Page 10 of Hearts of Fairlake (Men of Fairlake #8)

TREVOR

"Alright," I barked, looking at the assembled officers as they chatted merrily, filling the main room of the precinct with their noise. "Everyone shut up and listen to me. That goes double for you, Livington."

Unsurprisingly, Bennett grinned at me. “Particularly the shut up part?"

"Exactly," I grunted. The man had been driving me batshit for years, but no one could claim he was stupid. Impulsive, too playful, and full of mischief, but not stupid.

"Shutting up," he said, pushing his chair back from anyone near him, and for a moment, I could almost forgive him for getting on my nerves. He was making sure he wasn't tempted to make any side comments by putting distance between him and anyone who might tempt him to talk. Sometimes, I couldn't tell if he was maturing with age or if his husband had finally had a calming effect on him. Then again, from what I'd seen of some people, especially those who already had a good head on their shoulders and a good heart, having kids made a difference .

"Good," I grunted. "Because I'm only going to say this once, and then it's back to business."

Well, as back to business as we could get currently. The town was in a frenzy over the anniversary festival, especially at the administrative level. While the townspeople were simply excited for all the fun, the rest of us responsible for ensuring everything was set were ready for everything to be over. I had never been so jealous of Ethan, probably curled up in bed as I stood before my officers.

"The festival starts at ten tomorrow morning," I began, looking around to ensure everyone was paying attention. I was in no mood to deal with anyone deciding they'd rather be on their phones than listening. "And it will go all the way to midnight. The following day, it's noon till ten. Of course, those are the official hours but we all know it will go on much longer than that for the average person."

"Just the partiers," someone piped up.

"That's some of who we're going to see, so get ready for the drunks, both sweet and nasty. And be prepared for the minors sneaking out to roam around without supervision. Remember, the mayor has put in a curfew for anyone under eighteen this weekend. So if you see one roaming around after the festival's official hours, send them packing."

"How are we supposed to know?"

"Get their ID. We'll have things posted that if you want to be out after midnight tomorrow and after ten the next day, you had better have ID, or you're being sent packing."

"And if they refuse?"

"Make sure they don't. Use whatever you have at your disposal. There's a damn high chance that our jail is going to need every cell. And while Fovel has agreed to take our overflow, I don't want to fill their jail. Keep arrests strictly for people who pose a danger to other festivalgoers, not delinquent teens and people who are too rowdy, understood? "

There was a momentary flash of pleasure at the mention of Fovel, and it wasn't just because the relatively new chief of police there was an upstanding woman I enjoyed a friendly relationship with. No, I was still bitter and petty enough that even five years later, thinking of her predecessor and where he'd ended up still gave me a little tingle of pleasure. Barty Durkins had been a professional and personal pain in my ass for years. If anything required cooperation between us, he made sure to put as many roadblocks in my way, all with that stupid grin on his face that professed he was ignorant of what he was doing.

So yes, if I got a little pleasure from the fact that the dirty bastard was locked up in prison, then I considered myself in the right. Both Fairlake and Fovel, as well as the surrounding area, were still feeling the effects of his explicit help with the meth manufacturing and trade in the area. While we were left to clean up his mess, I hoped he had a nice stay for the next decade and a half in federal prison, though personally, I thought he deserved to rot for longer.

"So basically," Bennett began, and I braced for whatever was about to come out of his mouth, "we're there to try to keep people in line and only lock up those who are really going to be a handful."

"Oversimplified, but yes," I said. "Even with the boys and girls from Fovel coming over to help, we're going to have our hands full. All estimations point toward the town having more people in it than any of us have seen in a lifetime. Which means we're going to need to be alert, attentive, and prepared for just about anything. If we fuck up, then it's my head on the chopping block, and if you think for one minute, I won't come down on the ones who screwed up, then you've clearly forgotten who I am."

At least half a dozen things were bound to go wrong. I knew that much. The inevitability of a screw-up didn't mean I wanted them to drop their guard, so I needed them to know I wasn't screwing around. When something went wrong, I needed them on top of their game to keep things under control. And if they did their best with what they had, then any fallout was something I would handle. But if they were the ones who screwed the pooch, I was not going to go easy on them.

