by Pandora Pine
“Dad read me this book when I was struggling with withdrawal and I couldn’t sleep at night. This poor bastard definitely had it worse than me.” Greeley shrugged shyly.
“I’m really intrigued now.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a thick book. “The Count of Monte Cristo! I’ve always wanted to read this book.”
“You’ll love it.” Greeley smiled.
“Tennyson, I’m ready to begin,” Broughan said.
“Thanks again.” Ten set a hand on Greeley’s shoulder.
“Good luck.” Fitzgibbon gave him a thumbs up.
Ten took a deep breath before sitting down in the chair opposite Broughan. He tried to calm his racing heart. It wasn’t working.
“Vann was kind enough to tell me what’s going on with your special gift,” Broughan started. His voice was smooth and gentle, like a brook babbling over rocks. “What I’m feeling from you right now is a lot of tension, frustration, and some anxiety.”
All of those things were spot on. Ten nodded, his eyes slipping shut.
“Usually what I’m used to healing is physical pain. You know, from a broken arm or an old football injury, but pain isn’t always physical.” Broughan held out his hands to Ten, who didn’t hesitate to take them. “I can feel how much of your personality is wrapped up in your gift. I’m sure the question you’ve asked yourself the most over the last few weeks is, who am I if I’m not Tennyson Grimm, psychic? Right?”
Nodding, Ten left his eyes closed. He could feel the knot of tension in his shoulders shift imperceptibly and start to loosen. It was almost as if everyone one in the room were breathing in sync and he joined his breath with theirs.
“Over the last few weeks, you’ve started to find out the answer to that question isn’t as scary as you think. You’ve spent relaxed time in places you never imagined could be peaceful for you. There was that wild, uninterrupted, uninhibited night on the Cape. Not to mention how much closer your relationship has gotten with Ronan since all of your free time is now your own. You’ve had time to read books. This is Tennyson Grimm.” Broughan was silent for a moment.
Ten knew this was intentional to let his words sink in. His point was that Ten was more relaxed in the morgue because there were no freaked out murdered spirits wondering what they were doing there. His free time was his own because he wasn’t delivering messages from the other side or trying to cross anyone over.
“Carson and Cole were kind enough to deliver messages to me from Bertha and Erin. I may not have your gift, Tennyson, but I can feel the energy of their mother’s love in this room tonight.”
Ten felt his grip on his emotions slip a bit. Much more talk like this and he’d be bawling like school boy with a skinned knee at recess. At that exact moment, Broughan tightened his grip on Ten’s hands and he felt strong enough to contain his threatening tears.
“Bertha knows she was tough on you when you first lost your gift, but the truth of the matter is that for the last seventeen years since you were blessed with this gift, you’ve been hard on yourself. No vacations, no days off, no full nights’ sleep. No time for yourself.”
There was no arguing with anything Bertha said. The time he’d taken for his massage and facial were the first things he’d ever really done for himself. Even then, he’d felt guilty for doing them because Carson and Cole were working their asses off, picking up his slack at the store.
“According to Cole, all Erin wanted to do was gush about how proud she is of you. Psychic or street sweeper, she loves you from the bottom of her heart. You did the impossible getting Ronan to open his heart and love again, not to mention getting him to go on vacation.” There was a smile in Broughan’s voice.
Where before Ten could feel the room breathing with him, now he could almost feel a swell of love breaking over him and then wrapping around him. It felt like everyone in the room was hugging him at once and individually. He could feel Ronan and Bertha and Erin, even Greeley, Fitzgibbon and Carson and Truman’s babies, which was impossible since they were sleeping upstairs.
“Take this intermission of your gift to enjoy spending time with the people who love you, Tennyson. Make a plan for how you’ll divide time at work and your private time once your gift comes back. Strike a balance with your partners. Build harmony with Ronan. Your gift is close.” Broughan gave Ten’s hands another squeeze.
The knot in the middle of Ten’s shoulder blades loosened completely and he felt like he could take a full deep breath for the first time in weeks. He would worry about what “close” meant tomorrow.
