by A. R. Barley
He couldn’t deny his lover the same opportunity.
His hands moved almost of their own accord to pull his own T-shirt off over the top of his head. Luke sucked in a breath, the sound gasping and strange. Dante winced. “I can put the shirt back on if you want.”
“Are you kidding?” Luke crossed the room in two powerful steps, skin rippling across taut muscles. He lifted his hand straight in front of him to splay his fingers across Dante’s chest. There was another one of those stilted breaths. “You’re magnificent. I’m thinking of burning all your shirts. You should never be allowed to cover up something this fine.”
“You could do it as a school project. Burn all my T-shirts and then do a whole bunch of fancy math to figure out where the fire started.”
Luke chuckled. “Funny.” His fingers traced the ink stains on Dante’s skin, the callused tips of his fingers like hot pokers reaching deep into Dante’s soul. “See how funny you’ll be if you ever get a firebug case. You’ll be begging for someone to do the math.”
“Ninety percent of my cases, the perpetrator’s a friend or family member. Fifty percent of the time they’re still in the building. Life isn’t a fancy television show, and I don’t need math.” It was a hard truth, but one Luke needed to get used to if he was going to do more than fight fires. Dante leaned forward to flutter a kiss across Luke’s cheek. “I need you.”
“Whatever you want,” Luke said.
Dante swallowed. He wanted everything to come together with music swelling and fireworks. Unfortunately, his mouth was dry and his palms were sweating. His brain was turning to mush. If he opened his mouth, he was pretty sure he’d start spewing pure nonsense.
Or stuttering.
He’d never stuttered in his life.
He wasn’t about to start now.
He forced down a fresh bundle of nerves. “You.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Luke pressed again. “What do you like? Besides blow jobs? Me, I like a little bit of everything. On bottom, on top, sucking your toes like a lollipop...”
Damn. In all his fantasies that was one position Dante had never considered: Luke on top, taking control, his dick pounding into Dante’s ass as he fucked him into submission. His erection was like an iron bar. Now he couldn’t stop picturing it, Luke in every possible position. Pitching. Receiving. Down on his knees with his eyes twinkling like emeralds, horny, desperate for Dante’s touch against his skin.
Dante flushed. “Definitely not that last one, but other than that I’m open to suggestions.”
“We’ll leave the kinky stuff for another day. No toe-sucking. No mangos. Tonight’s just about you and me.”
Mangos? The low lights were dim enough to hide his blush. Thank God. He didn’t know what Luke was talking about, and if he was lucky then he’d never find out. “No fruits of any kind,” he clarified.
“No fruits.” Luke kissed him softly at first, his lips barely tasting the edge of Dante’s mouth, and then harder. Just like the night before, he pushed him back until his legs hit the metal bed frame. His hands were firm as he pushed him back against the luxurious bed. His lips tipped up into a smile that Dante couldn’t see, but that didn’t make it any less real as his mouth skimmed down across Dante’s neck. “Got it.”
Luke’s hands were everywhere. His fingers fluttered and floated. His nails scraped across Dante’s vulnerable skin.
His erection was an iron bar thrusting into Dante’s hip, and Dante was too flustered to do more than grasp desperately in response. His fingers dug into Luke’s tight ass, pulling him down hard against him. Instinct had him spread his legs wide, giving Luke further access between his thighs.
“Looks like your body knows what you want,” Luke whispered against him in words so quiet Dante had to strain to hear. “Even if you can’t say the words.”
Did that mean—? Dante whimpered as Luke devoured him with another kiss, long and desperate. Luke’s tongue licked inside him to taste his tonsils. His fingers tangled in the sheets up near Dante’s head. The kiss seemed to go on forever. When they finally broke apart it was so both of them could gasp desperately for air.
Even that didn’t seem important in the total scheme of things.
“You can stop this anytime,” Luke said a little louder. “All you have to do is tell me no and we can ease up. I won’t even leave you hanging. I promise. You say the word and I’ll suck your eyes out through your cock.”
