by Rhys Ford
“If it is who the detective thinks he is, then he’s older, probably pushing seventy or eighty, and did most of his living on the street. If—and this is an if—we don’t have someone to claim his body after the investigation, I will contact you. I’ll even put you down as next of kin to be notified upon release, but it’s going to be a couple of months at the earliest.” O’Byrne stood, scooping the paper and pen up from the table. “Until that time, there’s nothing else you can do. Just wait for someone to call you. One way or another, I’ll make sure someone lets you know, okay?”
“That’s all I want,” Dallas replied.
The trip back downstairs turned into a surreal journey of uniforms, cold hallways, and white walls. If a blue-haired caterpillar popped out of a crack in the wall, Jake wouldn’t have been surprised. He held Dallas’s hand all the way down, half-afraid to let go and lose the one anchor he had to reality. Or to the dream. Standing in the middle of an elevator filled with cops and guns, he was walking out into a different life.
They pushed through the double doors, and Jake stopped at the top of the stairs leading down to the green space in front of the building. He felt different. A little worn down, but the day tore nearly everything out of him. He’d been turned around and chewed up from the inside out. He was caught on a bit of a ledge between what he needed and what he feared.
“Dal, can I ask you something?” Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jake caught himself bracing for… unpleasantness. “And this is stupid. Right now. Here. I’m scared to talk to you, and I shouldn’t be.”
“Nope, shouldn’t be at all,” Dallas replied. “But what did Val say? You’re in the habit of being afraid. It’s going to take time to unlearn that. Kind of like chewing on your fingernails. Just a bad habit. Well, at least with me. I’m the picture of tolerance and understanding. I can’t answer for the rest of the world. But go on, please.”
“There are times when I don’t know how to take you.” He eyed Dallas. “I just wanted to ask if it was okay if we didn’t go out tonight. I know you wanted to do a date thing, but truthfully….”
“Jake, honey.” Dallas drew Jake into a loose hug. “I always want you to be truthful with me.”
In front of everyone. Every cop in LA. People on the street. As if grabbing Jake and holding him was an everyday thing. Jake tightened up, rigidly firm and sick to his stomach. Then… nothing happened. No one cared.
“You okay?” Dallas prodded. “Hey, I’m here. Whatever you need, J, I’m here.”
“I know.” He began to breathe again, relaxing in Dallas’s embrace. “I just think… today’s been… long and weird. Your mom’s here, and… you sure you want to be around me tonight?”
“I can’t think of anyplace else I’d rather be.” He chuckled. “Besides, my mom’s going to spend the evening with her other daughter, Celeste. She understands today’s about you. If you want me to drop you off, then—”
“I don’t want you to drop me off.” Jake’s tongue was suddenly an unforgiving lump in his mouth, and he forced it to move, forming words he needed to get out before he choked on them. “I want you to stay tonight. I think what I need… all I need… is you.”
Sixteen
IN THE end, they danced.
Or the beginning, Dallas corrected himself, because he had no intention of ever letting Jake go.
The music was soft, instrumental and unfamiliar, but the rise and fall of notes was a waterfall of comfort while they swayed back and forth behind the couch. Jake’s bare feet brushed his every few steps, an oddly gentle, surprising caress Dallas loved. They’d fumbled at first after Dallas held his hand out to Jake, asking him for a dance, and when they’d come together, it’d been a brief skirmish of elbows, knees, and chins before they found where they fit into one another. A few shuffles in and Jake finally relaxed, his arms loosening slightly around Dallas’s waist, and then his head drifted down, resting on Dallas’s left shoulder.
Dallas simply breathed, taking Jake’s clean scent into him, then holding it there, lulled by the man’s warm body rocking against him.
Outside, Los Angeles faded into the rising night, the clash of cars and people held back by the apartment’s thick brick walls, and the drop in temperature meant cranking the windows closed to keep out the chilly snap and a promised heavy morning dew. There was only a single floor lamp on, an old-fashioned tree with a heavy burlap-ring shade, but the fabric diffused the bulbs, turning the light golden and warm.
