Jai/George -- The nature of secrets-- Part 10

Hey all-- thank you for the kind responses to last night's post. There is some true kindness in the world, and I am grateful.

And now, a little bit of Jai and George-- for you :-)

*  *  *

The Nature of Secrets

Jai didn't like to talk about his former boss. When you were a child and over six-foot tall and you had a reputation for defending the small and the weak on your block, you got picked by the local mob boss as muscle.

You got taken to a foreign country, whether you wanted to be or not, and put in charge of the boss's family, whether you liked them or not.

Jai had liked the younger ones--they delighted every time he smiled. Nobody was afraid of him, because he would scowl and wink and play.

But then his boss would say, "Don't speak to him. He's a boy-fucker. Just let him stand there and look scary."  And the children would stop smiling.

Jai had grown accustomed to this as his life before he'd started working for Ace. But Ace and Sonny were lovers, and it didn't scare them that Jai was gay or wanted Sonny so very badly, and he'd begun to relax a little. The thing he had, in the mountains, with George, his kind and delicate nurse, made him happy--but he kept it close.

His old boss would use it against him.

Jai had seen the boss kill a girl once, because one of his men liked her enough to be late to a meeting. It was better that George stay secret. Not that he thought Ace would do that--but if Jai could, he'd keep Ace and Sonny and Alba secret too.

Secrets were comfortable.

When Burton brought Ernie to Ace in October, Jai understood. Ernie was a secret--nobody should know. Secrets had become to mean more than just facts to Jai. They became people you wanted to protect.

But even Ernie, who was kind to Alba and Sonny could be an uncomfortable secret.

"Burton needs to come see that boy," Ace muttered fitfully while doing the bills behind the counter one night. Alba had gone home because she had school in the morning, and Sonny was making dinner. As had bought him an Insta-Pot and he'd become enamored of baked beans. Jai could only be happy George didn't have to share his tiny apartment on those nights--but he was a little sad he didn't tell George these things, because the thought made him chuckle all day.

His gas also terrified Duke, the tiny Chihuahua that Ace and Sonny spoiled like a princess, and watching the creature run around their little house yapping after Jai's unfortunate gastric emission had made everybody laugh for a solid half-hour.

George was always smiling, or trying to smile. Even when he'd felt like death he had made little jokes. Jai thought that maybe his George had a sense of humor, even about gas.

He sure hoped so.

Jai pulled his attention back to Ace and his statement. "He is afraid of being owned," he said thickly. "Ernie would be... dangerous, I think. To Burton's peace of mind."

Ace rolled his eyes. "That's everybody. That's me and Sonny--you think I've had a decent night's sleep since I saw him, that first day in the military? I can assure you, I have not."

Jai grunted. "Sonny is much maintenance. I imagine some lovers would let you sleep better." George wasn't high maintenance--but then, Jai wouldn't mind making him so.

Ace eyeballed him and Jai shifted as he sat. "You have somebody," he said, and Jai crossed his arms, feeling naked.

"That is none of your business," he muttered, before his promise to George rebounded to his head like a boomerang.

Ace just looked at him, eyebrows raised. "You are my friend and we take care of you. It should be my business," he said, no bullshit.

Physically Jai was much bigger. He'd killed men Ace's size with very little trouble. Jai was also very aware that he could no more hurt Ace than he could hurt the ridiculous, loud, irritating, dear little carpet flea that liked to place delicate little paws on Jai's chest while it licked Jai's chin.

There were some things a man--a real man--should never do.

He looked down at Ace and looked away. "He has asked," he said with dignity. "He has asked if you could know about him. Should something happen to me, you would tell him."

Ace grimaced. "Should we tell the--"

Jai shook his head. "No," he said, forbidding in his stomach. "Just... my former employer, he still sends men around."

Ace's jaw clenched. Jai had said very little--but the other muscle guys who had visited every so often to make sure Jai was "satisfactory" help for Ace pissed him off. More than once they'd offered to "protect" Ace's garage themselves, so Ace could "let Jai go." Ace was not a stupid man--he knew "let Jai go" was code for "have Jai killed." Ace had looked a cold blooded killer in the eye and said that if Jai was ever "let go", Ace would call up the man's boss and tell him that the killer had made a direct threat on the boss's life.

And Jai had told the man that in order to get to Ace, he'd have to come through Jai.

The men had left in a hurry after that, probably assuming that Ace and Jai were lovers, but as they disappeared, Ace said, "And we can only thank God Sonny was not here to see that," And Jai knew they were on the same page.

Sonny was their secret together.

And now George would be.

"Yeah," Ace said now. "I hear you. You don't want every dumb motherfucker on the planet knowing your business. Alba keeps my finances government issue clean--but I don't want those assholes pawing through my spreadsheets. Sonny can fix a car better than anyone either of us have ever seen--I don't want anybody looking for his fucking certificate. You and Ernie and Burton, you get invited into our house because we want you there. Anybody else comes in, they get a kick in the balls--"

"Or a knife in the ear," Jai said mercilessly.

"Or that," Ace agreed. He didn't flinch or qualify that statement, which is why Jai loved him in the same way he'd once loved his father, before he'd been taken from home.

Ace gave Jai his phone. "Put his number in," he said. "You can watch me text him once and then any contact after that, I'll run by you. Is that fair?"

Jai's throat felt thick and words were hard after that. "Da. Thank you."

He watched then as Ace punched in Hi--I'm Jai's friend--

"And employer," Jai interjected.

And employer, Ace Atchison. He wanted you to have my number in case we needed to reach you.

"There," Ace said, showing Jai the sent text. "That good enough for--"  The phone buzzed as he held it up, and Jai could read the next text.

Tell him thank you for me. I'm pleased to meet you. I'd love to know where you live so I could visit. Jai knows my hospital and my parents' names and my cat's name and I know really nothing about him. Tell him hi for me--George

Ace stared at the message for a moment and then looked back up at Jai, who was shifting uncomfortably.

"That?" he asked. "That's your guy?"

"He is..." Jai swallowed. "Personable."

"Jai," Ace said seriously, "you have to tell him who we are."

Jai crossed his arms. "I have tried," he muttered. "I told him what I used to do, and I told him... I tried. I am a bad person--"

Ace held up his hand. "No, you are a good person. But just spilling all of that information about himself--about you. That's dangerous."

Jai pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know how," he said at last.

Ace nodded. "Understood. Here. Let me try." George, it's nice to meet you. You sound nice. Jai is a good man but he's very private. The things he tells you are his and yours alone. We'll meet when he's ready, I'm sure.  "How's that?" he asked, showing Jai the text.

"You said 'nice' twice," Jai told him.

"Do I look like a fuckin' poet here?" Ace asked, his voice pitching because, Jai understood, this was not really his wheelhouse.

"No," Jai agreed. "That is fine."

"I won't talk about you without your permission," Ace said, pressing Send.

"Thank you."

Ace let out a breath. "Now we need to go inside and eat. And be sure to tell your guy that by not having the two of you eat here at the same time when Sonny's making beans, you might have just saved his life."

Jai chuckled. "I had planned to."

"Good. Then he'll fit in just fine."

*  *  *

Jai saw George about a week before Christmas. Camping was damned cold, so Jai had rented a hotel room in Grapevine. It wasn't a great hotel, but then, they weren't really there for the amenities.

Their customary greeting lasted for about two hours this time--made longer, Jai suspected, by the king sized bed. When they both fell back into the sheets, panting and sweating, Jai wondered for the umpteenth time what it was about George that made sex so... so much bigger than having his cock stroked. He didn't know, but he was curious enough to lie on his side and trace the delicate lines of George's jaw as they both caught their breath.

"Your boss texted me," George panted, closing his eyes and tilting his head toward Jai's touch.

"Da. I saw."

George narrowed his eyes grimly. "He's just as bad as you at giving out personal information."

Jai darted his head in and licked the sweat from George's temple. Like the rest of George, it was delicious.  "We are private people," he conceded.

George looked at him unhappily. "When do I get let into your secret little club?" he asked, the plaintive note in his voice almost killing Jai.

Jai kissed his mouth, savoring. "You do not understand about secrets," he said, "because you have never needed to keep them."

"True," George admitted. "But why--"

Jai stroked his neck with the back of his hand. God, exquisite. "Because Ace and I have kept secrets," he said. "To protect people. We have killed to protect people. And you are now one of those people, you understand? Sonny is one, and Ernie is now one--"

"Who's Ernie--"

Jai grimaced. "He is another secret--but not one that should trouble you. But you see? Our place in the world is to protect secrets. Nobody can come into our house and rip apart our lives, because we have kept the important people safe."

George sighed. "Im important?"

Jai closed his eyes. "More so everyday."

"I brought you a present, you know."

Jai smiled. He did. It was a large jacket, all weather, so they could go hiking even when it was cold. "I do. I brought you one too." He'd brought George a Leatherman tool--useful when camping, but also for self-defense.

"I know. But do you know what I really want for Christmas?"

"No."

"A story--just one story, of your choosing, about your everyday life."

"Of course."

Which was how Jai came to tell George the story about how Sonny fed them all beans and Jai broke wind so badly it scared the dog.

George laughed until he couldn't breathe, and Jai smiled shyly. They ordered takeout, and as they were eating, he told George about how Ernie took the dog out for a walk and how Sonny tried really hard not to get jealous, but Ace was ecstatic, because it meant he and Sonny could have private time together without the dog watching them from his crate.

And then he told about how Alba snuck the dog treats she wasn't supposed to, and how the rest of them made sure the dog ate very very well because otherwise she'd make him fat.

When their weekend was over, he was embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he confessed humbly. "You asked for something real. I have been talking all weekend about an eight pound Chihuahua."

George's smile was bittersweet--but it was also accepting. "I wanted to know who you were," he said. "And I know you're a man who protects your friends, and protects your lover, and finds joy in small things, and can be content with people in his life who care for him. I'll be honest, Jai--it's more than I've known about any Herb, Steve, or Gary I've ever dated."