“I’m pretty sure you need to add an anatomy class into your schedule because that isn’t physically possible.”
“It is when I do it.”
And, fuck, all Dante could see was Luke on his knees, staring up at him with so much trust in his eyes, his lips slick with spit and bruised from where they’d slotted around Dante’s dick. The image had lust shooting through him like lightning. He had to reach down between them to wrap his own hand around his erection, squeezing tight until he regained control of himself. The blow job Luke had given him had been good, but he wanted more. He’d been wanting this for years.
He was going to make it good for both of them or die trying.
Something twinkled in Luke’s eyes, like he knew exactly what Dante was doing and why. He reached down to take Dante’s hand, pushing it away so he was the one gripping Dante’s erection. For the first time since they’d started fooling around Dante had the presence of mind to notice the details, the small differences between Luke’s hands and what he’d experienced previously. His grip was strong and comfortable, callused, not soft, his fingernails cut short but not manicured.
It felt good.
Dante was strong. He was powerful. When he walked down the street, people paid attention. Some of them even crossed over to the other side of the road to avoid him. Luke didn’t seem to notice. Either that or he just didn’t care. He matched Dante inch for inch and muscle for muscle.
“You bought condoms and lube,” Luke said.
It wasn’t a question.
“On the table,” Dante answered.
“Right.” Luke leaned past him with his free arm to pick up the supplies. His other hand never left Dante’s cock. “Took them out of the box already. Nice and thoughtful.” Every time he touched Dante’s body, his motions were soft and careful like he was gentling a wild animal or playing with his new favorite toy. Everything else was quick and efficient. It was only a moment before he had a single condom on the bed beside him and was spilling lube out into his palm. When he reached down to touch Dante’s knee—directing him into position—his hand was cool from the slick.
Luke cleared his throat. “I’m not exactly an expert at deflowering men, but they say it’s easier if—”
“I know how it’s easier.” Dante wasn’t about to turn over onto his belly. Letting Luke see his back, tracing his fingers carefully across the dark tattoos, was one thing. Actually feeling a man’s weight against his spine was something else. “If we’re doing it like this, I need to be able to see your eyes. And, if you start treating me like some blushing virgin on her wedding night I’ll kick your ass.”
“You’d look cute in white thigh-highs.”
“I’d look fucking adorable in white thigh-highs. Doesn’t mean I’m putting them on anytime soon.”
Luke blinked twice. It was too dark to make out the color of his eyes, but Dante knew they’d spark and fire like emeralds. He could still make out Luke’s soot-black lashes and his toothy grin. He could hold tight to the heat in his blood as slick fingers slipped between his legs and slid inside him one at a time, flexing, stretching, until he was three fingers deep and all Dante could see was stars.
That had to be his prostate.
He’d felt it in other men from the other side.
This was better.
Dante wrapped his arms tight around Luke’s shoulders, drawing him in close to press their mouths together. Teeth collided with his bottom lip and the coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth.
At the same time, his fingers rock
ed forward, stroking that place deep inside him that had him whimpering and crying out. “Luke—” he said, but he couldn’t remember what was supposed to come afterwards. “Luke, Luke, Luke.” He chanted the name over and over again, right up until the moment where the sensation disappeared.
There was an audible tear of foil and then Luke rolled the condom into place. His hands were strong and firm, directing Dante into exactly the position he wanted him.
And then Luke leaned forward, entering Dante slowly. “Lots of breaths,” he said. “Curl your toes if you need to. It’ll help you relax.”
It was nice advice, but Dante wasn’t going to need it. He liked the feeling of Luke deep inside him. He liked—
Damn, his hands fisted the sheets as his back arched, trying to change their relative positions. However well Luke had stretched him, it still wasn’t enough to prepare him for that thick, full cock. The burn made him want to push back, but that seemed counterintuitive. Instead, he followed Luke’s instructions, taking lots of short panting breaths.