“Your smile takes me to the stars,” Dallas sang off-key to the music. He’d never had a talent for singing, and normally it took more than a few shots to get him in front of a mic, even for karaoke, but something silly bloomed in him. Surrounded by Jake’s life, holding the man in his arms, Dallas serenaded the world with what was in his heart. “I love the feel of your kiss, the moon shining in your eyes.”
Jake made a muffled noise against Dallas’s throat, a garbled something resembling a snort if Dallas heard it right. “I didn’t know this song had words.”
“It doesn’t. I’m making it all up.” Dallas kissed a spot on Jake’s temple where his hair stuck up in a tuft. He turned, keeping Jake close. “You just make me want to sing.”
“You’re a really crappy singer,” he teased, then yelped when Dallas pinched his ass. “Hey!”
“Critics, like children, should be seen and not heard.” He sniffed in mock offense.
“Kind of like your singing.” Jake stepped back quickly, avoiding Dallas’s intended light pat on his rear. “Really, you’re kind of… horrible. Like dog howling bad.”
“You, Jacques Moore, need a broader musical education,” Dallas said, slowly stalking Jake as he backpedaled across the floor. “Come back here. I’m not done dancing with you.”
It didn’t take much to grab Jake, a simple snag of his T-shirt and Dallas drew him back in. They were on the edge of the shadows, cloaked in a milky gray. Dallas’s soul filled with a brightness he didn’t know he could take when he wrapped one arm around Jake’s waist and their hips bumped, the buttons on their jeans clacking in a dull chime loud enough to make Jake laugh.
“God, I love hearing you do that… laugh,” Dallas whispered. “The things you do to me, J. Just… everything you are makes me feel so good. What the hell did I do without you in my life?”
The ashes of Jake’s past were falling away, burnt-off crusts they were both chipping away at. He was cracked beneath the hurt. Dallas knew that, felt that anguish sometimes when Jake grew melancholy or his hazel eyes went dark with echoes of remembered pain. But the healing was there too, bright pink bits shining out of the tragedy of Jake’s injured soul. He grew stronger every day, taking small steps toward trusting others as he reached out to Dallas to steady him.
“I promised not to take advantage of you, Mr. Moore, but….” Jake’s arousal pressed into Dallas’s leg, a lengthening siren call begging to be answered. “You are making it very difficult.”
“Can you be taking advantage of me if I start it?” He cocked his head, the shadows curling over his strong, handsome face, and Dallas’s heart twinged at Jake’s playful smile. “Just curious. How does that work?”
“Kinda works like this,” Dallas murmured, leaning into Jake. “Let me know what you think.”
It was their first real kiss. A touching of their mouths, then a deepening of their connection. It was funny how Dallas had never thought about a kiss as being important or life changing before he brought his lips to Jake’s.
Dallas’s existence became a small tiny sliver of the universe, holding enough starshine in its folds to set his soul on fire. His body thrummed with energy, aching with a need he couldn’t let loose. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Everything he knew about Jake’s experiences told Dallas to go slow, to coax and let the other man lead them down whatever path he wanted to take, and a part of him—that insane, needy part of him—cried out to quench its heat in Jake’s soul.
Just from the brush of his lips on Jake’s parted mouth.
Time needed to slow down, crawl past each second so he could savor everything—feel everything—happening to him as Jake pressed forward. Dallas closed his eyes and drank in the single most important moment of his life.
It was the little things Dallas wanted to remember: the slick of his hands on Jake’s back when he slid his fingers under Jake’s shirt, the taste of lemon soda on Jake’s tongue, and the feel of his teeth on the plump of Dallas’s lip. Their kiss continued, a slow savoring of their bodies, and Jake tentatively explored the span of Dallas’s ribs, skirting over the bone and down to the rise of his hip. Dallas held in an aroused gasp when Jake’s fingers dipped below his waistband, barely gaping his jeans. There was the feel of beard scruff on his palms and the tiny thump-beat of Jake’s pulse beneath his thumb when he stroked at Jake’s throat.
Jake trembled as Dallas caressed his spine, a feathery exploration of the powerful strength of Jake’s muscled back. He moaned when Dallas nipped at his lower lip and clenched his ass under Dallas’s palm as he continued his skimming journey of Jake’s lean form.
