The Color of Summer

by Anna Martin

  “Not romantic. Got it.”

  Max worked on getting enough lube on and in his hole, knowing it would help. Tyler had a nice cock, on the larger side, and Max was determined to be limping tomorrow.

  “Are you just watching me finger myself and jerking off?” Max asked. “Because that’s hot, but you said you’d fuck me.”

  He braced his forearms on the dresser, arched his back, and stuck his ass out.

  “Jesus,” Tyler muttered. “Pass me the lube.”

  Max rolled his eyes, even though Tyler couldn’t see him do it, and did as he was asked. Then he bounced his ass a little when Tyler didn’t hurry the fuck up.

  “Tyler,” he whined.

  He earned himself a stinging slap to his asscheek for that.

  “Ooh, I like that. Do it again.”

  Tyler slapped the other side, then grabbed Max’s hip and lined his cock up.

  “Breathe,” he demanded and pushed it in. Hard.

  “Holy shit.”

  Max rose up onto his toes, his head thrown back as he did as he was told and breathed. Tyler reached around and cupped Max’s cock in his hand. His wet hand—covered in lube—and Max’s plan to make this quick and dirty was well underway. It was not going to take him long to get off.

  Tyler bit down on Max’s shoulder, just gently, and sucked. Max really hoped it left a mark.

  “Come on,” he murmured, thrusting his hips back.

  Tyler made it easy; with Max’s arms braced on the dresser and Tyler’s hand taking care of his cock, all Max needed to do was rock back and forth, bouncing on Tyler’s dick.

  Then Tyler slapped Max’s ass again and grabbed his hip, and oh, wow.

  Tyler’s fingers tightened around Max’s cock, not too much, just a warning that he was close, and Max made it his mission to beat him there. Tyler thrust hard, catching Max’s prostate, and he rose up onto his toes again as he shot hard, coming into Tyler’s hand.

  Behind him, Tyler pressed his forehead to Max’s shoulder and came with a grunt.

  “Fuck.”

  Max couldn’t help but laugh. He felt Tyler surrender to a full-body shudder. Then he kissed Max’s shoulder and carefully pulled out.

  “I don’t know whether to thank you for not getting come all over my dresser, or be pissed that I now have a handful of your spooge.”

  “That word is even worse than what it describes.”

  Max kicked off his underwear and shorts the rest of the way and followed Tyler into the bathroom. When he checked in the mirror he was delighted to find a rapidly blooming hickey on the back of his shoulder.

  Nice.

  Tyler washed his hands, then Max ushered him out of the bathroom so he could clean himself up. That wasn’t something he needed Tyler to see.

  When he got back to the bedroom Tyler had changed into a clean shirt and some very tight black boxer-briefs that Max shamelessly admired. He picked up his own underwear and pulled them back on, then collapsed on the bed next to Tyler.

  “Can I just say, I’m really glad I’m not getting on a horse in the near future?”

  Tyler rolled his head to face Max and grinned. “I’m also pleased for you that you’re not getting on a horse in the near future. That was fun. We should do it more often.”

  “Jeez, calm down. I’m going to need at least… an hour to recover.”

  “Well, we should probably leave soon to pick up June.”

  Max glanced at his watch. “Crap. Yeah. Kiss me first.”

  Tyler obliged.

  Instead of indulging in a long make-out session, Tyler rolled onto his back and Max curled up on his side, edging closer and closer until Tyler huffed and hauled him in so they could cuddle.

  As Max ran his fingers up and down Tyler’s arm, he considered whether he might be falling in love.

  That made his brain ache, so he stopped thinking.

  Later, when they got to the school, Tyler parked and headed for the reception. Max didn’t question him, just followed, but was surprised when Tyler stopped at the desk.

  “Hey, Mrs. Wynn. I need to add someone onto Juniper’s list, if that’s okay.”

  Mrs. Wynn had gray hair in tight curls and gave Max a very suspicious look.

  “ID, please.”

