by Lisa Worrall
"Stop it," Will said, a note of definite warning in his voice. He was hanging on to his temper by the skin of his teeth and if Turner didn't back off right now, he couldn't be held responsible for his actions.
"You did, didn't you?" Scott spat. "Did you want him to blow you?"
"Scott!" His name was ground through Will's teeth, but the clear warning in his voice was obviously not going to deter Scott, as the other man closed the tiny gap between their bodies and pressed his thighs against Will's.
"Did you want to fuck him?"
"I'm warning you, Turner. That's enough!"
"Why, what are you gonna do hotshot?" Scott taunted. "You gonna arrest me? You—"
Before he even knew he was going to do it, Will pressed his lips to Scott's in a hard, brutal kiss. Anything to stop the words falling from his lips. What the fuck am I doing? Will grunted as Scott pushed him away and he watched him lift a hand to his own lips, as he gazed at Will in stunned amazement.
Will felt immediately contrite as Scott stared at him, and he ran a hand through his blond hair. "Sco—" It was Will's turn to have the words stolen from his mouth as Scott grabbed hold of his shirt and yanked him forward, crashing their mouths together. He moaned into Scott's mouth, as the warm wetness of the other man's tongue forced his lips apart and sucked Will's tongue into his mouth. "Fuck," he groaned, when Scott broke the kiss to slide his lips along Will's jaw and down the side of his throat, nipping at the fluttering pulse he found there. "What are we doing?" He all but ripped off the buttons of Scott's shirt with shaking fingers, desperate to feel the skin beneath. As Scott's shirt fell to the floor and Will felt the warmth of smooth skin against his hands, he suddenly didn't care about anything beyond want, him, now!
"You smell so good, Turner," he growled against Scott's throat. His hands curved around Scott's hips and slid beneath the waistband of the shorts the man wore. He brought their mouths back together, licking a path across Scott's teeth and lapping at his tongue, as his hands searched further. "So, fucking hot," he mumbled against the lips he was nibbling at as his fingers slipped past the waistband of Scott's briefs and the firm globes of the man's ass filled his palms. Gripping the rounded flesh in his hands, he pulled Scott closer still and rolled his hips against the erection that threatened to burst from Scott's zipper. "Yes," he hissed, rolling his hips again and swallowing the whimper that crept up Scott's mouth before it could leave his lips. "You like that? Is that what you wanted Brent to do?" He winced when Scott bit down on his lower lip and he kissed his apology into Scott's throat. He'd probably deserved that.
Turning Scott around, Will began to walk the man backwards out of the kitchen, their lips never apart longer than to take their next breath. Scott's hands seemed to be everywhere all at once and Will thought he'd come on the spot when the sinful tongue that lapped at his, changed tack and zeroed in on the sensitive spot behind his ear. "Fuck!" Will's growl was almost feral as he urged Scott up the stairs, amazed that they didn't injure themselves on the way to the bedroom. He managed to kick the door open and lower Scott to the mattress, pulling back to yank his shirt over his head, not even bothering with the buttons. Leaning on his hands, he bent his head to lick his way back into Scott's panting mouth.
The feel of Scott's chest against his was intoxicating, he couldn't get enough. And his mouth, God, his mouth. Will knew that even if he spent the rest of his life attached at the lips with Scott Turner, it still wouldn't be long enough. He whimpered as Scott's fingers found his nipples and teased the flat discs until they stood proudly against his chest. Fumbling with the button on Scott's shorts, he knew he should stop this. Knew that the situation they'd found themselves in had heightened every look, every touch and he would have to face the music in the morning—but he didn't care. He couldn't stop if his life had depended on it. Will needed to taste every inch of Scott. Needed to lose himself in the man writhing beneath him. Of course, he knew it was wrong—even as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Scott's shorts and briefs—even as he slid them slowly down muscled thighs and onto the floor. Of course, it was wrong—even as he dealt quickly with the rest of his clothes and covered Scott's body with his own—even as he pushed Scott's hands above his head and held him down. Even then he knew it was wrong.
