Page 11

J OEL WASN’T ENTIRELY sure how to do this.

It was probably the worst-timed come-on he’d ever given and certainly the most reckless. He could have just left the offer of tea and sympathy on the table. Fowler had looked shocked, lost and hurting, but he was a big boy, he’d manage.

Only, there was that fizzing spark between them. And Fowler had harked back to that crackling moment in the pub, and God damn it, Joel lived on his intuition. He might as well stand on it.

He put down his glass and rose. Fowler looked at him, confused, then stood too. Joel stepped closer.

“Hello,” he said softly. “My name’s Joel. You’ve got gorgeous eyes.”

“Aaron.”

“Nice name.”

Joel reached up, slowly enough that Fowler, Aaron, could back away, which he didn’t. He slid two fingers over his cheekbone, down his jaw, down his neck. Felt as well as saw the convulsive swallow.

“Am I in trouble yet?”

“Depends on the magistrate,” Aaron said. His voice sounded a bit constricted.

Joel spread his fingers, running his hand slowly inside Aaron’s jacket, down his shirt, feeling firm flesh and muscle underneath. All the way down to the jut of hipbone. “Still legally sound?”

“Becoming questionable.”

Joel slid his hand round the curve of the policeman’s arse. God, he wished he had two hands still: Aaron’s arse deserved them. He rested his left wrist on Aaron’s hip anyway, and stroked and squeezed with his right, fingers running over cloth warmed by body heat. “Where does groping your arse come in the statute book?”

“Depends on intent.”

“Intend this,” Joel said, and pulled him in, stepping closer as he did it, bodies colliding. He wrapped his left arm around Aaron’s waist, irritatingly aware of not wanting to catch him with the hook, and felt Aaron’s hands close on his back, pressing him closer. They stared at each other for a fraction of a second, and then Joel kissed him.

He felt Aaron’s lips part in a tiny gasp. Then his hands tightened, and he was kissing Joel ferociously, desperately. Joel grabbed his shoulder, hanging on for dear life as he wrapped a leg around Aaron’s thigh. Aaron’s fingers were digging in, his lips and tongue were urgent, his substantial erection hard against Joel’s stomach. They were both gasping pleasure and relief and this was fucking glorious. He’d known it would be glorious.

He moved his arm up unthinkingly, wanting to span more of Aaron’s broad back, and caught the sodding bastard hook in his coat.

“Fuck!” he said in Aaron’s mouth.

Aaron jerked his head away. “What—”

“Sorry.” He tugged unavailingly, feeling his cheeks heat. “Sorry, sorry. It’s this damned thing. I forgot about it.”

“It’s all right.”

“It’s not. It’s a bloody pain.”

Aaron put a hand to his chin, tipping it up so Joel met his eyes, dark and deep. “It is all right , Joel. If you forgot about it, I take that as a significant compliment.”

His voice was dark and deep too, and Joel’s name sounded good in it. Joel breathed out. “You...could do that. But I’m still caught in your jacket.”

“Hold still.” Aaron shrugged it off his shoulders, loosening the tension so between them Joel could get the hook out.

“Thanks,” he said. “You know, if that’s half off anyway...”

Aaron regarded him for a second, then shook the jacket past his elbows and tossed it onto a chair. He looked good in his shirtsleeves. He’d look even better out of them, in Joel’s opinion.

“You could very usefully shed the cardigan,” Aaron observed.

Joel had forgotten he was wearing the ghastly thing. Shit. “Probably for the best, yes. It may have moths.”

“It looks like it has moths.”

“They might have moved out in disgust.” Joel worked his way out of it. “Uh. How do you feel about the prosthetic?”

“If you want it on, keep it on. If you want it off, take it off.”

Joel unbuttoned his cuffs, pushed the sleeve back, glared at the stupid thing. He really wanted a word with whoever had invented a prosthetic whose straps were fiddly for the one-handed. “I just need to do the buckles.”

“May I help?”

Joel considered, not sure how he felt about that. Then he extended his arm.

Aaron moved over and ran his hand lightly over the pale, soft, freckled skin, tracing the edges of the straps where they touched the skin. Joel shivered, and his hand stilled instantly. “Is that—”

“Fine. It’s good.”

Aaron’s fingers moved again. He had big hands, capable ones. He eased the first strap very gently through the buckle, a slow unfastening. He eased the strap loose, sliding a finger underneath it, and Joel let out an involuntary whimper.