"I know I've already mentioned this...several times, but I need every one of you to look over the duty rosters and see where you're going to be and when," I said, arching a brow. "And since I already told you about that before, if you have any questions, then you need to ask them now because I'm not going to be in the mood after tonight."

A hand went up, and I gestured for the question. “Any reason we have such a split between those positioned in the town and those positioned at the festival?"

I snorted. “Well, Williams, why the hell would I have someone like you positioned away from people as opposed to a holding pattern away from everyone else."

He grunted. “What, you don't want my charming personality around normal people?"

"No."

"Good."

I rolled my eyes as the chuckles rolled through the room. I don't know why everyone had to act like I didn't know what I was doing half the time. I knew these men and women like the back of my hand, which meant knowing their strengths and weaknesses. All of them were good officers, there was no denying that, but some were better served waiting to see if there was a problem rather than dealing with the public.

Anyone at ground zero would need at least to pretend to be personable, if not be genuinely a people person. That was where someone like Bennett came into play. I could slap him in a crowd, and the fool would have most of them eating out of his hand. Amazingly, the easy charisma and attention didn't go to his head, but it simply didn't seem to be a part of who Bennett was. I knew from experience that he could drop all his goofiness to ensure the safety and security of others. It also meant that if things went to hell in a handbasket, he'd know how to carry it back, forcefully if need be.

"Anything else?" I asked, gazing around to see if more hands went up, but none did. Which was good, considering I’d made sure they all knew what we were getting into long before we reached the night before the festival. Meetings had happened, emails had been sent, and I'd also talked to them. We all needed to do our part to keep things as smooth as possible, and I didn't want any confusion or miscommunications. "Good, then review the duty roster one more time tonight. And if you're on the overnight, look over it a few more times. Take pictures for later, I don't care, just follow it. And for the love of God, try not to pester me too much over the next couple of days. You're all grown-up professionals, don't come crying to me if you don't need to."

The hail of affirmation rose from the group before a scraping of chairs filled the air as they all prepared to go home or continue their shift. A glance toward the front of the building told me I couldn't slink back to my office, where I’d be drowning in more planning and paperwork.

"Great," I sighed as Fire Chief Borton approached. "Aaron, tell me this is a badly timed social call and not bringing me more shit."

He shook his head. “Keep your blood pressure down. I'm just here to say hi, not add to your woes."

"Yeah, because you coming over to bother me isn't going to add to my blood pressure," I said with a roll of my eyes. It wasn't true, mostly because, against all odds, I didn't have serious blood pressure issues. One would think having the job I did and my handful of a partner, my ticker would be struggling, but no, I was apparently the picture of health for someone my age.

"Honestly, if I didn't already know Ethan, I'd worry for his self-esteem being with someone as charming and free with compliments as you," Aaron said with a roll of his eyes, dropping his butt down onto the desk closest to me. "Thankfully, I know he gives better than he gets, so I take comfort in that."

"Yes, yes, I know. I've grown so accustomed to having antagonistic pains in my ass that I finally went and got one to keep at home," I said with a sigh.

"And you love every minute of it."

"I'm sure you all keep telling yourselves that."

Honestly, I wanted nothing more than to have Ethan with me right now, but it was better that he was at home, where I desperately wanted to be. Having him around would distract me from reviewing everything to ensure I hadn't missed anything. For me, it was enough to know he was safe at home and that at the end of the weekend, I’d be able to spend more time with him.

"How're things going over here?" Aaron asked, watching as all but a couple of my officers filed out. Some would be out on patrol for the night, but most would go home to rest up for the comingdays. "Seems like you've got everyone in line."

"For the moment," I said with a shrug. "There's only so much I can plan for. Best thing I can do at this point is lay it all out for them and trust they're going to handle things."

"Are they?" Aaron asked, cocking his head.

"Are you questioning my ability to pick and lead my people?"

"Jesus, . Maybe you need to take another one of those two-week vacations. The kind where your man drags you off to some far-flung place where there aren't other people, and you get drunk and laid all the time."

