Private Dicks (12 page)

His eyes rolling back in his head at Wash’s words and the
exquisite feel of his fingers, Rhodes growled, “Great. You’re a talker. Can’t
stand talkers.”

Wash paused for a second and then laughed huskily, leaning
in to murmur, “You’ve just earned yourself another paragraph before I suck you,
buddy.”

“Ah fuck!” Rhodes didn’t know if he cursed in disappointment
or ecstasy as Wash’s fist pumped three times, fast and hard, moving the skin of
his cock.

“You see,” Wash began, his pleasure in Rhodes’ punishment
obvious, “I’ve had dreams about you. Dirty dreams.”

Beyond words, Rhodes could only groan.

“I’d wake up wondering what was wrong with me, lusting after
my partner. As far as I knew, you were firmly on the straight team. Then I’d go
to work and see you, and all of a sudden I’d be hard again and have to hide in
my office until I settled down. I think part of the reason I was so pissed off
when you told me you were gay was that, here I’d been, thinking I never had a
chance and you’d punch me in the face if you knew how much I wanted you to fuck
me.”

When he heard those words coming from Wash’s mouth, Rhodes
couldn’t stop it—he exploded, pumping into Wash’s fist, shooting ropes of cum
onto his own belly and chest, his back arching off the bed as pleasure vibrated
through him. He roared as he came, feeling his insides being stripped from him,
erupting from his rigid cock in spasm after spasm of ecstasy.

Rhodes fumbled for Wash, yanking him down and wrapping him
against his chest. He needed to feel Wash’s skin against his, needed the weight
of the other man’s body holding him down, needed to know he was not exploding
into empty space. Pressing his lips against Wash’s neck, Rhodes tightened his
arms around his partner, never intending to let go.

Chapter Seven

His cell phone rang. Muttering under his breath, Rhodes
worked his way out from under a sleeping Wash and grabbed the phone off the
bedside table.

“Rhodes,” he snapped, keeping his voice low. Wash groaned
and rolled toward him, tucking against Rhodes’ side. Distracted from the call,
Rhodes wrapped his free hand around Wash’s skull, burying his fingers in his
rumpled hair.

“You there?” Gomez’s voice grabbed Rhodes’ attention.

“Yeah. How was the wedding?” he asked almost absently,
preoccupied with combing his fingers through the silky, dark strands of Wash’s tousled
mop.

She sighed. “The usual. All the relatives asking when it was
going to be my turn to get married. Dancing with guys I’m related to and
actually being glad that I’m related to them, since it means
they—probably—won’t come on to me. Getting drunk enough to do the Hokey-Pokey.
Why’d you call yesterday—did you find out something about the case?”

“Actually, we needed something from you. Can you get us the
files on all missing kids who went to that youth center on Thirty-Sixth Street
or lived within a two-mile radius? Oh, and everything you’ve got on Barry
Ness.” He glanced down at Wash, who had opened his eyes but didn’t move his
head off Rhodes’ chest. Tipping the phone so Wash could hear, Rhodes hit the
volume button and maxed it out. He didn’t want to turn it on speaker, since
Wash wasn’t the quietest guy in the world and Gomez didn’t need to know that
Wash was in bed with him.

There was a short silence. Rhodes could almost hear Gomez’s
brain ticking as she worked things out. “So you think there’s a connection with
the center? Ness? That was my first gut feeling but I couldn’t find a thing on
that do-goody prick—not even a traffic ticket. Do you suspect one of the
employees? We checked them all out—no priors on any of them, except the one
counselor had a DUI seven years ago. It’s Ness, isn’t it? You think Ness is
involved.”

“Not telling you anything, Gomez,” Rhodes told her. “Things
are a little…sensitive right now and we don’t need a bunch of cops in there
fucking things up. As soon as we have anything concrete, I’ll let you know
everything.”

“Bastard,” Amelia accused, although she sounded more
resigned than angry. “You have some fucked-up plan, don’t you?”

Rhodes made a noncommittal sound. Wash grinned against his
chest.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “I know that grunt. That’s a ‘yes’
grunt. In fact, that’s a ‘Yes, I’m going in to get my head blown off because
I’m too stupid to ask for help’ grunt.”

“Don’t worry, Gomez,” Rhodes assured her, throwing Wash a
wink. “My partner’ll have my back.”

She snorted. “Yeah, fucking Washington. Lot of help he’ll
be.”

Rhodes smashed Wash’s face against his chest to muffle the
indignant protest.

“What’s that?” Despite Rhodes’ efforts, Gomez must have
heard Wash. “Is someone there with you?”

“Maybe you should think about that before calling at,”
Rhodes glanced at the bedside clock, “six in the morning. Jesus, Gomez, aren’t
you hung over?”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Rhodes—you should’ve told me you had
company. I just didn’t expect…” She trailed off and was silent for a few
seconds. “Anyway, I was drunk by four yesterday afternoon. I’ve already been
hung-over. I’m in the recovery phase now. Hey, I’ll hang up so you can get back
to…whatever. I’ll send those files over to your office, okay?” Without waiting
for confirmation, she hung up.