"Good." Jai held him, hugged him to his chest, for a long time. "Someday," he promised under his breath. "Someday, I will not live in such fear that you'll be taken from me. Someday, you can see my tiny life, my tiny garage, and I won't worry quite so much that you won't think I'm worthy."

George didn't say anything, but he hugged Jai just as tight.

After Jai let him walk away, both of them going to their cars and taking off back toward LA, he realized his sweater--bright green, a present from Sonny the year before, because every man nearly seven feet tall wanted to wear Christmas green--was wet from tears.

As he started his car, his pocket buzzed, and he checked his phone.

You're the most worthy man I've ever met. I'm proud to be your secret. 

His throat tightened, and he touched the face of it lightly.

Da. You are the most precious secret I've ever kept.

Merry Christmas, Jai.

Merry Christmas, George. There will be more to come. 

Bunnies-- a Story of Granby

So, a number of people begged so sweetly, I had to do this one. For those of you who haven't read the Granby stories, they're also known as my "knitting books", and the stories revolve around a small alpaca/sheep farm and fiber mill, based off a real one in Granby, Colorado.

Jeremy and Aiden from How to Raise an Honest Rabbit and Blackbird Knitting in a Bunny's Lair were possibly everybody's favorite couple from that series--and people want to check in on Jeremy every now and then, just to make sure he's okay.

He is. Really really. Come see.

* * *

"And here's her pull-ups, and here's her little potty, and here's her best blanket. Her clothes are in the bag with the pull-ups and--"

"Ari, honey," Rory said gently, "it's time to go."

Ariadne's eyes filled with tears. "But we're going to be gone for five days," she said, lower lip wobbly. "I hate to leave her--"

"We'll take care of her, Miss Ariadne," Jeremy reassured. He tried to keep his voice even and happy and upbeat, even though his heart was beating super fast like a terrified bird.

"We'll be fine," Aiden said, sounding much more confident. "Ari, go. Rory's going to crap his pants, and you have to get over the mountain and through Denver traffic. We'll be fine. See you in five days. Remember, we've got Craw and Ben, and Ben seems mostly civilized. If all else fails, we've got my mom, and she hasn't lost a kid yet."

Ariadne gave him a flat-eyed stare, and her sharp featured face made that "mom" look a thing of deadly beauty. "You are not funny, Aiden Rhodes," she said.

"I am a goddamned delight," Aiden replied, deadpan. "And you be nice to me, or I'm going to leave your adorable daughter out with the rabbits at night."

"He will not!" Jeremy's voice cracked in panic and he shielded Persephone from the idea even in jest. He was pretty sure it was in jest. Jeremy's boy had a streak of hard in him, but mean and cruel were not in his makeup.

"Oh, I know he won't," Ariadne snapped. "He's just trying to piss me off so I'll leave."

"Is it working?" Ari's giant blond husband asked plaintively. "We don't have so many chances to go on vacation, Ari!"

And that seemed to work. Rory had been making good commissions lately-- tourists were coming to Granby to buy his paintings, and, oddly enough, Craw's yarn. It had been Craw who'd told Ariadne she was bitchy as hell and needed five days with just her husband to chill her out, and he hadn't been far wrong--Ariadne was worried.

Persephone had been born with a cleft palate, and that was a lot of operations between birth and three-and-a-half years old. Her little ears had tubes in them, and the tubes had gotten infected more times than anybody could count. Jeremy and Aiden, Craw and Ben--even Johnny and Stanley in Boulder--all knew the drill. Warm oil, compresses, and only call the doctor when her fever spiked over 100. Hurting ears were rough on a toddler, and hence rough on everybody around the toddler, and Ariadne and Rory were ragged. The little girl had another surgery in a month, and if Ariadne wanted to keep her sanity for another trip to the hospital with her little one, she needed a break now.

But of course Jeremy and Aiden were happy to do it.

Aiden had been raised around children--he was a natural at them-- but Persephone was Jeremy's only experience with a small person who kept growing, and Persy was his world.

The two of them had watched the little girl a lot in the past three-and-a-half years, from days when Ariadne was in the yarn shop doing books and Jeremy took her to feed stock with him, or the occasional evening when Ariadne and Rory had a rare date. She'd stayed in their guest bedroom before in her little porta-crib, and they had a routine with her.

"Okay," Ariadne said finally. "Bye baby--you be good."

"Bye, mama," Persephone said tranquilly from Jeremy's arms. "Thee you wader!"

Her lisp would be worked with after her final surgery--but Jeremy could see how now, the imperfect words were probably ripping Ariadne's heart right out of her chest.

"Bye sweetheart," Rory said, dropping a kiss on his daughter's forehead. "Guys, call us if you need anything." He said the words out loud, but they both saw him shake his head forebodingly, and they got it. If Ariadne didn't have a little bit of space, she was going to crack--this trip was for everybody.

Finally they were gone, their little Hyundai jouncing down the road, and Persephone struggled in Jeremy's arms.

"Bunnies!" she pleaded, and he set her down and let her go. Aiden had put in paving stones in the beginning of spring, leading from the driveway to the entrance of the house, and from the house to the back, where the critter cages were. Jeremy and Aiden kept an increasing number of rabbits and chinchillas bred for their fur, and feeding, watering, and brushing the gentle creatures took Jeremy about an hour a day. On this day, he was going to get some help.

He sang softly as he brushed out his second favorite critter--a chinchilla that Stanley and Johnny had bought him three-and-a-half years ago, when Jeremy had still been in the hospital from saving Stanley's life. Ariadne had been there too, on bedrest, and the hospital had let them room together, because Jeremy had been a mess and they'd both been lonely. Persephone stood on tiptoe and studied one of the older bunnies through his enclosure. This one was sort of a badass bunny, but he regarded her curiously, munching through a carrot Jeremy had given him as a bribe to be nice.

"Jemy?" Persephone turned to him and put her finger delicately on her upper lip. "Wook." She wrinkled her lips and her nose, and Jeremy smiled as he realized she was doing a bunny wiggle.

"Yeah, princess--is that what bunnies do?"

"Am I a bunny?"

Jeremy frowned. "No, you're an angel."

She tapped her scarred upper lip again, and Jeremy had an epiphany. A cleft palate used to be called a "hare lip" for just that reason. Because it split the upper lip like... well, a bunny.

"Yeah, princess. You've got that split in your lip for now. It'll get closed up as you get older."

She looked sad then, and Jeremy put the chinchilla back in its cage before picking her up.

"What's wrong, princess?"

"Wan look like bunny!" she protested, and Jeremy laughed softly.

"Well, you will look like Persephone even after it gets fi... uh, changed," he said. "It will help you talk, and you'll still have a little scar there, so you can remember when you were a bunny."

She brightened, and brushed Jeremy's face gently with her fingertips. "Thcarth?"

It took Jeremy a minute, and then he remembered--he had scars too. "Yeah, but your scars will make you pretty," he said. His scars sort of made him the opposite of that. The beating he'd taken keeping Stanley's whereabouts from a rabid mobster had taken away the con-man's prettiness he'd relied on his entire life. He'd been devastated at first, but Aiden kept looking at him like he was pretty, and he'd just... forgotten, over the last few years. Sometimes he mourned his perfect nose and the dimples in smooth cheeks, but most days, he worked too hard by Aiden's side to think too much on what he'd lost.

He had his boy, he had his family with Ari and Craw and Ben--and even Johnny and Stanley. He had his bunnies and his chinchillas, and the sheep and alpacas at Craw's farm.

He had his work and his dog, Bluebell. And he had Persephone, who made his days brighter with just a smile.

"Your thcarth make oo pretty," she said carefully, and Jeremy grinned at her.

"You think so? I'll have to tell Aiden that."

She gave an exaggerated scowl then. "Aithen wook wike mean!"

Jeremy laughed. "That's just for show. He's got a heart softer than bunny fur. You know that!"

That night, Jeremy cooked chicken pot pies for them, a new recipe that Aiden liked and that Persephone could eat easily, because chewing was difficult sometimes. They sang songs and then sat in the quiet while she played with the toys her mother had brought, and finally, she fell asleep on Aiden's lap as he read to her from a magazine about tending stock.

"That about put me to sleep too," Jeremy admitted softly after Aiden laid her down.

"Well, next time we'll try one of those action books of yours," Aiden muttered. "Bluebell, down."

Bluebell, their Volkswagen sized dog, knew exactly what that meant as they entered their room--and so did Jeremy.

"Bluebell down?" Jeremy said, and Bluebell--who was stretched across the felted rug Ariadne had given them for Aiden's birthday two years before--gave him a puzzled look. She was down, right?

"Yes, Jeremy. You heard what I said." Aiden was stripping off his clothes and heading for the shower, and he looked behind him impatiently. "Coming?"

Jeremy stripped off his clothes too, feeling a little naughty. They usually didn't do things like shower together when Persephone was staying with them. "I... I uh... you know."

Aiden caught his hand as he came into the bathroom to put his clothes in the hamper. "I did not agree to go without sex for a week, Jeremy. You need to put that out of your head."

Jeremy felt his smile blossom from somewhere around his toes. In the past three-and-a-half years, his body had gotten stronger. He'd still have frailties--his arm had been badly broken, and his hip would always pain him in the cold. But he'd been active and happy most every day.

He wasn't embarrassed to be naked in front of Aiden anymore. Aiden hadn't let him be.

The shower was short, but Aiden was ruthless about letting Jeremy know what would be expected of him when they got out.  By the time Aiden backed him up to the bed and possessed Jeremy's body expertly, with the ease of a lot of practice, Jeremy would have died if he'd been denied any of those expectations.

Their sex was hard and fast--and quiet, because neither of them were in the mood to put clothes on and run into the other room to quiet down their houseguest.  Jeremy's climax same so quick, so gracefully, he tilted his head back with a little cry, and was transported to the clouds while his body did all the heavy lifting downstairs.

