by May Archer
Cain’s pupils were blown, his cheeks flushed, but he nodded. Damon ripped open the condom and covered himself, slicking lube down his length.
The muscles of his injured leg protested as he crawled on his knees between Cain’s legs, but he firmly ignored it. Nothing, nothing, was going to interfere with this.
He lined himself up, and glanced into the deep blue gaze he couldn’t get enough of. “Ready?”
Cain nodded seriously, lifting a hand to trace Damon’s cheek. “More than.”
Damon turned his head to plant a kiss on Cain’s palm… and then slid home.
They moaned together, the sounds of their pleasure in total harmony as Damon seated himself completely inside Cain, and then he stilled.
“This is…”
“Perfect,” Cain said, his voice coming out as thick and gravelly as Damon’s usually was.
And it really was perfect.
He grabbed Cain’s hand from his face and pushed it down to the mattress, then grabbed his other hand and pinned that down too. He’d never really noticed how large his frame was compared to Cain’s, how much broader he was, but now it seemed totally right and perfect. Meant to be.
And with that thought ringing in his head, he began to move.
“Oh!” Cain cried. “God, Damon. Harder.”
Harder, yes, and faster, too. That’s what they both needed. He wanted to embed himself inside Cain - tattoo himself into Cain’s skin the same way the poem was.
He pistoned his hips, rocking them closer and closer to the end.
“Cain,” he growled, and Cain’s eyes swiveled to his. Gorgeous blue, fathomless and indomitable, they caught and held him.
There were so many things he wanted to say - I want you, I need you with me, I love you - but all that came out was a shuddering, raspy, “Oh fuck, baby. Fuck, Cain!”
But maybe it didn’t matter, because Cain was with him, as always, his shining eyes reflecting back everything Damon was feeling: want and need and… yes, love.
“Damon!” Cain cried, tossing his head back. “So close!”
Damon reached between them, finding Cain’s cock and stroking in exactly the way he knew Cain needed, and Cain went off, hot cum shooting between them. The feeling of Cain’s release - the deep, hot clench of it, set Damon off, too, and in just two more thrusts, his end raced toward him and he came hard and long.
Heart pounding, skin prickling, he carefully lowered himself on top of Cain, and the words of the poem Cain had quoted came back to him. The end is where we start from. He lay cocooned with the man he loved, and let himself be content for the first time in as long as he could remember.
Chapter 18
Cain threw another folder in the stack on his father’s desk and ran a hand over his tired eyes, leaning back in the desk chair. “Anything?”
“Nah, nothing here,” Damon replied, blowing out a long breath. He tossed his own stack of folders on the coffee table in front of him and leaned back on the sofa, turning his head to look at Cain. He dragged a hand through his messy hair - hair that had dried every-which-way after their shower the night before - and Cain had to resist the urge to cross the room and jump him. He looked good always, but the morning-after, messy-hair, barefoot, unbuttoned-jeans look was probably Cain’s favorite. Plus, he admitted to himself that after last night, he wanted nothing more than to curl up against Damon’s skin.
He lifted the collar of his borrowed t-shirt - another black band t-shirt he’d stolen from Damon’s bag, this one emblazoned with the name Greta Van Fleet - and sniffed it surreptitiously. It smelled warm and delicious, like Damon himself, which was why he hadn’t bothered to go through the old clothes left in his closet this morning, but had immediately claimed one of Damon’s instead.
“You find anything?”
“No,” Cain admitted. He gestured to the stack. “Not a damn thing here but a bunch of utility bills and an enormous bunch of receipts for the work on the house.” He shook his head ruefully. “Holy fuck, I have no idea how they spent that much on renovations.”
“There goes the inheritance?”
“Yeah, right. No sugar daddies around here, I’m afraid.”
“Damn,” Damon said sadly. “There goes my plan.”
“Still a Big Dad—”
“Oh, God, stop with that,” Damon grumbled, pushing to his feet, but he was smiling as he said it. He walked slowly to the desk, his limp more pronounced this morning.
“Your leg okay?” Cain asked carefully, but Damon shrugged.
