Timothy (15 page)

Tim had only half-listened to Steve’s ramble, so when something pungent and minty smelling was shoved under his nose, he jerked back in surprise and yelped as pain speared through his head. “Fuck!”

“Sorry.” Steve thrust the greenish leaf at him. “Just pop it in and chew it. Lona swears there’s a natural cure for every ill. I don’t know if she’s right, but so far she’s medicated me with all-natural plants and minerals and I’m healthier than a lot of men half my age.”

“What is this?” Tim asked as he took the leaf. It was slightly sticky and he was pretty sure he’d have smelt the mint odour it emitted even if he wasn’t a shifter. Strangely enough, though, his headache was already lessening in intensity.

“Vekchuln. It’s a weed to most people, and it only grows in the foothills of the Himalayas, as far as I know. Lona gathers some every time she gets a chance, or sometimes her sister brings her plants and herbs. Just chew it slowly. It’s not so bad.”

“The name sounds gross,” Tim bitched, but he dutifully stuffed the leaf in his mouth and began to chew. The minty flavour was as strong as the scent, and he had to fight back a sneeze as his nose burned. Tim pinched his nostrils shut and ignored Otto and Steve’s laughter, except for flipping them the bird.

“Is the research from the year of two thousand and nine gone?” Otto asked his dad.

Steve opened up a different file cabinet. “Not all of it. Let me check the digital files.”

A few minutes later, he cursed soundly and shoved his keyboard away. “How the hell did he do it? And who is he? I’ve never heard of anyone named Amar Rana, but of course that would have been too easy. Maybe he worked at another branch of SCLP.” Steve looked up at the ceiling. “All employee files from that year are gone. Paper and digital. I even checked the SCLP’s main database and it’s been hacked. As for the research, from what I can tell, all direct reports from people who worked for us in oh-nine are gone, or the names have been wiped out. Now some of it, I can remember who wrote what. But I don’t work with everyone in the programme, just the people sent here.”

Tim sat up straighter. His head didn’t feel like it was going to go nuclear on him. He blinked to make sure and kept chewing the leaf. He wasn’t giving it up until he was sure he was in the clear. But he did have some questions. “Aren’t you going to have to let the board members know the database was hacked?”

Steve sighed and turned his attention to Tim. “Yes. And I need to talk to the other programme heads. They might remember who worked for them in two thousand and nine. Surely they have notes, hand written records. Whoever this is couldn’t possibly have got to everyone. Although I guess he’d only need to get the records from people who’d know him. Or not. Hell, I don’t know. I’d never make it as a cop.”

“Me either,” Tim commiserated. “What can we do to help?”

Steve reached for his keyboard again. “Not much. Otto, see if you can remember anyone I had helping then. I do remember, actually. It was Tegan Meyers, Fiona Hartely, Jared Jones, and Kris Tsonga. That was before we switched to three month stints and everyone worked six months at a time, so there were actually less people to keep track of.” Steve perked up, tapping at his keyboard.

“Okay, so this might be easier than I thought. We can rule out Fiona because you two are sure the poacher is a male, and Ochir was taken by a man. Let me see what I can find on the other three, and if the other heads can pull names for me.” Steve glanced up at them. “Go on, you two. I know neither of you got any sleep. Either go home—to my home, which will always be yours, too, Otto, and yours, Tim—or get a hotel room. Just let me know where you are going to be, then sleep, okay?”

A quick mental check with Otto to see if he was ready, and Tim was getting up from his chair. “Okay, thanks Steve. Let us know if you need anything.”

“We’re going to stop and get new cell phones,” Otto said as they made for the door. “We’ll let you know the numbers and what hotel room we will be in.”

It wasn’t that they’d be staying in a hotel that caused Tim’s belly to quiver, but the image Otto sent him. He’d had Tim arched backwards over the edge of a couch and was fucking Tim so hard that the piece of furniture was sliding across the floor.

“We’re going to get a suite,” Otto told his dad. He turned and winked at Tim, and Tim wanted to melt into a puddle of need at his feet. He thought he deserved an award for walking out of the door without assistance.

Chapter Thirteen

“Are you ready for me?” Otto asked, totally destroying Tim’s concentration as he tried to decide between the two cell phones. Tim’s breath stuttered out of him and he leant back as if drawn to Otto.