Aiden's climax was a little harder, and as he thrust in a final time, he took Jeremy's mouth, his groan reverberating down in Jeremy's toes. He collapsed on top of Jeremy, and Jeremy smiled dreamily as the kiss faded. Aiden rolled to the side and covered them both with the blanket because even in the summer, Granby got a little chilly after dark.

"God," Aiden said, rubbing his fingertips along Jeremy's lips. "You are so pretty."

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Am not."

"Don't be an ass, Jeremy. You are too."

And Jeremy felt the wounding to his heart. "You know very well I haven't been pretty since... since you know. Since my face got busted up."

Aiden sat up in bed and scowled. "I know that's bullshit, and I didn't know you still thought that."

Jeremy swallowed, hard, rolling to his side. "Look, just drop it, okay?"

"No."

Jeremy scowled at him. "What are you going to do? Compliment me to death?"

"No--I just want you to admit you're still a fine looking man, Jeremy No-Last-Name."

Jeremy raised a corner of his mouth, a long buried hurt surfacing. Aiden had brought it up three years ago--but their lives had been so busy then. They'd been good lives--better than Jeremy had ever imagined having--but they'd been busy, and it had been forgotten between them.

"I must not be that good looking," Jeremy retorted, "Or I'd have a last name, wouldn't I?"

Aiden sucked in a breath, and let it out on an "Aha..."

"What?" Jeremy didn't look at him.

"God, I'm dumb."

"You are not." Jeremy hated it when Aiden said things like that. Aiden was perfect--Jeremy knew it in his bones.

"I must be if I haven't married you yet."

Jeremy peeked at him. "You did say something about it once," he mumbled, remembering that night before the benefit they'd thrown to help Ariadne and Rory with Persephone's medical expenses. It had been a beautiful, fairy-tale sunset, and Aiden had put it out there, and Jeremy had hoped.

"Can I help it if I'm so happy I feel married already?" Aiden asked mildly, kissing his shoulder. "Would you let me call you pretty if you wore my ring and had my last name?"

"It would be a lie," Jeremy said sullenly.

"It would not." Aiden tugged gently on his shoulder until Jeremy sighed and turned around and into him. "I would be proud to have such a man with my name."

Jeremy couldn't help it. He smiled into Aiden's chest. "Persephone said my scars were pretty," he said, remembering the stupid pride he'd felt at that.

"That's because she loves you best," Aiden told him, his big hand stroking Jeremy's hair.  "But not more than I do, Jeremy. Marry me. Then you'll know I think you're the prettiest one."

Jeremy kissed him. "Sure. And everyone will know I'm your man."

And Aiden's clear-eyed expression lapsed into his habitual scowl. "And you can finally stop calling me boy."

Jeremy grinned. "Nope. Not even when we're a hundred."

Aiden's throaty laughter rang in his ears.

The next morning, when Ariadne called, sounding sleepy and happy and so much more relaxed, Jeremy told her he and Aiden were getting married sometime in the fall.

"It's about fucking time," she murmured. "Now tell me what Craw says after you go to the store."

Craw said exactly the same thing. It was like they were best friends or something. It was Ben who called Stanley and started the planning.

And Aiden who shopped for the rings.

Jeremy was too busy chasing his princess around the store and the stables, keeping her out of trouble. He told her that was the price you paid when you were beautiful--other people just fell over themselves trying to be nice to you.

She giggled like understood the joke, and he giggled because he knew it was one.

He was pretty sure that other people fell over themselves trying to be nice to Jeremy for the same reason Jeremy's entire life stopped so he could take care of his princes angel bunny. Of all the changes in his life since he'd first come to Granby, the biggest, most important one of all was that he knew for a fact that he was very very well loved.

Removing the Mask--A SuperBat fanfic

Hey all--thanks so much for your words of encouragement. I actually have to deep dive an edit tomorrow, but tonight? It's all about fiction.

And just for fiction, I'm jumping on the SuperBat train. Are you ready boys? Cause I'm home.

* *

Again.

Halloween approached again--what was it now, three years? And Bruce slept less and less and Clark worried more and more.

He'd asked Alfred about the kidnapping when Bruce had been very young, and Alfred had paled, and then asked Master Clark if he'd be having steak that evening per usual.

Three years, Clark had been asking that question. Three years, and he'd been eating steak while Batman went out and tried to kill himself with exhaustion.

Dammit.

Wasn't he supposed to be a reporter?

This year, the first nightmare rocked Bruce a good week early. The week before had been bloody. The Joker had escaped, and had let loose the Scarecrow as well. Together their monstrous masks had been on television nearly every hour--and Bruce had faced them down alone, and people had died.

Clark had been off planet with Diana, intercepting an invasion attempt with most of the rest of the Justice League. He'd returned to find his lover in the infirmary, taciturn and distant, too much gauze on his wounds for Clark to even think of taking him to bed to make him talk.

The wounds had been healing--and, thanks to Alfred, who had snuck some of Superman's platelets into his antibiotic injections, they'd been healing well--but Bruce was not all right.

That first dream happened two nights after Clark's return, and Clark had been lying awake, studying him. Bruce's brow wrinkled in sleep, as though he were approaching dream land with the same intensity he approached everything else. He hadn't even spoken, hadn't twitched, hadn't even murmured. One moment he was studying sleep from the inside, and the next Bruce Wayne was sitting up in bed screaming.

"Bruce! Stop! it's me! You're fine! You're fine! Stop!"

And like a light switch, that's how fast Bruce Wayne went from screaming and lost to wide awake and irritated.

"I'm fine!"

"The hell you are! Jesus, Bruce--Halloween's not for another week! I know you hate the holiday but--"
"I'll deal," Bruce said, and had rolled over and gone to sleep.

"I'll deal?" Clark murmured to himself. "You scream like that in my ear and all I get for my pains is 'I'll deal'?"

Bruce was lying, eyes closed, chest--with the deeper wounds still bandaged--exposed, as though very sexily asleep. "You know who you're sleeping with."

"A complete and total asshole," Clark muttered. "Yeah, I've figured that out." But that didn't stop him from spooning along Bruce's back and murmur against the nape of his neck.

"You know it makes it worse," Bruce said, surprising him when it shouldn't have. "That comfort. Comfort never stays."

Oh. Clark sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry--"

"You were doing your job. Not your fault. Don't worry about it."

"Then let me comfort you!" Clark begged, almost peevishly.

"Fine. Whatever makes you happy."

Clark held him so tight, he was afraid he'd break something, and for his part, Bruce feigned sleep--right up until he wasn't pretending anymore, and he woke up screaming.

After the second night--the one where Alfred had dished him up two prime rib slices instead of one, presumably to buy his silence, Clark put on his reporter cap because he was done with this shit.

"Yo, Clark," Diana murmured in his com. "What are you doing? You don't work for the Gotham Post!"

"Yeah, but I'm trying to find a thing... something that happened around forty-five years ago."

"Something to do with Bruce Wayne's parents?" Diana asked dryly. "That shouldn't be hard to figure out. They used to make all the--oh!"

"Oh," Clark said, hitting microfiche probably at the same time she hit super-computer recorded microfiche.

"He was kidnapped?" she asked, but there it was, in lurid color, splashed on the front page.

"It's forty-nine years ago," Clark said, his voice thick. "He would have been four."

For a moment, both of them were quiet, Diana in the Eye-in-the-Sky on space age equipment, Clark down on earth looking at an ancient microfiche scanner.

Both of them appalled. "They almost killed him," she said, her voice a little broken too. "Shoved him in the back of a car with... a clown outfit?"

"It's how they lured him away from his parents," Clark said. "And when the police were closing in they drove the car into the river."

"He picked the lock," Diana muttered. "Jesus, Clark, he was four years old and he picked the goddamned lock."

"God," Clark muttered. "He must have been so scared." No wonder he felt like comfort was a lie.

"Clark," Diana said ominously. "Clark, did you see the name of the kidnapper who died in the car?"

"No--wait. Cordell Chopper--why is that fam--oh." Fuck.

"He was charged posthumously with over thirty counts."

Clark couldn't say it--the bile rose in his throat. Inappropriate touching seemed so... so tame, for the violation, the indignity, of what the man was charged with.

"But wait," he muttered. Then, both of them, "Oh dear God."

It was buried in the article--nobody wanted to talk about it, perhaps? Nobody wanted to suppose that a child could defend themself with such absoluteness.

"Two sharp puncture wounds in the groin," Clark murmured. "Go Bruce."

"Look at him," Diana said, and she'd apparently come to the same picture Clark had. Long before child rights were respected, long before the victim had rights, there stood Bruce Wayne, aged four years and three millennia old, staring directly into the camera.

He had his Batman face on.

"He must be so angry," Clark said.

"For which part?"

"Look what he did as a baby to defend himself," Clark told her. "And all he could do when his parents died was hide."

"Aw, Clark. Fuck you." She was crying. Well, join the fucking club.


*  *  *

Bruce Wayne scanned the chaos below him and tried hard to sort the good from the bad. Drug dealers in that house over there--but dumb drug dealers, so Bruce sent a text to Barbara Gordon, who sent a couple of cop cars that way.

A bunch of teenagers, squealing in excitement as one of them stood on his housetop in a Superman costume and sang Ave Maria to the stars. At first he thought they were high--but nope, local glee club. Go kid go, he had to remember to make a donation.

And children wandering too close to the lake--that required a dart--sans anaesthetic--blown at their father who was mostly just trying to stay awake during Trick-or-Treating after a long day's work. Dad popped up and looked at the youngsters and practically lost his shit. Tragedy averted.

And again and again and again. Small stuff, mostly. No terrorists in masks this year. He'd put away Scarecrow and Joker, even though they haunted him in his dreams.

Or someone in a clown mask did.

He didn't want to think about that.

But he was tired, to his bones, his recovering injuries aching even as they healed. It was almost like he was floating with--

"Hey! Put me down!"

"Are you kidding?" Clark muttered. "You're so tired you didn't feel me lifting you by your ass? No. You're a danger to yourself, you're a danger to others. Come home and go to bed."

