by Brandon Witt
Marlon winced, a memory of digging his fingers into Vahin’s shoulders coming back to him. He glanced over. Sure enough, tiny bruises had formed, four on each side, on Vahin’s traps, right below his neck. Marlon reached out but stopped himself from making contact. “Sorry about the bruises.”
“Didn’t even notice. And again, you don’t hear me complaining. Though I can’t do a repeat performance at the moment, as much as I’d like to.”
Despite himself, at Vahin’s words, Marlon felt his cock begin to fill once more. Damn, he wished he could remember more of last night’s events.
Vahin noticed as well. He glanced down at the rapidly rising tent of Marlon’s lap, then looked back up into his eyes. Holding Marlon’s gaze, Vahin reached over and slowly pulled the sheet down Marlon’s legs, making the fabric graze across his cock, which rose the rest of the way. Marlon sucked in a breath.
With a curve of his lips, Vahin finally broke eye contact and lowered his head.
There was a second of warm air, and then wet heat enveloped Marlon’s dick. He let his head fall back. Fuck yes.
With his lips around Marlon’s shaft, Vahin moaned, long and satisfied.
Marlon let out a moan of his own and shut his eyes. The world lurched, and his eyes flew open once more. The room spun.
He put his hand on the back of Vahin’s head, holding him still. “Stop. Dear God, stop.”
Vahin quit bobbing and sat back up when Marlon removed his hand. “Sorry, I thought—”
Marlon shook his head, which was a mistake, then groaned. He lifted a finger and took several breaths, each one deeper than the last. Finally he looked at Vahin. “Sorry. Thought I was going to throw up. As much as I want you to do that, I don’t think the hangover is going to allow that to happen.”
Vahin seemed relieved. “Oh. Well, thank you for not barfing on my head. I appreciate that.” He smirked, then glanced at the clock. “Actually I don’t have enough time anyway. I’m supposed to meet Pat at the thrift store. She wanted help in picking—” He made a waving motion with his hand. “Never mind. You don’t need to know all that. But I’m meeting her at twelve thirty, so I should get going.” His expression altered, and he seemed to be debating something with himself. After a second, he met Marlon’s eyes again. “Not to sound weird, but I’d like to do this again, maybe when you’re not trashed. I work for the next seven nights, but I have tonight off. Any chance that sounds like fun?”
Again that mix of emotions. The last thing he wanted was a date. But he really did want to experience Vahin in a way he could remember.
Vahin felt his hesitation, obviously. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to freak you out. Not a big deal.” He moved to get out of bed.
Marlon spoke before his brain had a chance to intervene. “Yeah. Tonight would be good.”
Vahin paused, then stood and smiled down at him. “Great.” He appeared to consider things again. “Tell you what. I don’t wanna pressure you, so I’m gonna get dressed and head out. You take your time, eat the toast, do a coffee refill, and try to not throw up all over my apartment. If you still want to see me tonight, leave me your number on the kitchen counter or something, and I’ll text you about when and where. If you don’t”—he shrugged—“no harm, no foul. I had a great time.” Another smile and he turned and began pulling on the jeans off the floor.
Marlon stared at him, more out of amazement than staring at that perfect body. “Seriously?”
Vahin paused, having just zipped up his jeans.
“You’re going to leave me in your apartment? You don’t even know me.”
He gave a wicked grin and shrugged, then grabbed the T-shirt off a nearby chair. “You’re a cop. If you rob me blind, I’ll find you and have you arrest yourself. And I’ll use the handcuffs on you instead of the other way around.”
“I know this isn’t the best date option Denver has to offer, but it shouldn’t take too long, and there’s some great restaurants to choose from.” Vahin pointed toward the opposite block. “Like that Mexican place there—very good. Their nachos aren’t as great as Mary’s, but the rest is better than decent.”