18
Ronan
“How do you feel about what happened tonight?” Ronan asked as he and Tennyson got undressed for bed. After the energy session had ended, Truman and Carson had served appetizers and drinks. Ronan had hoped to take Ten straight home, but it wasn’t to be. They’d just now walked into Ten’s apartment, three hours after the fact.
“It was pretty damn amazing actually.” Ten pulled back the covers of the bed and climbed in. “I wish you could have felt the swell of love that broke over me. It kind of felt like being hit by a wave of water at the beach, only not as dangerous!”
Ronan joined him under the covers. He reached out and pulled Ten into his arms. “I felt…something. I don’t really know how to describe it. I was almost like a buzzing, like when you stand under a fluorescent light, but instead of hearing that sound, I felt it. Does that make sense?” It sounded crazy. If he’d said that to anyone else who hadn’t been in that room tonight, they would have thought he belonged in the looney bin.
“It does. The whole room was buzzing like a giant bee hive or like there was a flock of hummingbirds.” Ten pressed a kiss to Ronan’s neck. “It was amazing.”
“How do you feel now? Did it work, baby?” Ronan’s voice was whisper-soft. More than anything, he wanted Ten to get his gift back. He wanted his lover to feel whole again.
Ten was quiet, which had Ronan wondering if he’d fallen asleep.
“It’s the first time in weeks that I feel at peace. My gift isn’t back. I can’t hear voices. I can’t see spirits, but I know they’re here with me.” Ten sounded sure of himself.
Hearing those words from Ten made Ronan feel miles better, but it wasn’t exactly what Ronan wanted to hear. “I want you back to normal, babe.”
Ten snorted against Ronan’s chest. “You realize how backward that sounds, right? This crazy gift that has always made me anything but normal is normal to you.”
Ronan had to admit he’d come a long way in a short time. When the two of them first met, he hadn’t believed in Ten’s gift at all. For a short time he had even thought maybe Ten had something to do with the Lanski boy’s disappearance, which explained how he’d known where to find the boy later on. Hell, he’d even thought Tennyson was a fruitcake in the beginning for thinking ghosts spoke to him.
“I love you, Ten. And loving you means loving everything about you. I’ll be the first to admit I was a dick about your gift at times. I hated when it interrupted our time together and my dinner would get cold while you spoke to someone about their treasured grandfather or long-dead cat. I have to tell you though, I’d gladly spend a lifetime eating cold meals at your side if it meant your gift came back this second.”
Tennyson gasped. Shifting his body, he straddled Ronan’s hips and reached for the switch to the bedside lamp. “Do you really mean that?” Tears shimmered in his eyes.
“Cross my heart.” Ronan made the motion with his index finger and sat up to press a kiss to the warm skin over Ten’s heart.
“I can’t believe it.” Awe shimmered in Ten’s dark eyes.
“I’ve always been such a selfish bastard. With you though, I want to give you everything. All that I have and all that I am. It’s yours for the asking. I spent so long being afraid of these feelings in my heart for you and then I see what you’ve been willing to go through for me. You’re so brave, Ten, and I’m such a coward in comparison.” Ronan felt a little brave as he let these
words flow directly from his heart to Tennyson’s.
“No, you’re not.” Ten shook his head, sending his curls bouncing around his face.
“Babe, you’ve been punched, kicked, kidnapped, shot at, been to grisly crime scenes, attended autopsies, and had to deal with my grumpy ass. I’d say those are all pretty damn brave. Purple Heart worthy, if they gave them out to civilians.” Ronan would pin the medal to Ten’s chest if they let him.
Ten burst out laughing. “You’re the one who was actually shot in the line of duty.” Ten fingered the puckered skin, marking where Manuel Garcia’s bullet pierced his skin last summer.
“My point is that you’re facing the loss of something so integral to what makes you, you. I know what that’s like and you never once let it stop you from living like I almost did.”
“You mean when you almost lost your badge after the Garcia shooting?” Tennyson’s fingers stopped playing over the scar, instead coming to rest over Ronan’s heart.
