Page 57 of Concluded (The Bureau #13)

This was a major gap in the plan, one that they’d been aware of. But without knowing exactly what their little army would be capable of or what actions the enemy would take, it was hard to be more specific.

But then someone else spoke up. “I have an idea. May I share it?” He was a handsome man in his forties.

Achilles looked slightly relieved. “Sure, Keaton. Go ahead.”

“Thanks. So… I’m an empath, right? It turns out my talent is a two-way street.

I can receive emotions from others, but if I try, I can also send them.

When Owen and I were trapped by that Miller guy”—he shuddered—“we defeated him by pushing a bunch of positive emotions at him. We had an angel’s help with that, I think.

” He smiled at Ish, who gave a slight bow back.

“That was just one guy,” Keaton continued.

“And I don’t even know if he was all that big a player.

But what I’m thinking is that all of you, with these ibburs inside you, you’d be like…

like an enormous battery. I’d be like a jumper cable, directing the charge at the bad guys.

But instead of electricity, the charge will be all the feelings that they loathe. ”

The room was silent as everyone considered what they’d heard.

Dee thought that it was a lot of mumbo-jumbo and hocus-pocus.

But so was just about everything he’d experienced since the Bureau came into his life.

So was his entire existence, really. Achilles said that magic was simply science that nobody yet understood.

Dee was willing to accept that. Especially since nobody seemed to have a reasonable alternative.

“I like it,” said Achilles. “It… feels right. Can you direct your charge over distances? And when you don’t know exactly who your targets are or where they are?”

Keaton winced. “I don’t know. I haven’t tried it. But… I doubt it.”

Dee realized that he was standing, although he hadn’t made the conscious choice to do so. He’d never done public speaking, but unlike Achilles, he didn’t feel uncomfortable with it. “We have to bring them to us, then.”

“How?” asked Keaton.

“Make a wish.”

* * *

“It’s not very exciting, is it?” Achilles said, looking around.

Dee shrugged. “I didn’t think we came here for the décor.”

The gathering in the lobby had broken up after everyone agreed to the plan and Dee had promised he’d be ready to facilitate the possessions soon.

As people wandered off, many in pairs, Achilles had led Dee to his old office.

It was dusty and unremarkable, with a desk and a couple of chairs, a small bookcase containing labeled binders and a couple of dozen volumes, and a well-worn loveseat that looked as if it came from Ikea.

There were no windows, and the only adornment was a framed vintage poster for War of the Worlds .

Dee pointed at the poster. “You’re a sci-fi fan?”

“Not especially. It was a gift from Orson not long after we met. Sort of a joke, since he was named after Orson Welles, who did the radio version, and the Bureau often deals with weird creatures, and…. It wasn’t a very funny joke.”

Dee thought it was interesting that Achilles had kept the poster even though they had broken up and Orson died. It was sweet, really—a small psychological slip from a man who had usually refused to admit how much he might care for someone else.

But again, décor wasn’t the point.

Dee crashed into Achilles, hard, nearly sending them both sprawling onto the floor, and he kissed like he’d never kissed before.

Achilles immediately got into the spirit of things and clutched him fiercely.

Dee was ravenous, desperate, would have swallowed him whole if that had been possible—or would have been swallowed, because it was all the same anyway.

“You’re hot,” said Achilles, panting, his hands under Dee’s shirt and spread against his bare back.

“Thanks.”

“No, I mean physically hot , like you have a fever.”

“I’m burning for you.” Dee couldn’t help it—he laughed. Then he used a thumb to smooth the lines of concern on Achilles’ forehead. “Really, I’m fine. I swear I’m not sick. I just really need this right now. Need you.”

Achilles looked only slightly relieved. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“No, I’m supposed to be gathering energy. This will do me way more good than any amount of napping.” Although he lacked scientific proof that this was true, Dee believed it wholeheartedly. This was a craving far more urgent than one for food or drugs.

He put his hands on Achilles’ shoulders and looked him steadily in the eyes. “Do you want me?”

“More than I want oxygen.”

“Then what I need you to do, Achilles my love, is tell me what I should do to you.”

“But what?—”

“Tell me what to do,” Dee said firmly. A command seeking a command.

Achilles, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, let out a long breath. “Suck me off?”

The thrill that rushed through Dee’s nerves nearly collapsed him, but he managed to keep on his feet. He grinned. “Say it like you mean it. Master.”

“Jesus.” Achilles’ eyes briefly rolled back in his head and he shuddered. Then the corner of his mouth crooked. “Suck me off,” he growled.

Oh, fuck. Dee actually fell to his knees now, and that was just as well because it was easier for him to unbutton Achilles’ jeans and shove them past his hips, along with his underwear.

Achilles was already hard, his cock heavy and warm when Dee took it in hand.

Impulsively, Dee kissed the very tip. Achilles’ answering moan was so deep that Dee felt it in his bones.

And yes, Achilles was right—Dee was hot. Coals smoldered in his core and his skin felt as tender and sensitive as if he had a bad sunburn, yet it wasn’t painful. Or if it was, he welcomed this pain. He wasn’t sure which was the case.

He had the sudden mental image of his body as a hot air balloon, a roaring flame at the center, lifting him upward into a stormy sky. In order to keep from floating away, he needed an anchor. Something to, quite literally, ground him.

He solved that problem by deep-throating Achilles’ dick.

This wasn’t something he’d done before, or something he would have imagined himself capable of.

He’d been sort of working up to it lately and had been nowhere near accomplishing it.

But yep, Achilles filled his mouth and throat.

Salty, solid. A connection not just to Achilles himself but to the world at large, a satisfying reminder of all that was good.

“Dee….” It was barely more than a whisper and certainly wasn’t an official wish. No magic charms were involved. But it worked anyway, because Dee moved his head slightly, scraped oh-so-lightly with his teeth, and did his damnedest to make Achilles fall apart.

Although Dee remained fully dressed, his own cock untouched, his entire body buzzed with pleasure.

Every tiny sound that Achilles made, the sensation of Achilles digging fingers into Dee’s shoulders, Achilles’ pulse drumming against his tongue…

these were as delightful as any amount of groping or fucking had ever been.

Dee was making his beloved react this way, and it was Dee’s name that his beloved moaned.

“D-Dee, I’m going… to….”

Dee hummed his approval.

And when Achilles came with a roar, Dee came too, both of them riding the aftershocks until it was all too much and they collapsed in a messy heap on the office floor.

“Oh,” Achilles said after a while. It was the sound of a person who’d just made a discovery.

Since Dee wasn’t yet capable of speech, he grunted in reply.

When he had the breath and operational brain cells for it, he’d inform Achilles that he felt fully recharged, more powerful than he’d ever been.

He could make wishes that moved mountains.

He could definitely call forth friendly spirits. He could?—

Someone pounded on the door.

“Achilles? You in there? It’s Ralph.”

Achilles was already on his feet, awkwardly scrambling to pull his clothing back up. “Hang on, hang on.”

Dee stood too and tugged down his T-shirt, hoping it covered any evidence of their romp. He’d need to clean up before facing the crowd. He watched as Achilles rushed over and flung open the door.

Ralph looked at them, smirked, and then shook his head. “I did a surveillance flight with Keaton. They’re almost here.”

“Who?” Achilles demanded.

“A couple carloads of trouble.”

Achilles went pale and turned to face Dee. “Well, I guess we won’t have to wish them here after all.”