by Pandora Pine
“I thought you liked it when I was unpredictable.” Ronan raised a skeptical eyebrow, as if he were wondering if Tennyson had been straight with him when he’d confessed how much Ronan’s unpredictability turned him on.
Ten loved it when Ronan was unpredictable, especially in the bedroom. One minute they could be going at missionary and then before Tennyson could say, “Sweet Georgia Brown,” Ronan was flipping him over and doing him doggie.
“Ten?” Ronan’s voice was tinged with amusement.
“Hmm?” Shit, Ronan had caught him lost in his own memories. What the hell were they talking about? Oh yeah, unpredictability. “Yes, I like it when you’re unpredictable. Do you think we should sleep together? I mean…”
“Afraid I’ll ravage you in your sleep, princess?” Ronan’s devilish grin was back.
Actually, Ten was afraid he’d be the one not able to keep his hands to himself. “Of course not.” Tennyson rolled his eyes. “You know I didn’t want to end our relationship. I was just worried about you. About how Josh’s confession was affecting you and our day-to-day lives as a couple.”
Ronan nodded. “I don’t want that piece of shit to ruin…us. To ruin what we were building together.”
“Neither do I.”
Ronan stood up from his seat again, wiping his mouth on a paper napkin. “But here’s the deal, Ten, we are hip deep in the Justin Wilson case. It’s becoming more apparent that he isn’t the only victim of the man who killed him. As much as I want to fix whatever it is that Josh broke inside of me, I can’t take the time away from Justin and those other boys to do that right now. Please tell me that you understand that for what it is and not just as another excuse.” Ronan pulled Ten out of his seat and cupped the sides of his face in his big hands.
God help him, Ten did see that. He agreed that helping these homeless boys was so much more important than whatever was going on between him and Ronan, but having said that, was it worth putting his heart on the line again now to be with the same old Ronan?
Oh, fuck yeah! Without wasting another second, Tennyson reached up on tiptoe to kiss Ronan. He felt those large hands tighten on his face and heard the cop moan against his lips.
“Jesus, Ten. I missed this. Missed you.” Ronan scooped him up in his arms and carried him toward the bedroom.
Ten kissed and licked the salty skin of Ronan’s neck. He’d missed this too. Not just the sex, but the physical closeness.
Bouncing when Ronan plopped him down on the bed, Tennyson watched spellbound while Ronan stripped out of his clothes. First to go was his blue button-down. It seemed like days ago when he’d taken off his tie in the car and undone a few buttons so his outfit wouldn’t scream “detective” when they went to approach Justin’s friends.
Next to go was Ronan’s wife beater, putting miles of golden skin on display. Tennyson licked his lips.
“Like what you see?” Ronan waggled his eyebrows.
All Tennyson could do was nod. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth he’d end up drooling all over himself.
Ronan went for the button on his pants and then the zipper. Moments later, he was kicking out of his underwear and fisting his cock.
Tennyson groaned. His own cock was just as hard as Ronan’s and digging into the rough material of his jeans.
“It’s gonna be hard to fuck you if you’re still dressed, Nostradamus.” Ronan’s voice was low and full of gravel.
The tone of his lover’s voice almost made him come in his pants. Shit, did he even know how to take his own clothes off? Shaking his head, Ten willed his hands to work. He managed to get his plaid shirt up toward his head, but couldn’t get it off.
Ronan snickered. “Here, let me help. You forgot to undo the top button.”
Moments later, Ten was free. The cool air of the bedroom felt nice against his skin which felt like it was on fire.
Ronan ran his right hand down Tennyson’s chest and stomach. He grabbed the waistband of Tennyson’s jeans and worked the button and zipper before roughly jerking the denim down his legs and off.
“Think you can handle the rest?” Ronan was smirking.
Could he? Tennyson pushed at his boxer briefs, but couldn’t seem to get them past his dick. Fuck, he was useless. All he could think about was getting Ronan’s beautiful cock into one of his holes, mouth, ass, it didn’t matter so long as it was fucking him, now.
“Poor thing,” Ronan tisked his tongue and moved to untangle Ten’s boxers from his dick.