Scott's back arched into the first thrust of Will's hard shaft against his steadily leaking cock, and Will gave a half-strangled cry. He couldn't remember having felt anything as intense as the feel of Scott's body moving with his. He bent his head and lapped at the man's nipples, lavishing on them the same dedicated attention as Scott had his, all the while not stopping in the rolling of his hips. He could feel the whimpering that rumbled in Scott's chest vibrating against his skin as he lapped at the puckered flesh.
"Will—" Scott breathed.
Will lifted his head and gazed into Scott's lust-blown gaze. "Don't tell me to stop," he groaned. "Please Scott—don't tell me to stop."
"Don't," Scott rasped. "Don't want you to stop." He lifted his head and captured Will's lips again.
Will groaned into Scott's mouth, their tongues matching the frantic thrusting of their hips. He was coming undone and he was coming undone fast. Heat spiraled out to all his nerve endings, setting them on fire. Scott felt so good. Their fingers were entwined, the sheen of sweat glistened between them as they strived for their release, together. "Oh God," Will whimpered, breaking the kiss and holding Scott's gaze. The taut thighs wrapped around his flanks tightened their grip and he knew that Scott was close. Could tell by the panting gasps falling from Scott's lips as he stared up at him. "I want to see you come," he breathed, rutting against Scott, pre-come from both their cocks easing the slip and slide of velvety skin against velvety skin, never breaking the punishing rhythm he had established.
"Yes, make me come." Scott cried out, his back arching as Will's hips snapped against his once, twice and then he came, spilling between them, hot spurts pulsing from his cock and splattering onto his chest.
Will didn't think he had ever seen anything as hot as Scott Turner pumping hot, white streams across his skin, and the sight sent him over the edge. "Fuck… Scott…oh God… Scott!" Will's seed shot across Scott's stomach in thick, hot bursts, his hips jerking uncontrollably as his orgasm slammed through him.
He collapsed on top of Scott, practically boneless in the aftershocks of his orgasm. His grip on Scott's hands loosened and he felt shaking fingers feather gently through his hair. When he was certain his heart wasn't going to jump out of his chest, Will rolled off Scott and blinked up at the ceiling. He glanced over at the man beside him and saw the sheen of sweat and come on Scott's tanned skin, and his stomach bottomed out, as the magnitude of what he had done washed over him.
Will ran his hands through his hair and gripped the soft strands as Scott got up off the bed and padded, bare-assed and beautiful to the bathroom. What had he done? What had he allowed to happen? My God, he'd instigated it. Scott may have wound him up, but he was the one who flicked the switch. He'd been so jealous at the sight of Scott making out with Brent and the other man's hands gliding over that soft skin that he'd lost control. It was his fault. Christ, Scott must be mortified. How could he ever look at him again, without remembering how that beautiful body felt against his? He closed his eyes tightly. Fuck! I'll have to leave the force! I'll have to leave the country! The guilt was overwhelming.
Will's eyes opened in surprise when a damp towel was thrown onto his stomach and Scott slid beneath the duvet on his side of the bed. He noted the way the other man couldn't even look him in the eye and groaned inwardly. I should say something. What the fuck can I say? How the hell am I going to find anything to justify what we did? What I did? Wiping the towel across his stomach, he tossed it to the floor and slipped under the duvet. Say something, Harrison, you heartless shit! Will closed his eyes against the inner voice screaming in his ear and hissed back. I'm working up to it! Moistening his lips, he turned and took a deep breath.
"Scott—"
"Go to sleep, Will," Scott cut him off before he could begin.
Will closed his eyes in despair. The poor guy couldn't even speak to him. How the fuck was he going to make this right? He lay rigid beside Scott until he heard the man's breathing finally even out and he knew he was asleep. Only then did he allow himself to drift. Sighing, he settled down against the pillow and pulled the duvet up around his shoulders.
His last conscious thought before the sandman caught up with him, was that they would need to tell Julie and Grace about the bruising to David's back.
Chapter six
Strains of Nickelback's "If Today Was Your Last Day" filtered through the blanket of sleep Scott was wrapped in and he reached out blindly toward the nightstand, feeling for his cell phone. "Hello?"