“Joel?”

“No, that’s—that’s good. Definitely.”

There was nothing erotic about the prosthetic. There was everything erotic about Aaron’s silent concentration, his hands on Joel’s skin, carefully tending to every strap and buckle in turn. Joel breathed through it, enjoying each loosening, and found himself almost sorry there were only four.

He pulled the prosthetic’s cup off his stump, and tossed it onto the table. He didn’t quite want to see whether Aaron was looking at the stump or avoiding doing so.

“Better?”

“Less likely to snag, anyway.” He pushed the rucked-up shirtsleeve down again. “I might keep my shirt on, though. For now.”

Aaron cupped the back of his head, tugging him over so they were body to body again. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“On which subject,” Joel said, slipping his hand round Aaron’s arse again, tilting his hips. “Shall we both get rather more comfortable?”

He felt breath ruffle his hair. “I would like that, but—ugh. I think you probably realise I don’t have a lot of experience. Certainly not as much as you.”

“Are you insinuating something, Detective Sergeant?” Joel enquired, mock-huffily.

“Habitual bad character?”

“Yeah, fair enough.” He very much wanted to pop Aaron Fowler’s cork for him. The question was how to go about that, and he suspected Aaron wouldn’t be much use at saying what he wanted, if he even knew himself.

Then again, those careful hands on the buckles...

“Well,” he said. “Turnabout is fair play, right?”

“Yes?” Aaron said cautiously.

“Then I think I deserve a policeman sucking my cock.”

Aaron inhaled sharply. There was a silence long enough for Joel to conclude without reservation that he’d got it horrifically wrong. Then Aaron’s hands dropped to Joel’s waistband, one on the button, one splaying over his erection, and he nearly collapsed in relief.

“I dare say you’re entitled to that,” Aaron said. “In a spirit of justice.” He moved the braces off Joel’s shoulders with his right hand, one at a time, keeping the other firmly pressed against Joel’s prick. “God. Here?”

Joel propped his arse against the table. “Right here.”

Aaron shut his eyes. Then he went to his knees, and Joel thought he might come there and then.

He reached out, running his hand lightly over Aaron’s face. The shudder he got made him do it again, then more firmly, sliding his fingers over ear and jaw and finally lips, which parted for him. He slipped the end of his finger in, just a little, and felt the cautious touch of Aaron’s tongue.

“Oh Jesus,” he said. “You’re going to be wonderful.”

Aaron made a noise, a little moan. Joel was finding it hard to think. He suspected that breathing and staying upright were about to pose their own challenges.

“Touch me,” he rasped.

Aaron moved silently, easing the cloth of Joel’s opened trousers out of the way, loosening his drawers and pushing them down, letting his hard-on loose. He exhaled, the breath ruffling Joel’s groin, and ran a very light finger across a tangle of hair. “Red.”

“The carpet matches the curtains.”

“It’s beautiful.”

That wasn’t what most people said about ginger pubic hair, but whatever smart-alec reply Joel might have made was lost as Aaron gently circled his prick with a thumb and finger. “God!”

“Tell me,” Aaron said, very softly. “Please.”

“Suck me. I want your mouth on me.”

He felt the tentative flick of a tongue, the light slide of lips, and Aaron took him in his mouth.

Joel had had his prick sucked as often as the next man, and probably quite a lot more than the man in front of him. Aaron was not a rank amateur, this wasn’t his first, but he was clearly no expert either.

And he didn’t have to be, because this was lovely. He was kneeling, sucking Joel, hand and mouth moving with more confidence as he found a rhythm. Serving him, and moaning as he did it, little pleading sounds Joel was sure he didn’t know he was making.

He was loving it. Joel wished his hair was longer: he wanted to grab a handful.

“Perfect,” he said. “Fuck, yes. God, you’re good on your knees. Can you take a little more?”

A fractional pause. Then Aaron leaned in, and Joel’s breath rushed out. “Christ. Oh, you’re good, you’re so fucking good. Just the way I like it.” He slid his hand to the back of Aaron’s head. Not exactly pushing, just a little bit of firmness, and Aaron panted around his prick and took him that tiny bit deeper, and Joel was hanging on by his fingernails now. “Jesus Christ. Lovely. Bit harder— oh, fuck, going to come, move if you don’t want—I’m not joking, Aaron, oh shit— ”

He came. Hard, compulsively, hips jerking with the relief and release, right down Detective Sergeant Fowler’s throat.