Otto kept some space between them. They were out in public, after all, and things were different in Dalanzadgad than in some of the more open places in Europe and the US. He did, however, manage to trace a path down the seam of Tim’s jeans before moving to Tim’s side.

Tim’s mouth was open and he gaped at Otto before snapping his mouth shut. “That’s not nice,” he hissed in English.

The clerk looked at him, then at Otto and grimaced. Otto pointed to the phone Tim had been all but salivating over. “We’ll each take this one.”

“I should probably just wait until we get back home.” Tim swivelled his head around so fast Otto was surprised he didn’t break his neck. “I mean—” Tim’s eyes held a panicked look. “When I go back home, uh, when we visit?” His voice hitched up on the last word and Otto thought he was adorable in his fumbling attempt to correct something that wasn’t wrong to begin with.

“We’ll continue this discussion once we’re done here.” Otto made sure he raked Tim thoroughly with his gaze while the clerk was busy digging out the phones. He kept a steady eye on Tim’s groin until he saw the rise of his cock beneath the cloth. Satisfied, he turned back to finish their purchases.

By the time they made it to the hotel, it was just after noon, and Otto was ready to drop from exhaustion. They’d stopped and Otto had purchased some clothes and other basic necessities. Tim still had most of his things in the hotel room he’d been sharing with Dane.

The suite Otto paid for wasn’t anything on the level of a suite in a decent hotel elsewhere, but it would do, he decided. He checked it over while Tim was gathering his clothing and other things from his room a couple of floors down.

While clean, the set of rooms looked worn. The entry room, or living room, he guessed, had a frayed blue carpet on the floor. The walls were beige, almost white in some spots, and as for wall art, there wasn’t much. A landscape that could have been based on anywhere just about, or could have been totally made up, and a map of Mongolia—that was it for the living area. The furniture was on the threadbare side, but again, clean.

Otto sniffed and only cringed a little. The place smelt of chemicals, but it was better than it smelling of sex and smoke. Unless it was his and Tim’s mating scents filling the place up, then that was okay. But clean would work, for now. Otto walked over and pressed down on the brown and blue plaid couch cushion. It felt firm, not like he’d sit and sink all the way to the floor, so that was good. The TV had seen better days, as had the rest of the furniture, the wood tables scuffed but dust-free.

The kitchen wasn’t much better, but the appliances worked. The countertop was chipped and had long scratches in it, likely from knives and some moron not using a cutting board.

“Ah. This was worth it all.” The suite was costly, considering the way it looked, but the bathroom made up for it. Gleaming white tiles, not a hint of mould or dirt, and a large shower with double showerheads in it. Otto didn’t give a shit about the towels or mirror or anything else—until he realised if he fucked Tim in the shower and left the door open, he’d be able to watch them in the mirror. “Fuck yes, I am so doing that.”

He gave the bedroom a passing glance as someone came in the front door. One whiff and he knew it was Tim. That, and Tim had a key, just as Otto did.

“Hi honey, I’m back,” Tim called out, and Otto began peeling off his clothes as he slunk into the room.

Tim froze at the door, his eyes reflecting the hunger shooting through Otto’s veins. He gulped as he looked from Otto to the couch then back again, and Otto tipped his head down, viewing Tim through his lashes and rumbling out a wordless growl.

“Strip.”

Otto couldn’t say why he needed to feel so in charge then, although he’d guess it was because everything except this, what he shared with Tim, was out of his control. The losses from earlier weren’t insurmountable—they weren’t lives of loved ones, but they still hurt, and Otto needed a way to expunge some of that pain. Tim would give him such a release, willingly, eagerly. Otto could feel it in his bones, could already see the evidence of Tim’s arousal in the spreading wet spot on his khakis.

“Yes, sir,” Tim said smartly, no sarcasm evident in his voice. His eyes were sparkling with excitement, and Otto knew Tim was as turned on by this as he was.

“Slowly,” Otto added when Tim threw down his bag and jerked his shirt up around his head. “I want you to put on a show for me.”
Make me forget everything bad that’s happened.
He didn’t need to say it. Tim lowered the shirt back down and curled the hem around his fists.

“Any way to get some music going in here?” Tim asked in a husky voice. He started to sway, a gentle roll of his hips. Otto felt the power tip between them, tilting in Tim’s direction. No surprise, he’d known this man would own him all along, but they both needed to play today, needed to drive each other wild. Push boundaries they’d never known they had.