“It’s fine. Just overused it a little yesterday. Mostly last night.” His smile turned smug as he began idly leafing through Cain’s discarded folders. “Worth it.”
Cain felt his cheeks grow hot. Last night had been the absolute best night of his life. Every hour, every minute. And not just because of the sex, but because of the laughter, the acceptance. There hadn’t been a single moment when he’d felt ashamed of wanting Damon, not one second where he’d been focused on whether Damon really wanted to be with him or questioned his motives.
Yeah, this fucked-up road trip with Damon was like a journey into an alternate reality where the rules of his regular life didn’t apply, but last night had been something beyond even that. He’d been a whole different person- a better, truer version of himself, and…
Jesus. Yeah, okay. Gross. He had a little bit of an emotional hangover. He could practically see the hearts and tweeting birds flying around his own head. And while he’d felt closer to Damon than he’d ever felt to anyone, there was still the enormous question of how the hell they’d get Damon’s life back.
“I don’t know where else to search,” Cain said in irritation, eyes to the ceiling. “Maybe… I mean, he has his official office back in Nashville, but I still don’t think he’d keep anything there, you know?” He pulled at his own hair, frustrated beyond belief. “I really felt like something would be here. When we walked into the house yesterday, I got this… I dunno, kind of weird sixth sense, like something would be here. Silly.” He shifted his head to gauge Damon’s reaction, and found that Damon wasn’t paying attention to him at all. He was absorbed with the file of home remodeling bills.
“What are you looking at?” Cain demanded.
“Uh. Was I out of it yesterday when we pulled up? Is there a lawn around the property that I haven’t noticed?”
“We’re in a cabin in the woods, babe,” Cain reminded him. “On the side of a mountain. There’s no grass at all. Trees, bushes. Flowers in pots on the decks, when my mom feels like it.”
Damon glanced up. “Then why did your dad pay $25,000 for lawn sprinklers? And why is he continuing to pay for monthly maintenance?”
“What?” Cain jumped out of the chair and ran around to the front of the desk. “Let me see that!” Damon handed over a sheet of paper and Cain read aloud. “Rabinov Mountain Landscaping and Design? I saw this one, but I didn’t really look at the services listed.”
“And what about this one for house painting? Just over sixty thousand last year.”
Cain grabbed that paper too. “There’s nothing to paint in this house. Not outside, anyway. And the inside hasn’t been painted since they remodeled years ago.”
Damon leaned over and pointed to the header. “Color Home Professionals say differently. And the bill is marked Paid.”
Cain’s heart started beating harder. “Fuck, I need to grab my phone! It’s downstairs.”
“One step ahead of you,” Damon said, sliding his own phone out of his pocket. He leaned his hip against the desk and started tapping furiously at the screen while Cain practically vibrated in place.
“There’s the website for Color Home Professionals,” Damon said, and Cain rested his head against Damon’s shoulder to get a better view. It seemed pretty standard, if fairly light on actual info.
“Huh. Well, there are lots of pretty pictures of houses, alright.”
“But that’s pretty much all there is,” Damon agreed. “That and a contact phone nu
mber.”
Fuck. This had to be it. Had to be.
And honestly, what had Cain expected? An invoice from Jack labeled Airplane Tampering? He was so out of his depth with this. But he knew someone who wouldn’t be.
“Send it to Bas.”
Damon looked over at him and grinned. “Just what I was thinking.”
“We need someone who can look into this and figure out whether these companies are real.”
Damon put the invoices on the desk and snapped pictures with his phone. “I’m copying Drew, too. He’ll understand the legal shit.”
“Definitely.” Cain took a step back. “Is… is this enough? If we can prove these companies don’t exist, and he paid out thousands to them, do you think it would be enough to implicate my father?”
Damon shook his head, looking through the remaining invoices. “I honestly don’t know. It looks damning, but your dad has a whole team of lawyers who’ll jump on this and find a hundred innocent ways to explain it. Maybe he’s just shitty with money, maybe he doesn’t read his bills.”