Regret made me pull a face, and I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Sorry. the mayor has been up my ass constantly for the past week. I miss the days when someone had to hunt you down in person or leave a message on a landline. Having a cell means the nervous bastard can send me a flurry of texts at all hours of the day and night because he wants everything to go perfectly."

Aaron snorted, giving a little nod. "I told you to get a second phone for work. I can put that sucker on silent when I'm not on the clock, and he can wait. But I know what you mean. He's become such a prima donna as if it's our fault he decided to have this big blowout festival instead of something more in line with how we've always handled town celebrations."

"At some point, I had Ethan type up premade responses because I kept getting the same goddamn questions and worries from Fred," I grumbled. "He might be a decent mayor, but right now? I'm seriously considering finding out if an emergency re-election can be held so I can get some peace and quiet. I don't even want to know what he's going to be like tomorrow."

"I already talked to Sarah. As the actual power behind the mayoral throne, she's going to keep him so busy he can't be up our asses while we're doing our jobs," Aaron said with a smirk.

I let out a sigh of relief at the news. If his part-time deputy mayor, part-time assistant was going to take care of things, that meant they would get done. Fred wasn't a bad mayor, but he didn't handle stress well. Which was why so much of his stress and worry had been dumped on Aaron and me to handle, along with others, like Adam, who’d been handling construction, as well as Grant and even Isaiah .

I grunted at the thought. “How's Isaiah handling the stress of Fred as well as his upcoming speech?"

Aaron shrugged. “I told Isaiah not to give Fred his number and let him go through me instead, so he's pretty safe unless Fred happens to see him. The kid has learned to stay out of sight when our illustrious mayor is around."

I thought about pointing out that the 'kid' was in his thirties, but it wasn't like I wasn't guilty of the same thing from time to time. Honestly, if it weren't for Ethan, I would have thought of them all as kids. But seeing as I was dating a man Isaiah's age, it made things a little too weird for my tastes to consider them kids.

"You think he knows you're taking the bullets for him?" I wondered.

Aaron shrugged. “Doesn't matter if he does or doesn't. Plus, making Fred work to get responses out of me is half the fun."

"You do realize the more you rile him up and stress him out, the more he annoys the living shit out of me, right?"

"You could always do the same thing. But you won't."

"No, I won't."

"Because tweaking the noses of people in power is your boyfriend's favorite thing, not yours. You are far too serious and duty-focused to have that kind of fun."

"I...sure."

Aaron frowned suddenly. "And you're in a position of authority."

"Yes," I said slowly, wondering where this was going. "What's your point?"

His nose wrinkled. “I suddenly wondered how that works for you two, and it occurred to me that it's probably foreplay. So now I'm thinking about all the times he's annoyed you and…yeah, I don't like where that thought process was going. "

"Neither do I," I grunted at him, if only because I hated that he was right. I had long since made peace with the fact that Ethan's mischievous antagonism was something of a turn-on for me, but that didn't mean I was comfortable talking about it with Aaron...or anyone who wasn't Ethan, for that matter. "Can we move on?"

"Gladly," he said with a shake of his head. "Now, excluding Fred's constant freaking out, how are things on your end? Like, really."

"Like I said, they're more or less as handled as they can be. We can't account for every possibility, but that doesn't mean we're not on top of what we can. I trust my people, and they know I have their backs. At this point, we just have to see how things go, stick to the plan when we can, and make it up when we go off script."

"That's more or less where we're at too," Aaron said with a nod. "Which means there's only one thing left for us to do."

"I have this feeling your idea of what we should do is going to differ greatly from what I think we should do."

"Yeah, because you work yourself too hard. Go home, . Go home to your bed and your boyfriend. Get laid, try to relax, get some sleep. Nothing you do tonight will make anything any easier on you or your people over the weekend, especially if you're stressed and sleep-deprived," he said, standing up and patting me on the shoulder. "I mean it."

"It's not a bad idea," I admitted and sighed. "But I should probably knock out some of the paperwork that's been building up over the past week or two. I don't want that looming over me."

