by Aiden Bates
Pete pushed back even more as Ozzy's hand caressed his chest. His nipples were so sensitive now that the slightest touch could set him off; having Ozzy's callused fingers right on the swollen nubs made him moan out loud. He couldn't help but rock back into the hard cock pressing against him now. He needed.
Ozzy ground against him, breathing hard in Pete's ear. One hand inched toward Pete's waistband. "Can I?" he asked. Pete could feel how tightly Ozzy's jaw was clenched, as though he was trying to control himself.
He could have said so much. He could have told the full truth, and said, Whatever you want, whatever you need, but he didn't have the words right now. He could have kept it simpler and said, I'm yours.
Instead, he just said, "Yes."
Rough fingers fumbled with the button on his fly and slipped into his pants. Even the sensation of someone else's hand on his cock almost threw Pete for a loop. As it was, he didn't last long. He cried out at the first caress against his hot, demanding flesh and thrust into his alpha's hand.
He came with a loud groan. Ozzy wrapped his arms around Pete and shuddered, and then he stilled.
Pete blinked away his post orgasmic haze. "Wow." He turned around and kissed Ozzy on the mouth. He could see, and feel, the wet spot on the front of Ozzy's dress pants. He'd have to have them dry-cleaned. "Thank you for that," he said, resting his forehead against Ozzy's.
"Mmm." Ozzy looked like he was ready for a blanket. "Thank you. That was incredible. You're incredible."
They could have lit all of Sudbury from the glow coming from Pete. Ozzy was probably the perfect alpha. "I know this might have not been your plan, but you're welcome to stay."
Ozzy opened his eyes. "You wouldn't mind?"
Pete let out a little laugh. "Quite the opposite."
Ozzy blushed. "I didn't want to make assumptions. But there might be a bag in my car, just in case. You know."
Pete kissed him again. "Boy scout."
"You know it." Ozzy staggered outside to go and get his overnight bag, and Pete cleaned up the cabinets.
Screw the pots and pans. They could soak.
...
Ozzy had agreed to do a class at the indoor rock wall in Marlborough on Saturday afternoon. He didn't want to leave Pete behind, but he also knew that he couldn't bail. It just wasn't in him, to ignore a commitment like that. When they woke up the next morning, he explained the problem to Pete and left the choice up to him.
Pete gave a little chuckle. "Look, I'm not the kind of omega who needs constant attention, but I'm pretty keen on the idea of spending more time with you. What do you think of the idea of me tagging along with you and bringing my camera?" He blushed, a pretty pink color spreading out over his cheeks like the sunrise. "I mean, I think you'd be an incredible subject, you know?"
"Me?" Ozzy snickered. "I don't know about that. But if you want to take pictures of me, sure. I don't have a problem with that."
And so they showered, together. It would have been fun to explore each other's bodies a little bit more in the shower; maybe they could have drawn out everything they'd done from the night before. They didn't have time, but the promise of more later would keep them going until later.
They had a good breakfast, just eggs and toast and fruit, but it was enough to sate them both. Once they'd gotten through that, they headed out to Marlborough and the outdoor supply store with the biggest indoor rock wall in the state. Ozzy went ahead and got changed, and he introduced Pete. Pete explained what he was going to be doing, and went ahead and got ready to shoot.
Ozzy found it difficult to give the demo, at least at first. It wasn't because he wasn't a great public speaker. No, he'd given this demo at least once per month for years. It was different this time, and it was different this time because of Pete. He couldn't quite shake the knowledge that Pete was there, on site, watching. Ozzy wanted to show off, but he was also desperate to prove himself to his new boyfriend.
Once he got into the rhythm of the demo, though, he found that he was able to get back into the swing of things. He gave his lecture with his usual efficiency, and then he showed the safety equipment that he so rarely used. Then, he demonstrated one of the more difficult paths up the wall and hung from the artificial overhang for a moment before swinging himself up and over the ledge.
His hand slipped before he could get up onto the ledge, and a few of the people down at the bottom of the wall reacted. Most gasped. Some shrieked. Ozzy's own heart slipped into overdrive as he forgot about the safety equipment. It would be so easy to slip and fall. He would fall down, land on something he needed. He'd have to take time off from work. He might even lose his job.
He caught the ledge again, and pulled himself up with a flourish. His limbs still tingled with unspent energy, and he was glad that his shorts were baggy enough to hide the fact that he was half-hard underneath them. He made a halfhearted attempt to will the excessive reactions away. He'd been using all of the safety equipment that the facility required, after all. There had been no real danger, no real reason for the sudden rush of adrenaline.
It was only a halfhearted attempt. The rush was the whole reason he was here, after all.
He stood up on top of the ledge and waved at the students. Pete stood among them, camera topped by an absurdly long lens. "You all see that?" he said with a grin. "Safety equipment works. Trust it."
And then he rappelled down the side, just because he could.
The next part of the demo involved actual instruction. He couldn't pay much attention to Pete; he had to help these raw beginners with their safety harnesses and their helmets, and help them get started. Some of them didn't get past the first quarter of the wall. Some made it halfway up, laughing wildly the whole time. Two of them made it all the way up, although they took much less challenging routes to the top than Ozzy himself had.
