Fated (17 page)

“Come here to me,” he said, and Toby went.

He took Toby in his arms and eased him down, kissing the tendon stretching his neck. Their stubble caught and rasped when Hart rubbed their cheeks together, making Toby laugh under his breath. Without taking his eyes off Toby’s, he rubbed Toby’s belly, his sternum, the soft hairs that coated one nipple, and then the other. Something uneven caught under Hart’s fingertips, and he automatically looked down.

“What’s this?”

A rough scar about two inches wide sat under Toby’s left pectoral. It was something that had healed, but not too long ago. The scarred flesh on the cut was still a little wild and pink and clearly visible underneath the thin smattering of chest hair.

“I….” Toby hesitated, and Hart frowned.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do. It’s fine, it’s just… I forget, sometimes.” Toby rubbed Hart’s arms. “I was stabbed.” Hart’s mouth dropped open in disbelief, and he bent to study the scar again. “Nearly six months ago. A stupid mugging in a back alley. It looks worse than it is.”

“Oh my God,
Toby
. Did they catch the guy?” Toby shook his head. “But this is… it’s right under your heart. How could it not—”
have killed you,
he didn’t say.

“It wasn’t that deep. It had stopped bleeding by the time the ambulance arrived.” Toby looked away, his hair rustling the crisp sheets beneath him. His hands worried at the edges as if he very much would like to cover himself up.

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore.” Gently, Hart kissed the scar, and while he was there anyway, he lifted just a little and took Toby’s nipple in his mouth, bent on making him forget. The light brown little mound pebbled and hardened on his tongue, and Toby brought a hand to Hart’s head, tugging and then pushing, like he didn’t know whether to drag him away or keep him there. “Feels good?”

“It’s making me impatient.”

He pressed his grin to Toby’s chest, and all around his mouth Toby’s skin lifted in tiny goose bumps. Beneath him Toby rubbed his head into the pillow, and the hand in Hart’s hair flexed.

Hart lifted slightly, undid the knot in the towel, and tugged. “Lift, you’re making the bed damp.” As he pulled the towel away, Toby shivered, his heavy cock resting against his thigh thickening even further. “Nice,” Hart murmured, lowering down again.

Toby was ready for the kiss. He opened on the first touch so their tongues met in the middle. As the kiss deepened and their breaths became labored, Toby spread his knees and dug his hands into Hart’s briefs.

“Off,” he said into Hart’s mouth, even as he pulled their groins tight. “Off, now. God.” Hart lifted and let him pull his underpants down, kicking them off the rest of the way. “God, I wish you could fuck me.” He spread his legs wider, hooking his calves over Hart’s thighs. Sinewy muscles in his neck and shoulders stood taut, and his head pressed back into the sheets, baring his throat. His chest heaved like Hart had been teasing him for hours instead of mere minutes. His mouth worked like he held back pleas and promises, and Hart put his weight on Toby, wanting to ground him, center him, bring him back to earth.

“I want to,” he said against Toby’s ear, licking at the lobe, then sucking it briefly. He rubbed against Toby, the peculiar itch of anticipation and arousal making his blood run hot. God, it’d been so long, and he just wanted to push him open and find the heat of him, the hot core that would make them both feel like they could burst into flames. Hart gasped at the want that thrilled down his spine.

“Then do it.” Toby undulated against him, wrapping his arms tightly around Hart.

“Bare and on spit? I don’t think so.”

“I’ve done it before. With just spit I mean, not bare.”

A flare of possession made Hart’s skin tingle. “Don’t tell me that now. Come up, come sit on me, and I’ll make it good.” He lifted off Toby, stacked pillows against the headboard, and then sat back, knees bent and spread a little. “Sit on my lap, Toby, and you can ride my fingers while I bring us off.”

Toby’s skin reddened from his nipples to his throat, but he did what Hart told him to. Without preamble Hart pushed two fingers into Toby’s mouth, moving them on Toby’s tongue until he was wet to the knuckle.

“Now kiss me.”

Toby did just that. Left hand tight around their cocks, Hart worked his right around Toby’s backside and began to rub his anus. Startled, Toby held Hart’s bottom lip trapped between his teeth and moaned as he put a hand over the one fisting their cocks. Slowly Hart massaged and tapped, letting Toby take the lead on jerking them both off, until he felt the tight ring of muscle flutter and relax.