", that's going to be there no matter what you do," Aaron said with a roll of his eyes. "The best thing you can do for yourself right now is go get some rest and brace for the next couple of days. But you're not going to. "

We both knew I wasn't going to, but there was no point in repeating what he'd already said. We'd been friends for years, and on a professional and personal level, we knew each other very well. He knew I was going to retreat to the quiet of my office, closing the door behind me and possibly putting on some music. Aaron would go home, flip something on the TV, make a quick burger, and open a beer. I would sit down and sip on a whiskey, while he would eventually go to bed after a beer or two. He would be asleep by the time I considered going home or wonder if I should just give up and sleep in the office...again.

"Sometimes I wonder how you're going to manage retirement," he said with a chuckle. "But anyway, go be Mr. Workaholic. We'll see how well that works for you when Sunday night rolls around and your stressed out, old ass starts trying to take everyone's head off."

"Good night, Aaron," I said with a roll of my eyes and waved him off with a shake of my head. The sooner he and everyone else got out of my hair, the sooner I could try to make it through the slog that would be the paperwork. "As for everyone else, I'll be in my office. The only time I want someone bothering me is if we've got a shootout or officer down, understood?"

The couple of officers left murmured their assent, and feeling like I might finally have some peace, I walked back toward my office. I stopped when I saw a glow from the room and closed my eyes, forcing myself to take a deep breath. A man's office should be a sacred place, but some officers, Bennett in particular, had some interesting definitions of personal boundaries, especially when it came to his little tricks or his ways of improving morale.

"Oh, I'm so not in the mood for this," I muttered in annoyance as I pushed open the door to see what 'surprise' awaited me. Only to stop when I found no booby trap or ' gift,' but...a couple of lanterns, a vase of flowers on the edge of my desk, and a certain someone sitting behind it.

"You," I began slowly, still holding the door, "are supposed to be at home and probably sleeping."

"So should you," Ethan said, cocking his head and letting some of his hair flop onto his forehead. He’d let it grow out longer than usual, and instead of the normal color, he had apparently been busy today dyeing it an unnatural silver. It made his eyes pop, and I looked him over as he sat at my desk like he belonged there. He knew damn well I didn't let anyone sit at my desk. "And yet here we both are."

"I’m supposed to be working," I said, closing the door behind me and, after a moment, locking it because whenever Ethan made a surprise visit, it was always good to make sure someone else didn't pop in at an inopportune moment.

"Actually, that's what you've been doing all week. And considering you have to get up even earlier than usual tomorrow, you should be at home, resting in bed with me," Ethan said, leaning back in his… my seat to watch me with a smirk. "Of course, I didn't expect you to do it, so I decided I wasn't going to either."

I shook my head, walked over to the sound system I kept tucked away in the corner, and began playing music. “You know, I was hoping to have some peace and quiet while I got some work done, not have you trying to distract me from it. You're not going to convince me that I shouldn't be here."

"Oh, perish the thought," he said lightly. "I have no intention of getting in your way. I'm going to sit quietly and do my own thing. There's a few offers to do some writing that I was considering."

That gave me pause. “Oh?"

He chuckled, picking up the tablet in front of himandflipping the cover around to reveal a keyboard plugged into a port. “Don't you worry, nothing that involves me going anywhere. It's mostly about stuff I've already seen or done, things I made notes on but either barely mentioned or didn't mention at all. That stuff is mostly for little hit pieces and the like, you know what I mean."

I did and wasn't ashamed to feel relief as I headed for the liquor cabinet, only to find a half-full glass waiting for me just behind the flowers. Raising a brow, I walked over, smiling at the daisies that were my favorite, and grabbed the glass. “I see you came prepared. Why the lanterns and flowers?"

"Because we so rarely give them to each other, and I know how much you love them because of how your mother grew them like they were going extinct," Ethan said with a laugh. "And the lanterns are more cozy than overhead lights or the blue light from screens."

"And you're here to work, side by side with me?" I asked, not caring that I sounded dubious because I was .

