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His warm palm soothed my damp chest, his silky voice spearing through my thoughts. “It’s out of your hands, Gavin.” He must have felt me tremble.

Yes, it’s out of my hands. Besides, it’s not my body anyway. It’s Ben’s.
The sweep of his hands over my shoulders and up my arms to my hands was calming, and I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ben curled his fingers around mine, still encircling the hanger.

“You won’t need this anymore,” he said, voice low and rumbling in my ear as he pulled the hanger from my grasp. “Or this.” He flipped open the buckle on the belt and eased the leather out of my mouth. I worked my jaw, but overall, it barely ached, just a little stretch at the corners of my lips. “But I think I’ll leave the blindfold. It’s fun watching you move your head to follow my voice. Just... don’t move once I start.” Had we not been in a scene, I’d have scoffed and joked,
No shit!
But in the moment, I was transfixed, full of trepidatious arousal.

His fingers played over the tie blinding me, adjusting and smoothing it over my eyes. “You are gorgeous like this.” I turned my head toward him, a cat seeking caresses with little bumps of its nose. Ben obliged, curling his hand at the nape of my neck as he took my mouth in a sensual kiss, his tongue against mine so wicked and knowing. “You always did take punishment well, Gavin,” he said, resting his forehead briefly to mine. Then his warmth disappeared, and I was left unsettlingly alone with not even the comfort of a sturdy hanger to anchor to. It didn’t last long, however, as he situated himself between my knees at the foot of the bed once more.

The warm washcloth scoured my skin, and then the sound of a cap being removed reached my ears. Seconds later, I choked on a gasp at the sensation of cold on my lower abdomen. Shaving cream prior to the lather stage, I thought. Ben rubbed it on and I felt it foam up, his hand descending to my pubic bone and spreading what seemed like a very liberal amount. Ben did nothing about my continued arousal, merely moving the shaft from side to side as he smeared the shaving cream, generously coating my pubes and treasure trail. There were a few brief moments of nothing, and then he steadied his fist on my hipbone. I tensed, waiting.

“Remember. Absolute stillness.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Put your hands on your chest and concentrate on the rise and fall of your lungs. Think about my voice, and my hands on you, but not the razor. Not at first. Once you get used to the scrape, it’ll become rhythmic, almost soothing.”

The blade touched my skin, just beneath my belly button, and descended. With shock, I realized it wasn’t my razor from home, with the multiple safety blades and ergonomic handle, but Ben’s, a straight razor I forever gave him shit about, just like the one my grandpa had used when he was alive. Ben always took my teasing in stride, and his one comment was, “It gets closer than anything else. Why do you think I have such a baby face?”

“Why do you want a baby face?” was always my reply.

“The ladies like it.”

But a straight razor! He was going to remove every hair with what amounted to a murder weapon, should his hand slip.
Near my dick....
I couldn’t help but tense up, forgetting the bellowing inhales and exhales of my lungs, the heat of his hands and everything else.

“Sir,” I croaked.

“Gavin, I’m not stopping,” he gently admonished. “You’ll just have to breathe through it. I’m using my razor because of the wax. There’s no other way to get it off with what we have in the overnight bag, and the wax would get stuck between the blades of your razor. I have steady hands, Gav, and this is my cock, my balls.” He gave my dick a little pat. “You think I want any harm to come to this?”

“No, Sir,” I answered.

“Concentrate on my voice. Believe it or not, I’m good with this blade.”

“I know, Sir. I like to watch you shave, even if I try not to make it obvious.” The admission was somehow less vulnerable than him pulling my skin taut and scraping away the hair with a sharp implement. The innocuous sound of him rinsing the blade in what I could only imagine was the ice bucket filled with hot water normalized the moment.

“I know you do,” he rumbled, voice confident, rich, like chocolate poured over cherries. The scrape of the blade grated in my ears, but Ben was right. The rhythmic pass of the steel, once I got over the danger it represented, became almost hypnotic. Being unable to see had its advantages as well.

