steady grind that set Draven’s nerve endings on fire with need.

  Titus bucked his hips once he was fully sheathed, then did it again, dragging a ragged moan out of Draven when Titus’ dick rubbed over his gland.

  “Draven,” Titus muttered, then pulled out and slammed back in.

  Draven shouted and dug his elbows into the bed, giving himself leverage so he could shove his ass back. The sound of his flesh and Titus’ meeting echoed in the room and their panted breaths grew louder and more erratic as the fucking became more intense.

  Draven’s cock ached and his balls were drawn up tight. Titus reached under him and fisted his shaft. One squeeze of Draven’s glans, and his orgasm tore through him.

  “Draven!” He heard his name as if at a distance, then Titus was draped over him, shuddering, gasping.

  Several minutes passed, then Titus rolled off him, whimpering as he flopped down beside Draven.

  Draven forced his heavy eyelids open and turned on his side to look at Titus.

  Titus was frowning at him.

  Draven wasn’t as sleepy as he’d been a second ago. He propped his head up on one hand as he studied Titus. “What’s wrong?”

  Titus blushed and averted his gaze. “I—I shouldn’t have been so rough. I shouldn’t—”

  “Oh, no, no you don’t,” Draven cut in, moving right over to lie halfway on Titus. “Don’t you dare apologize for fucking me senseless. I felt nothing but pleasure and ecstasy, Titus. Nothing but sensational feelings—and yours. Why would you be sorry about that?”

  Titus’ blush had darkened but he looked at Draven once more. “I’m not. I’ve never been so…demanding, before.”

  Draven kissed him, then rubbed his nose against Titus’. “You can be as demanding as you want with my ass any time.”

  Titus grinned and wrapped his arms around Draven. “I need you, in so many ways. You make it possible for me to just…just be me. I’m not sure I know who that is, but with you, I’ll find out.”

  “I can tell you that you’re an incredible man, sexy and smart and a god in bed,” Draven told him.

  Titus snorted. “A god? Seriously?”

  Draven nodded. “Would I lie?”

  Titus laughed, then brought one hand around to cup Draven’s cheek. “I’m scared,” he whispered. “And I hate that he scares me.”

  Draven hated it, too. “It’s understandable, Titus. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re feeling. We’re going to keep you safe, though. Me, Rive, our friends. We won’t let him touch you. I promise you.”

  Titus stared at him for several seconds, then he tugged Draven down the inch or so that separated them and kissed him.

  Chapter Thirty

  Draven tensed as the hairs on his nape seemed to stand on end. He turned casually in the aisle of the local grocery store, reaching for a can of something on the shelf. He wasn’t paying attention to that, but rather trying to find the cause for his sudden unease.

  Titus had been with him for almost a week. There’d been no more attacks on his home, but he’d had numerous phone calls from an unknown number. Titus had quit answering those calls after the second one, when no one spoke.

  Things had been calm.

  Now, Draven’s survival instinct was alerting him to potential trouble. Draven always trusted his gut—ever since Andres had betrayed him. He’d ignored little and bigger twinges of unease he’d felt around Andres at times. Draven had vowed never to make that mistake again.

  So he cut his focus to the left, trying to see if someone was watching him from that direction.

  What he saw made him drop the can of food he’d picked up.

  The stranger glanced at him but didn’t really look at him before resuming his perusal of offerings on the shelf.

  Draven pivoted toward the figure and knew his jaw was hanging open. He stared at the profile of the man down at the end of the aisle. Glossy black hair that hung in waves to just past his shoulders, a muscular build, biceps that had to be earned in a gym.

  Draven closed his mouth as his heart pounded. The man wasn’t looking at him, which was a good thing. Draven’s head was a chaotic place as memories from his past swamped him. The stranger in the aisle looked—as if thinking of him had made him appear—like Andres.

  Not possible. Andres died. I saw him. He died fifty years ago, and this can’t be him.

  But the nose was long and pointed, a slight bump at the bridge, just like Andres’ nose. He had the same tall, sloped forehead, shadowed cheeks and angular chin.

  Draven forced himself to look away. Andres was dead, without a doubt, and even if he had survived for five decades, he’d have aged. He’d been a human, after all.

  But Draven had seen him bleed out in the ocean, had turned away when sharks began to feed off his corpse.

  It wasn’t Andres standing twelve feet away.

  There’s supposed to be a twin for everyone on this planet. Or maybe Andres h
ad family he never told me about.

  Draven couldn’t remember what he’d wanted to get. His insides were heating with that sensation of danger, and alarms were sounding in his head that he needed to get out, now. Even his manta ray was urging him to leave.

  He didn’t understand why, but he’d listen. He forced his feet to move, put one foot in front of the other, and he walked past the Andres-doppelganger, trying to study him without being obvious.

  The scent of blood and saltwater hit him when he was directly behind the man. There was also the odor of peppermint, Andres’ favorite candy.

  Draven’s mind was fucking with him. He kept his steps steady until he was about to round the corner of the aisle.

  “Draven.”

  Draven’s heart ricocheted in his chest until he realized it was Titus who’d spoken.

  “What’s wrong? You look…” Titus took the hand basket from him.

  “Leave it. Let’s go.” Draven felt that prickly awareness again. “Now.”

  Titus pressed his lips into a thin line which meant he wasn’t happy with Draven, but he nodded. “Okay. Let’s put this stuff up first. I’m not leaving it here for the clerks to put back.”

  Draven’s skin itched with the need for him to get out of there, to get Titus out of there. “Just—there, the express line.” He pointed to the cashier in lane three. “He’s open.”

  Titus headed for the register, and Draven followed him. He glanced back over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the not-Andres man going around the corner of the aisle.

  The scent of him was still in Draven’s nostrils.

  It had to be his head fucking with him. He’d been thinking about Andres, then…

  “Did you see that guy with the black hair?” he asked Titus as Titus set the hand basket on the conveyor belt.

  Titus turned to him. “Which guy?”

  “Never mind.”

  Titus frowned at him. “No, not never mind. What guy?”

  Draven bit back a sigh. “He went down the aisle after the one I was on.”

  “Pay for the stuff.” Titus darted around Draven.