"Of course," he said with a grin, leaning back in his seat to tap something on the screen. "Of course, you'll probably want your chair back, won't you?"

"That would be a fair assumption, yes," I said dryly, fighting not to roll my eyes at him. He was clearly up to something but no amount of prodding, poking, or growling was going to make him tell. I would simply have to wait and see what his plan was and hope it wasn't too devious.

"By all means," he said, sliding the chair back and standing up. "I'll take the couch."

I stared at him as I finally saw what I’d been missing, or rather what he’d been missing the whole time, though I hadn't known it...his pants. "Ethan?"

"Hmm?"

"Where are your pants?"

"Oh, since we're probably going to be here for a while, I thought I might as well make myself comfortable. It's not like we'll be interrupted. I'm sure you managed to chase off anyone from interrupting you while you work," he said, glancing down at himself...like it was no big deal. Like he wasn't pantsless in my office, which was a rarity, and wearing a jockstrap no less, which was something he rarely wore unless he was doing an intensive workout...or trying to mess with me.

Which was not my fault. It was his...or his genetics fault...or his workout. Honestly, whatever was responsible for him having the finest ass in the country was to blame, and even if I hadn't lavished attention on it in the past, I was obvious about my love of his ass. Ethan was shrewd enough to catch on. So now I was stuck watching as he walked around the desk, purposefully giving me an eye full of his ass, the faint blond hairs glittering in the lantern light, cheeks bouncing in a way that made me want to reach out and grab a handful or slap one to see how well they really bounced.

I took a drink of the whiskey and swallowed hard. “At least now I know what you're up to."

"I already told you that," he said, dropping onto the couch he'd insisted I get for my office for those nights when I stubbornly stayed behind and slept there. I had to admit, the damn thing was comfortable as hell. He leaned back, crossing an ankle over a knee and resting the tablet in the crook of his legs so he could type. That covered his ass, of course, but it didn't mean I loved his thighs and calves any less. “I'm here to try to get some work done while you do the same."

Right, so we were going with the innocent act, which if I knew Ethan, would be pretty damn believable. The man had some fine skills at pretending, but it was impossible to act like he wasn't up to something when he was sitting in my office in his underwear and an undershirt.

"Good," I grunted, deciding that if he was going to play, I would ignore him, and I dropped into my seat. Only to immediately grunt when I turned on my screen and found myself blinded by the bright light after my eyes had adjusted to the lamplight. "Are they actual flames?"

"Don't worry, the glass is shatterproof, and the doors are locked, so they can't open. You'd have to heave them with all your might even to dent them. You'll have no fires in your office tonight," he said as he scrolled through something on his screen.

"I've had enough fires in here to last a lifetime," I muttered as I opened the menu and changed it to night mode, which dimmed the brightness. The relief was immediate, and I opened what I needed to go over the reports and emails I’d fallen behind on.

One wouldn't think a small-town police chief would have to deal with a lot of paperwork, but one would be wrong. There were always minor incidents happening all over Fairlake, especially in the more rundown parts where we were still trying to break the stranglehold of the drug trade. But there were also plenty of drunks, domestic disturbances, traffic accidents, and other crimes and calls to the cops. Most of it was routed through me as I ensured officer reports were neat, but I also reported to the government what was happening.

Of course, that had only increased with the festival and the planning I had to do to cover security. Fred had been insistent that the police force in Fairlake and Fovel would be enough to cover everything without needing to get extra security, something I disagreed with but didn't have much say in. So, I was left to manage logistics, pay for those extra hours, make financial reports, plan for future expenses, and do a host of other things stacked on top of everything else.

I had damn near forgotten about Ethan until movement caught my eye, and I looked up to see him twist onto his back, one leg sliding to rest his foot on the ground, the other going over the back of the chair. All considerations about whether or not I had enough coverage for the east-end burbs fell away as I stared at the neon green pouch covering his groin with all the subtlety of a hot poker to the nose.

" What are you doing?" I asked, trying not to do it between gritted teeth but not succeeding.