"Scott? Why are you still asleep? It's ten-thirty," Grace's voice trilled down the line.
"Because it's Sunday, you know, the day of rest? Besides, I was up late last night," he yawned, still not bothering to open his eyes.
"Really?" Grace said teasingly. "How up are we talking?"
"I don't kiss and tell, Cassidy." Scott stretched and then rubbed a fist into his eye. "What do you want?"
"I've got some information for you. Cory reserved three bus tickets to Phoenix for the day after the shootings." Grace sounded incredibly pleased with herself.
"Okay," Scott drew out the word, forcing one eye open slowly. "That doesn't mean anything. Defense will just say they booked a vacation, had an argument the night before they were due to leave, and wound up dead. "
"They booked three tickets, Scott," Grace pointed out. "Why would two boys whose fathers own private jets, go on vacation by Greyhound? And who was the third ticket for? Something's not right here."
While he listened to Grace's voice, Scott slowly stretched out his foot and encountered nothing but cool sheets. He heaved a grateful sigh. Will had obviously gotten up earlier without disturbing him. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his bed head and arranged the sheet in his naked lap. "All right, Gracie. Check and see if they were booked into any of the hotels in Phoenix, maybe we can track down the other traveler."
"I'll get right on it. Are you going to tell me what happened last night or not? You've got that cagey tone in your voice."
"I don't even know how to do a cagey tone," Scott snorted. "How do you think this shit up?" Scott shook his head in amazement, even though she couldn't see him.
"Scott."
"I am not discussing this with you, Gracie. Just," he sighed, a little too heavily, "just leave it."
"Scott?" Now she sounded concerned. "What happened? They didn't force you, did they?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Scott rolled his eyes, wishing she didn't know him so goddamn well. "I just don't wanna talk about it." He flopped back onto the pillows and hoped she would let it go. Fat chance.
"Crap, did something happen between you and Will?"
"Grac—"
"Jesus, Scott."
He knew that tone. He could imagine her right now, sitting at her desk, phone in hand, wearing that look she got on her face whenever she was pissed at and worried about him at the same time.
"What did you do?"
"Why do you automatically assume it was something I did?" His voice rose an octave. "He started it." Way to go, Turner! Very mature.
"Scott, please. Don't do this to yourself. That road doesn't lead anywhere good."
Scott closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. "Don't you think I know that? Don't I feel shitty enough without you confirming how stupid I am?" He really didn't want to have this conversation right now. "I've got to go. Look into the hotels and let me know what you find." Scott hung up on the sound of her protests, promising himself that he would call her back later and apologize. Putting his cell back on the nightstand, he folded his arms beneath his head and stretched out his legs against the coolness of the sheets.
He was glad that Will had already vacated the bed, because he had absolutely no idea what to say to him. Why should you say anything? As you told Gracie, he's the one who started it. Rolling his eyes at the tiny little voice whispering in his ear, he murmured, "Shut up, you're not helping."
Of course, he had to say something—but what? What could he possibly say to make what had happened last night okay? Will had already been half hard when they got back to the house. Not that Scott blamed him for that. The guy would have had to have been in a coma, or dead, not to have had a reaction to the moves David had made on him. Hadn't he reacted to Brent's expertise in the same manner? He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin and groaned aloud. He started it, Scott. "No, he fucking didn't," he mumbled. "I did." Scott shook his head. He'd told Will that he had his back. But instead of trying to be supportive and reassuring him that Brent had gotten him hard too, what had he done instead? Oh yeah—he'd been so jealous at the sight of David kissing where he wanted to kiss, of touching where he wanted to touch, that he'd hounded Will before the guy even had a chance to catch his breath. Smooth, Scott, real smooth. If the poor guy can't trust you—who can he trust?
Turning his head to search for his cell on the nightstand, Scott's gaze fell on the shorts he'd worn last night. A moan crept up his throat as he was hit by the sense memory of Will's fingers unbuttoning them and yanking them off in their haste to feel naked skin against naked skin. Everything about it had felt right. The way Will's tongue had felt in his mouth—the touch of his fingers on smooth skin—the way their shafts had slid against each other, tipping them over the edge. Everything had just felt right. Until their seed was drying on their sweat-slick skin and they were brought back to reality with a heavy thud. The way the light had gone out in Will's eyes when he realized what they'd done. The way he'd rolled off Scott at double speed, as if he could no longer bear to touch him once he had come to his senses.