Once the demo was over, Ozzy took another couple of trips to the top before he changed back into street clothes and headed out with Pete. As they sat and had dinner, Pete shook his head at Ozzy. "That was something else, I have to admit."
Ozzy grinned. "Thinking about giving it a try? After Osmundia's born, I mean."
"I'm not naming her Osmundia. And are you joking?" Pete scoffed. "No, I'm not thinking about taking that up after the baby shows up. That's just nuts. Rock climbing with a baby strapped to my back?"
Ozzy rolled his eyes. "You'd leave her with someone else. I'm sure your mom won't mind keeping an eye on her once in a while."
"My mom wouldn't know what to do with a baby, Ozzy. She'd be beyond confused. And my brother would be worse." Pete took a French fry. "And that assumes that I have any interest at all in hanging by one hand from an overhang like some kind of hero in an action comedy. 'Oh, hi there. I bet you're wondering how I wound up in this position.'"
"So leave the baby with my parents." Ozzy shrugged. He'd blurted the words without thinking, and blushed as soon as the words tumbled from his mouth.
Pete just smiled at him and sat back a little. "Your parents aren't keen on the idea of a baby that isn't theirs."
Ozzy wanted to ask how Pete knew that. They hadn't talked about it at all. The subject hadn't been mentioned at all. He knew that pursuing that line of inquiry would be changing the subject more than would ever be acceptable, though. "They'll get over it."
Pete looked away. "Do you want them to?"
Ozzy didn't hesitate. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." He took Pete's hand. "I absolutely do."
Pete looked back at him, fixing him with his amazing dark eyes. "Ozzy, I'm not exactly a catch. I'm pregnant with another man's kid."
"Is he a factor?"
"Well, no."
Ozzy gave Pete's hand a squeeze. He was taking a risk saying this, a huge risk, but he didn't care. "Look, Pete, I'm not going to lie. We haven't known one another long. You've worked your way into my mind like no one else has before, I don't know why that is, and I don't care. We haven't even had full-blown sex, and I can't stop thinking about you. Now, I could sit here and g
et all hung up about something you did before you even knew that I existed, or I could accept that you are who you are. You're pregnant with your own baby, Pete, and I knew that when we met."
Pete blinked back tears. "Really?
"Really."
They finished their meals and headed back to Sudbury. Pete blew Ozzy that night, taking him deep and sucking him down like it was the single greatest pleasure in his life.
They had a lazy day on Sunday, shopping and dozing together. Ozzy considered bringing Pete to services, but ultimately decided against it. After all of the arguing about Pete last week, Ozzy didn't want to have another confrontation just yet. He'd wait for his family to signal readiness. For now, he'd spend his time doing something he enjoyed, and that was spending time with his lover.
The next day signaled the start of a new workweek. Ozzy had a lot of work to do if he wanted to find a link between Harbaugh and Sierzant, and it wasn't going to be found if he spent his time mooning around over Pete.
He'd already found that most of Harbaugh's close associates were retired. Tracking them down wasn't going to be easy, either. A couple had moved away, and the department was going to dig in for a fight before they signed on to send Ozzy off to Florida or California or the Caribbean to interview a retired cop.
He drummed his fingertips on his desk, which drew a nasty snarl from Nenci. Ozzy flipped him off, but without any heat to it. Nenci was working on a challenging case of his own, and Oliver had gone on a date with a guy close to his own age. Either of these would be enough to piss him off on their own. Together, they'd turn him into an absolute bear.
"What's got you all twitchy today, Morris?" Nenci asked after a moment. "Usually you're pretty calm."
"I'm glad you think that, Nenci. Means I've got you fooled." Ozzy let out a frustrated sigh and gestured to his monitor. "I'm trying to figure out how to trace my vic's associates so I can talk to them, and so far they're all in weird places. This dude here's in La Jolla. This other one's in Fort Lauderdale. I've got another one who's living the sweet life in the Virgin Islands."
Nenci scratched his head. Then he scooted his chair over to Ozzy's side and took a look at the images on his screen. "Huh."
Ozzy turned to look at his colleague. "That's all you've got to say?"
Nenci chuckled. "Well I figured you'd have asked yourself the rest already. Little basics like, 'Huh, I wonder how a cop manages to retire to a multi-million dollar mansion in La Jolla.'" He gestured to another picture on the screen. "I was in the academy with this one, Keenan. Keenan's got two kids in college now. His wife never went to college, never had a job that paid better than a lower end hairdressing place. You want to tell me how he's living it up a few doors down from Donald Trump's summer place?"
Ozzy's jaw dropped. "Holy crap."
"Right? Except there ain't nothing holy about this." He tapped on Ozzy's screen.
Ozzy shook his head. "I… someone suggested that Harbaugh might have been… you know." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Dirty." He made his voice normal again. "I didn't want to believe it. I mean, there wasn't any evidence and that's not something you want to think about another cop."