Wash propped himself up on an elbow. “Melie was freaked you
had someone over. She think you’re a monk or something?”

Yawning, Rhodes sat up, running his hands over his stubbly
head. “After the whole outing thing, I kind of acted like one. I was a little
too paranoid about Vice crashing in again to go to any of my usual pick-up
places.”

“I’m sorry,” Wash said seriously.

Rhodes gave a short laugh. “’Bout what? My blue balls?”

“No,” Wash elaborated, watching Rhodes roll out of bed and
yank up his sweatpants. “I’m sorry you had to have that kind of job and didn’t
even have the fuck-your-brains-out escape. I’m sorry you were lonely.”

Facing away from Wash, Rhodes winced. “Whatever,” he growled
dismissively, not wanting to think about the gut-clawing misery that, more
times than he cared to remember, had driven him out to run for hours. “I’m
going to shower.” He almost ran for the bathroom, closing the door with wild
relief. Talking about those things after spending the night with Wash was like
stripping off his skin and jumping into the ocean, bare and raw and vulnerable
when the salt hits.

As he soaped his body briskly, Wash came in to use the
bathroom. Rhodes tried to ignore his partner but he was hyper-aware of every
move Wash made. With a rough sound of impatience, Rhodes moved to turn off the
water but froze with his hand above the faucet when Wash stepped into the
shower.

“Move over,” Wash demanded, nudging Rhodes out of the path
of the spray. Rhodes could only stare as water tracked across Wash’s skin,
running over the round, hard rise of his ass. His hands cupped those
irresistible cheeks and Wash grinned at him over his shoulder, the water
clumping his eyelashes and flushing his cheeks.

“Christ, you’re pretty,” Rhodes breathed without thinking.

“
Pretty
?” Wash asked indignantly but then laughed and
pushed back into Rhodes’ grip.

With a rough inhale, Rhodes massaged the hard globes under
his fingers, running his thumbs into the crevice dividing the cheeks. “Pretty
and
you have a great ass,” Rhodes growled, kissing the side of Wash’s neck. He
heard the other man’s breath catch as Wash turned his head to give Rhodes
better access.

Just that small sound, combined with the feel of Wash’s hot,
wet skin under his mouth and hands, hardened Rhodes’ cock. Guilt nibbled at him
though, distracting him from the muscles shifting beneath his palms. With a
final squeeze, a last slip of his thumb against the puckered hole hiding
between the cheeks, Rhodes stepped back reluctantly.

“Tired of me already?” Wash teased, raising a curious
eyebrow.

Rhodes snorted. “Like that’ll ever happen.” He flushed,
realizing what he’d just admitted, and then hurried on. “I just can’t get last
night out of my head. I know it’ll be hours before Trevor’s up or Gomez gets
the files to us, but I just feel like I should be doing
something
.” At
Wash’s suggestive grin, he amended, “Something besides getting my rocks off in
the shower.”

“Sure,” Wash agreed, grabbing the soap and quickly washing
off. “I get it.” He rinsed as Rhodes stepped out of the shower and grabbed a
towel for a fast wipe down.

“You hungry?” he asked Wash’s blurry form through the shower
door.

“Starving! Want to go to IHOP again? I think you’re out of
prehistoric bacon.” Sliding the shower door open, Wash shook himself under
Rhodes’ fascinated gaze and grabbed a towel.

Rhodes grunted, distracted by the display of slick brown
skin in front of him. “Probably a good thing. Let’s swing by and pick Carlos
up. We can give him a rough idea of what’s going on without any details.”

Smirking, Wash toweled his hair.

“What?” Rhodes demanded.

“Nothing!”

Fists propped on his hips, Rhodes eyed his partner
suspiciously. “What’s that look for then?”

Peering out from beneath the towel, Wash cooed, “You’re just
such a sweet little mother hen.”

Scowling even harder, Rhodes debated smacking the other man.
That or turning him over his knee. The second idea made his mouth water.

It was Wash’s turn to ask a wary, “What?”

Rhodes smiled at him, showing all his teeth. “Nothing,” he
said, mimicking Wash’s innocent delivery.

He watched in fascination as Wash’s expression changed from
exasperation to…something else. Hunger, maybe. His eyes were glowing, such a
bright green as to be almost unearthly. Without warning, Wash’s hand snaked up
to grab the back of Rhodes’ neck and yank him down for a hard kiss.

Shocked, Rhodes passively allowed Wash to kiss him for a
long second. It was the first time Wash had initiated a kiss and it threw
Rhodes off guard. Then lust roared into his skull, knocking his paralysis
loose. Rhodes grabbed Wash, spinning him around to shove him against the sink,
all without breaking the kiss.

Groaning against Wash’s mouth, Rhodes buried both of his
hands in the other man’s wet hair and kissed him even harder—no technique, no
finesse, just raw, primitive need. Their thighs and groins, bellies and chests
were melded together, but they struggled to get even closer, to climb inside
each other.