“Thank Christ. Fuck me. Now!” Ten panted. He wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few quick pumps. The friction of his hand took away some of his immediate need to come, but knew the relief wasn’t going to last long.
“Impatient, huh?” Ronan dug through his nightstand draw for the lube.
“Two weeks without you feels like forever.”
Ronan climbed up on the bed, kneeling between Tennyson’s legs. “You have no idea how much I missed you, babe.”
Tennyson had a feeling he knew all too well. There were periods of all-out longing punctuated by guilt and grief over having been the one who pushed Ronan away. None of that mattered now. Tennyson was back in Ronan’s bed where he belonged and if Ronan would stop talking and start lubing is cock, they could get on with it. “Less talk. More lube.”
“I’ve never seen you this needy before.” Ronan grinned, but thankfully obeyed. He slicked his cock up and smeared the rest against Tennyson’s most sensitive skin. Instead of taking the time to prepare Ten for his invasion, he rubbed the blunt head of his dick against Tennyson’s twitching hole. “Is this what you want?”
“God, Ronan. Fuck, yes!” Tennyson moaned and tried to scoot forward to impale himself on Ronan’s shaft.
Ronan’s eyes darkened. He set his hands on Tennyson’s hips to hold his squirming lover in place. “You been using your toys while we’ve been apart?”
Tennyson bit his bottom lip and nodded. Tennyson had a toy or two when he and Ronan had first met. During their time together, Ronan had added to Ten’s collection of playthings.
Ronan pushed ahead slowly, his eyes seemed to be studying Tennyson’s for any signs of distress.
Ten cried out when Ronan pushed through the tight ring of muscle. He’d practiced this on himself half a dozen times since he and Ronan had been apart, but it had never felt like this before. So real, so right. “Ronan…” Ten whispered. “Fucking God, Ronan.”
“I know, babe. I feel it too.” Ronan kept pushing forward with steady force until he’d bottomed out. He rested his forehead against Tennyson’s and took a few deep breaths. “I need a minute or I’m gonna come on the spot. You’re so damn tight.”
Tennyson snorted. He used this time to touch every inch of Ronan’s skin that he could reach. He pressed kisses to the puckered skin marking the gunshot on Ronan’s shoulder, courtesy of Manuel Garcia last summer. His hands moved over the hard planes of Ronan’s back, his finger sliding past the twin puckered exit wound, and down past the smoother skin until he reached Ronan’s rock-hard ass.
Ronan pulled back and kissed Ten. “You ready?”
“Always.”
Ronan shifted his hips to the side and slid backward before rocking his hips forward again. Both men moaned in concert. “Fuck, Ten. I missed this.”
Tennyson knew Ronan meant the sex, but his whimsical mind chose to think he meant the way their souls were joined as one just as their bodies were. “Harder,” Ten pleaded.
“Bossy bastard, but you read my mind.” Ronan kissed Ten hard and tightened his hold on his lover’s hips. He set a pounding pace, readjusting his hips until Tennyson cried out in pleasure.
“Fuck, Ronan, I’m close.” Tennyson gripped Ronan’s ass tighter.
“Me too, babe. Let go and come for me. I’m with you.” He moved his right hand from Ten’s hip to wrap around his cock, jacking him off as his hips continued to move at the same pace.
“Ronan,” Tennyson gasped. He kept his eyes open when his cock jerk
ed in Ronan’s fist. He could feel the instant when Ronan’s dick pulsed deep inside of him.
“Oh, God, Ten,” Ronan moaned. Resting his face in the crook of his lover’s neck.
Ten thought he could feel wetness hitting his neck, and had a feeling it wasn’t Ronan’s sweat. He wrapped his arms around Ronan and held him tight. This was an emotional night for him too, being back here in Ronan’s bed, in his lover’s arms. If his big, burly cop got a bit emotional about their reunion, so much the better. It was Ronan’s anger that had driven them apart in the first place. Maybe this really was a new beginning for them.
18
Ronan
The Tennyson and Ronan reunion tour hadn’t ended until the wee hours of the morning. Ronan had to admit that even though he was tired, he felt absolutely exhilarated, almost like he was twenty years old again.
His barking knees and sore dick attested to the fact that he was indeed thirty years old, but he felt twenty and that’s all that mattered.