Ben made short work of the hair below my navel, and above and beside my shaft, and I lost myself in the sensation and the continued murmur of his voice as he described what he was doing and how I looked. When he used the washcloth to wipe away the shaving cream left behind, I realized how far I’d floated along on the sensations, relaxing into subspace where everything was bliss.

“Spread ‘em, Gavin.”

I lay there, unmoving, uncomprehending, struggling to catch up.

“Come on.” He smacked my knee, then hooked his hand behind it and pushed my leg up to my chest. “Other leg. Hold behind your knees. I need to get the rest.”

On auto-pilot, my hands replaced his behind my knees and I hiked them back and apart, baring my most intimate of places to him and his blade. When the cold of the shaving cream touched my balls and slithered into my crack across my pucker, I whimpered.

“Not long, babe,” Ben said, gentling me with his clean hand. “This time, I’m going to work from the bottom up. So keep your legs back as far as you can.”

And he began again, depilating my delicate flesh.

“But, Sir,” I said, hesitantly and a little breathless from being folded in half. “There isn’t wax in my ass crack.”

“No,” he agreed, still working the blade over the rounded hump of my cheeks. “But it would seem strange if you were bald in front and suddenly furry in back. I want to see your twink side.”

There was no arguing with that. And no doubt in my mind this was the result of my pushing him so hard when we started the scene. Breath shallow and uncomfortable, it was difficult to relax in such a contorted position, but the closer he got to my balls, the more I was able to let go. My arms burned from holding the weight of my legs, but I didn’t dare move without first asking permission, and soon, the pain morphed into delicious awareness of the control he exerted over me. He was gracious enough to accommodate my muscles’ cry for mercy, though he never let me fully stretch out. After a while, I was able to float on waves of pure sensation and the sound of his rumbling baritone. The words lost their meaning, but the tone was easy, calm, and entirely mesmerizing.

When he reached my balls, I barely registered it, following his cue to let my legs go and fall to either side while he pulled and tugged my sack in whichever direction best suited him. I didn’t even pay attention to whether or not I was still hard. Not until he stopped and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with the washcloth—steaming again—which he draped over my pelvis, wiping away excess shaving cream. Awareness of my arousal renewed itself with a vengeance.

It all felt so different. New and vulnerable. Where he touched me, my damp skin clung to him as though grasping for something familiar now that its usual protective shield was gone. Every sensation was magnified as he lifted my feet to rest flat on the bed, spreading me once more.

“How’s that feel?” He breathed across my straining balls and perineum, making me groan.

“Strange, Sir. But good. Intense.”

“You look....” He trailed off as his hands smoothed down the insides of my thighs to my cock, exploring my crevices with gentle fingers. The tension of the entire scene had left me wrung out and spent, even without a climax. But if he wasn’t finished, neither was I. The sweet scrape of his stubble amplified my new nakedness as he kissed the crease of my leg, his tongue darting out to lick the freshly smooth surface. It was electrifying, and I panted, squirming shamelessly against him. His tongue massaged me everywhere as he sucked my balls into his mouth, letting them go with a loud slurp. My emotions whiplashed from wanton desire to wholehearted devotion. This scene, more than any in our past, solidified my eternal trust in him. I think, if he’d asked, I could have let him tie me up again. This was
Ben
, my Dom, my conqueror, my protector. The last of my walls, once ironclad in the wake of our trauma, crumbled like the turrets and battlements of a sandcastle demolished by a smooth, powerful wave.

His palm returned to my cock, slick with something that felt like lube but could have been anything. I arched my back, seeking more, but each time, he simply moved with me, the pump of his hand at
his
pace,
his
discretion. I panted, whispering “sir” over and over. I’d always been a visual person, and without my sight, the slowly mounting pleasure he gave me manifested in colors behind my closed eyelids, reds and blues and greens, bursting like celebratory fireworks. Their heat bloomed in my spine, too, and I needed more. Ben knew it, too, but didn’t give it to me. He gave what he wanted, purring as I writhed and whimpered. I concentrated on the slick sound of his hand on me, the ripple of his fingers over the ridge of my head, the flick of his thumb across my slit. I
needed.
Oh my god, I needed so
bad.

