Page 75 of Zero Divergence
Royce sighed as the soothing heat had an immediate effect. “That feels good.” Not as lovely as Sawyer’s mouth working his dick or even the first sip of morning coffee, but it was what he needed most.
“Sleep, Ro. I’ll wake you up in plenty of time to shower and wash the kitty litter out of your hair.”
“Asshole,” Royce groused before he drifted back to sleep.
The aroma of coffee woke him next. He lifted the now cool rag and found Sawyer sitting beside him on the bed, holding a cup. His skin glistened with sweat, and his hair was plastered to his head. Must’ve been one damn good workout. Royce was sorry as hell that he missed it. He’d started to think of the gym equipment as tools for foreplay. His body was in the best shape it had ever been in,andhis dick was kept happy. Win-win.
“You’re a saint,” Royce said, scooting up into a sitting position. The sheet and comforter slid down his torso, and Sawyer’s gaze followed their path. Royce loved how much Sawyer craved him and made a big show of stretching his arms over his head, putting more of his body on display. There was nothing saintly about the unabashed hunger in Sawyer’s eyes. Royce’s brain tried to return to the early morning hours and the things he heard on the tape, but he slammed on the brakes and steered it back to the man licking his bottom lip while contemplating the places he wanted to lick on Royce’s body. “Why don’t you set the cup down and get in bed with me?”
“I’m too sweaty,” Sawyer replied.
Royce took the cup from his hands, set it on the nightstand, and threw back the covers. “The florist doesn’t open until eight, and I see no reason why we need to head to the precinct first. I have a much better idea of how we can spend the extra forty minutes.”
Sawyer grinned and stood up. “Yeah? How?”
Royce headed for the bathroom. “I’m better at showing.”
After a quick stop to brush his teeth, Royce climbed beneath the spray of hot water with Sawyer, who immediately began washing Royce’s body with soapy hands. The sorrow from hearing his best friend talk about his struggle with mental illness and Royce’s guilt for not picking up the signs wouldn’t wash down the drain with the suds. The pain was raw and real, but Sawyer’s touch and whispered words against his lips provided a buffer, a balm of sorts, and reminded him he was alive in ways he never dreamed possible.
It wasn’t about sexual gratification right then for Royce; it was about intimacy and connecting with a person who made him feel safe enough to cry and bold enough to love. Of course, his body reacted to the physical stimulation of Sawyer’s slick hands moving over his flesh. It would take more than a heavy heart and a night of little sleep to crush his desire.
“Believe it or not,” Royce said, kissing Sawyer’s lips, “sex wasn’t what I had in mind?”
“Hmmm.” Sawyer firmly gripped Royce’s hard-on and said, “Not.”
Royce’s laughter bounced off the tile walls. “I had planned to make breakfast for you and reveal another secret weapon in my arsenal in the process.”
Sawyer tipped his head to the side as if he were thinking it over as he stroked his hand up and down Royce’s shaft, rotating his wrist on the upstroke to rub his palm over the swollen head. “Is this secret as delicious as your double chocolate cake?”
Royce captured his mouth for a long kiss before pulling back. “Better. Crepes.”
“Get out of here,” Sawyer said. “You make crepes?”
Royce covered his heart. “You wound me with your doubt.”
Sawyer snorted. “You bullshit me with your words.”
“I guess you’d rather jerk me off than find out,” Royce replied.
“Maybe I’m a greedy bastard and want it all,” Sawyer said. “Cock,thencrepes.” He loosened his fist enough so his dick could join the party. “Good thing I excel at time management. Maximum production while expending minimum energy.”
“Working harder, not smarter,” Royce countered.
Sawyer’s smile turned wicked, then he began jacking them off together while nipping and sucking Royce’s neck. All he could do was hang on and whisper words of encouragement like faster and harder while Sawyer jetted them toward completion.
“See,” Sawyer said when they clung to each other afterward. “I bet we still have at least twenty-five minutes for crepes. Wow me, baby.”
Challenge received and accepted.
A few minutes after eight, Royce pushed open the door to Sattler and Sons, triggering a doorbell-like sound to alert employees in the back that someone had entered the store.
A wholesome-looking guy in his early twenties stepped out of the walk-in cooler where he’d been placing vases of precut flowers. He wore khaki pants and a green polo shirt with the store’s name and logo on it. “Good morning. Can I help you?”
“I sure hope so,” Royce said, crossing the store. Sawyer remained near the door, surveying the area to make sure they weren’t caught off guard. Whoever Rocky talked to on the phone the previous day was uneasy about discussing Bonita Brothers with him. Maybe they had lied about her no longer working there, or perhaps, they were afraid of the woman.
Like Bonita Brothers, this guy looked pretty generic from across the store with his brown hair, fair skin, and light eyes. But as he drew closer, Royce noticed the hints of red reflected in the fluorescent lighting, and the freckles smattered across his nose. The eyes he would’ve described as light were an unusual, mossy green.
“I’m Sergeant Locke,” he said, gesturing to Sawyer. “This is my partner Detective Key.”