Joel sagged, releasing Aaron’s head to get a grip on the supportive table. Aaron’s mouth was still round his prick. He stayed there for a few seconds, then pulled off, and Joel saw his eyes dart.

“Sink,” he said helpfully.

Aaron hurried over, spat, and rinsed his mouth. “Well,” he said, after a second. “I’m afraid that is an unquestionable offence of indecent behaviour. It’s a shame I just destroyed the evidence.”

The laugh exploded out of Joel. He gathered up his trousers and walked over, meeting Aaron half way, and pulled his face down for an open-mouthed kiss, tasting himself.

“That was fucking amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Joel rather thought it had been, and a nudge of a thigh indicated that Aaron was indeed sporting a substantial bit of stiff. They also serve who only stand and get sucked off, he decided.

“Well, now.” He slid his hand down, and Aaron tensed so hard he could feel it. “Aaron?”

“Uh.” Aaron sounded a bit strangled. “If you touch me, I’m not going to last.”

Joel just bet he wasn’t. Poor bastard probably hadn’t had his prick felt in years. “Don’t worry about it. In fact, leave that to me. Back.”

He steered Aaron backwards to his single bed. “Unbutton your shirt for me?”

Aaron grabbed for the first button. Joel said, “No, for me . Slowly. I want to watch you.”

Aaron’s eyes widened. His hand stilled, then he carefully eased the button through. Careful, thorough, exactly as Joel wanted.

“Jesus,” he said. “Perfect. Keep doing that.”

Button after button, revealing a tantalising glimpse of dark hair at the neck of his undershirt. Joel licked his lips, making sure Aaron saw him do it. “Take those off.”

Aaron pulled down his braces, pulled off the shirt, made to drag off the vest. He tugged it over his head slowly, so Joel got a good look at his belly and chest, the dark tangles of hair, the movement of muscles.

And there he was, bare to the waist, waiting.

Joel was already hard again. He stepped forward and ran his hand up Aaron’s stomach, through the wiry hair, feeling his muscles spasm.

“On the bed,” he suggested.

Aaron sat, and kicked his shoes off, which was very polite of him, then lay back. He looked like a man in a dream. Judging by his visibly straining prick, it was the kind of dream that left you wanting new sheets.

“Maybe you should unbutton,” Joel suggested. “Don’t touch it. Just, you know, get it clear for me.”

Aaron’s eyes narrowed a fraction, though his hand moved obediently. “What, exactly, are we doing?”

“Well, you said you’d come as soon as I touch your cock,” Joel said. “So I thought I wouldn’t do that quite yet.”

“Of course,” Aaron said on a breath. He unfastened his trousers, pushed at his drawers, released himself. He had a substantial prick in a nest of thick black hair, the end glistening wet.

“God, you’re ready,” Joel said. “I love it. Shove up.”

Aaron moved, not that it left much space. Still, Joel got a knee on the bed, and bent forward. He ran his fingers delicately over Aaron’s chest, flicked a nipple, heard him inhale.

Nice. He dallied over the nipple a little, rolling it in his fingers, then moved to the other. Aaron’s breath was coming short. Joel skimmed his pectoral muscles, which were impressive, then traced a line up, over his powerful shoulders, up his neck which was rigid with tension, but, he thought, in a good way. He brushed his thumb over Aaron’s lips, nudged it between them, felt him suck at it.

“Oh, damn, you’re good,” he said softly.

It wasn’t what Aaron was doing: it was simply what he was. The man was trembling with desire, stiff and aching with it. Those beautiful eyes, the magnificent body, all of it being offered up to him.

He moved the thumb gently in, pushing Aaron’s lips apart because they looked good like that, wet and open. Then he shifted down to the floor so he could get his mouth to Aaron’s nipple.

“Jesus,” Aaron said thickly, around his thumb. “Joel.”

Joel sucked a little harder. Dragged his hand down to get hold of the other nipple, working them both in turn, moved his mouth down to trail his tongue over Aaron’s belly, until Aaron was writhing under him.

He pulled his mouth off at last, and shifted round to seat himself on Aaron’s powerful thighs, looking down at his painfully erect prick, slick with moisture where he was leaking like a Government department. A drop had fallen onto his belly, but was still connected with a line of glimmering spiderweb. It was beautiful.