“You don’t believe that, though.”
“Well, no.” He shrugged. “It’s pretty fucking shady. But we don’t know if it has anything to do with the crash, either. These invoices are all more recent.” He grabbed the sheaf of papers. “If he’s palling around with Russian crime syndicates, these could be for anything. We need to figure out exactly where the money went in order to prove there’s anything criminal on your dad’s end. And I imagine he’s smart enough that it’ll be really hard to find that info.”
Cain drifted toward the window and looked at the rugged mountain profile in the distance. He lifted a hand and rubbed at a knot of tension in his neck. Figures. They’d found just enough to reinforce their own belief that his father was a criminal, but not enough to prove it to anyone else.
“So, what next?” He was afraid he knew exactly what the next step would be — Cain testifying to the authorities about his dad. And he still wasn’t totally sure about that.
Feel better. I love you.
But if he didn’t, what would happen to Damon?
“Cain?”
“Yeah?”
“Look at me.”
Cain turned to find Damon watching him, ass propped against the desk, hands folded over his chest. “This changes nothing.”
“What?”
“I told you before, I don’t expect you to come forward with information about your father. We’ll find another way.” Damon looked fierce, even against the backdrop of the shiny wood desk and its ultra-modern accessories, a silver-haired warrior prince in a band t-shirt and jeans.
“Yeah, but…”
“There’s no but. What’s between us is not dependent on you doing anything. There’s no requirement, and I don’t want you to feel like I’ll look at you differently, whichever way you decide. Okay?”
“I hear what you’re saying.” Cain turned back to the window and braced his hand on the glass. “But how can you not, Damon? We’re talking about your life, about getting your identity back! And, okay, let’s say you really don’t care about that,” he continued, holding a hand up when it looked like Damon would interrupt. “Though, I’ve gotta say, I don’t believe it for a second. Let’s say you let Bas and Drew pull strings, and suddenly you’ve got a whole new identity as Dave Fitz-something, a mechanic from Topeka.”
“Topeka?”
“Whatever! The point is, nothing goes away, and you know it. My dad knows you’re alive. He knows who Chelsea and Molly are, and they can’t stay in hiding forever. He’s gotta know who Cort is, too. And I’m guessing he hasn’t gone after Cort because he’s ex-FBI and dating one of the richest guys in Boston, but how long will that last? He went after Levi Fucking Seaver.”
“Cain.”
“No, Damon. I’m being real here. What about Bas and Cam? You think they’re fine knowing the guy who wanted their parents dead is still running around free? You think they’ll be all understanding about my moral dilemma?” He was beyond frustration, near tears. “This shouldn’t be so hard,” he whispered.
“Come here.”
Cain shook his head. He could barely maintain his composure as it was, and he didn’t want Damon’s compassion. He wasn’t sure he deserved it.
“I’m not sure I can live with myself if I let him keep doing the shit he’s been doing.” He dug the heels of his hands into his closed eyes, letting his vision fracture into a hundred tiny kaleidoscope pieces against the back of his eyelids. Broken pieces, just like his thoughts, just like his heart. “Essentially, either way this works, I’m going to feel like shit. I need to man up and do the thing that keeps people safe.”
“Come. Here. Now.”
Cain opened his eyes, expecting to find Damon looking at him with pity, or maybe even annoyance, but he wasn’t. His smile was patient, his eyes firm but kind, and Cain didn’t know if it was conscious thought or subconscious obedience, but he found himself crossing the room to stand between Damon’s legs.
“There are a couple of things you’re not considering, babe,” Damon said softly, running his hands up and down Cain’s forearms, brushing his thumbs lightly over Cain’s wrists in a way that felt soothing and thrilling all at once. He felt like a captive, and like he was guarded and precious at the same time.
Cain huffed. “I’m sure there are a million things I’m not considering.” Sniffing, he continued. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of a mess.”
“You’re not a mess. You’re brave, Cain. You’re so fucking brave. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not.”
“Yeah? Cause I don’t feel so brave.”
“Then trust me when I tell you. Okay?”
Cain snorted and looked away.