But the feel of him, the visceral feel of Jake’s long, hard body fitting into his and the heat of their mouths sending shivering aches through Dallas’s spine, those were delicious moments he needed to burn into his memory to hold on to for as long as he lived.
It took every ounce of Dallas’s willpower to pull away, ending their kiss, and the next breath he took ran stale without the taste of Jake on it.
“Jesus,” Jake gasped, leaning his forehead against Dallas’s. “You’re going to break me.”
“Can’t have that,” Dallas whispered. “Not when you’ve worked so hard to unbreak you. Can’t I just… try to make you lose your mind?”
“Yeah, that’s kind of what I’m hoping for.” Jake exhaled, a shudder working through him. Then his lashes dropped, hiding his eyes, and as gently passionate as the kiss he’d just shared with Dallas, he asked softly, “Will you make love to me, Dal? Right now?”
HIS BRAIN fixated on the stupidest things. Jake knew that. He dealt with it every day. From getting caught in the negative space inside a line of metal to the whisper of a song lyric surfacing over and over while he worked, his mind did funny things to cope and deal with the things he couldn’t quite think about.
Like the moment he and Dallas tumbled down onto his mattress, all Jake could think about was when he’d changed his sheets last.
“Dallas, I….”
There were too many memories, faded echoes of a tongue pushing into his mouth and fingers, dry and cracked, catching on his skin, but Jake burned for the man half lying on him. Dallas’s weight was more blanket than burden, familiar and erotic with a bit of mystery Jake longed to explore. Simple things were worth discovering: the softness of Dallas’s skin under his jaw, the scent of his hair after a shower, and even the noises he made when he slept during a thunderstorm. All things Jake needed to know, bits of Dallas he could hold in his heart to ward off the cold fears determined to crawl up from his past-forged hell.
Dallas rose, sliding off of Jake’s hips, and sat back, his knees pressing into Jake’s side. One hand remained on Jake’s abdomen, fingers wrapped into Jake’s shirt, caught halfway up his belly. He didn’t need any more light from the lamp in the living space to see Dallas’s look of concern. He could feel the tension in Dallas’s body, taut and alert to Jake’s needs.
“What is it, babe? Are you okay?” The back of Dallas’s hand brushed up Jake’s stomach, following the curve of his ribs. “Do you need me to stop?”
If Jake’d needed anything more to convince him Dallas would never hurt him, gouge into him as others had, it was that moment when he heard the tremble in Jake’s voice and slid his weight from Jake’s body.
Jake knew the logistics of sex. Experienced it in the hands of someone who hadn’t cared about Jake’s pain or heard him when he cried out. Dallas’s tenderness coaxed out the arousal in Jake, strengthening the rush of blood coursing into his cock until Jake wept from the tightness of his skin rubbing on his underwear. He wasn’t going to let the past cripple his need for Dallas, and he certainly wasn’t going to back away from wanting the one man who he’d come to… love. A man who’d taught him how to feel love when he’d spent his life crawling through a black wasteland of apathy and hate.
“I wanted to tell you….” Jake hitched in a breath, getting up onto his elbows. “Wanted to say I’m glad you’re here. With me. Now.”
“Babe, I’ll be here forever.” Dallas’s kiss was stunning, an incredible burst of masculine essence with a drop of caramel-sweet affection. “If you’ll have me.”
“Aren’t you supposed to have me?” Jake teased, then grunted when Dallas playfully beat his head once on Jake’s chest. “Seriously, will you? Just… please?”
“Any time you’re not feeling it,” he whispered through a soft kiss. “You tell me. And I stop. Okay?”
Jake couldn’t answer, wouldn’t answer. Dallas’s words were more for his reassurance than anything else, and he nodded, then lost his mind when Dallas’s teeth lightly dug into his chest and his tongue moistened Jake’s hardening nipple through the thin fabric of his T-shirt.
“We need to get us naked,” Dallas growled. Then he raised his head, staring at Jake. “Shit and hell, lube. Condoms. Shit. I hadn’t planned for this, babe. I—”
“Drawer. Paper bag. White.” Jake nodded toward the nightstand. “I figured we’d get around to it someday. I just—”
“When did you buy these?” Dallas dug around the drawer and came up with a book. “Hmmm, okay… some light reading. A Scottish weredog named Jeremy and werewolf princes? Sounds cool. And it’s an actual book. I love that about you. You buy real books.”