  Max fumbled for his wallet and handed over his driver’s license. Very carefully, Mrs. Wynn entered his details into her computer.

  “What’s this for?” Max asked in a low voice.

  “It’s just June’s approved people list. It means you can come into the school and see her, or pick her up, or whatever.”

  “Oh. That’s good.”

  “I know school finishes next week, but if we do it now, I don’t have to remember for when school starts back.”

  “Sure.” If Tyler wasn’t going to make a big deal of it, then Max wasn’t either. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. He had no idea how many people were on June’s list.

  The elementary school was a big, old building. Max had gone to school here, Tyler probably had as well, and it still smelled like school paint and craft paper and glue. All along the halls the walls were decorated with huge murals that the kids had made themselves. Max had fond memories of being chosen to be involved in creating the murals. They changed with the seasons and kids who liked art and had good behavior were chosen to help.

  “I just want to talk with June’s teacher,” Tyler said as the bell rang and the whole school burst to life. “Make sure she’s doing okay.”

  “Of course. I can entertain kids.”

  “There’s no Finding Nemo to save you now,” Tyler teased.

  Max stuck his tongue out at him.

  By the time they reached June’s classroom, the kids were already being split into groups; those who were being collected by car, kids who were going to extracurricular activities, and a third group who just wanted to run around yelling at the top of their lungs, as far as Max could tell.

  June was one of the ones screaming, but she turned course to run straight at them when she spotted her dad.

  “Hello, Juniper,” Tyler said. Max could hear him rolling his eyes.

  “Daddy! You’re here!”

  “I am.” He ruffled her hair. “I can’t pick you up right now, kiddo. Can you please show Max your classroom while I speak with your teacher?”

  “Sure. Come on, Max.”

  Max let her take his hand and lead him around the room. They covered about a third of it before June needed to ask one of her friends something very important, so he let her go and went over to where Tyler was talking to a woman who looked way too young to be a teacher. Did they let teenagers be teachers these days?

  “This is Max,” Tyler said. “Max, this is Ms. York.”

  “Hi.” Max shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You must be the Max who’s helping Juniper with her ASL.”

  Max nodded. “That’s me. I think it’s really cool that you teach it.”

  “It’s not on the curriculum,” Ms. York admitted. “Not yet, anyway. But I’ve been working it into my classes for the past few years, since I had a student who was hard of hearing. I think it helps the children a lot.”

  “June has really enjoyed it,” Tyler said.

  “That’s good,” she said with a smile. “I honestly think June’s doing fine, Mr. Reed. I’ll keep an eye on her interaction with the other children during recess, but you shouldn’t worry.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  They rounded up June and headed back to the car.

  “Is everything okay?” Max asked in a low voice as June skipped ahead.

  “I was just concerned about a few things she’s mentioned in passing. About not wanting to go outside at recess. Ms. York thinks she’s okay, though.”

  “She seems nice,” Max said. “I’m sure she’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”

  He reached over and squeezed Tyler’s hand, just gently. The wink and smile he earned in response was totally worth it.

  Chapter Eigh
teen

  AT SEVEN thirty the next morning, Tyler stopped at a convenience store on the edge of town. His shift had just finished and he’d taken the opportunity to grab a shower at the office and change. Now he was heading home with the intention to make it in time to take June to school. His dad always hung around when Tyler was working night shifts, just in case he was running late or too tired to drive June in. But she liked it when he could take her, and he liked seeing her off for the day.

  Tyler desperately wanted coffee, and the siren of Starbucks was definitely calling his name, but any caffeine now would mess up his chance of sleeping later. Instead he wandered the aisles aimlessly for a few minutes before grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar. And a box of cake mix, so he could make a treat for June.

  Once he dropped her off at school, Tyler knew he would have six solid hours to sleep before picking June up again and doing something nice to make up for the fact that he’d missed four nights in a row with her. Tyler knew his mom thought he spoiled June. He thought her a traitor. She knew just how heavy the parental guilt could weigh.