"But it's Halloween!" Oh dear God--that really was Clark's hand right under his ass. Bruce had nothing to hold on to--he had to literally clench his asscheeks and his stomach tight enough to keep his balance as Clark spatula'd him across the sky.

"I know. Cool your jets. We've got reinforcements. I was gone for a couple of days, not forever you know."

"Oh right--you come back and hover over me like the ghost of Christmas future and I"m supposed to be all excited you're home!" Augh! What he'd really wanted was sex, but Clark had been all "You're hurt! I can't touch you then!" which was stupid because if he really loved Bruce, he'd figure out that's when Bruce needed him most!

"Yes," Clark said shortly. "And you need to tell Alfred to stop feeding me steak whenever I'm worried about you. I'm getting older you know. It could constipate me."

"Oh like you'd need fiber if you ate a whole fucking building," Batman growled from clenched teeth. "Where the hell are we--oh. Is that all?"

"Yes, idiot, I'm taking you home," Clark told him, and in a fluid movement, he hefted Batman up in the air and stopped, going vertical, so he could catch him and hold him, hovering in front of the waterfall that protected the BatCave.

Okay, so, fine. Bruce had to admit he did like the view from here.

"What are we doing?" he grumbled, trying hard to resist the appeal of Clark's heat and the kindness in his eyes and the strength in his broad chest.

Failing.

"I know you know this," Clark said, looking at him so intensely, Bruce felt a rare compulsion to remove his cowl outside of the cave. "But my name is Clark Kent. I'm not circumcised. I'm a total mama's boy and I miss my father so badly that I want to cry sometimes."

"We bring flowers," Bruce said gruffly. "On his birthday. With your mother."

"We do," Clark said, kissing his forehead. "She thinks you're a nice boy but she wishes I'd find somebody serious."

"I'm sorry." He really was. He loved Martha--he knew Clark tried again and again to explain that Bruce was merely putting on an act, but she believed the newspapers, because Clark was a newspaperman. Yet another reason to come out of the closet and stop being a playboy, Bruce supposed, but dammit, how did he keep being Batman?

"I know," Clark said softly. "But I wanted to make a point. You know who I am, and you love me."

"Yes." That was undisputed. Adamant. Penned in iron. Bruce Wayne loved Clark Kent. Taking it back would be ripping back his own flesh.

"I know who you are, Bruce Alexander Wayne," Clark whispered in his ear. "I know why you hate Halloween so badly--no, don't say anything."

Bruce's chest froze, the air in his lungs, his windpipe, everything a layer of ice. "Bu--"

"You can tell me or you can keep it secret," Clark whispered, the two of them hovering in the mist like souls deciding whether to ascend to heaven.  "Halloween won't get better--but you'll know I'll know why it sucks so bad."

"But..." He tried again, but it didn't work any better than the first time.

"You'll know I know the worst, and I still love you."

Bruce whimpered, and pulled Clark into a kiss. Clark went willingly, zooming them through the waterfall and to their bedroom, both of them wrestling out of their work clothes alone, because they were so carefully constructed one man's help might be another's lycra/kevlar prison.

Finally they were naked, bare skin to bare skin, Clark on his back taking all of Bruce's weight because Bruce knew he could.

Taking all of Bruce's cock, hard, brutally hard, because Bruce knew he could.

Taking Bruce's guttural scream of completion, swallowing it down, taking his trembling and his gasps of anger, of fear, of pain, and giving back love, because Bruce knew he could.

Finally, the two of them were spent, skin sticky on the other, naked and rank with come.

"Do you want to talk?" Clark asked softly.

"No."

But he did anyway, the story tumbling out of him with a four-year-old's diction, his anger, his joy at defending himself, his glee as the car sank and he struggled to swim, fully clothed through the icy water.

His absolute trust when a young Alfred had pulled him out by the scruff of the neck, far from where the police had been searching, because Alfred knew what he was capable of, and hadn't despaired for a moment.

Finally, finally, it was done, and dawn was creeping in through he special drapes, and his alarm went off, calling Bruce Wayne to go be productive in the November morning.

Clark melted the alarm clock into slag.

"That's the third one this year," Bruce mumbled, falling asleep on his chest.

"So you've had a whole three full nights of sleep in a year. Fucking sue me," Clark said, his voice thick as he ran his big hands from Bruce's neck, down along his spine, to his hips.

"You're sounding more and more like me," Bruce mumbled. "No wonder your mother thinks you can do better."

He could, Bruce knew, but his eyes were so heavy, and his heart so much lighter, he just didn't have the strength to argue.

*  *  *
"She's wrong," Clark whispered, feeling Bruce's breathing even out. "There is no man better than you, Bruce Wayne. No man better for me."

Bruce didn't answer, his chest rising and falling evenly, and Clark rolled slightly so he rolled to his side on the bed.

Clark stayed there, half-dozing, as Bruce slept until the next evening, awaking groggy and disoriented and needing to pee.

"You didn't go anywhere?"  Bruce asked, yawning and squinting into falling twilight. "Why not?"

"Because I know what scares you," Clark said simply. "And nothing's going to hurt you on my watch."

They both knew it might be a lie. They both kn ew there were times when the world would need one of them and the other couldn't be there. But this wasn't about Superman and Batman, this was about Bruce and Clark.

Bruce surprised him then with his first smile in weeks. "Like anything could get through you."

Clark smiled back. "Your dick can."

Bruce's outraged grin was as close to joy as the two of them could ever get.

Close enough to warm their fingers in its glow.

Bacon and Eggs --a VERY SHORT Part 8 for Jai and Georg

This is going to be super short--like drabble short. I'm in the middle of a blog tour, and the kids have a full plate this week--but I couldn't let us forget about Jai and George! Also Parker was in dentist pain and needed some pets, and we always pet Parker because we love him, so this is for him too.


*    *   *

Jai heard him yawn and stretch, and then the rustling in the tent that indicated he was getting dressed.

"Going to the bathroom," he called softly, and Jai looked up from the eggs he was scrambling.

"Da."

George gave him a shy little smile and a wave and set up for the restroom two campgrounds away.

Jai bit his lip. He'd gotten a smile in the morning.

He hadn't been sure--not really. The night had seemed amazing to him, but he'd been dominant and a little bit kinky. Sure, rent boys were okay with that if you paid for it, but Jai didn't often find willing partners who liked to be teased until they screamed.

But George... George had taken all of it, willingly--happily. Like every suggestion Jai had made had been designed to make George catch fire.

The results had been... magic.

Jai thought magic deserved some bacon and eggs in the morning. And some coffee as well.

For a small man, George made a lot of noise tramping around in his tennis shoes. Jai wasn't surprised when he slipped his cool hands around Jai's middle, under his fleece, and nuzzled his shoulder.

"Good morning," he said, as contented as a cat.

"Good morning." Jai turned away from their food, which was nearly done and bent his head so he could take George's mouth. Ah, minty. Good. Jai had brushed his teeth too. "Sit," he said gruffly after he'd pulled away. "We can eat."

"I need to cook for you, eventually," George told him. Then he grimaced. "Or maybe I can just be the one who brings takeout on Fridays."

Jai laughed softly in deference to the early morning sun peeking through the black shadows of the the trees. "You don't cook?"

"Not well," George confessed guiltily. Jai slid his eggs onto a plate with three pieces of bacon and some toast that had been working as well, then put the whole works in front of George with ketchup and butter.  "This here is my only dish really," he confessed, taking a bite of bacon. "Mm... and you seem to do it just fine."

Jai chuckled and plated up his own food, poured them both milk, and then then sat down next to him on the picnic bench.

"What do you have planned today?" George asked him after his first bite.

Jai closed his eyes and swallowed blissfully. "Fishing--it will be boring, if you would rather--"

"I have a book in my truck," George said happily, and  some tension seemed to go out of him. "Sitting in the quiet with you sounds really nice."

"Good. I am not good at cocktail parties." Jai took a gulp of his milk--milk made him happy in the morning, and it gave his stomach a good buffer from black coffee, which he'd put on the camp stove for when they were done.

"I can fill space with my chatter," George apologized. "I mean, I'll bring the book in case you're ready to strangle me, but seriously--lots and lots of talking."

Jai chuckled. "We shall find a medium," he said. "Somewhere between the silent void of space and a monkey in a tree."

George grinned. "Wow. That's impressive. It's like I've been waiting for a guy to say they can compromise with me my entire life."

Jai gave him a self-deprecating roll of the eyes. "Too many men named Marvin and Gary," he said with a wink.

"Not enough men named Jai who can blow my mind in bed," George told him, and Jai nodded.

"Da." Then the banter faded, and he found the answer to this next question was really important. "What we did last night--it was good? Truly good? No regrets?"

George met his gaze soberly and shook his head. "None. Just, you know. Don't want to scare you away so we can do it again."

Jai's grin threatened to take over his whole face, but he fought it back. "Good," he said, keeping that eye contact. "I would like very much for us to do that again."

"And again," George added.

"I've always enjoyed camping," Jai told him with a bland smile.

"I can see why."

They buried themselves in their bacon and eggs then, before making ready to walk to the lake, camp stools over their shoulders, fishing tackle in Jai's hand, George's book in his. George actually read quietly for an hour, as the sun rose gloriously over the mountains, setting the lake on fire.

Jai couldn't ever quite remember a more brilliant morning.

Jai/George Part 7--Good Morning to You!

So a quick installment tonight before the weekend. Remember, I'm taking off Monday morning for New York, so this is going to have to tide us over!

*  *  *

Good Morning to You! 

George slept in sort of a half-aroused fever dream, engulfed in the arms of a giant who kept him warm and safe and horny.

"Mm..." George whined a little, because he scooted back and bumped something that penetrated, titillated, pulsed and throbbed. He reached behind himself, arching so he could... wait, was something in his ass?

"You are needy?" A voice purred in his ear, and George came fully awake.

Jai. He was in the tent with Jai, surrounded by the smells of canvas and the sharp high desert of the Tehachapi Mountains--and sex. And Jai. The darkness around them was complete, but there was  a sharpness in the air that indicated dawn was close.