“I like paper, okay?” Jake pushed his toes into Dallas’s shin. “Like the bag you’re looking for. Grab the bag, Dal.”
“Bag has been grabbed,” Dallas muttered, crinkling the paper for Jake to hear. Then he sat back and let out a long sigh. “Fuck, you are so… damned… beautiful, Jake.”
No one ever looked at Jake like Dallas did.
Probably no one ever would.
“Seriously, I can’t even handle how gorgeous you are sometimes, love.” Dallas lowered himself down slowly, stretching out next to Jake. Tucking the bag up near the mound of pillows pushed up against the headboard, Dallas chuckled when Jake bit into his upper arm. “You, Jacques, have some very sharp teeth. Let’s see if we can’t find something else to do with your mouth. But first, clothes. Those need to go.”
They took their time, shedding fabric from their bodies and tasting the skin underneath with slow licks and tiny nibbles. Jake discovered a tiny starfish tattoo on the small of Dallas’s back, a memento of a summer he spent in the Greek isles. He felt Dallas’s tears hit the curve of his back when his lover saw the pale, thin scars striping his back, marks left from his father’s enraged beatings, then shattered under the punch of his emotions when Dallas traced each one with a finger, kissing the end of his trails and promising Jake he would help make things all better.
“You do,” Jake gasped when Dallas’s oiled fingers began to dip into the recess between his cheeks. “Make it all better.”
He’d never been much of a talker, but Dallas brought out the words Jake never seemed to be able to find with anyone else, not even himself. It was easy being with Dallas, a comfortable roll of personality and soul around his wounded, broken self. Then there were times—like now—when Dallas’s touch set him on fire and Jake wondered if he’d ever survive another kiss.
A kiss? Hell, he didn’t think he’d survive Dallas’s delicate brush of fingers around his hole or the heat of his mouth right before he closed his lips over Jake’s cock head.
“Let me do this for you, babe,” Dallas whispered around a mouthful of Jake. His fingers danced lightly around Jake’s balls and crease, finding sensitive spots to stroke and heat. “A
nd if you need me to stop, I will. This is about you tonight, J, and I want to make it good.”
Dallas’s mouth left a wicked, moist trail across Jake’s body, his tongue finding tingling, erotic spots Jake didn’t even know he had. He wanted to explore Dallas, but he couldn’t do much more than moan and fist his hands into Dallas’s thick black hair, mewling and needy. His skin tightened, nearly overwhelmed by the sensations Dallas left behind in his wanderings, and when Dallas slowly eased his fingers into Jake’s body, Jake held on tight and prayed he could ride out the electrical storm Dallas summoned from deep within him.
He was safe. It was silly to think passion—this deep passion Dallas evoked—was safe. Yet there he was, roiling in the drowning tide of his body’s responsive keen to Dallas’s hands and mouth, and lying in the middle of the tempest, Jake was safe.
There was no pain. A bit of discomfort when his body learned to give way to Dallas’s light pressures and a touch of overstimulation around his cock head when his balls began to churn, needing their release, but nothing Jake didn’t love having done to him. The sharp, bitter ache of being handled too much faded nearly as quickly as it started when Dallas felt him shift, the man’s mouth pulling free of Jake’s shaft, leaving with a sensual lick as if promising to return. The push of his flesh around Dallas’s fingers yanked a gasp from Jake’s throat, and his mind fought the unfamiliar intrusion for a moment. Then the shadows parted, giving Jake a glimpse of Dallas’s wild blue eyes, and he knew he’d come home.
Dallas was home. A shelter in the storm Jake’d been caught in since the moment he drew his first breath. Every step up until the moment he’d lost his heart to the smirking, lanky Dallas had been a slog through broken glass and torn dreams. Dallas wasn’t salvation. He was something more. A lifeline for Jake to grab, a man who’d known Jake needed to find his own strength. Dallas had thrown a rope to a drowning man, a lifeline to help Jake find the shore in what he’d thought was an endless bitter ocean.