“That’s it,” he gasped, breaking the kiss. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

“You won’t, you
won’t
.” Toby arched his back and pressed against Hart’s fingers but he relaxed them. “Damn it.” Toby was breathing hard, forehead leaning against Hart’s. His eyes sparkled darkly as Hart rubbed his taint, then pushed a finger inside. “Ah.” Toby’s fist tightened around their dicks, the crowns catching wetly, and then he set a hard pace, pulling at both of them while Hart worked a second finger inside. It was dry, would’ve been too dry if it was him, but Toby seemed to be loving it, working his hips to counter-thrust, breath stuttering every time Hart hit gold. Hart mouthed at Toby’s chest, nudging until Toby sat back enough for him to suck on hardened nipples. It was mind-blowing, and amazing, but Hart’s burned wrist began to bother him, so he worked his hand loose from underneath Toby’s and put it on Toby’s back for him to lean on, holding him close. Using his freedom, Toby licked his other palm and put both hands to work on their erections.

Hart had never seen someone take with such wild abandon, and he looked his fill, his own pleasure almost an afterthought. There was something desperate about Toby’s chase, as if he were pursuing a fleeting dream he knew would always be out of reach but couldn’t help wanting anyway. He made lovely little noises, desperate little sounds that drove Hart on, made him curl his fingers just so even though his good wrist screamed in protest at the awkward angle. And then the moment neared; Hart could tell by the desperate gasps, by the way Toby completely lost rhythm, hands rubbing erratically at the sweet spots under their crowns. Then his entire body went still. The house sat in complete silence around them, as if the very wind and the night sky and every insect outside held their breath in toe-curling anticipation. And then, with a hoarse cry, Toby doubled over, his asshole clenching and grinding Hart’s fingers together before hot seed spurted between them, dribbling over Toby’s knuckles. Hart covered those knuckles and squeezed the last bit of pleasure out of Toby since he was too far gone to do it himself. After a few seconds he began his wrist movements again, but Hart stopped him, cradled the back of his neck, and kissed him, meaning
it’s okay
, and
take your time
, and
I’ll still be here when you’re ready
.

If this had been Hart, he’d have felt uncomfortable and embarrassed after such a display for a first time, but Toby showed no sign of it. When he’d come down enough to laugh hoarsely under his breath, he blinked at Hart, kneading the sore right wrist while checking on the bandaged one, and then he kissed his way down. Hart’s cock still stood erect, now wet with Toby’s spunk, and seeing the man suck off his own pleasure was one of the hottest things he’d ever witnessed.
You don’t have to
, he wanted to say, but for once he held his tongue, closed his eyes, and let desire overtake him.

“I’
M
GONNA
go.”

Hart blinked his eyes open at the ceiling. He’d been almost dozing, his ass still clenching every once in a while from where Toby had probed him as he’d sucked out Hart’s orgasm. “It’s got to be past midnight. You can—” Was he really going to say it? It’d be rude not to. “You can stay if you want.”

Toby appeared in his vision, eyes smiling warmly as he leaned down for a soft, dry kiss. “There is literally nothing I want more than to curl up in these sheets and go to sleep with you. But I’m on call, and I need to be able to be at the hospital within fifteen minutes.”

Hart tried not to feel the relief. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it. But even if—” Toby’s eyes searched Hart’s. He shook his head, the smile turning a shade more melancholy. “Never mind.” He thumbed Hart’s mouth and kissed him again. This time Hart let the kiss deepen, their lips slotting wetly together as Toby cradled the back of his head. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Depends on how the case goes, but… yes. If you like.”

Toby’s eyes darkened, eyelids dropping. His voice was low when he said, “It might be late.”

“Come as late as you want.”

“Pun intended?” Toby asked, and Hart laughed. “I think I will.” He put his hand on Hart’s shoulder when he tried to rise. “No. Stay in bed. You look so snug. I can let myself out.”