Jai thrust up against his backside, and the plug he'd left in only a few hours before was tapped hard, and suddenly George was awake and dawn wasn't the only thing that was close.

"Oh my God!" He was loud--louder than he'd meant to be--and Jai's hand came up in front of his mouth.

"Sh," he whispered. "Should I get the gag again?"

George shuddered, all of his pleasure synapses firing at once.

"Depends," he said breathily. "Are we going to go fast or slow?"

Jai chuckled softly and nuzzled his shoulder, his ear, from behind. "Both."

George moaned--but quietly. "No gag," he begged. "Just... just now."

HIs rim must have swollen around the plug, because Jai needed to add some lube to it to pull it out, and the ache was just on the ledge of pleasure and pain. And then Jai's cock, huge and slick, was right there to take it's place, and George felt tears start at his eyes. It didn't hurt, but the fullness, the sense that he'd never come down from that first orgasm, was overwhelming.

"It's okay, little George," Jai said, his thumbs brushing at the tears even as he moved, thrusting slowly and steadily inside George's willingly given body. "I'm taking you over, but I'll be kind."

George let out a breath with no voice, and his own cock grew and throbbed. Jai kept fucking, but his hands--his hands were exploring. George's chest, his thighs, plucking his nipples, stroking his cock... George kept all his voices to himself, the hush of the dark morning helping to make this a moment in a bubble, a quiet all to themselves. "Okay," he said brokenly. "Okay."

Jai picked up speed.

George captured Jai's hand as he plucked George's nipple, needing to clutch something. His body was doing a slow roll, almost a preparation to orgasm, a leviathan sexual wakeup, and he was flying, lost in the dark, only Jai's ragged breathing and his hand keeping him tethered to their bed on the floor of the tent.

"Don't let go," Jai rumbled.

"Don't stop," George begged.

"Let me stroke you. I am close."

George wrapped his fingers around Jai's wrist as Jai closed his hand over George's cock and stroked slowly, in time to his thrusts. The contact made the stroking delirious, an extension of George's own touch, and he was just swimmy enough from waking up in a full state of arousal for the sensation to amp his need exponentially.

And up and up and up and up... George released Jai's wrist so he could bite down on his palm, because swat was breaking out over his forehead, his chest, and his orgasm rolled through him, slow and huge, and he needed to stifle his cry.

He creamed up over Jai's fist, and behind him he heard Jai's slow, tortured breath as he convulsed inside George's ass, the torrent of come scalding and real as the two of them rode the wave together.

The come down was shakier this time.

Jai held his hand, covered in spend, up to George's mouth, and George lapped dreamily, because he was in no place to say no to anything sexual right now. The act, filthy and fulfilling, almost soothed him. What they'd done had been animal and real and the bitterness proved it.

When he was done, their breathing subsided, and George realized his backside was dripping around Jai's softening cock and he had no urge to wash himself.

"Sleep?" he asked groggily.

"Yes."

"That... I'm going to need more of that. And more and more and more..." His voice wandered dreamily. "It's like heroin. A drug. I'm feeling so high..."

Jai nuzzled his neck again. "Next month, I shall bring all my pretty toys," he promised direly. "And you will forget you can have sex with other men."

"I can't." George was out of it--but he was also candid. "Whole life, boring. You, here, now, is electricity and fire. No more sex for other men. Ruined me. Wrecked my asshole. In a good way."

Jai chuckled. "So, there will be a next month?" He sounded... wistful. Hopeful. Like he wanted the answer to be yes, but he wasn't sure.

"Do you have any bodies in the trunk?" he asked.

"Not this trip."

Ah, well, nobody was perfect. "As long as there's no bodies in the trunk, there's always a next month."  He felt wise as he pronounced this, but Jai's wounded sound surprised him.

"I shall be careful to never have bodies in my trunk with you," he said, and as much as it should have been a joke, it sounded like a true promise.

"Okay. I promise we'll do this again."

"Thank you." Jai rested his cheek on the top of George's head, and George had enough consciousness for one more word.

"Thank you. Was wonderful."

"You deserve no less, sweet man. Now sleep."

George closed his eyes, limp and used and happy. When he awoke in the morning, sunlight lit up the inside of the tent, although it was still chilly. The spot next to him was empty, but there was the sounds of something frying on a grill outside the tent, and the smell of bacon.

George's body was loose and a little sore and a lot glorious. Wow. They'd done that. The smell of sex and the stretching in his backside and even the feeling of come on his thighs--it all made it real. George felt delicious and debauched and cared for--and he wanted that man outside frying him bacon to know that this was all his doing, and George had developed more than an attachment or an attraction for him.

George had developed a crush.

Imagine what more could develop in the course of the day.

Don't Slow Down--Jai/George Part 6

So, continuing on from where we last left off... warning, this is a little more explicit than my other sex scenes.

Uh, enjoy?

*  *  *

"Slower?" George panted, struggling minimally with Jai's binding grip on his wrists. "But I want faster?"

Jai chuckled and shifted between George's legs. George's breath caught. Naked. They were naked. He was in a tent with an enormously strong man and their bodies were touching, skin rubbing, his cock along Jai's abdomen, Jai's cock along his thighs, and they were bare-assed naked. 

Jai dropped his head so his breath touched the shell of George's ear. Slowly--excruciatingly slowly--Jai rippled his hips, so George could feel every inch of of Jai's length shoving into the soft skin of his inner thigh.

There were a lot of inches-many of them long but some of them wide, and a thick slide of pre-come making those inches glide.

George moaned quietly and wrapped his legs around Jai's hips, arching against him and losing himself in the dreamy intimacy of being naked in the dark.

"Slow," Jai whispered, and rocked his hips again.

George's brain fizzled, and his words and any willpower he had to resist Jai's words and the demands of his body. "Anything," he whispered, arching up against Jai again. "Anything you want from me. Anything."

Jai sucked George's tender earlobe into his mouth, and kept up that full body massage with his own, their hips bucking against each other with increasing urgency. Jai released his earlobe, and the cool air added it's own gentle touch while Jai moved to behind his ear, his neck, his jaw. George tilted his head, bared his throat, gave this giant of a man complete access to all of his vulnerable parts.

Jai had already cared for George with tenderness and humor, and George had no qualms about turning over the reins.

Little broken whimpers issued from George's throat, and Jai kept on kissing him, his neck, his chest. Those big hands cupped George's hips and Jai took a sensitized nipple into his mouth, sucking until George moaned again, then nibbling, and then nipping. George clicked his teeth together in an effort to keep quiet and he moved his hands to grip Jai's biceps hard.

"Nyet," Jai whispered softly, putting George's hands over his head again.

"But--"

"You are my dessert," Jai said, his lips twisting wickedly. "Let me enjoy you."

"But--"

Jai reached under George's pillow and came out with a rope with a knot on either side, the kind that could be used as a dog toy. "Hold this," he instructed. "Over your head. Don't move until I tell you to."

George took the rope, surprised. "Nothing to tie me up with?" he said, only half joking.

"If this goes well this weekend, sure," Jai told him, so matter of factly that George's knees fell open.

"Nungh!"

"You like that, small man?"

This close, Jai's chest pressed up against George's abdomen, George could practically feel the smugness radiating from him. Being tied up had never been on George's list of kinks--but in this moment here, he felt the thrill at being at Jai's mercy.

"I dunno," he mumbled, squirming against Jai's massive body. "I just... just... oh God, Jai, I need--"

Jai took his other nipple into his wet mouth and pulled.

George cried out and bucked, wrapping his legs again and squeezing.

Jai let go of his nipple with a pop, and very carefully moved George's feet so one was spread on either side of Jai's body. "Stay," he said firmly.

George whimpered.

"Stay," Jai repeated. He moved then, kissing George's soft, concave tummy, nibbling at his hipbones, and then moving to his inner thighs.

"Did you miss something?" George squeaked, his entire groin area throbbing with the need for attention.

"A gag?" Jai said, so casually George moaned. He could see it, them, him gagged, his hands tied above his head, a blindfold, just giving himself over to Jai, allowing himself to be cared for. The fantasy--as well as the reality that was unfolding right at this moment, was enough to make George gasp, holding onto himself just barely as he spurted precise.

"Next time," Jai said judiciously, licking George's inner thighs right next to his balls. "Next time I shall bind you and gag you and blindfold you, and you will be at my mercy. But first, let me find out what I can do to make that good for you."

"Suck my cock?" George begged.

Jai chuckled, his hot breath fanning George's testicles. "Nyet."

He kissed the crease of George's thigh then, his goatee abrading the places George needed him to touch. He licked along George's balls, digging into the base of them, not quite in George's cleft. George's moans grew louder, although he fought against them, and Jai grunted, then reached up, his body covering George's in a whole new array of sensations, as he grabbed something else from under the pillow.

"This is just a kerchief," Jai said. "It is clean. Bite down on it if you wish."

George opened his mouth voluntarily and did so, glad for something to focus on while Jai made him lose his mind.

His thighs, inner and outer, the backs of his knees, even his ankles, all were treated to gliding touches, the grace of lips, the toying of Jai's tongue. George was grateful for the kerchief in his mouth muffling his cries, and his focus on the rope above his head kept him from just beating on Jai's back and demanding something, anything, on his--

"Mmmmmmmmmffffff!!!"  Just when he'd lost focus, begun to drift in the haze of sensuality Jai had created, Jai shoved up from the bottom of the sleeping bag and covered George's cock with his mouth. One gulp, straight to the back of his throat, and George's scream would have been heard across the lake if he hadn't been gagged.

Oh God! Oh God oh God oh God! Jai was sucking him, long, slow, hard sucks and George was helpless, powerless against him.

"Don't come yet," Jai told him, his voice ragged. "Just let me suck you."