He let out a breath between lips I was quickly beginning to imagine wrapped around me. “Eh, can't decide which topic to write on. Ever since people caught wind of the fact that I'm with a guy, it's pretty much all gay-related stuff."

"Is that a problem?"

"It is when the last few big pieces I wrote were on sex trafficking. And then war crimes. This stuff is already depressing, but do you know how much worse it can be to write about it when it hits close to home?"

That, at least, was sufficient to take the sting out of the horny tail growing inside me. It was easier to remember that much of his work had been incredibly dangerous and cling to that whenever he talked about taking on another piece. It was a lot harder to talk about the effects his work had on him. Not that he wasn't resilient as hell and could put up with a lot more horror in the world than I ever could, but it still wore away at him, little by little. The last thing I wanted was for him to end up so worn down by all of it that he was left with bitterness and cynicism.

"There is one on the top foods I've enjoyed around the world," he said, and against all odds, he managed to make it worse for me by rolling over. "It's a fluff piece, but you know? I might just be in the mood for some fluff pieces."

Dear God, now I had no choice but to stare at the very thing that tempted me even when he was wearing the baggiest shorts imaginable and doing the most banal things like putting away groceries. Except now it was completely bare thanks to the jock, and his position had it practically staring at me as he began to hum and...Christ, now he was wiggling his hips slightly like he always did when laying down and thinking.

I had to tear my eyes away from the sight to look at my screen. The problem was my brain's higher functions were not working, and the words on the screen might as well have been in a long-dead language no one spoke or understood anymore. Even the graphs I vaguely remembered were the predicted monthly expense reports, looked more like smears of colors and lines without any meaning or reason.

I was warm all over, and it went without saying that my uniform pants were unbelievably tight and restrictive as I sat there, trying to make sense of what I saw. The problem was, I could still see him out of the corner of my eyes, not enough to make out details but enough to know he was still wiggling .

"God save me," I muttered, covering my face and knowing that despite my insistence to the contrary, I was losing badly.

"What was that?" he asked as he began tapping on the keyboard, apparently already starting his fluff piece.

I, however, didn't respond, knowing full well I didn't have the ability to speak clearly at the moment and annoyed that he’d managed to win with seemingly no effort. Worse yet, I was opening the bottom drawer that had once housed a picture of Troy and grabbed the bottle I kept in the far back corner. It wasn't like we routinely fucked in my office. For the sake of professionalism and propriety, I tried to keep that to once a year if I could manage. I vaguely recalled it had been almost two years since the last time we'd done anything in my office, so clearly, Ethan was trying to get some in before the two-year mark hit.

He didn't even react as I pushed my chair back and advanced toward him, using my free hand to undo my pants and shove the waistband of my underwear down so I could free my cock. I hadn't been with this man for as long as I had without knowing when he was trying to provoke me into something quick and fast as opposed to slow and sensual. If he was even paying attention to what I was doing, he was making a damn good show of not responding as I lubed myself up.

I didn't bother removing any of my clothes, knowing full well he got a kick out of me fucking him in uniform. It was a strange but delightful aspect of our relationship, his rebellion against authority irritating yet turning me on, and my need for authority and control irked and aroused him. Which...now I thought about it, I unhooked the cuffs from my belt as I knelt on the couch, easing myself forward so my cock pressed against him.

Ethan froze as he felt the head of my cock push against his hole, his typing stopping. “Well...someone's feeling something right now."

"Like you didn't intend this," I growled, pushing forward so he could feel the pressure from my trying to enter him.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," he all but purred as he locked his screen and pushed the device onto the floor with a thump.

"You did," I said, and to show he’d succeeded in getting what he wanted and that it came with a price, I gave my hips a sharp thrust and felt the blunt head push into him, sliding in a couple of inches before I stopped, knowing it was enough to get my point across.

"Mmph," he grunted, and while I could hear surprise and pain, there was no complaint. I used the moment to angle myself over him, snapping one of the cuffs over his wrist and gently pulling it back toward me. "Oh shit, really?"

"You want to play games?" I asked in a low grumble that was both warning and arousal. "Then we're going to play games."

