Authors: Tempeste O'Riley
“I’ve had it two, maybe three years. Dal hates it, insisting his Mustang is better, but who doesn’t love KITT?”
“Rhys,” Chase countered as they stepped inside and up the escalator to the second floor. “KITT was a black Trans Am, not a white and blue one.”
“Just be glad I didn’t have the blinky light in the front installed like I wanted to.”
“Oh God, and you would too. Should have known you were a closet geek!”
Chase squealed when Rhys dug his fingers into Chase’s side. “Am not. KITT was cool. Now, be a good boy so we don’t get thrown out before dinner.”
Biting the inside of his cheek, he nodded and worked to calm the smirk he knew he sported as they entered the restaurant.
D
ESPITE
TWO
hours of great music, what held him spellbound was Chase. Rhys watched Chase more than the show, loving how into it he got. The wide grin and swaying of Chase’s body in his seat as the music and show played enthralled him. He’d been worried about picking the rowdy Harlem Renaissance musical revue
Ain’t Misbehavin’
, but now that he saw Chase loving it so much, he thought maybe they’d have to come more often.
When the last song finished and the lights rose, Rhys wasn’t ready for it to be over.
“Oh my God! I loved it. Thank you.” Chase threw his arms around Rhys, pulled him down to meet him with eager lips, kissing him like there was no one else there.
Rhys, however, was painfully aware of the people around him, jostling to get their coats and such before heading out. He pulled back and kissed Chase on the tip of his pert little nose. “Glad you liked it so much, sweetheart. Come on, I think we’re in the way.”
Chase grumbled but agreed, and slipped his arm through Rhys’s on the way outside. “That was so cool. I love music of all kinds.”
“You’re welcome, but the night’s not quite over yet.” He led the way, Chase tight against him as they walked outside.
“What else did you plan, Rhys?” Chase asked as they reached the car.
“A light snack, then maybe we could go back to my place.” He held up a carryout bag he’d stopped to pick up on the way out of the theater. The bistro catered desserts and drinks to the theater patrons, a fact he was rather thankful for right then.
“More food? As if the wonderful meal before the show wasn’t enough? I mean, I have never had roasted butternut squash soup that delicious before. Not even when James made it for me! And I think I’m going to have to hit the gym extra this week over the triple chocolate mousse we had for dessert.”
Rhys smiled down at Chase and shook his head, amused by the logical rambling of his lover. “It’s not heavy—the snack I mean—and I have no intention of returning you to your friends yet.”
“Ah, going to feed me before trying to ravage me?” Chase asked and then slipped into the passenger side of Rhys’s baby.
When he reached for his door, it was already unlocked. Rhys hopped in and leaned over the center, so close to Chase he could feel the heat but not the flesh. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“Huh? For what?” Chase murmured, his lips ghosting along Rhys’s.
“For the door, for saying yes, take your pick,” he explained, then took Chase’s lips in a soft, gentle kiss. Instead of pushing to deepen, as he usually would, he traced the tip of his tongue along the seam of Chase’s lips, flicking and teasing the silver ring there.
Chase moaned, pushing into the kiss, and swept his tongue along Rhys’s, tangling with his and plunging in repeatedly. In mere moments, the kiss went from sweet to mind numbing. He was so enthralled in Chase and his wicked tongue that he jumped, banging his head against the roof when someone blew their horn.
Rhys settled against the seat, focusing on his breathing and his heart rate, trying to calm down so he could drive Chase back to his place. Chase did the same, drawing an amused yet frustrated chuckle from him. “I don’t think it’s working,” he finally said.
“Huh? What’s not working?” Chase asked, his voice soft, eyes closed tight.
“Trying to ignore each other,” he commented, then put the keys in the ignition and started the car. He forced himself to focus on the area around them instead of how needy the scent of Chase and the Antaeus he always wore made him. After another moment, he pulled out of the parking spot and drove across town.
Chase stayed quiet on the way, but shortly before Rhys pulled into the drive, he rested his left hand on top of Rhys’s on the gearshift. He threaded his fingers between Rhys’s but did nothing else, following his movements when he shifted gears.
Rhys only relinquished Chase’s hand long enough for them to exit the car. As soon as he was around the car and to Chase, he took the long, tapered fingers into his own. With Chase in one hand and their snack in the other, he led them inside and up to his apartment. However, instead of having the treat and hoping to entice Chase to bed, he found himself slammed against the door, Chase’s hands tight in his hair, yanking his head down.
Chase mashed their mouths together in a hard, bruising kiss, picking up right where they’d left off in the car. He was moaning in seconds, desperate for the lithe body rubbing against him.
He took a handful of Chase’s cheeks and lifted, holding Chase at just the right height to align their cocks through their dress pants. Rhys rocked, thrusting against Chase, torturous and slow, as he groaned and panted.
Chase tore his mouth away from Rhys’s with a deep groan. “Oh God, Rhys! Please tell me this can wait,” he panted, pointing at the bag on the floor beside them.
Rhys nodded, a grunt all he could manage. He used his grip on Chase to grind against him.
“Bed, now, or I’m going to take you right here, against the wall.”
The idea actually gave him pause. Did he want rough sex or to take their time in the big bed? Then his brain kicked in and reminded him he didn’t have supplies anywhere but his room. Taking one last kiss, he set Chase down, then dragged him to the bed. All he could think about was Chase getting in him…. Now!
He trembled as Chase stopped next to the bed, hand on his chest. “Calm down, Rhys. I promise to love you like no one ever has before, but I don’t want to hurt you either. Strip and get in the center of the bed. Hands and knees, please.”
Rhys had no idea what Chase had planned, but nearly came from the heated look alone before he managed to free himself from his clothing and do as ordered.