"Mmkay..."  George almost sobbed. It felt so good, the pressure, the wet stroking. His cock wept precise copiously but George concentrated on the roughness of the rope in his fists, in the gentleness of Jai's hands along his thighs. Another head bob and another and another, and George found himself lost again, pleasure the only thing that existed. Jai pulled off his cock, the lost of his heat almost a physical pain, and then George felt his hips lifted, his cheeks spread, and he groaned against the gag. He'd washed plenty good, inside and out, hoping for the best tonight, but Jai's tongue, on his cleft, on his hole, was more than the best. He groaned again, eyes burning against the dreaminess of the rim job, and  was so adrift in the haze that he barely noticed Jai's blunt finger sliding inside.

Until it began to tease. George began to surface, his ass burning for more, and then came the second finger, the ritual of stretching, and George began to shake, sweating, the strain of keeping himself in subspace almost too much to bear.

Then a third finger, and Jai must have found some lubricant somewhere when George wasn't paying attention, because the cool and slickness against his rim, coupled with the stretch and the burn sent another round of need roaring through him.

He spit out the gag, needing to speak. "Jai, I can't, I... oh God... I need...I'm...oh God." He whispered it, still conscious that they were in a tent, and Jai slid a fourth finger inside him. Blackness washed behind his eyes as he fought orgasm, and sweat broke out across his chest, prickling with the pain and the pressure and the pleasure.

"I can't decide," Jai said frankly, his breath hitting George's wet cock like fingertips. "If I want to fuck you the first time, or just taste you."

"Fuck me!" he begged. In his life he couldn't remember being this aroused, every breath of wind across his skin agonizing in its ecstasy.

"Since you asked so pretty," Jai chuckled. He withdrew his fingers, wiping them on a cloth near George's head as he moved up the sleeping bag again. With casual strength he slung George's legs over his shoulders, and lined his cock up with George's asshole. George was still gripping the rope between his fists, and Jai paused for a moment. George realized his vision had adjusted to the dark and that Jai was just... looking at him.

"So pretty, my George," Jai chuckled. "Let to of the rope and grab your nipples," he commanded, and George was processing that when Jai thrust in.

George's mouth came open but no sound emerged, the enormity of the breach was so astounding. God, four fingers weren't enough, weren't close, and yet George had been prepped, so there was no pain. Only the amazing girth as it thrust slowly into him, making him aware of every invading inch.

"Put the gag in, little man," Jai told him, and George was beyond asking questions or protesting. He put the gag in and moaned against it, taking Jai's cock in further, and further and further and...

"Augh!"

"Yes," Jai whispered. "That is all the way."

George was shaking again, with the invasion, and Jai pulled out, leaving him bereft.

And then another thrust, and another, and another. Spots swam in front of George's eyes every time Jai bottomed out, and he realized he held his breath for each thrust. He pulled desperately at his own nipples, back arching off the sleeping bag, body consumed with the fire of Jai's possession, gibbering against the gag in his mouth with need.

"Breathe," Jai whispered. "Breathe. And whenever you're ready..."

Please? George begged in his head because his mouth couldn't have made the word even without the gag.

Jai pounded a few more times, then harder, then faster, until the fireworks in George's head were exploding with every breath.

Please? He thought again, and it wasn't until Jai ripped the kerchief out of his mouth that he realized he'd spoken.

"Yes?" Jai panted, body still rocking, hands back on George's hips where they belonged.

"Please?" George groaned, his body past endurance, past thought, past sanity. "God, I need..."

"Don't ask God," Jai growled. "He is not in your bed. Whose cock is inside you right now?"

"Yours," George groaned. "Please, Jai... please let me--"

Jai kept fucking him, the slap of their flesh probably resonating across the mountaintops, but George didn't care, would, in fact, keep fucking this man forever, as long as he could come right now!

Jai bent him almost in two and George's eyes burned with tears again, pleasure taking him by surprise as that enormous cock hit his gland like a fist.

"Come," he rasped. "Oh God, Jai, please let me--"

"Come!" Jai groaned, his body rippling, throbbing inside George's ass, and George kept his cry quiet, until Jai shoved the gag back in and then he let it all out, his body convulsing in abandon, his cock spewing hot and sticky between them.

Quivering, trembling, still rutting, Jai collapsed on top of him, and George spread his legs to accommodate, and still, still Jai's cock was inside him. He didn't pull out, just pumped hot spend into George's waiting chamber, both of them burying there faces in th e other's neck and moaning sweetly in repletion.

Soon--too soon--Jai pushed himself up on his elbows and plled the gag away. "How do you feel?" he asked softly.

"Melty,"  George responded, his body left shaking and unfocused in subspace. "I'm... no words."

Jai laughed, the vibrations shivering inside George where they were still connected. "That is a change," he said. "Because you kept trying to talk when words were not needed."

Jai laughed again, and to his surprise, George felt an aftershock ripple through him, gripping Jai's cock in a hard squeeze before it ebbed out, leaving him shaky and drained.

Jai grunted, collapsing on him, and thrusting inside again.

"Mm..."  George mumbled. "I could sleep like this." Whole, replete, full of Jai's cock and come inside him. He'd never known this could be a kink, but he was floating in a sensual sea, and all things sexual were good things.

"Mmm..." Jai reached up toward the pillow again and George used the opportunity to actually touch the man, his neck, his shoulders, his outer arms.

"That's nice," Jai admitted. "Let me do this thing, and you can touch me like that some more."

George could see well enough in the dark by now to make out the objects in Jai's hands, but he was so stoned on sex that he couldn't figure out what he was going to do until Jai did a lot of things in quick succession.

The first thing he did was shift one of the objects down near George's bottom and set it down. Then he used his hands to push George's cheeks together while Jai pulled out. There was no rush of come, and before George could ask why, he felt the smooth, soft sides of a plug being eased between his cheeks, slick with the same lubricant Jai had apparently used with the two of them.

He grunted softly as as the plug stretched, and then hummed as it seated. He was full--not uncomfortably full, just... full.

"Why?" he mumbled, as Jai used the washcloth.

Jai made that happy, humming noise and pushed George to his side, the shift putting just enough pressure not he plug to let George know it was there.

"Whim," Jai said, running his lips down the outside of George's arm. "I want to keep my come inside you. It should be a silly thing, but it makes me hot, to think about."

"Mm..." George agreed.

"And this way..." Jai thrust his damp semi-hard cock against George's backside, bumping the plug and sending ripples up his body. "This way, when we awake in a few hours, we will both be ready."

George hummed again, his body already tingling. So much he wanted to say, wanted to share, wanted to talk about, but he was as lost as he'd ever been, as adrift in sex as he'd ever achieved, and all he could do was let his body buzz with anticipation and his suddenly still mind float in pleasure and exhaustion.

A part of him was disappointed though. He wanted to tell Jai that what had just happened between them was the best sex he'd ever had, and even better, the most exciting thing he'd ever done.

Tomorrow, he thought hazily. After they did it again.

Getting to Know You...Jai/George Part 5

It's been a while since I visited Jai and George--I seem to remember there about to be sex...

Which I may not get to tonight--but I WILL get to it.

* * *

George could barely contain himself enough to sit down, but Jai insisted. He'd cooked dinner, was plating it up on camp plates, and had even brought the good quality paper napkins and he kept apologizing for not remembering wine.

George's last boyfriend didn't use napkins and probably would have brought cheap tequila and inhaled it from the bottle.

Watching as Jai cast him surreptitious little glances as he prepared a simple meal on a camp stove was such an improvement.

"So," George said, hating to break the companionable silence. "How was your month?"

Jai shrugged. "My month? It was good. Lots of people trying to destroy their cars between LA and Vegas--Ace likes to say he loves those people, they keep trying to make us rich."

George laughed a little. "Nice. I'll have to try not to be one of them."

Jai rolled his eyes and brought their plates over. "Try harder. For God's sake, if you wanted me to look at your truck, you just had to ask."

Oh how embarrassing. "I'm not!" he defended. "Is it normal for it to need work so soon?"

"No," Jai said matter-of-factly. "The engine is dying. Could be fifty miles, could be five-hundred, but your bearings and seals are going to blow."

George stared at him. "That isn't good."

Jai shrugged and took a bite of spaghetti. "That depends. Do you have three thousand dollars for a new engine, or ten thousand dollars for a new truck?"

"I have just enough money to put money in my gas tank and get back to my little apartment in Northridge and eat noodles until I get paid next week."

Jai's glare was truly fearsome. "Do you have a drug problem?"

"No!"

"Gambling debts?"

"God no!"

"Are you paying a blackmailer?"

"NO! And whatever the next awful thing you're going to ask me, no to that too."

"Are you taking care of elderly parents?"

George paused, wondering what Jai had skipped and then deciding he didn't want to know. "No--they're doing just fine in Palm Springs."

"Student debt?"

George let out a breath and touched his nose. "Bingo."

"But your parents are rich?"

"Yeah, but I ran through a lot of their money studying stupid shit before I decided to get my nursing degree."

"Ah." Jai finally took a bite of spaghetti. "Your misspent youth."

"Yeah." George took his own bite and "hmmd".  "Good stuff--thank you."

"You can drive my Toyota home for a month. Sonny and I will make your car a project."

George swallowed his next bite too fast and had to work hard not to choke. "I am not putting out for you just so you can fix my truck!"

Jai's laughter had not gotten any worse over the last month. Rich, round, echoing--it started a stroke in George's stomach that was like foreplay for foreplay.

"But you are putting out for me?" Jai asked, amused.

"After that kiss?" George challenged. "You betcha!"

"Good." Jai took another bite of spaghetti and George followed. "Now tell me about your month."

"Busy," George said promptly. "I picked up a couple of extra shifts so I could get this weekend off. Amal was going to have kittens when I told him I was coming up camping with a total stranger. I tried to explain that it was a date like any other, but he expects me to turn up missing Monday morning."

Jai chuckled some more. "This Amal--he is a supervisor, or your friend?"

"Both. We tried to date. It was like drinking a caffeine free diet soda."

"Tastes like distilled evil and there's still no point?" Jai asked, horrified.