Marlon followed Vahin’s motion but didn’t really inspect the restaurant. Words seemed too hard to find, partly due to the lingering hangover, but mostly because he was on a date. On an actual date, in public. How long had it been? Much longer than his most recent string of hookups, and even those had grown distant by this point. He’d been nervous pulling up to Vahin’s apartment, still marveling that he’d left his number, but it was nothing compared to when Vahin announced they were going to the First Friday Art Walk on Santa Fe. He should’ve suggested something else, anywhere else, but he hadn’t been able to think of a plausible reason quickly enough.
Vahin either didn’t pick up on Marlon’s nerves or was simply too polite to point them out. Probably the latter. He did a good job of holding up their conversation and not letting it wither and die, even if his topics were growing more forced by the minute. “Pat and I didn’t finish shopping for dishes today. She had to go in for her shift at the hospital. We kinda got carried away with having more fun than actual shopping.” He gave a forced smile. “I can’t say I enjoy shopping all that much, but I thought it might be fun with you. A good way to get to know you better. I mean if looking at tacky, mismatched dishes together doesn’t tell you something about the other person, then something’s wrong.” Vahin flushed slightly, his words tapering off. He angled toward one of the stores. “Let’s check here. If I don’t find any dishes that I want in the next one or two places, we’ll call it and grab dinner.”
The art walk happened once a month. Every one of the antique shops and art galleries opened their doors to the thousands of people wandering around sipping wine and sampling free tapas offered by the restaurants scattered among the stores. In truth, even though they were shopping for Mary’s, Marlon realized Vahin had picked a perfect date. One that was low pressure and had a constantly shifting environment and endless topics for conversation. Perfect if the poor guy weren’t on a date with a cop. The influx of people meant an increase of officers patrolling the area. All Marlon needed were rumors rushing through the police force about him on a date with a man.
Stepping inside the antique shop offered a little relief. Few people, less open. Not perfect but better. Marlon glanced back at the open front door, as if his entire department might come waltzing through. He’d said yes to the date, to his own astonishment. He needed to make an effort before the whole thing imploded and Vahin told him to fuck off.
He followed Vahin through the cluttered store, past statues and mercury glass vases to a row of dishware. Marlon didn’t have the slightest inclinations about decorating. As Vahin shifted through some of the ugliest flower-pattern plates that ever existed, Marlon grabbed the closest thing to him—a wine goblet with a blown-glass giraffe acting as the stem. It was probably supposed to be fancy and maybe had even been expensive at one point. Marlon found it hideous, but what did he know? He held it out toward Vahin and cleared his throat before speaking. “What about this thing? Are you shopping for wineglasses too, or only plates?”
Vahin looked over, probably surprised Marlon had finally found words. He shook his head. “No, we just need plates and some more bowls at the moment.” His gaze drifted down to the glass, and his lips curved into a smile. “Wow. That thing is… something.” He returned the plate he’d been inspecting and moved close to Marlon, taking the wineglass. “That is ridiculous. And perfect. Are there more?”
Marlon checked, but shook his head, then moved aside a couple other glasses near the front. “Actually, yes. There are.” He reached in and withdrew two more wineglasses. He held them up. “A seahorse one and a… is that a penguin?”
Vahin laughed and took the offending glass. “Maybe. It might be a panda. Either way, it’s perfect kitsch.” He placed the glass back on the shelf and motioned for Marlon to follow. “For sure getting those, but help me with these. It seems you’re a magnet for the tru
ly and spectacularly offensive, which is exactly what I need right now. Work your magic on these plates, my man.”
Marlon only hesitated for a second at the words my man, then pushed them aside. It was an expression. Though part of him liked the sound of it coming from Vahin’s lips. Within moments, they were both laughing as they uncovered some of the tackiest plates and bowls that ever existed. It seemed Marlon really did have a superpower for finding low-class dishware. Perfect. Exactly the power every cop needed.
After another fifteen minutes, they were walking out the door, each with a huge bag of bubble-wrapped dishes. The air of levity that had settled over them fell away as they returned to the sidewalk and the crowds. Again Marlon glanced around but saw no one he knew. The sunset had begun to stain the sky. He’d feel more comfortable once it was darker.