Squirming white dots swam over Rhodes’ vision, reminding him
that he needed to breathe. He ripped himself away, breaking the kiss and
stepping back. Wash made a protesting sound, trying to follow the other body,
to pull Rhodes back against him.

“If we keep this up, you’re going to get fucked,” Rhodes
warned, his voice a rough rasp, holding his partner away from him with arms
that shook.

Wash’s eyes were dilated, the black eclipsing the green.
“Yeah, so?”

Although his cock jumped eagerly, Rhodes stiffened his arms,
keeping a space between their naked bodies. “You say that when we’re going at
it but you get all squirrelly once we stop. I’m not going to do anything you
don’t want to do.”

“I
do
want it,” Wash protested. “What’s the problem?
You’re the one being the cock-tease.”

Rhodes dropped his hands but kept his distance from the
sleek brown body in front of him. “Tell me that when you’re not out of your
mind with horniness. Maybe then I’ll believe you.”

He turned and left the bathroom.

“Rhodie,” Wash called after him. Tightening his jaw, Rhodes
didn’t even pause.

They saw Carlos trotting down the steps of his apartment
building as they pulled up across the street.

“Cool,” Wash said. “Saves us some stairs.” He rolled down
his window and called out, “Hey Carlos! Have time for breakfast?”

Carlos grinned when he saw them and hurried toward the car,
pausing to let a few vehicles pass.

Rolling his window back up, Wash turned to Rhodes and
muttered, “Why do I feel like some creepy, soliciting pervert, luring the kid
into our car with the promise of chocolate-chip pancakes?”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Rhodes asked, hiding his
grin. The ride over had been awkward, the conversation stilted, and he welcomed
the reemergence of his chatty partner.

“Fuck off,” Wash told him, laughing. “It was your idea.”

Sobering reality hit him and Rhodes shrugged. “Guess that’s
my thing now—being a pervert.”

“Enough.” Wash glared at him. “It’s not you. It’s just a
role you’re playing to get that kid out.”

Opening his mouth to respond, Rhodes shut it when Carlos
climbed into the backseat. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Rhodes jerked his
head in welcome. He was pretty sure that Carlos was wearing the same
raggedy-ass t-shirt he’d had on last week. Someone needed to introduce the kid
to the concept of thrift stores.

“Carlito!” Wash twisted around, grinning at the kid’s scowl.

“Ignore him,” Rhodes advised the boy as he pulled into
traffic. “He renames everybody.”

Wash huffed. “It’s a sign of affection,” he protested,
pretending to be offended. His smile popped up again in seconds. “So how are
things, wee one?”

Carlos made a face. “Think I liked ‘Carlito’ better.”

“Knew it’d grow on you!” Wash beamed. His happy expression
fell away as he asked, “How’s your mom holding up?”

The kid shrugged and dropped his eyes to the knee of his
battered jeans until Rhodes could only see his bent head in the mirror.

“That good, huh?” Wash asked with a wince of sympathy.
Carlos just shook his head.

“We’ve got a lead on your brother,” Rhodes said as he pulled
into the IHOP lot and parked. Carlos whipped his head up, his expression caught
between hope and wariness. This kid obviously knew how hard disappointment
could hit.

Wash hopped out and opened Carlos’ door. “C’mon. Let’s order
pancakes and we’ll give you all the details.”

They didn’t share all the details with Carlos. In fact, they
shared very few. The last thing they needed was Carlos running down to the club
and confronting Ness—the poor kid would be sold off before he could blink.
Rhodes flinched at the thought, the black-and-white image of Miguel flashing
through his brain.

“Are you lying?” Carlos asked, staring at him over the table
that was covered with plates empty of everything except a few smears of syrup.

Rhodes jumped, worried for an irrational second that the kid
could read his thoughts, that he had looked into Rhodes’ brain and saw Miguel’s
curled form on the bed. He covered the unnerved jolt with a scowl. “Lying about
what?”

“Do you really think you know who has Miguel or are you just
trying to make me feel better?” Carlos asked, staring Rhodes straight in the
face, not even flinching away when he met Rhodes’ best intimidate-the-perp
glower.

“This is a solid lead,” Rhodes promised, holding Carlos’
gaze.

Wash snorted. “Why would you think we’d do anything just to
make you feel better? Ask Gonzo—he’ll tell you that we’re just a couple of
assholes.” Rhodes shot him a look and Wash made a face. “Sorry. Suppose I
shouldn’t swear around a kid. Okay, so we’re a couple…” Trailing off, he
glanced helplessly at Rhodes. “What’s another word for asshole?”

Rhodes just closed his eyes with a sigh.

“Whatever.” Carlos didn’t sound convinced. “If you don’t
care about me, why are you always feeding me breakfast?”

Scowling, Rhodes answered, “To shut you up for ten seconds.
Obviously, it’s not working. C’mon—we’ll give you a ride to school.”

Carlos didn’t budge. “You’ll tell me when you find
another…clue or whatever?”