  The first shot rang out as Tyler approached the cash register.

  He ducked instinctively, hand going to his hip. But he felt only warm denim—he’d left his gun in the lockbox in the trunk of his car.

  Crap.

  “Everybody stay down.”

  A kid started crying, and Tyler closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As quickly and as silently as he dared, he pulled out his phone and shot off an SOS message to the entire sheriff’s department.

  Tyler could hear the guy walking through the store, and the kid at the back was now being hushed by its mother. Tyler couldn’t see anyone else.

  “Are you on the phone to the fucking cops?” the guy suddenly yelled. He shot at the ceiling twice, and the woman screamed. Ceiling tile dust started to fall, and all at once several people started wailing.

  “Shut the fuck up! No one call the cops. No one—”

  Tyler stood up slowly, his hands up to show he wasn’t armed. He vaguely recognized the guy with the gun. He was in his early forties, maybe, with the washed-out, red-eyed look of an addict. Thinning hair, wide waist, and a look of desperation that Tyler didn’t like one bit.

  He especially didn’t like it when the guy turned the gun on him.

  “Hey, I’m not going to do anything stupid,” Tyler said, his hands still up. “What do you want, man? There are kids in here.”

  “You gonna play the hero, huh?”

  “No hero,” Tyler said, shaking his head. “Just want to get home.”

  “Well, you’re not. No one’s going home.” He looked around, eyes darting from one space to another. “You’re all staying here. Right here.”

  TYLER DIDN’T dare try to send another message, but others had been braver and at some point in the last hour a whole bunch of local and state police had turned up. Matthew—Tyler had managed to get his name—had confiscated all their phones and ordered the poor guy who worked behind the counter on the night shift to pull the shutters down. With only weak AC in the building, it was starting to get stuffy.

  “I want a fucking beer,” Matthew yelled at no one in particular. This convenience store didn’t carry alcohol. Tyler thought that was probably a good thing.

  Ten people, plus Tyler and Matthew, were currently holed up in the store. Two kids with their mother. She was hysterical, but holding it together for their sakes, gently shushing them and keeping them calm even as her hands shook. The younger one had wet himself and the store clerk had just grabbed a pack of diapers in the biggest size they had and handed it over to the mom. Tyler thought the boy was maybe three or four, and not in daytime diapers anymore.

  “You just want a beer?” Tyler asked. He was sitting with his back to the counter, same as the other ten people. Hands held loosely between his knees, trying to not freak out. Trying to not think of June, and his parents, and Max. Whether he liked it or not, Tyler was back on the job.

  “What do you mean, you fucking idiot, do I just want a beer?”

  Tyler looked at him calmly. “You know there’s cops out there. If you ask them for a beer, they’ll probably get you one. But you have to give up something for it.”

  Matthew’s eyes narrowed at him. “You a cop?”

  “I watch a lot of cop shows,” Tyler shot back. “You’ve got your hostages, so now you get to negotiate. That’s how it works, right?”

  “I get to negotiate,” Matthew repeated. “Yeah. You’re damn fucking right, I do.”

  Tyler hadn’t managed to get an angle on him yet, but if he was a betting man, he would say Matthew was going through some kind of family break-up. He wasn’t here for cash, not a petty criminal looking to steal. Tyler thought he might be coming down from some kind of high, which was dangerous. Addicts were unpredictable.

  He was mentally gathering as much information as he could, not sure yet what would become useful later on. Matthew was carrying what looked like a Glock 19, and he had several magazines shoved into his back pocket. That gave him plenty of firepower and he certainly wasn’t afraid to use it. His jeans were worn and he wore worker’s boots that were covered in dirt. Tyler didn’t recognize him as being a Sweetwater resident, but he’d possibly frequented the bars in town. Tyler was usually good with faces.

  “You want something, you need to tell them.” Tyler shrugged, trying to play it calm. He was far from calm. He’d been in law enforcement for six years, but nothing had ever prepared him for this.