“Cain Edward don’t be disrespectful.”
Damon’s imitation of Lily Shaw at her most outraged was so spot-on that Cain glanced back at him in shock. Damon grinned like a loon and gripped the back of Cain’s neck. The Damon Hold.
“Listen, you idiot. You love your father, even though he’s kind of an asshole. You feel an obligation to your family, to not see their lives destroyed by association. That doesn’t make you weak, it makes you loyal.” He lifted his other hand to run it over Cain’s cheek, and the look in his eyes made it hard for Cain to breathe. “But Cain, your first loyalty has to be to yourself. Not to your family, not to me or the Seavers. There’s no guilt here, okay? No obligation. You need to do what is best for you. You need to figure out what you can live with. And there are no right or wrong answers.”
“How can you just stand there and be fine with this?” Cain sputtered.
“I am far from fine with this, Cain,” Damon said, and for just a second, Cain could see the deep anger in his eyes. “I would give pretty much anything to get the information we need to end this. Every dollar I have, every possession I own. God, I’d give this fucking leg if I thought it would do any good.” He pounded his fist on the thigh of his injured leg. “But this is what we have. This is the reality we live in. You beating yourself up over it changes jack shit.”
“Before, you were so angry. And I understood that. Still understand it. You said…”
“Yeah, I know what I said. I didn’t get where you were coming from, and I didn’t want to. I can be a self-absorbed asshole sometimes, you know?” Damon grinned again, but then his smile faded. “And there’s something else to remember here, too.” He waved a hand at the papers spread on the desk behind him. “If those are dummy corporations, if your dad is mixed up with SILA, this goes way deeper than just stopping him. Even if we found a smoking gun that would get a United States Senator arrested and convicted, it wouldn’t keep any of us safe. In fact, it might just make us even bigger targets. And that includes you, Cain.”
“I don’t care—”
“Yeah? Well, I do.” Damon’s hands were back on his wrists, no longer soothing but imprisoning. Constricting. “Did you hear what I said about where your first loyalty needs to be? Y
ou don’t risk your life for this. Ever. Non-negotiable.”
“So then… what the fuck do we do?” Cain let his head fall against Damon’s broad chest. “I just want this over. I just want all of us to move on.”
Damon’s muscles tightened. “That eager to get back to school?”
Cain shook his head. “I don’t even know if I want to go back to school. That’s my dad’s thing, not mine.”
“So what do you want?” Damon asked softly.
Cain lifted his head and promptly drowned in the green-brown eyes staring down at him. Helpless, he answered with the first truth that came to his mind. “You. Damon, I want you.”
Damon’s hands slid up his arms, over his shoulders, to cup his neck in the familiar hold that made Cain feel strong and small all at once. “You’ve got me. Question is,” Damon challenged, “what are you gonna do with me?”
Blood rushed behind Cain’s ears, his pulse so loud he could hear the frantic syncopated rhythm of his heart. You’ve got me. What did that even mean? His mind whirled, trying to parse the complicated calculus of that deceptively simple sentence. Did it mean exactly what Cain wanted it to mean? Nothing in his life had ever been that easy. Promises like that carried expectations, but Damon was telling him there were none. It simply didn’t add up.
“Stop thinking so hard,” Damon said, brushing a kiss across his lips that did nothing to clear Cain’s confusion. “You’ve got time to figure it out.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, babe.” Damon’s strong fingers kneaded the muscles of Cain’s neck. “Here’s what I’m thinking for the short term. Ready?”
Cain nodded dazedly. He was ready for anything, as long as Damon’s hands were on his skin, his raspy voice in Cain’s ear.
“I’m thinking we are going to photograph the documents in this folder and send them to Bas and Drew.” He handed Cain his phone, and Cain gripped it hard. “We’re going to go through the rest of these papers again, now that we have a better idea what we are looking for, and see if we can find these company names listed anywhere else, and then we’ll send that information on, too. We’re going to go about this the smart way, and not rush in with a half-formed plan. Great advice this really smart guy gave me the other night.” His lips quirked into a smile.