“Yes.” Tim drew the word out as he fiddled with the button on his waistband. “I want that. Make me yours again.” And Tim threw the image back, the one of him being fucked into the couch by Otto, Otto all mindless beast driving into Tim’s sweet ass over and over again. “Oh fuck yeah, tear into me like that. Make me feel you, baby.”

Otto’s growl wasn’t so low and quiet this time. Before he knew it the sound spilled from his lips, a loud, demanding vibration of his want boiling out of him. “No music,” he got out between the racket he was making. “Give me a show because you want to.”
Work for it.

Tim tipped his head back and pulled the elastic band from his hair. Honey blond waves flowed free and he shook them out, an arc of gold around his shoulders. The long line of his neck caused Otto to lock his knees to keep from jumping Tim right then. Tim lifted his head and gave Otto a knowing look. He leaned his head to the side and smoothed a hand over his neck, offering, teasing, stopping at the spot where his pulse kicked beneath his hand.

“Right here,” Tim murmured. “Want to feel your teeth sinking into me, feel the pain as you take me.”

Otto couldn’t drag air into his lungs, everything was so tight, his muscles clenched, his cock hard and aching, his balls already drawing up in their sac. Tim closed his eyes almost completely, leaving bare slits to peek out of, and started swaying, easing into the room as he undulated to a tune he was humming under his breath. Otto forced himself to relax, at least enough to reach the couch. He propped his hip on the corner of it and crossed his arms over his chest in a silent dare for Tim to bring the sexy on.

As if Tim hadn’t already. Otto knew he knew it, too, and yet Tim moved his hips in an even more sexual dance than he had a moment before. The tune became huskier, the voice humming it thicker, deeper. Tim looked at him with eyes darkened by lust, the pupils blown so wide only thin blue strips surrounded them. He rolled his neck and swung his hair, brushing against his clothing and adding its own harmony to the music he created.

The
whisk-swish
of Tim’s hair as he moved set a slow rhythm of desire beating in Otto. Every part of him felt hypersensitive, yearning to be touched, knowing when he was he’d lose the composure he was now holding onto by his fingernails.

Watch me
, Tim’s hips said as he turned. The firm globes of his ass moved in perfect synchronicity, flexing and clenching, taunting Otto to part them and fuck him until they both shattered. Tim flicked his hair over one shoulder and peered at Otto over the other. He smiled pure temptation as the pants suddenly loosened around his waist and hips. With a sultry lick of his lips, Tim tipped his head back again and his khakis slid down, revealing a red thong that split the seam of his ass like Otto longed to do.

Otto had no idea when Tim had got it, and could only suppose he’d put it on when he’d gone to his hotel room earlier. The silky material looked decadent riding Tim’s crease. Tim laughed softly, a warm, caressing chuckle as he began working his shirt up.

Otto dragged his gaze down the taut ass cheeks, the deep divots on the sides, to the long, muscled legs tapering to strong ankles. When had Tim removed his shoes? Otto decided he didn’t give a shit, not when he had this wonderful, sexy writhing man in front of him. Otto clenched his hands bruisingly around his biceps in an attempt to restrain himself. At this rate Tim wasn’t going to be fully naked before Otto ploughed his ass.

Tim pulled the shirt off and tossed it like a good stripper, unerringly at Otto’s face. Otto caught it and, eyes locked with Tim’s, brought the bunched material to his nose. He inhaled loudly, soaking in Tim’s scent.

Then Tim turned around and Otto dropped the shirt as he stared hungrily at Tim’s cock peeping over the edge of the thong. “You want to touch me?” Tim asked, again tilting his head back. He stroked down from his face to his chest, stopping to twist his nipples and pull them out in a way that had to border on painful. “Do you?” he asked again, tugging on one turgid bud and gasping as he trailed his other hand down to caress the tip of his cock.

Otto wanted to remain in control, wanted to bend Tim to his will and release all the anger and fear that had welled up in him—except those harsh emotions were gone. What he felt coursing through his very DNA was so much admiration and desire for this one man, so much…not quite love, not yet, but it would come. Even if they hadn’t been mates, Otto believed they’d have met and fallen for each other.