  “If I walk out there, they’re gonna shoot me.”

  Damn right they will, Tyler thought.

  “Let the kids go, man.” Tyler shook his head. “They’re just little kids.”

  He wasn’t expecting the backhand across the face. Matthew struck him with a force Tyler definitely didn’t think he had and had to shake the stars from his head, tasting blood.

  “Just little kids? What about my fucking kids?” Matthew yelled.

  Tyler touched his fingers to his cheek. They came away dry, so he’d only bitten the inside of his cheek.

  The kids started to cry again.

  The look on Matthew’s face scared Tyler. Some serious rage bubbled inside him, and Tyler’s cheek was still stinging with the firsthand knowledge of how easily he could lash out.

  “Fine. Get out. Get out!”

  The store clerk—and Tyler hated that he didn’t know the guy’s name; he’d find out when this was over—rushed to let the shutters up. The mom gathered her kids in her arms and half stumbled toward the exit. Matthew caught sight of her just as she pushed the second kid through, and his whole body seized with rage again.

  “Not you—not—”

  The mother scrambled, screaming as shots rang out again.

  “Dumb bitch wasn’t supposed to go!” Matthew screamed.

  Tyler didn’t try to intervene.

  IT TOOK almost an hour for Matthew to calm down, during which time he managed to smash all of the fridge units and anything else that he could find. That meant there was shattered glass everywhere. Tyler was just pleased the kids were gone.

  During his rampage Tyler and the other seven hid out behind the counter. Tyler had a feeling Matthew had forgotten they were even there.

  Tyler could hear their phones buzzing up on the counter, but didn’t dare reach up and grab one. He’d read about hostage situations before, studied them, even written papers on them when he was in college. Never did he think when he took a small-town deputy job that he’d find himself involved in one. As a hostage.

  He glanced at his watch. Hours had passed since Tyler finished his shift and stopped in for a damn bottle of water and a box of cake mix. It was almost ten thirty.

  Tyler didn’t let himself think about June. Not about how he’d let her down, whether she’d been taken to school by his dad or if she was out there, waiting for news. The department had his mom listed as his next of kin, so it might have taken some time for the news to filter through that he’d been ca
ught up in a situation.

  He’d become the unofficial spokesperson of the group, because he was the only person who’d dared to speak to Matthew since it started. Tyler had been the one to get his name, to make it personal. Now he was in charge of himself, two young guys, an older couple, the guy who worked here, and two more middle-aged men. One was a truck driver from out of town. The other recognized Tyler as a deputy, but had been smart enough not to say anything.

  “Where’s my fucking beer?”

  This was the opening Tyler had been waiting for. He’d needed to let Matthew work through whatever it was that had possessed him. Now he could possibly make some progress.

  Matthew came over and slammed his hands down on the counter.

  “Where’s my fucking beer, huh? You told me if I let the kids go they’d bring me a beer.”

  “I can ask them where it is.”

  “I’m not fucking stupid,” Matthew sneered. “I let you go and you won’t come back.”

  “I could call them?”

  That seemed to take him aback. “Call the cops?”

  Tyler shook his head. “They’re already outside, man. I’ll call the sheriff’s office, they can put me through.”

  “Do that,” Matthew snapped. He stormed away again, feet crunching on the broken glass.

  Tyler stood and reached for his phone, his hand shaking, though he’d never admit it to anyone else. Rather than calling the office, he called Sheriff Coleman directly. He stayed standing, where Matthew could see him, rather than hiding again.

  Ted answered after the first ring. “Tyler.”

  Tyler blew down the line to let Ted know he’d been heard. “Hello. Can you please put me through to one of the cops at the convenience store on Twelfth.”

  “Tyler, you’re inside.”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding reassuringly at the people still huddled behind the counter. “I can wait.”

  “I’m going to ask you a few questions. Blow once down the line for yes, twice for no.”

  Tyler gave a quick blow into the microphone.

  “He’s armed.”

  Tyler signaled “yes” again.