Vahin apparently didn’t notice Marlon’s shift in mood. “I don’t know if I would have found those dishes anyway if you’d not been here, but you sure feel like the lucky charm of décor, at least a certain type of décor. I can’t let Pat know how good you are at this. She’ll kidnap you for sure.”
They weaved through the throngs of people, mostly anonymous, save for the frequent looks they received. With each one, Marlon analyzed the meaning. He had to keep reminding himself he wasn’t in uniform. They didn’t know. They were simply noticing two men. Two large, muscular men of color. That was more likely the issue. Though, some of the gazes had more to do with lust than anything else.
Whether Vahin didn’t notice or simply chose not to, Marlon wasn’t sure. He was so busy watching the people around them that he flinched when Vahin slipped his free hand into his. Marlon jerked his hand away without even thinking.
Vahin looked into his eyes, his expression wounded. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”
Anger spiked momentarily, then faded just as quickly. Vahin wasn’t a cop. He didn’t know. “No, I’m sorry. I was… startled.”
Vahin raised an eyebrow but didn’t offer any further commentary.
“Really. I’m sorry. This part is….” Marlon couldn’t meet Vahin’s gaze any longer, so he glanced away, his words trailing off as ice seemed to be dumped over his head. Oh shit. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned closer, taking in the patio of the restaurant across the street.
No way. No fucking way. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Andrew sat at one of the tables, holding hands with a woman with dyed platinum-blonde hair. And he was staring in their direction.
Marlon turned, facing away.
“What’s going on?” Vahin twisted around to look in the direction where Andrew was sitting.
“No, don’t turn around!” Shit. He sounded utterly panicked.
He felt Vahin’s gaze on him. “Marlon, what’s going on?”
“Come on, just follow me, please.” Marlon started walking, trusting that Vahin would follow.
He did. “Marlon?”
Marlon kept walking but glanced over at Vahin. “Sorry, it’s probably silly. I saw my partner, and he’s the last person I want to run into. I don’t even want to see him when I’m in my patrol car, much less here.”
“Who, that hot ginger guy staring at us from across the street?”
Damn it. So he couldn’t pretend Andrew hadn’t noticed, if his attention had been obvious enough to Vahin, who didn’t even know him. “Yeah. That’s the one.”
“Wow. Stuck in a car all day with a guy like that. Poor you.” There was a tone to Vahin’s words, but Marlon couldn’t tell what it was. Sarcasm, irritation?
“Trust me, spend three minutes with the guy, and you’ll understand.” Marlon kept such a pace through the crowds that they were already a block away. He forced himself to slow and really look at Vahin. “Sorry. I am, honestly. Do you mind if we go somewhere else? A little less… public?”
Vahin’s eyes narrowed.
“Unless you wanna end the date.” Marlon wouldn’t blame him.
Vahin hesitated, like he was mentally debating things. “Do you want to end the date?”
Did he? Kinda, yeah. “No. I don’t.”
Another hesitation. When Vahin spoke, there was a challenge in his voice. “Okay, then let’s grab dinner at Mary’s. From what you said last time, there won’t be any of your fellow cops there.”
Guilt tugged at him. “No, I don’t wanna make you go on a date where you work. That sucks.”
Vahin shrugged. “I’m not the one who has a problem with my coworkers seeing me on a date.”
The bite in Vahin’s tone couldn’t be missed and probably wasn’t meant to be. Marlon didn’t argue. What was there to say? “Okay. Mary’s sounds great.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Vahin Arora
Maybe he should’ve taken Marlon’s offer to end the date. The man was obviously as far in the closet as a guy could get. Vahin had spent the first eighteen years of his life in that darkness, and he had no intention of going back. And yet he couldn’t end it so quickly. Which was ludicrous. He hadn’t been searching for dates or a possible relationship. And Marlon, it turned out, was definitely not an option for a relationship, obviously. Not when he panicked from their hands touching.
And bringing Marlon to Mary’s, the place Vahin considered home, with the people he counted as family? Maybe Vahin had chosen Mary’s because it was on his turf, his playground, the home advantage. Maybe it was because he wanted to punish Marlon.