Curling his toes finally did the trick, and when Luke was finally inside him? Holding perfectly still except for his chest rising and falling with every breath.
“I told you. You don’t have to be gentle with me.”
“Trust me.” There was something wild and broken in Luke’s voice. “This isn’t going to be gentle.” Then he started to move in short rhythmic thrusts, hard and fast, like a nail gun pinning Dante down against the bed. For once everything seemed to connect just right because every thrust connected in that pleasurable space deep inside him. Their bodies rocked against each other, providing just the right kind of friction for Dante’s cock to weep.
Pleasure chased after him from both sides now, coming in waves.
He wasn’t the only one who could feel it either.
Luke’s eyes were still shadowed and unreadable, but his lips were tipped up into an unholy grin. Sweat beaded across his muscular chest. His teeth worried at his bottom lip like he was trying not to cry, trying not to beg. It wouldn’t be long now.
“Oh, damn,” Luke finally groaned, and whatever rhythm he’d been maintaining disappeared in a wild burst of energy. “Oh damn,” he said again, rough and hoarse, like a prayer. And then, “Dante!” He came, crying out his name.
Dante followed a second later, gasping and shuddering as his orgasm overtook him. Come spilled between them, leaving everything sticky and wet. He yelped—maybe he even cried. And when it was all over Luke was lying next to him on the bed, nestled in the crook of his arm.
“Trash can?” Luke asked.
It took a second for Dante to realize what he was asking. “Next to the bed.”
“You really did think of everything.” Luke removed the condom and threw it away. He cleaned them up a little with the edge of the sheet. “Good?”
“Better.” Dante rolled onto his side to kiss him, wrapping a hand around his neck as he drew him in a second time. “Best.”
Chapter Nineteen
It was a beautiful day in New York City. The sun was shining. Birds were chirping. Even the back of the taxi Dante caught to work didn’t smell as bad as usual. He whistled as he walked through the front doors of the station house. He gave the sergeant behind the desk a little wave and laughed when a repeat offender flipped him the bird. By the time he got to his desk, he was practically skipping.
Then he finished his coffee and tossed the empty cup into the trash can.
It landed with a clang.
“Three points,” he cheered. “And the crowd goes wild.”
“Holy hell,” Finn said from the desk across from his. “You’re in a good mood. What did you do?”
“I went for a run,” Dante said. “Three miles through Inwood Hill Park. It was invigorating.”
“No shit.” Finn stretched out, swinging his feet up on top of the old metal desk. His suit was off the rack, but his leather shoes were expensive, the kind with the replaceable tread and the good arch support. Smart. He might actually make it as a detective. “You hit yourself on the head before going on this run? Suffer any blunt-force trauma?”
Dante laughed. “I’m pretty sure Luke would have noticed that.”
“So, not your arch nemesis.”
“Definitely not.” They’d gotten up early. Three miles of running, laughing, flirting, and kissing Luke under old-growth trees, and they’d still had time to share a long shower afterwards. Luke had picked out his tie, and they’d grabbed coffee together at the little coffee cart on the corner.
It had been amazing.
Finn’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. There were thin wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. Had those always been there or were they new? He took his feet off the corner of the desk. “Holy fuck. You’re boning Luke.”
The happy golden feeling Dante’d wrapped around himself vanished in a puff of smoke. His teeth ground together. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m a trained investigator. You think I didn’t notice you eye-fucking your baby brother at lunch the other day? If you haven’t actually tapped his ass, it’s not because you don’t want to. And the way you two were talking? Like everything had three different secret meanings. He’s definitely into you too.” Finn’s lips twisted crookedly. “Not that I’m encouraging any kind of relationship. I mean, you’re his brother and he can do better.”