Ronan nodded. “It was such a dark time for me. I was sober as a judge the day of the shooting. After I was rushed to the hospital to treat the gunshot wound, the nurses took a sample of my blood to run a toxicology screen. There were no signs of drugs or alcohol. People who worked with me knew that I’d been drinking more than I should and was showing up in dark glasses looking like something the cat dragged in. All the hallmark signs of a man with a drinking problem were there. I’m lucky that I was a functioning alcoholic, because if I’d been drunk on the job the day of the Garcia shooting, there would have been no department-sponsored rehab. No second chance. I would have been out on my ass. No pension. No other police department would have ever hired me as a cop again. The best I could have done was to work as some mall security guard.”
“Jesus, Ronan.” Ten shook his head.
“So, when the department offered me the chance to keep my job by going to rehab, I jumped at the opportunity. I could have ended up directing traffic after Celtics games, but I didn’t care so long as I got to keep my uniform. It was a long three months in Florida, but I managed to get through it. I got lucky landing in Cold Case with Captain Fitzgibbon.”
Tennyson wrapped his arms around Ronan’s neck.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been more supportive, Ten. Maybe I should have told this story sooner, but I’ve never understood how telling a story about how you suffered with the same kind of issue helps someone else feel better.” Ronan shrugged in Ten’s arms. How the hell had this gone from him trying to comfort his boyfriend to Ten trying to comfort him?
Ten pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “It’s not that I feel better knowing you suffered. It’s that I know you understand what it’s like to feel like I could possibly lose something so dear to me, professionally. Did you ever think all of the things you just told me led us to each other?”
Ronan laughed, pulling back from Ten’s embrace. “Maybe once or twice. Finding you was worth getting shot, if that’s what really brought us together.”
“Carson took a bullet to get with Truman, so it’s a tried and true tradition in our group of friends.”
“Jesus Christ. I’ll know you’re on to something if either Vann or Broughan get shot.” Ronan shook his head.
“Are you kidding me? If either of them get shot it’s going to be the other one holding the gun.” Tennyson started to giggle.
“Every couple has their strange way of getting together.” Ronan laughed along with him. “Carson had a vision of love. I saw a fruitcake psychic on television. Vann and Broughan are like fire and ice.”
“More like dynamite and nitroglycerin.” Ten shook his head. “You think they’ve fucked each other yet?”
Ronan shook his head no. Christ, he didn’t even want to think about that while he and Ten were naked in bed together.
“Why do you think that?” Ten wore a curious look on his face.
“Neither one of them called to say they were in the ER.”
“You think it’s gonna be like that?” Tennyson’s eyes darkened.
“Oh, yeah. There’s gonna be bruises, maybe a black eye or two. Definitely that deep down soreness one of them is gonna feel for a week when they sit down.”
“Wouldn’t Broughan just use his gift to heal them?” Ten traced his fingertips around Ronan’s collarbone.
“Babe, aren’t you the one who loves it when I leave those fingerprint bruises on your hips?”
Ten nodded, biting his lips. “It’s like your love is tattooing me.”
“Exactly.” Ronan captured Ten’s lips in a searing kiss. Earlier, he’d had an idea that they’d make love long and slow, but now, he was of a mind to leave some marks on Ten’s creamy white skin. It was like his lover was a blank canvas and Ronan was holding the brush.
“Ronan?” Ten whispered shyly.
“Yeah, babe?”
“Tattoo me.” Ten’s skin turned pink with the breathless request.
It seemed like Tennyson had read his mind.
19
Tennyson
This wasn’t what Tennyson had expected tonight. He’d thought they’d come home from the meeting with Broughan and they’d fall asleep curled up together. Getting it on like Donkey Kong wasn’t remotely on his radar.
Ronan was tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth, while his hands dug into the meaty flesh of Ten’s ass.
Ten could feel Ronan’s erection rubbing against his own. Every time their flesh collided, it sent up a wave of sparks that spread through his entire body. It reminded him of a campfire when the logs would stir and sent up a rush of glowing embers toward the stars.
That’s what it felt like tonight. Red hot glowing embers versus a supernova.