“Fuck me,” he said. “To be clear, I’m actually going to be quite disappointed in myself if you don’t blow when I touch you.”

Aaron made a sound that might have been a laugh or a gasp of agony. Joel looked at him a second longer, then ran his hand up between Aaron’s thighs, over his balls, up his shaft.

And that was all it took. Aaron convulsed, hips up and head back, gasping aloud, spending like a sailor in a spurt of white pleasure. Joel gave a crack of gleeful laughter. “Fuck. Yes .” He held on, making sure he’d milked every drop, until Aaron made a pleading noise and he reluctantly let go.

Aaron looked like he’d been hit with a brick. Joel sat back on his thighs, watching, until he blinked his eyes open.

“Great God,” he said. “God. That—”

“I enjoyed every second of that,” Joel said. “Particularly the last few. I think you’ve got spunk on your face.”

“I think I might have got it on the wall,” Aaron said. “Christ. Uh, would you...?” He moved his arm, just slightly, but enough that Joel read, Come here.

“One minute.” Joel fished out a handkerchief and tossed it to him, while he rapidly unbuttoned his own shirt, because it was clean on this morning and he didn’t need jism stains. He pushed it out of the way and lay down, mostly on Aaron because there was a lot of him and not much bed, and felt a strong arm close over his shoulders.

It felt so good. Joel didn’t go short of encounters, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d...‘cuddled’ wasn’t really a word he could associate with Aaron somehow, but he couldn’t think of a suitable alternative. Cuddled. Fine. He snuggled up into the hold.

“That was marvellous,” Aaron said into his hair. “All of it.”

“Wasn’t it. I did say you’d bang like a barn door in the wind.”

“That was you. All you.”

“The devil it was. I’m giving it two weeks of practice before you’re fucking me blind.”

That met with a ringing silence. Joel felt his stomach plunge. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“What?” Aaron asked, sounding slightly alarmed.

“Nothing. I just thought we might do this again, if you wanted, but—” But of course Detective Sergeant Fowler wouldn’t want to be running an illegal love life on the side. Naturally not.

Which was fine. Joel had come on to Aaron in the first place, not the other way around, and he hadn’t suggested anything more than a fuck, so he had no reason to expect it. They’d had fun. It was fine. He’d just thought they might have had fun again, that was all. “Don’t worry about it.”

Aaron didn’t reply for a second. Finally he said, carefully, “Would you want to do it again?”

Joel shrugged, feeling Aaron’s arm shift over him. “If you happen to be passing.”

“I wish I might be. That was the most—oh, the most generous night I’ve ever spent. You’re astonishing. But...you know my job.”

“Of course I do. I did.”

“That’s mine to worry about,” Aaron added quickly. “Not your concern. But it doesn’t make anything easier, I’m about to be in a devil of a mess, and I don’t think there’s any way I can have something that lasts longer than an evening.”

“Of course not.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t consider—”

“Nothing to consider,” Joel said before this got even more embarrassing. “I made a pass, not a proposal. If you want to do this again, you know where I live, and if you don’t, no hard feelings.”

“Right.”

Well, Joel had managed to ruin a perfectly lovely interlude very effectively. He glared at his side view of Aaron’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said again. “Do you want me to go?”

He did, actually. He wanted Aaron to piss off and leave him alone with his humiliation at having made and voiced a silly assumption. And Aaron doubtless knew it because the tension was back in his tone, and Joel could tell him to piss off now and he’d leave and never come back. And then at least Joel would be able to tell himself he’d told Aaron to piss off, rather than being rejected, which would make all the difference.

Grow up, you ridiculous child.

“Ah, not yet,” he said. “I’m too comfortable. You make a good pillow.”

“Pillow?”

“A very manly sort of pillow. Full of muscles. It’s like lying on a sack of walnuts, actually, not comfortable at all.”

“All right, all right,” Aaron muttered, and Joel felt him relax a fraction. “You’re remarkably easygoing.”

“No, I’m not. I’m a stroppy bitch.”

“Also that. I meant—well, thank you for understanding my position.”

“Oh, well. Better to take what you can get and enjoy it than sulk because there’s not more.”

Aaron’s arm tightened. “That’s not right.”

“It’s how it is. You know that as well as I do, Mr. Detective Sergeant.”

“Yes.” Pause. “I suppose you think I’m hell’s own hypocrite.”