I
T
WOULD
take him days to recover fully from Chase’s rough, driving assault on his hole and cock, but lying awake later, sore and exhausted, he smiled, remembering Chase’s promise. He’d been true to his word. No one had ever touched him, or filled him, like Chase had. A fact that both thrilled and terrified him, but one he wouldn’t change for anything.
He curled around his sleeping partner, knowing his heart was lost, hoping it wasn’t alone.
R
HYS
WISHED
they hadn’t wasted all this time dancing around one another. Silence had never bothered him until recently, but not having Chase’s perky chatting or music going left him on edge. The worst part, and he knew it, was he’d done this to himself by not telling Chase the truth earlier. But if wishes were horses….
A loud ringing interrupted his internal musing. He tapped his Bluetooth—thank you, Chase—and heard the voice say, “Incoming, Mark.”
“Accept.” Once he heard the cell pick up, he said, “Hey, Mark. What ya up to tonight?”
“Nothing good, man. Is Chase there with you?”
“No, I just dropped him at his place. Why?”
“Can you come into the office? We have a new case to deal with and I need you, sans Chase.”
“O… kay.” Something was off, but Rhys couldn’t place it. After so many years together as friends, first as Marines, then as business partners, he just “knew” something wasn’t right. “What aren’t you telling me, Mark?” he asked as he pulled over, not wanting to have this conversation while driving.
“The victim’s name is Michael Donogual. The same Michael Chase dated. If what I’m finding is right, they broke up not long before you two met. And either it’s a setup, or this guy was obsessed with Chase.”
The tension in Mark’s voice had the hair on his arms and the back of his neck rising. “Define obsessed.”
“Like creepy-stalker-woohoo-type obsessed. Like has-a-freaky-shrine-in-his-bedroom obsessed.”
Clutching his fist tighter, Rhys struggled to remain calm—or at least calm-ish. “How are you at the scene so fast, and are we officially being hired on this one too?”
“Man, one of the cops that first responded to the call gave the roommate our card. He, in turn, gave it to Michael’s parents, so yeah, we’re officially adding this to our not-a-suicide case list. I’m wondering how many more there might be, considering we only know of these because of a buddy from when we were in the Corps being a cop now and passing along some information. But I don’t think you can ask Chase to do the computer work on this one, Rhys. Not if what I’m hearing about is anything like what will be on this guy’s laptop, desktop, or numerous other gadgets found so far.” Mark paused a moment before continuing. “I’m still surprised we’re even getting the level of cooperation we are.”
Rhys sat motionless, afraid if he spoke right then his voice would give out. No, he couldn’t ask Chase to work on this one, not if this guy was one of his exes. He just hoped no one would say anything to Chase until after he could talk to him.
“We’ll figure something out and just be thankful for contacts and friends. Do me a solid, though, okay? Don’t mention this to Chase, and let Nikki and such know to keep a tight lid on things for now. I don’t want him alone when he finds out.”
“No problem. I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell him, ever, if it were possible. He’s going to lose it,” Mark added matter-of-factly. “I know I would.”
Rhys sighed, not looking forward to that discussion, but thankful he would get the chance to be the one there for Chase. Now to hope he didn’t kill the messenger.
The two men divided the initial work before saying good-bye. Rhys prayed James, Seth, and Chase would miss the news until after he could get things started and return to Chase.
“T
HAT
’
S
NOT
….”
Rhys trailed off, looking away again.
Chase had never seen Rhys so nervous or unsure of himself. It suddenly occurred to him there might be a lot more depth to the man than he had thought. Then he scolded himself for assuming the wrapping was all there was to Rhys. He hated when people made the assumption about him, yet here he was doing the same.
Idiot
. “What is it? I can handle it, whatever it is.” Or he hoped so, at least.
Rhys took another sip of his coffee before he reached over and took Chase’s hand. When their eyes met, Chase was suddenly afraid to hear whatever it was Rhys didn’t want to say. “I don’t want to tell you what you need to be told, but it should come from someone who cares about you.”
“Okay….” Chase paused. It had been weird enough to have Rhys show up at his front door first thing in the morning, but this? Yeah, this he didn’t like, especially not with that for an intro. “Now you’re scaring me, Rhys. What happened? Wait, it’s not James, is it? Please tell me nothing happened to Jamie!”
“No.” Rhys stood and went around the coffee table to hold Chase as he started to come undone. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Forgive me for messing this all up. It’s not James. He’s fine.” He continued to offer comfort and eventually Chase calmed.
“Then what is it? And don’t ever scare me like that again!”
“Sorry.”
Chase took a deep breath. Rhys’s fidgeting and refusal to meet his eyes scared him. “Just tell me, please. I can’t stand this.”
“There’s been another death, and this time you know the person. Or at least you did. The cops believe it was a staged murder this time, but we’ve been hired by the family to make sure.”
Chase’s voice broke as he whispered, “W-who died?”
“Michael Donogual.”
“Mikey?” he choked out.
Rhys scooped Chase up into his arms and cuddled him in his lap where he sat on the couch, rubbing circles on his back. Right then Chase wished James were there too. They had been each other’s lifelines for so long, it felt weird to seek comfort in someone else instead of his best friend.
Eventually he calmed, though the tears didn’t stop completely, nor did the pain lessen. “What happened?”
“We’re not sure yet. What we do know, though, is he had a large amount of alcohol and drugs in his system.”
Chase shook his head. “No, that can’t be right. You’ve got it wrong.”
“Sweetheart, I assure you, every word is right. His parents have already ID’d his body.”
“No, Mikey barely drank and never took drugs. Hell, he’d barely take a damn aspirin, Rhys.”
“Chase,” Rhys said, his voice deep and soothing. “I understand that. I didn’t say it was logical, just what was found. The fact he had a large amount of GHB in his system makes sense if it were murder, unless he really was suicidal.”