"Been a while since I was under arrest," he said, and we both knew he allowed me to grab his other hand to pull behind his back and cuff it. "And ooh, the uncomfortable position too. I definitely hit that combination of rough and good."

"I don't know about the right to remain silent, but you sure as shit should be," I said, pushing another couple of inches inside him to hear him give that low groan that was both discomfort and encouragement. I was never one for the discomfort that came from a quick entry, but I knew there were some out there who were, and Ethan was one of them. Maybe I should have been worried about that, but at that moment, all I could think was that I had half of me inside him, and I was already lost in the sensation.

I was too impatient to wait for him to loosen up fully, so I pushed one hand into his upper back to hold him down, bracing with one leg and my other knee as I gripped his wrist to begin rocking. I watched as his fingers flexed as I loosened up the part of him I’d roughly opened and then clenched when I bore down, pushing even more of myself into him until rocking back to relax him and thrusting again. The last couple of inches were just as harsh as the first, and he gave a groan that he had to bury in the couch cushion as he pushed back.

"It's been a while," I admitted. Considering the last time we'd had sex had been the morning after we'd made up from our argument, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that he was a little pent up. Ethan's sexual appetite had always been...voracious, and despite all the advice out there saying you needed to get used to it dying down with time, they clearly didn't know Ethan. If he had to go more than a few days without sex, he started getting antsy and restless, and if it was a few days without an orgasm? God, he was unbearable. "When was the last time you jerked off?"

"Fuck," he groaned into the cushion, squeezing around me on purpose because even now when I technically had all the cards and the control, he was still going to show he could do something to egg me on. "I haven't. Not since the other morning."

"My my, almost five days since you got off?" I asked as I slowly eased out, then pushed back in with the kind of easygoing speed that was sure to drive him nuts. "It's a miracle I didn't get jumped before this."

We both knew he’d been conscious of the stress I'd been under and had been behaving himself on my behalf just as surely as he’d done this on my behalf. I also knew if he was as pent up as I thought, he was going to lose all patience with this slow and steady crap and start getting cranky if I didn't hurry up. Not that I minded; I was just as worked up as he wanted me to be, and I didn't need a whole lot of encouragement to snap my hips and let him feel all of me inside him.

"Hey," he grunted in annoyance and disappointment when he felt me pull out, only to yelp with surprise when I flipped him onto his back. I knew that wasn't comfortable, with his hands cuffed behind his back, but that didn't stop me as I pushed his legs back and fed my dick back into him with a roll of my hips. "Oh shit, God. I hate when we wait forever, but fuck if it doesn't make you feel better."

"I always feel good," I growled as I gave another snap of my hips hard enough to jerk his body.

"Fuck, yes, sir," he said with a shaky laugh. It wasn't genuine, but it was good enough for me as I began to thrust down into him. He was wiggling under me, though whether that was because he was trying to figure out how to free himself from the confines of the underwear he’d put on to taunt me, or because he was trying to push back into my thrusts, I wasn't sure.

What mattered was that he was here, completely and utterly in my hands, and I wasn't going to free him. He couldn't always do it, but from the panting as I drilled him down into the couch and the wet spot steadily growing on the pouch, I would bet I could fuck the orgasm out of him. And if I couldn't, well, I would still leave him helpless while I recovered and then take care of things. That was simply the price you paid when you messed with me.

And I loved him for it.

His eyes widened as his legs trembled in my grip. I watched him suck in his lip, neck muscles straining. All the wiggling and fighting was gone as his breath was sucked in, shuddering as it came out. I took mercy on him, reaching down to clamp my hand over his mouth, and for a moment, I thought I saw gratitude in his eyes. That was right before they rolled back into his head as his body went taut, his groan muffled but deep as it vibrated against my hand.

That was all I needed to let go of the last tattered shred of self-control as I shoved down into him one last time and let out a low groan. I clung to him and hovered over him as I poured into him, my limbs shaking as pleasure washed over me repeatedly. Even with the closed door and the music playing, I was careful to keep the noise to just the panting of my breath before the grip of ecstasy finally let me go.