Joel attempted a shrug. “You’re hardly the only one. I know a lad who services a High Court Judge weekly. He dresses up in a garter belt and stockings—the judge, not the lad—and gets spanked. Then he sods off back to the Bench and sentences people.”

Aaron exhaled long and hard. “It’s contemptible. I know.”

“A bit, but what’s the option? And anyway, this country runs on hypocrisy like a motor-car on petrol. I don’t see why you have to be better than anyone else.”

“Because I’ve taken on a job that involves enforcing the law on other people. You can’t justifiably do that and break them in your spare time.”

“Bad laws ought to be broken,” Joel said. “First, because obeying bad laws is a mug’s game, and second, because if nobody breaks them, why would anyone see the need to change them?”

“Change?”

“If enough people say I’m not doing it your way , they’ll sodding have to change it, won’t they? It’s like you said about the police. If people stop agreeing to be ruled, the authorities have a problem.”

“That’s true, but—”

“But until it’s changed, we have to live with it, one way or another,” Joel went on over him. “Just like all the other stuff we live with because that’s better than the alternative. So you fight it, or obey it, or try to fit your life round it by whatever means necessary. Go become Chief Superintendent and welcome, if you can do it without squashing yourself flat.”

Aaron snorted. “You’re a very practical man, considering how you make a living.”

“The important part of that sentence is ‘you make a living.’”

“Fair. And I take your point, though I don’t know if I agree.”

“You must agree, because you’re doing it.”

“Tonight,” Aaron said flatly. “This is the first time in five years.”

“You’re sodding joking.”

Aaron gave a mirthless laugh. “You must have noticed.”

“Christ. Or do you not mind going without?”

“Yes, I mind,” Aaron said through his teeth. “I mind a great deal. I minded so much that, since you started your relentless campaign of flirtation and provocation and being too damned lovely in a built-up area, I haven’t been able to get my mind off you. And now this.”

“Oh.”

“The point is—that’s how I came to an accommodation, in my own head. And I’ve made a mockery of it tonight.”

Shit and derision. “Look, this is between us,” Joel said. “It’s nobody else’s business, and you don’t have to feel bad about it if I don’t. Which I don’t. If anything, I feel quite flattered you broke your duck with me.”

“Broke— I was not unable to find anyone, thank you. I chose not to.”

“If you say so,” Joel said with heavy scepticism. Aaron started to respond, and turned it into an exasperated noise. Joel grinned into his chest.

“Anyway,” Aaron said. “It’s not something I can repeat. Once in a blue moon is one thing, but I don’t think I can reasonably have more.”

“Right. Understood. I’m sorry, though.”

“So am I. And deeply grateful for tonight. I was feeling very bleak and you made all the difference.”

He sounded so aching, so alone. “I mean, we could still meet one another,” Joel said. “No laws against that. In fact, we have to, because you owe me dinner, remember?”

“Oh. Yes, I do.”

He didn’t sound excited. “Not if you don’t want. Don’t worry about it.”

“Nonsense. It was a bet, and you won fair and square, and as you say, there’s nothing questionable about meeting in a public place. Any preferences?”

Joel didn’t care about expensive meals, and didn’t own the kind of clothes you needed to eat them. He wanted to go to the little Italian restaurant in Lisson Grove that served ravioli and was near Aaron’s flat. “I’ll leave it to you. Whenever, no hurry. Nothing fancy.” He’d have to wear the hook and use a knife at a fancy place, and people always looked, or at least he always felt as if they were looking.

Aaron considered for a moment. “Do you like Indian food?”

“I’ve had kedgeree?” Joel said dubiously. “And my old landlady did a thing she said was beef curry, but frankly—”

“You haven’t had Indian food. There’s an excellent place in Gerrard Street. It’s almost entirely frequented by Indians, and a fair few of them eat with their right hands only, so all the food is prepared with that in mind. I thought perhaps—”

“Yes,” Joel said. “Let’s go there.”

“I’ll arrange a time shortly.” Aaron sighed. “I really should go now. That was a wonderful evening. And I don’t think I said nearly enough as to how outstandingly impressive your results were. You were astonishingly accurate and you deserved a great deal more applause than I gave you. I would very much like to call on your abilities again.”

“Any time,” Joel said. “Usual rates. You know where to find me.”

Aaron’s arm tightened. Joel felt a whisper of movement, as though his lips had brushed Joel’s hair. “I won’t forget.”