Every word he said was like a little pinprick on Dante’s soul and each one drew blood. He knew Luke didn’t belong with him. He knew Luke could do better. It didn’t matter. For once in his life, he wanted to be selfish. He wanted to do something just for himself. He wanted to clutch Luke tight, wrap him in his arms, and never let go.
“You touch Luke, and I’ll break every single one of your fingers.”
“There’s something I’ve got to tell you.” The little wrinkles around his eyes got deeper. “And you’re not going to like it.”
Dante had been through enough shit on the job to know when something was about to go down. He could feel it in his bones like a change in the weather. Right now, alarms were going off all over the place.
Hurricane.
Tornado.
Forest fire.
Shit. What could Finn be about to tell him? Had his partner slept with his lover? Was that it? He rifled through his memories, but they hadn’t been alone for more than a few minutes. Right?
Jealousy washed over him. He tried to force it back but there was no ignoring the low burning deep in his gut. “If something happened between the two of you, that’s over. Luke was never going to call you back anyway.”
“It’s not about that.” Finn opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a manila file. “I finished going through the Manhattan case files. I didn’t find anything else, so I started on Brooklyn.” He cleared his throat. “I found this a few months back.”
“What is it?”
“You should read it yourself.” He stood up and walked the narrow distance between their two desks. Usually he tossed folders like Frisbees. This time he placed it squarely in the center of the desk at a careful right angle.
Not good.
“You could sum it up,” Dante suggested, but Finn didn’t say a word. To hell with it. He flipped open the folder and read the contents. Then he read it again. When he was done, he read it a third time just in case he’d missed something.
He hadn’t.
It was an original incident report like a million others he’d seen over his career at the NYPD. Heck, he’d filled out thousands of the things. Except this one had Luke’s name on it in the neat handwriting of a beat cop from Williamsburg.
“Are you sure this is accurate?” Dante felt like he’d been punched in the gut. How much time had they spent together recently? How many hours spent talking about nothing and everything and most importantly the case? And in all that time Luke hadn’t mentioned that he’d been one of the mugger’s earliest victims. No way. It wasn’t possible. He swallowed down the momen
tary worry. “It’s a mistake.”
“I double-checked with the reporting officer.”
“Maria Cordova,” he read the name off the report. “Is she any good?”
“She’s excellent.” Finn put a fresh cup of coffee down on the edge of Dante’s desk. He pushed it forward with two fingers. Had he been waiting for Dante to get in? “I called her lieutenant. He’s got nothing but good things to say about her. Never misses a shift. Doesn’t fuck up paperwork. If only he had ten like her.”
“Did you talk to her? Is this accurate?”
“It’s gospel.”
“Nothing’s gospel.” That didn’t stop his stomach from clenching tight. He picked up his phone and dialed from memory. The number hadn’t changed since he was fourteen years old. It rang once, twice. He almost hoped that the other end of the line wouldn’t pick up. There was a third ring then a clunk.
“Parsons household.” Charlie’s voice was warm and familiar. “Is this McHenry Construction? I’m not paying you the damn completion bonus. The kitchen was supposed to be done on Friday. Not Saturday afternoon. Friday. And the tile over the sink is crooked.”
“Charlie.” The left cuff on Dante’s suit was frayed. He should probably get that looked at. “Still working on the house?”
“Dante!” Charlie Parsons cheered. “It’s going to look amazing when it’s done.”
“Getting the place ready for your golden days?” There was an awkward silence on the other end of the line. Dante tugged the phone a little bit closer. “You’re not thinking of selling, are you?”
“Don’t tell the kid. He’s under enough stress already.”
The kid. Luke. Dante’s head was pounding. His throat was dry. He swallowed hard, but it didn’t actually do anything to help. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
*
Snap. Beams cracked and buckled somewhere in the distance. Sweat pooled at the base of Luke’s spine. His legs were shaking. The run had felt so good before work. There was no way he could have known he’d be called to a three-alarm fire within twenty minutes of stepping through the firehouse’s front door.