Today was going to be a rough day. They were scheduled to meet with Vann Hoffman, the medical examiner who’d done the second autopsy on Justin Wilson and Tennyson always had a hard time seeing dead bodies. Ronan was going to need all the pep in step he could get.
“Thank goodness I left some clothes here, huh?” Tennyson walked out of the bathroom freshly shaved and showered.
They’d slept blissfully naked last night, but if Tennyson hadn’t left clothes at Ronan’s apartment, he would have been stuck wearing yesterday’s clothes. The only alternative would have been to wear one of Ronan’s too-big shirts. Everyone would have known where Ten had spent the night then. Not that Ronan would have minded one bit.
Every time Vann saw Tennyson, he made it very clear he’d like to throw Ten over his shoulder and carry him off like some damn caveman. Tennyson, for his part, giggled like some teenage girl getting hit on by Harry Styles.
Ronan looked up from the list of names he was studying at the kitchen table. “You look great, Ten.”
A faint blush streaked across Tennyson’s cheeks. “You’re just saying that because you fucked me silly last night.”
“And most of this morning too.” Ronan got up from the table to kiss Ten good morning. “It’s true, babe. You’re gorgeous and you know it. Vann Hoffman knows it too.” Ronan wrapped Ten in a big hug.
“Oh! So that’s what this is about. You’re trying to rub your scent on me, so Vann knows I’m yours.” Ten wiggled weakly in Ronan’s arms.
“That’s it, struggle a bit, so more of my aftershave gets on your clothes.” Ronan laughed.
“As if I’d go out with him. I’m having a hard enough time with just you. What the hell would I do with two men?” Ten rolled his eyes.
Ronan raised an eyebrow. “You disappoint me, Ten. Uh, how about the doggie style-blow job? Or the daisy chain?”
Ten choked. “What? You mean a three-way?”
Ronan bent double laughing.
“Only if I could be the meat in that man sandwich.” Ten laughed along with Ronan.
Over my dead body… But so long as Ten’s mind was off the idea that they were going to hear the autopsy report of a dead seventeen-year-old boy, he’d take the laughter.
An hour later, they were walking down the corridor to the morgue. Ronan always felt naked without his gun. He had to turn it in to the Suffolk County Deputy manning the metal detector upstairs.
Tennyson was quiet and fidgety beside him, which Ronan hated more than being without his gun. He felt less able to protect Tennyson in case of trouble, which he wasn’t expecting at the morgue, but still, he hated not being able to comfort Ten.
“God, I hate this.” Ten shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.
Ronan raise an eyebrow. “Think about how the people feel who end up on Vann’s table.”
“Good point. I’ll shut up now.” Ten straightened his spine and took a deep breath.
Ronan opened the door and said a silent prayer hoping that Vann had some evidence that would help them find the depraved bastard who did this to Justin.
“Have either one of you ever heard of Broughan Beals?” Doctor Vann Hoffman asked as Ronan and Tennyson walked toward the white shrouded autopsy table where the ME stood.
“What’s that? A new shampoo?” Ronan shot Ten a confused look.
“God, you’re a caveman. How can you stand to share a bed with him, Tennyson?” Vann looked completely offended.
“Who said that I was?” Tennyson asked. He shoved his shaking hands into his back pockets.
“You did! Christ, you’re blushing more than a virgin bride on her wedding night.” Vann rolled his eyes dramatically. “Broughan Beals. Surely you know who he is, Tennyson. You weren’t raised by wolves.”
Ronan growled low in his throat and took a half-step toward the doctor.
“Whoa, boy,” Ten whispered. “The name rings a bell, but I don’t know why.”
“Oh, please.” Ronan snorted. “You don’t know who he is any more than I do. You probably thought Broughan Beals was some kind of high-end granola.”
“He’s an energy healer,” Vann said on an exhausted sounding sigh.
“Oh, yeah! He was here in Boston. Over at the Wang Theater or something. They kept showing commercials for his appearance on television, with that freaky music. He’s local right?” Ten asked., sounding happy to talk about anything other than what was under the white shroud on the last autopsy table.
Vann threw a hand in the air as if he had no clue. “From down the Cape or something. New Bedford, I think.”