"Yes! Oh my God--yes. You understand. Everything that was wrong with the world was in that kiss. But we get along so well--it's like the gods said, 'Here, you shall have a work friend you are guaranteed not to loathe!' And boom. There we were."

"What makes him such a good work friend?" Jai asked, polishing off his spaghetti and turning on the picnic bench so they could look at each other. Night had fallen as they'd eaten, and only the faintest twilight threw Jai's face into darkness.

"He laughs at my jokes," George said promptly, and then because twilight was always such a serious time of day anyway, "and he knows how to make me laugh when the job breaks my heart."

"Mm." Jai took George's hand in his and stroked the back of it with his thumb. "The job hurts your heart?"

"ER," George said with a shrug. "Sometimes it's junkies who need detox, sometimes it's homeless people with fungus foot, and sometimes..." Unbidden he thought of the two-car crash he'd attended that morning, with four kids in the back of each car. There'd been three fatalities in the end, all of them children, and hearing the two mothers--both with serious injuries of their own--cry out in pain that would never heal--that had shaken them both. George had gone outside during his break to try to breathe deep and get his emotions under control, and Amal had called a fifty dollar grocery delivery for the entire unit--all donuts, cookies, and pastries.

"It was bad, today?"Jai said, breaking softly into his thoughts.

"Yeah. It was kids. That's always rough. Amal ordered like... six tons of Oreos and an entire cheesecake for the floor. We all walked through the nurse's station and shoved sugar at each other. It was... it was funny, you know? Sad but funny. And sort of awesome. Being human is hard sometimes."

"That is a good friend," Jai said. "Like Ace. He makes me come to his house twice a week for dinner. Sometimes I watch movies and sleep on the couch. There's nothing fancy--and we don't like the same movies at all--but he does it so I know I'm not alone."

"Yeah," George said. He brought his hand up to touch Jail's cheekbone with his thumb. "Maybe that's enough of us talking about other people for a minute."

He felt, rather than heard Jai's gentle smile, and then Jai lowered his head for a kiss.

A kiss like dessert, sweet and decadent and a little overwhelming, George was more than ready to give in to the current and get swept away.

Jai hummed and wrapped his arms around George's shoulders, and rather than feeling powerless, George felt empowered. This man--this massive man--who could care for George better than any man in his life--had made him for a date--on time--and promised to do nice things for him and fixed him dinner. Everything a good man was supposed to be, this gentle giant was. George didn't particularly care how many men he'd killed at this point--he wanted to know what it felt like to be protected and cared for.

All his adolescent selfishness had been leading up to this moment, apparently, because he wasn't going to give up this night for anything.

Jai pulled back, chest heaving, and rested his lips on George's forehead for a moment. "If I don't clean up, there will be animals. Do you want me to build a fire or--"

George took Jai's hand and placed it in a very suggestive, very swollen place. "Fire built," he moaned, wishing he could see Jai's expression.

Jai kissed his temple. "Then you go into the tent and stoke the fire," he said, laughing at the dirty pun, "and I'll clean up. Don't worry. I'll be there shortly." He paused. "Oh! Here." He pulled out his phone and punched a link. "See?"

"Jai Popov-- that's your last name?"

Jai wrinkled his nose. "No. Why would it be my real last name? Are you kidding me? But it was my real blood. See?"

"Negative for all transmitted viruses," George finished, then grinned. "Very romantic."

Jai shrugged, looking embarrassed. "I just... you know--"

"No, I shouldn't have laughed. Here."  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his printout, dated that week. "Here's mine."

"George C. Carmichael. What is the C for?"

George rolled his eyes. "Christopher."

"It is a good thing you had a misspent youth, George, or your name would make you invisible." Jai swallowed, and the air about them grew serious. "Thank you. For trusting me. For... for making a promise and keeping it. I'm going to clean up. I'll be in the tent shortly."

As George made his way back to the tent, left his boots at the entrance, and then undressed quickly in the chilly night, the buzz of anticipation made it hard for him to keep the tremble out of his fingers. Finally he was naked, and, with a little help from one of the disposable ampoules he'd packed, pre-lubed. HIs own fingers had been cold, parting his cheeks, squirting up his cleft--but it had been worth it. When Jai appeared at the tent's entrance, toeing off his own boots and then undressing carefully, he looked so serious. George wanted nothing between them, nothing in the way of what was going to happen next.

He was naked quickly, which was a shame because George could make out nothing in the near darkness inside the tent, and then he was inside the sleeping bag. George was on top of him before he could so much as zip up the side.

"Hell--mmmf..."

George had been waiting for this. Waiting to make love to this giant of a man. From Jai's kisses George knew he could be passionate--knew he could be in control--but George was not prepared for the way he completely took over.

With a growl he rolled back over, putting George on his back and holding his hands over his head.

"Slower," he grumbled. "Forever trying to rush things. I like what comes next."

* * *

... And it will happen tomorrow, when I am not falling asleep!!! Sleepy writers write bad sex--it's true!

Jackson and Ellery Defend A Friend of Mine

So, in celebration of Fish on a Bicycle going on pre-sale at DSP, I thought I'd give a little bit of love to my friend Rhae, who is currently having some trouble with contractors and needs some vengeance.

 *  *  *

Chaos and Cooking

Jackson had put the folder together the day before, and but he sat in on the meeting between Ellery and the defendant with no assumptions whatsoever.

"So, Ms. Camdyn--" Ellery began.

"Oh, honey. You can call me Rhae. It's so sweet of you to see me on such short notice." The woman who sat in their brand new law office with her bag of crocheting and a pretty little shawl around her shoulders did not look threatening.

"Well, yes, Rhae--you caught us as we're just beginning our practice. We've got a few cases under our belt--most of them successful--"

"Oh, I looked you up already. I know your record. That Sampson thing--what a doozy!"

Ellery looked at Jackson who shrugged. Well, "shrewd old bird" was IN CAPS in the top of the damned file for a reason.

"And I heard that your PI had some trouble--" she continued.

"All fine," Jackson lied. He told the truth to Ellery, that was enough.

"Um-hm."  Rhae Camdyn was a sweet, plumpish grandmotherly sort, with graying hair pulled up in a ponytail and bright eyes peering out from gray-framed glasses, but apparently she was computer savvy, and also savvy to the contracting laws of the state.

And according to the printout, she was one hell of a baker.

"So, Ms. Camdyn, you are charged with poisoning an entire construction crew with brownies," Ellery said, still not sure he'd read that right, then heard that right, then researched that right. "Is this true?"

"Is it true that I'm being charged with that? Oh yes, it most definitely is."

Ellery raised his eyebrows, and Jackson shrugged again. How many times did he need to put "shrewd old bird" in caps anyway?

"So, you're being charged with it--what I'm asking now is, did you do it?"

"Definitely not," Jackson interjected, raising one eyebrow. "The report is absolutely clear. Two labs verified it, Ellery. The brownies were homemade, they had two types of chocolate, and according to all the guys on the site, they were delicious. But they were not--repeat not--tampered with or poisoned. There was nothing in those brownies besides your standard ingredients."

Rhae Camdyn smiled an adorable little-old-lady smile and pulled out her crocheting project. "Except a whole lot of love," she said, starting to stitch what appeared to be a purple granny square.

"So the brownies were uncontaminated," Ellery clarified.

"Not a damned thing in them that me and those boys didn't bring in the first place," Ms. Camdyn reassured him, her hands flying with the wool and the hook.

"Then how do you explain what happened next?" Ellery continued doggedly.

"Next?"

Jackson had to hand it to her--she was good. He'd seen a lot of hardened criminals who would have murdered twice to sound as innocent as this woman.

"Yes," Ellery said. "Next. The entire group of contractors--including guys who claimed they weren't on the scene that day--had to be rushed to the hospital with cramps, nausea, and diarrhea. They all swore it was the brownies."

"But how could it be?" Rhae said, not dropping a stitch. "My brownies had nothing in them that me and those boys didn't bring to the table."

Jackson's eyes narrowed. It was the second time she'd said something like that--the third if you counted the police report.

"They were building your house, ma'am," Jackson said, and Ellery nodded because it was obvious he was out of steam trying to figure this one out.

"Well, that's what they said they were doing," Ms. Camdyn said tartly. "They claimed to be putting our pre-fab together, but those things should go up in a relatively short period of time, and those assholes have been mucking about it for weeks."

Jackson knew his eyes widened, but then, he'd talked to some of those guys. They'd gone on and on about the old lady whining at them when they'd been trying to text their girlfriends, and he'd thought they were assholes too.

"That must have been really inconvenient."

"Inconvenient?" she asked, and her sweet-little-old-lady gaze went hard. "We were living in a double-wide--do you know how many fur-babies we have?"

"Says here six?" Jackson asked, just to make sure. "Is that right?"

"I have no idea," she snapped. "But I have grown children and fur-babies and then that rain--"

"Yes, ma'am. Climate change is very destructive--"

"My office collapsed!" she snarled. "Because the prefab was supposed to be up by then! Inconvenient? Do you know I used to do that work? I would put in an honest days work for an honest day's pay, and those fools were telling me that I couldn't tell if they were slacking because I didn't know what they were supposed to be doing in the first place! My husband had to hold me back--we own a shotgun and I know how to use it!"

Ellery's eyes, which had narrowed suspiciously, were now very very wide, and he was looking at Jackson with the teeniest bit of anxiety. "Do you, uhm, happen to be armed now, ma'am?"

"No, young man, where do you think we live? Texas? There's no concealed carry law for a shotgun in California, and if there is, where am I supposed to conceal it? Use it as a cane?"

Jackson hid a smirk behind his hand.

"Uhm, no ma'am," Ellery said, having apparently just been schooled. "You seem very upset--and rightly so. I mean, I could probably make a case for letting you off if you did poison--"

"I didn't poison the brownies!" she said, with extreme emphasis.

"But you did poison the workers?" Jackson asked, just making sure.

"There was no poison involved," she said, her anger fading and her complacency returning as if by magic.

"Ma'am, we need to know. What exactly did you do to the contractors?"