“All right, then.” He lay back down again, listening as Toby got dressed, grabbed his things together, and then descended the stairs. As close to sleep as he’d been a moment ago, Hart lay awake until the early hours of the morning. His thoughts swirled like a typhoon gaining momentum. If this case had come along a week earlier, he might’ve seen his father alive one last time. While he’d been single for years now, he’d hooked up with guys before. Why did he feel like he’d wronged Isaac this time? And even now he couldn’t shake the impression that something about Toby didn’t add up. When he finally tumbled into a dreamless sleep, his stomach was tied up in knots.

T
HE
NEXT
day Freddie called as Hart was making his first cup of coffee.

“Anything new on the case?”

“Morning to you too, Freddie. Did you sleep well? Me not so much, thank you for asking.”

“Ugh, you’re not allowed to be in a good mood this early in the morning.” She paused. “Wait, why are you in a good mood this early in the morning?”

Crap. “Did you find out something new?” Hart quickly asked.

“No, that’s why I’m calling. I’ve got an… uh, appointment. A weekly thing. So I won’t be at the station until later.”

“Right. That’s okay, I’ve got plenty to get on with here in the house. Give me a call if you need me anywhere this afternoon.”

“Did Toby come over last night?”

“Good-bye, Freddie.” Hart laughed and hung up. With a bit of luck he could clear out most of this house by the end of the day while he mulled the case over in the back of his mind. Connections had a tendency to form if he kept himself distracted. Maybe that was why the work on his own house had progressed so well.

He ate breakfast on the porch while he checked e-mails on his phone. There was one from Isaac, no subject, no text. Just an image of Hart’s backyard with the sun rising over the other side of the Mountain. Fog clung to its dark green slope like a white bed skirt, the top layer already burning away under the sun’s heating rays. The familiar image gave Hart a sweet ache.

You’re an angel
, Hart typed back quickly, and then he put his phone away. Time to get on with clearing out the house.

Three hours later everything in the study that could fit in a box had been put in one, and every single book in the house was packed away. The boxes Hart wanted to keep he left in the study, while the rest he moved into the garage. At some point he should try starting his dad’s Subaru, check if it was worth selling, since his own car would soon be the size of a box.

He put his hands on his hips and looked around the living room. Because his father practically lived in his study, there wasn’t much of interest here. The couches would go to Jonathan’s church, as would the TV stand. The antique guy could look at the coffee table and pass judgment. It had been there Hart’s entire life, but he had no clue of its worth.

Hart would ask Freddie if she knew someone who wanted a flat screen, and that pretty much took care of the living room. He checked his phone, but there was no message from Freddie yet, so he rolled his sleeves up and climbed the stairs. He cleared the bathrooms of everything he wasn’t using, checked the spare rooms—which had nothing but linens and towels in their closets—and then remembered the piece of paper sticking out of the desk, when his phone rang. The captain.

“Morning, sir.”

“Lieutenant, I understand the chief inspector has ditched you for the day?”

He heard the crackle of a cigar and briefly wondered whether the captain was getting away with smoking in Miller’s building or if he’d been sent outside. “That’s right.”

“And are you doing anything at the moment that can’t wait?”

“Not particularly, no. Do you have something for me?”

“The warrant to search Ben Drake’s house has just come through, and I wouldn’t mind taking a look myself while I’m here. I understand you have a key?”

“I do.”

“Excellent. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

The captain hung up, and Hart looked around the room where he and Toby had fucked the night before. The papers had been there since goodness knew when. They could wait.

Despite the house being clean—or as clean as a place covered in old books could be—he felt like he’d gathered a fair layer of dust on his skin, so he showered quickly and then drove the borrowed cruiser to Drake’s house.

It wasn’t quite a mansion, but it certainly could pass for one in a place like Brightly. It struck him as odd that a kid Ben’s age would like living in a house this large and old all by himself. He poked around the yard for a while, finding it overgrown and unkempt. A large fountain in the middle of the lawn was covered in moss, the tacky statue of a naked Cupid baby cracked and missing his arrow. The grass was too long, the hedges untrimmed, and the rose bushes in dire need of pruning.

He was just about to see if the key fit the front or the back door when a black Land Rover pulled into the gravel driveway.

“Captain,” Hart said. “I see they gave you the nicer car.”

“Comes with rank, my friend.” The captain smirked at the cruiser Hart had arrived in. “Have you been inside yet?”