It wasn’t like Tennyson to be so whimsical, but Ronan had practically told him that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Ten. Hadn’t he? If that wasn’t cause for poetry, he didn’t know what was.
He wrapped a hand around both of their cocks and gave a few quick strokes. Ronan groaned out his pleasure. Tennyson’s own cock was leaking copious amounts of pre-come, which helped to lube his hand a bit, but that’s not what he wanted. Ten needed a bit of drag to heighten the pleasure/pain ratio. Not that either of them got off on that sadistic shit, but he knew Ronan liked it a bit rough.
Ten cried out when Ronan bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Mission accomplished. Ten knew his little bit of frot was getting Ronan closer to the edge than he wanted to be.
Before he knew what was happening, Ronan was flipping them both over. His back hit the soft mattress with a thump. “Caveman,” Ten muttered.
“You love it.” Ronan’s voice was cocky.
Ten nodded. He hissed a second later when Ronan sucked a bruise into the tender skin just below his left nipple. “Mine!” He growled possessively.
“Oh, fuck yes!” It was crazy, but Ronan sucking on his chest felt almost as good as him sucking Ten’s cock, which happened to be Ronan’s next destination.
Without a word of warning, Ronan swallowed him whole, licking Ten’s cock as his lips slid down his shaft. Ronan’s eyes stayed on Ten’s the whole time.
The intensity of Ronan’s stare was almost too much to take. Ronan looked like he wanted to eat Tennyson alive and, in a way, that’s exactly what he was doing.
“Roll over. On your knees,” Ronan rasped out. He wiped the drool off his spit-slicked chin with the back of his hand.
Ten hurried to obey. Nothing turned him on more than Ronan ordering him around. No wonder people had cop fetishes. While Ten was thinking how hot it would be for Ronan to fuck him wearing one of his dress blue uniform tops, unbuttoned and hanging open, a slap echoed loudly in the room and his left ass cheek started to sting. Ten moaned. He wasn’t sure if it was from the excitement of the moment or because Ronan was in bad cop mode.
“God, you’re such a bad boy, needing to be spanked like this,” Ronan rasped against the shell of Ten’s ear.
Ten couldn’t help feeling like putty in Ronan’s strong hands. He
knew there was a bright red handprint forming on his ass right now. If those kinds of pictures didn’t have the tendency of falling into the wrong hands, he’d beg Ronan to take a picture of his rosy ass.
“You want another to match? Or is one enough?” Ronan’s voice indicated that one most definitely wasn’t enough.
Did he want another one? Before he could answer, Ronan settled the matter for him and spanked his right cheek. Christ, his cock was drooling onto the flat sheet of the bed. “Fuck me, Ronan. I can’t take any more teasing.”
“Oh no, Ten. I’m not going to fuck you.” Ronan’s tone was matter-of-fact.
“Christ, this isn’t where you tell me that we’re going to make love is it?” Ten didn’t need a gentle touch right now. The last few weeks had been filled with gentle touches. With everyone he knew treating him like a china doll, fearing he would break under the pressure of not having his gift.
Ronan chuckled. “No, Ten. This where I tell you that you’re going to fuck me. Get ready to cowboy up. I want you to ride me like I’m the meanest bull in the PBR.”
Jesus Christ… Ten’s shoulders slumped slightly before he took a deep breath. “On your back,” Ten said softly, as he sat back up on his knees. His ass was stinging and he could feel the heat radiating off it.
Ronan wanted Ten to ride him, did he? Ten had just the thing. He hopped off the bed and strode to his mirrored closet, taking a minute to angle the doors so that he could get a nice view of his hand-reddened ass.
“Pretty sweet, huh?” Ronan was lazily stroking his cock as he watched Ten admiring his handy work.
“Why don’t you make yourself useful and lube that thing.” Ten grinned. After he looked his fill, he opened the closet doors all the way and pulled down the big box that had been sitting way back on the top shelf for the last four years.
Pulling off the lid, Ten reached in and pulled out a black cowboy hat. He perched it on top of his head. “What do you think?”
“Damn!” Ronan whistled. “Where the hell did you get that?” He fisted his lubed cock faster.