Nenci sighed and looked away. "It's sure as hell not something you want to think about a bunch of cops." He turned back to the screen. "But it does happen, you know? Most of us are doing the job for the right reasons, but all of us have a price. Every single one." He pointed at the men on the screen. "I've been around for a good long time, you know? I've seen a lot of things on the force. Sometimes you get more than one. Sometimes you get a bunch."
"If this is true… if this is real… this is going to be ugly." Ozzy swallowed. "I mean. really ugly."
"Well, you know that all of us here in Cold Case will have your back." Nenci folded his lips together. "That goes without saying. I'd be willing to bet that Pretty Boy would be on board, and don't tell him that I said this but he's actually not half bad at finding stuff out. Plus he likes to be a pain when it comes to real cops." Nenci wrinkled his nose. "But you need to make sure that you've got everything in order, because you're going to be a very unpopular man in a lot of departments, brother."
Ozzy rubbed at his temples. He could feel it already, that little hit of adrenaline creeping in. It wasn't like a big rush, not the kind he got in a fight or when he fell from a rock wall. No, it was the kind of low-grade buzz that he got on a long-term mission. "I can cope with that. I've been in worse situations. It's not like these guys have a bunch of IEDs, right?"
"Not usually." Nenci managed a little grin. "You know what my last assignment was before Cold Case, right?"
Ozzy had always figured Nenci's last assignment had been Dour Traffic Cop. "No."
Nenci smirked. "Internal Affairs. I've seen things happen. When cops go bad, no matter what reasons they gave you, the best way to prove it is to follow the money. All this?" He waved a finger at the screen. "All this is reasonable suspicion to look a little deeper into their financials. You shouldn't have any trouble getting a warrant. And you shouldn't have any trouble getting a warrant to look into Harbaugh's either."
Nenci wheeled himself back over to his own desk. "Good luck, brother."
Ozzy stared at his screen. "Thanks, Nenci."
He spent the rest of Monday and Tuesday, digging into the histories of other known associates of Harbaugh's. It all turned out to be more of the same. Some of the cops had moved from the state police to other agencies before their retirements, most notably Worcester.
Worcester, the favorite stomping grounds of Joe Sierzant.
It wasn't proof. It wasn't even close to proof. It was a direction. It was enough to get him a warrant, which would bring him proof. Ed Amos, from Internal Affairs, expressed some concerns about investigating current officers, but Ozzy and Lt. Devlin assured him that at this point they were going after a known gangster, and only in relation to a murder investigation. The most they would do would be to snare some retired cops in their net, but no officers would actually be targeted.
In theory, Amos shouldn't mind if they tripped over a few dirty cops. The fact that he did made Ozzy very concerned.
He started digging into the more complete financial records of those officers on Wednesday. At about two o'clock, he got an email from Pete. The message was small, consisting of a link to a website and the sentence, I just wanted you to see you the way I see you.
Ozzy followed the link. It led to a private section of Pete's website, where Pete had posted pictures from Ozzy's demo on Saturday. Ozzy gasped out loud. Some of the pictures were in color. Some were black and white, but they were all breathtaking. Pete had caught his concentration as he made his ascent, and his devotion as he helped the students with their progress. Pete had made him look beautiful.
"I like that one." Langer peered over Ozzy's shoulder and pointed to one photo in particular. Ozzy's hand had just slipped from the overhang, and his face was split by a wide grin. "That one's you, bro."
Ozzy chuckled. Maybe he and Pete hadn't known one another very long, but his omega definitely knew him well. He had the picture to prove it.
Chapter Six
Pete didn't think he would ever get the stink of burning flesh out of his clothes. It probably wouldn't ever come out of his hair, either. He'd done his job. He'd rolled out of bed with the grace of a beached whale when the call had come in, and he'd kept his stoicism and his stomach when he'd gotten to the scene and flashed his press credentials to the cops holding back the crowd.
Now the scene was closed. There was nothing left to photograph. All that remained of the scene—once an old warehouse, then a concert venue, and finally a raging inferno as of eleven twenty-three last evening—was a pile of ash and rubble. He could have taken a few pictures of that, and of the steam rising from it as firefighters kept watch, but it was too dark to catch much of interest.
Now he sat in a booth at the local IHOP, drawing looks of concern and disgust from the waitress. He stank, and he knew it. He didn't have time t
o wait to get home to edit the pictures properly, and the IHOP had Wi-Fi. He would have to go with the best raw photos for his clients right now and edit for features later.
He found a handful of his best photos and quickly selected three that he could send to the client who had sent him to the scene. Another few went to the usual press wires; that would bring him in some additional income. He added captions of what was going on—the fire itself, emergency workers rushing a survivor to the ambulance, terrified loved ones on the scene begging for help and answers from impotent first responders.
The waitress arrived with his order of eggs and potatoes. It had come with a side of bacon, which he hadn't thought much about at the time. His stomach rebelled at the scent; he had to send it back with his apologies. She made a face until he explained where he'd just been. Then her face just fell and she brought him a free cup of tea.