"Shit," I managed, letting go of him and easing back to sit on my legs and let out a shaky chuckle. "You are the worst, you know that?"

"You say that, but I feel great right now," he said with a snort, letting his head fall back as he stared at the ceiling. "And if the look on your face is any indication, you're feeling pretty good yourself right now."

"Maybe," I said, sticking to the old game of refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right while both of us knew damn well that he was absolutely correct. "Doesn't change the fact that you're a shithead."

"Ah, well, you already knew and loved that about me," he said, his face twitching when my soft dick slid out of him, forcing me to hastily tuck myself away before any mess got on my couch. I'd managed not to stain the thing so far and wanted to keep it that way.

I raised a brow as I looked down at him, his skin shining slightly in the light of the lanterns, his hands behind his back still, red in the face, and looking thoroughly fucked. "I have to say, this is one of your better looks."

He rolled his eyes. “Oh sure, first you sneak attack me, then you handcuff me without warning, and now you're going to sit there and taunt me while I'm helpless?"

"Like I said, a good look," I said with a smirk. It was a testament to how far we'd come that he was so calm about being locked up. In the early days of our relationship, there was no way in hell I would have dared to do something like put him in cuffs, let alone without warning. All the resilience in the world couldn't spare him the mental and emotional scars that had come from the life he’d led before. That included loathing and fearing anything that restrained him, literally and figuratively.

"So...that's a yes, you're going to sit there and gloat while little ol’ me is helpless and bound," he said in a soft, wispy voice that didn't sound a thing like him.

It was also incredibly suspicious, and I raised a wry brow. “You're free of your cuffs, aren't you?"

He pulled his hands out from under him, wiggling them to show that both cuffs had been removed. “I'm free of my cuffs."

"Should I even dare to ask how you managed that?" I asked with a sigh.

"Now, now, you know a magician never tells his secrets," Ethan said with a laugh, squeezing my legs. "But at least I didn't have to dislocate a thumb this time."

It was dropped so casually, 'this time.' Not that I was surprised. That was just how Ethan was, generally irreverent and dismissive about serious things, especially about him or his experiences. It was all too easy for people who didn't know him to take everything he threw at them at face value. He was quite good at giving off the feeling that nothing and no one could bother him, and I didn't blame people for believing it was a facade.

Which was precisely what it was, a facade. I'd been honored by the chance to peek behind the laughing mask that he slipped on as easily as a well-worn shirt, and I knew under all that irreverent humor and dismissive attitude was a man who felt deeply and completely. One only had to pick up his work and read the trials and tribulations he went through but never went into detail, focusing instead on the suffering and misery of those he sought to help with his coverage to understand that. He felt deeply and completely and was utterly dismissive of his suffering at times, sometimes to the detriment of his wellbeing.

Thankfully, I already knew about the dislocated thumb story, so I let it pass, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"Yes, yes, very clever," I said, glancing back at my desk and feeling hollowness in my chest that grew into an ache. "Damn it."

I didn't have to look at him to know he was grinning. “I bet you're thinking about being home right now, right?"

"Damn you."

"Hmmm, glass of your better whiskey in hand. A sandwich stacked with all the accouterments you love and Ira's homemade roast beef."

"Fuck, you got some?"

"I did."

No one could make roast beef like Ira, and she refused to give the recipe to anyone. She swore up and down she would take the recipe to her grave because everyone kept annoying her for it, and they could take it up with God after that because she wouldn't be available. However, I’d known her for years and was one of the few people who hadn't pestered her for it. One day, she'd asked me who I thought she should give the recipe to. The answer was simple, Bennett was the only other person who could claim to love her recipe, not have bothered her about getting it, and considering the work he'd put in over the years to learn how to cook, the one capable of giving it the justice it deserved.

And when the day came that he received it, I was never going to tell him it had been at my recommendation.

"Well then, shit," I muttered, gathering my things up. "What are we doing here?"

"Does this mean I've finally achieved victory and will have my man with me rather than spend the late hours alone in my cold, cold bed?"

"I'll ignore the dramatics and just say yes."

"Cool...now what did I do with my pants?"

"Ethan."