How the fuck was he supposed to brush it all under the carpet now that he knew how Will felt in his arms, against his body, in his mouth. How? How the fuck was he supposed to make it through this assignment without blowing his cover, or his career?
How—? His inner monologue was cut off by the sound of footfalls on the stairs and Scott tried to swallow past the lump in his throat as Will walked into the bedroom. The man was bare-chested in loose fitting navy sweatpants that clung to his lean hips as he padded toward the bed, with a steaming mug of coffee in each hand.
"Morning," he said quietly, holding out one of the cups.
"Morning." Scott sat up against the pillows and took the cup from Will's outstretched fingers. Sipping at the coffee, he sighed as it slid down his throat, the heat of the liquid warming and expanding in his chest. He glanced at Will out of the corner of his eye as the big man sat on the bed and leaned back against his own pillows. There was only a small gap between them, but to Scott the chasm was bigger than the Grand Canyon. He took another sip of coffee to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. How was he supposed to say something profound when all he wanted to do was rip off those sweatpants with his teeth? When he wanted to feel that smooth skin all sweat slicked and sticky against his? When all he wanted to do was wrap his legs around those lean hips and lose himself.
"I'm sorry—"
"I'm sorry—"
Will looked at Scott and shook his head slowly. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It was my fault."
"No," Scott replied, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I goaded you into it. It was me. I'm so sorry, Will."
"Look," Will began, turning to face Scott. "Everything was major league weird last night and we just got caught up in it and carried away. Why don't we chalk it up to experience and move on, okay? We're supposed to be working a case here, so let's do what we came here to do."
Scott nodded his agreement. If only it were that easy. He squared his shoulders. "Okay, let's just move on and concentrate on the case. Speaking of which," he put his coffee cup down on the nightstand, "Grace called. Cory reserved three tickets to Phoenix for the day after he and Jon died. She and Jules are going throug
h all the hotels in Phoenix to find out which one they were booked into and maybe unearth who the third ticket was for."
Will frowned. "Three tickets?" He gave a low chuckle. "I can't say I envy the girls trying to track down that information. Talk about needle in a haystack."
"Hey guys!"
"What the fuck?" Scott's gaze flew to the bedroom doorway at the sound of Marcus's voice floating up the stairs. "How did they get in?"
"Shit, dude," Will cursed, quickly putting the mug down on the nightstand. "I left the patio doors open in the kitchen. They're coming up!"
Scott told himself that he was thinking on his feet and that this was the only thing he could come up with at short notice—at least that's what he would tell himself later to justify his actions. Reaching out, he curled his fingers around the back of Will's neck and yanked the other man toward him. He just had time to see startled surprise in deep brown eyes before he captured Will's lips with his own.
What the fuck are you doing now? Scott ignored his own subconscious and closed his eyes, winding his arms around Will's neck. He was unable to stop the groan that crept up his throat when, after his initial gasp, Will's lips moved against his, kissing him back. He slid his tongue out to meet Will's when he felt the tentative touch of the other man's, pressing his body closer to Will's and burying his fingers in the soft strands of blond hair. When Will's fingers unconsciously skimmed across one of Scott's nipples, he gasped into the other man's mouth and arched his back, needing that teasing touch again.
"Shit!" The expletive came from the doorway, followed by several chuckles.
The two men broke apart and Will turned so that he was back against the pillows, his cheeks flushed. "Um, morning," he said breathlessly.
Scott scrubbed a hand over his face and double checked that the sheet was still covering his modesty. "Hey, guys," he said lamely, his gaze flitting between Brent, Todd, and Marcus. "Sorry, we didn't hear the doorbell." In his peripheral vision, he could see Will's chest rising and falling with each of the harsh breaths he took, and he quickly suppressed the urge to tell the other men to fuck off so he could finish what he'd started.