She regarded them serenely from her purple project again. "I cursed them."

Jackson thought his eyeballs might dry out, and Ellery looked like he'd quit breathing.  Jackson recovered first. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but how did you--"

"Brownies were fine. I'm a high level druid, young man. I passed my wand thrice and uttered a 'receive as thou hast given' spell over them. It was a mild spell--I was thinking they'd get a little heartburn was all. I didn't realize they were such assholes that they'd all get karmic dysentery."

There was no air in the room. None. It had all been sucked out and Jackson could only gape like a fish. This time it was Ellery who recovered.

"You absolutely cannot say that on the stand."

"Wasn't planning to," she said, her hook never ceasing that rather hypnotic movement. "I only told you two nice young men because you were so insistent that it would hurt my case if you were surprised."

"Well we're definitely surprised," Jackson managed. "But, well, Ellery's right. There is absolutely no evidence to link you to the mysterious illness that took over the entire outfit. In fact, because some of the people who got sick weren't there, it points to a flaw in their own water supply, and we should probably use that as an alternative theory. I'm pretty sure we can get you off completely."

Rhae Camdyn's ingenuous smile didn't dim one iota. "Oh, I had a good feeling about you boys. Thank you so much. I absolutely must make you something for this office. I think one of Auntie Rhae's afghans would look lovely in the front, don't you?"

"We'd be delighted, ma'am," Jackson said, feeling as though the juggernaut of fate had somehow missed them but breezed a bit of wind through their hair. "Just, you know, don't bake for us."

Ms. Camdyn's laughter tinkled throughout the office, and she left shortly thereafter, leaving Jackson and Ellery to look at each other helplessly.

"A curse," Ellery said.

"That was new."

"There is absolutely nothing proving that is even possible--" Ellery began, but Jackson held up a hurried hand.

"Ellery, do you really want to test that woman? She's knitting us an afghan--for all we know it's got karmic wool or something and every time we tell a lie we'll be jumping like we've got a pin up our ass. Just take the win."

"But--"

"Take the win," Jackson ground out. "Take the fucking win."

"Fine," Ellery muttered. "It doesn't look like we've got a choice. The DA dropped the case."

"Really?"

"Something about the entire office taking a nap after getting a batch of cupcakes."

Jackson expelled a breath. "Take. The. Win."

"I should have been a dentist,"  Ellery told him sincerely.

"Sure. And I should have been a history teacher. We both fucked up. Just this once, we're going to walk away."

"The afghan was purple, Jackson."

"It's for the office," he said diplomatically. "Jade likes purple--she's the one who has to look at it in the reception room. Take--"

"The win. Fine. Come here."

Jackson moved across the room. "Why?" he asked, although he figured he knew.

Ellery raised his face. "Kiss me."

Jackson smiled, but did it anyway. "Why?"

"Because that, at least, I know is real."

MoonFish--Surprise Visit! Part 7

So, yeah-- this is still going on--but we're drawing to a close and that's exciting!

Anyway-- in honor of MoonFish, and me being way behind, we're postponing Kermit Flail until May--so don't forget to send in your stuff if you have a book to pimp! (If I get a ton of stuff for April in the next week, I'll do one for next Monday, but in the meantime, Squish is having a birthday and I'm planning a party... and a class... and some events. So let's just say, you know. Busy.)
So Kermit Flail, first Monday in May, watch for it then. 

And in the meantime, enjoy the MoonFish!

PART 7

“Oh dear God,” Jason muttered, struggling to sit up in the bed of the house they’d co-opted for the operation. “What now?”

“Craft fair,” Burton told him from the computer console that tapped into all the cameras they’d placed around Ellery Cramer’s house in the past week. “Jackson texted last night after we got in.”

“He what?”

Burton grimaced. Technically he never should have contacted Rivers at all, but after things like, say, an emergency trip to the Sierras to rescue a kid out of a tree, he figured that maybe Jackson’s pithy advanced notice comments did more good than harm. 

“Wanted us to know. Craft fair during the day, King’s game at night. I already got us tickets.”

“Kings game? They’re not bad this year.” Jason blinked hard, trying to wake up and Burton let out a sigh. 

“Boss?”

“Yeah?”

“You need a break.”

And maybe because they’d been working the op together for four days and Jackson had almost given Constance a heart attack when he’d climbed that fucking tree, Jason actually said something real.

“I am having nightmares.”

Well of course. The things they’d seen, the things they’d known had happened, and, worse, the things they were anticipating that hadn’t happened yet. Burton had Ernie to go home to, but Constance, he watched over the whole lot of Psycho Unit USA (as some asshole had dubbed their detail, whom Burton would never forgive.) 

“I… Ernie helps,” Burton admitted, because hearing his CO and boss and friend admit that he wasn’t handling shit was a big admission. Nobody took advantage of the free psyche program in their detail. 

Nobody.

“Burton, can I ask you something?”

“Sir, yessir.”

Constance rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and scowled. “Very funny. How did you know? About being…gay?”

“Bi?” Burton shot back, but then took pity on his boss. “I knew. Girls were easier. And since, you know, this job, relationships not a thing, I did easy.”

“Then why Ernie?” 

Ernie hadn’t been easy at all. Ernie had been a spacy, bitter, kind mass of contradictions—who had known deep in his witchy bones that they were destined to be lovers from the moment he’d first heard Burton’s voice. 

Which was about three days before he’d seen his face.

Burton blew out a breath and smiled. “He, uh, wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Constance’s look of surprise made him laugh. “Really.”

Well, Burton cultivated his silence, his body, his entire demeanor, to be the guy people didn’t mess with. But then, Ernie cultivated his spaciness, his flexibility, his quiet yielding to the brutal winds of the world to be the guy people didn’t notice. 

And yet Ernie had kept bending Burton to his will. Burton had just looked at him and melted. And every time he tried to put up a barrier or put the brakes on, he’d thought about living without Ernie and…

Couldn’t.

“I can’t explain it,” he said humbly. 

Constance let out a bark of laughter. “And I came to you for advice?”

Burton rolled his eyes. “About what?”

Constance shook his head. “Nothing—it’s unimportant.”

Burton let out a sigh. “Jason, do you see those screens?”

“Yeah?”

“To the left of screen four, we’ve got a bad guy in waiting in a follow car. At nine o’clock, our three targets are going to leave the house in that ridiculous SUV of theirs and drive through this weird-ass city to go to a craft fair in the Rainbow District. Which means that in forty-five minutes one of us is going to go first and set up, and the other one is going to follow, and we’re going to be kind of busy for the next couple of hours. But until then, you and me got nothing but time. Now what? We’ve worked together for five years and you are the one person—including my parents—who knows about me and Ernie. So what is it you can’t tell me?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “One person?”

Burton tilted his chin just enough. He didn’t talk about Ace and Sonny, and their little garage that managed to sustain itself on word of mouth alone. Jason knew, but Burton didn’t talk about them.

“Fine.” Jason blew out a breath. “Not bi, Lee. Gay. Me. Gay. And I haven’t hooked up since I became your CO. Because I’m ten years older than you, and ten years ago that sort of thing could have gotten me fucking killed.”

Burton was conscious that he had to close his mouth. He did that and swallowed to get rid of the dryness. “Really?”

“Would I fucking lie—”

“No. Not about this.” Burton held his hands. “But you heard me calling out for Ernie…” Neither of them liked to talk about the early days in Psycho Unit USA. Knowing who was out there, knowing what they’d been trained to do, knowing that someone from their military had basically set monsters loose on the world—nobody in their unit was okay.

“I guessed. I was right. And so I can talk to you.”

Burton grimaced. “Look. You know that place I don’t talk about?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s home. I… I made myself a home, even before I had myself an Ernie. Do you still live at the base?”

Constance scrubbed his face. “Yeah. God yeah.”

“Make yourself a home. Take your own advice. Get the fuck off the base and find a thing that’s human and real. You don’t need to hookup—you need to connect. And that’s a whole different thing.”

Constance gave half a laugh and nodded. “That’s… that’s some wise words,” he said softly. “I’ll remember that.”

“My pleasure, sir,” Burton said dryly. “You want to shower before we have to get to it? These people have a shower with a steam setting—I feel like all my dangly parts are clean, you know?”

Constance laughed outright then. “I’ll try to make it quick.”

“You completely missed the point. Now go!”

Burton watched his CO disappear into the bathroom and looked back at his screens. Nope, nothing yet. He knew they were out there—he’d seen flashes of one guy, shadows really. They needed them both. Getting one wouldn’t do it—both would help them put pressure on the people who issued the contract.

He was ready for this detail to end already. 

Usually when he was sent to guard a target, there was a hint of wrong doing—some sense that this person had agreed to live dangerously. Ellery Cramer’s mother had done nothing more than issue a few delicate inquiries as to where Karl Lacey had gotten his money. Yes, it was officially poking her nose where it didn’t belong—but issuing a hit wasn’t usually the first protocol for that kind of thing. A runaround would have done just fine.

He thought about the way the woman had ruthlessly dragged her son and his boyfriend through pretty much every public experience known to man. 

Well, maybe not the runaround—but at least try a sternly worded letter of discouragement before death, right?

At his belt his pocket buzzed, three short bursts, like he’d programmed his phone to do with Ernie and Ernie alone.

See you tomorrow, Cruller. Can’t wait!

Burton blinked, and a buzz of excitement hit his stomach, like it had when he’d been deployed and action had been in the air. He didn’t ask if Ernie knew that for certain, and didn’t ask how he knew. 

Took Ernie on faith, which was the only way to take his flaky, witchy, sexy as hell boyfriend. 

Me neither. Love you.

Love you back.

Burton smiled softly at the phone, not feeling dumb in the least. One way or another, he would see Ernie tomorrow—and he was damned if he’d let grieving over friends ruin his homecoming.

He was going to get these guys and he was going to leave Rivers, Cramer, and the woman he was starting to think of as Lucy Satan in his rearview, safe as bunnies on his watch.