It was Ronan’s turn to smirk. He might not have recognized the energy healer’s name off the top of his head, but he sure as hell noticed what had the medical examiner’s panties in twist. “So, you want to jump his bones, huh?”
“What? Please! You’re even more of a caveman than I thought. This lunatic thinks he can lay hands on people like some modern-day Jesus Christ and poof! You’re cured. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Says who?” Ten asked.
“Every doctor from Hippocrates to me, that’s who.” Vann was getting more wound up by the second.
Ronan laughed. He loved seeing the usually unflappable Vann Hoffman, M.D. with a bee in his bonnet like this. “You went to see his show, I take it?”
“Yes,” Vann said on a sigh.
“Why, if you think he’s a fraud?” Tennyson grinned.
“That’s why. I needed to see his chicanery for myself. From the front row...” Vann bit his bottom lip.
“Oh. My. God!” Ronan laughed. “You went to see him up close and personal, hoping you could get up close and personal. You’re not fooling me for a second.”
“Me either,” Ten chimed in. “Did he lay hands on you and POOF?”
Ronan burst out laughing.
“Funny guys, really funny.” Vann crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“There was no poof. He wouldn’t be in such a shitty mood if he got some,” Ten observed.
“Says a man speaking from experience?” Vann grumped.
“Guilty as charged!” Ronan crowed.
“You too, I suppose?” Vann pointed to Tennyson.
“Unlike Ronan, I don’t kiss and tell.” Tennyson shot Ronan the hairy eyeball.
“That means yes. Christ.” Vann sighed, scrubbing a hand over his short afro.
“Did you at least get his number or arrange for a private session? Maybe he could lay hands on you and pull that stick out of your ass.” Ronan asked when he stopped laughing. “Or at the very least push it in deeper.”
“No, I didn’t get his number. Fuck off.” Vann looked like he thought himself an idiot for not thinking of that.
“He’s got a website, Vann,” Tennyson suggested. “Maybe he’d have coffee with you if you didn’t lead with your thoughts on him being a fraud.”
“Maybe.” Vann sounded like a disappointed kindergartener who was told it was nap time. “Okay, on to business.”
Ronan watched Tenny
son’s buoyant mood deflate before his eyes. “Did you find anything the first autopsy missed?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Vann was all business now. “The Essex County Morgue hadn’t sent away any of the samples for DNA testing. I did that this morning. I put a rush on the results, but who knows how long that will take.”
“What possible DNA samples do you have?” Tennyson asked.
Ronan couldn’t help feeling proud of him. The last time they did this, Ten was practically afraid of his own shadow in this room.
“We had fingernail clippings, oral, penile and anal swabs.”
Ten nodded. “Any signs he was, ah...”
“Raped?” Vann asked gently. “Yes, he was orally and anally sodomized, repeatedly. It’s my supposition he was repeatedly choked with the murderer’s penis causing your victim to pass out and regain consciousness over a period of several hours before he was finally killed with a sharp force trauma injury to his neck. Cause of death was exsanguination.”
“Jesus Christ,” Ronan muttered. “The killer is a sexual sadist.”
“Yes, Ronan. Your killer did something that I’ve never seen before and I hope I never see again.”
“What’s that?” Ronan reached out for Tennyson’s hand hoping that whatever piece of evidence the ME was about to reveal wasn’t too gruesome for Ten to handle.
“He wrote the word ‘ELEVEN’ in his own ejaculate across the victim’s chest. I only saw it when I used a black light to examine the body. It wasn’t in the original autopsy, so I’m guessing the Essex County ME didn’t use this tech to examine him.”
Ronan shivered. If Justin Wilson was eleven, that meant there were ten other young men out there waiting to be discovered and identified.
19
Tennyson
“That’s pretty brazen, don’t you think?” Tennyson asked, breaking the silence in the Mustang.
“What is?” Ronan’s voice sounded thick, as if he’d been a million miles away.
“Leaving biological evidence on Justin’s body.” They were on their way back to Salem to meet with Carson and Cole. Ronan had just pulled onto Conant Street which meant they were seconds away from the store. In the course of the hour drive back from Boston, this was the one thing Tennyson hadn’t been able to get out of his head.