It was to punish him; there wasn’t any doubt about it, actually. He handed the packages of wrapped plates and dishes to Pat as they walked into Mary’s. “Check these out when you have a moment. You’re going to lose your shit over the wineglasses Marlon found.”
Pat’s eyes grew large as she took the overstuffed bags. “Maybe I can get Alex to watch the host stand for a bit. I can’t wait to see them.” She grinned slyly at Vahin. “Want me to put you in the back of Mary’s parlor? I can not sit anyone else around you for a little bit, give you some privacy.”
If there had been doubt that he was punishing Marlon, it was washed away in that instant. “Actually how about the table in front?” Maybe it was a test more than a punishment. Though who the fuck cared which it was? Marlon had said he’d never seen a drag performance. Well, he was about to get initiated.
“Okay, I just sat that table not long ago, so it will probably be more than half an hour.” Pat gave him a look but didn’t say any more.
“That’s okay.” Vahin glanced over at Marlon. “You okay getting a spot at the bar and watching whatever game is on while we wait?” He looked back at Pat before Marlon could even start to nod. “Yeah, we’ll wait.”
Though the place was busy, most of the staff stopped by to give Vahin a hug and meet Marlon. By the time Steven brought them two margaritas, it was less about punishment and more about family.
At last they were seated in the hot spot. Within moments Cody came over for their orders. “Vahin! I thought I saw you at the bar, but I was too busy to come say hi.” He bent down and gave Vahin a quick hug.
“Requested your section special.”
Cody grinned. “Whatever, you requested this table for Man—”
Vahin cut him off. “Sweetie, would you put in an order of those nachos for us before we get more drinks. I want my date to be sober enough to remember what I do to him later tonight, for once.”
Cody’s cheeks reddened behind his long curtain of black bangs. He managed a nod before turning away.
“Wow, that kid can blush.” Marlon was twisting his napkin between his fingers. “I think I might be as well.”
Okay, he needed to tone down the punishment. He didn’t want to scare Marlon off completely, at least not yet. “He’s a sweet kid. Has a great boyfriend. I thought with all the sex they’ve been having, Cody would lose some of his small-town sensibilities, but looks like those are here to stay.” He tried to soften his tone. “You’ll love the nachos. They’re insane.”
“Yeah, caught that. It seems you’re still planning on taking me home
after, huh? I was wondering if I blew my chances.”
Vahin shrugged, still focusing on keeping his tone neutral. “Honestly, not sure at the moment, but I’m keeping the option open for now. We’ll see how the rest of the night goes. If I make you flinch again or not.” Maybe not so neutral. He needed to relax, but he had no patience for closeted guys, especially those who were close to his age.
“Again, Vahin, I’m so sorry about that.” Marlon glanced around, then reached over and hesitantly took Vahin’s hand. “Really. I’m not embarrassed by you, if that’s what it seemed like. Not at all.”
Vahin laughed a bit. “Well, I hadn’t actually considered that option until this moment, so thanks for that.” He laughed again and glanced down at Marlon’s nearly midnight-dark hand covering his. It was so large and warm. So masculine. And despite the bite of anger, the feel of it made him want to push away the warning signs and pretend he actually did want a relationship. He lifted his gaze to Marlon’s. “I didn’t think you were embarrassed of me, just that you were in the closet.”
Marlon didn’t look away, which made it seem he was telling the truth. “I’m not in the closet.”
“Really?”
“No, I’m not. My family knows. My friends. My old partner knew, and the chief knows.”
Vahin read between the lines. “Ah, so your new partner and all the other officers don’t know.”
There was a hesitation, but finally Marlon shook his head. “No. Those people don’t know.”
Vahin pulled his hand out from under Marlon’s. “So you are in the closet, at least with the people you’re around the most.”
A hard expression crossed Marlon’s face, and his tone had a warning hint to it. “You’re a bartender. One in a”—he motioned to the vintage photographs of half-naked male wrestlers hung in gilded frames over the pink wallpaper—“very gay-friendly restaurant. It’s a little bit easier for you to be out than it is for a cop. Especially a black cop. I’ve already got enough stacked against me without adding that to the list.”