He grasped my hands and pulled me to a sitting position, stepping between my legs and cradling me to his abdomen. Sometime after he blindfolded me, he’d removed his clothes, and his dick was hard and leaking, leaving a trail of pre-come on my collarbone. Tentatively, I encircled his waist with my arms, holding on desperately in the hopes that maybe this time, he’d let me come.

His fingers slipped through my hair and then released the knot in the tie. The silk slid away, and as the world resumed focus, I gazed up at him, blinking. The look of adoration on his face was plain, as was his arousal. Gently, he tipped my chin up and captured my lips with his, pushing me to my back on the bed as he settled his weight atop me. There was no panic, and I raised my legs to cradle his torso, bringing our erections together and humping against him desperately. So different, so new without my body hair, and yet so familiar. I rocked against him, slotting his cock into the crease of my groin. He moaned in my ear, and then tongued down my neck to suck at my collarbone.

The slide of his cock against my bald skin was the very definition of erotic, and made me gasp and pump harder. He slipped a hand between us to cradle my balls, hefting them, the exaggerated touch causing them to draw up tight, threatening to let go.

Having ridden a knife edge—quite literally—for the last hour or so, I didn’t have anything left in the way of resistance, and my body, so confused by the pain and pleasure, took little to no coaxing to reach its peak. With a barely audible sigh at his murmured instruction to come, I drifted along the ripples of completion radiating outward, slicking the friction between us. Ben groaned at the sudden lubrication, his mouth on mine but immobile. We breathed each other’s air, our lips catching with incidental contact.

“I love you, Sir.”

His brow smoothed out and a new flood of warmth followed the trail the wax had forged down my nuts to my taint. I kissed the lids of his closed eyes, my hands wandering from his shoulder blades to his butt cheeks and back. His muscles relaxed as he let go, his weight as reassuring as a blanket on a cold night. We stayed that way for a long time, until our mingled juices began to stick us together. After a quick clean up, he yanked back the covers and pulled me to his chest, and I draped over him, exhausted and comforted and totally owned.

“‘BOUT TIME you showed up,” Lawanda growled as soon as I walked in the front door of the station around nine the next morning. I looked at her sharply, hoping I hadn’t missed something big, but her face was a mask of concern, not her usually gossipy smile or her brusque dispatcher demeanor. “I’ve been worried about you since yesterday. What happened?”

I shrugged, doing my best to keep a straight face. The lingering traces of yesterday’s scene with Ben had me breathing calmly, speaking steadily. But the unsettled feeling returned when Lawanda brought up the nightmare that had led us to the Millennium Hotel in the first place. “I really don’t know anything yet. Someone broke into our house and left a souvenir, but who or why remains to be seen.”

“What’d they leave you?”

I hesitated, really not interested in reminding anyone of what the tiny flogger represented. “A keychain. Do I have any messages?”

“No, sugar. But your partner floated in here about a half an hour ago with a smile as bright as the bling on her finger. Does she not know about the intruder?”

I’d not wanted to disturb her and Cole for what amounted to a quick description of the break-in and a bunch of unanswered questions. “No, I called my parents and filled them in, but figured I’d just tell Myah today.”

Lawanda clucked her tongue. “You lucky she in such a good mood, then, hon. You pull that kinda shit on her any other time, you be missin’ your head.”

“I’ll let her know first thing,” I replied, hanging my coat on the coat rack by her desk.

“That keychain,” Lawanda wondered. “Did it have a key on it? If so, I’d be lookin’ for what it opens.”

I stood stock still. It had not occurred to me there could be a key attached. From my vantage point beside the bed, all I’d seen was the little tassel and what it represented. If there was a key, that would open up a whole new set of questions.

“I’ll check with the CSIs who ran the scene. Lawanda, thank you,” I said sincerely, then turned and nearly ran into Myah. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I practically shouted.

“Whoa, I didn’t realize I had,” Myah said, holding her hands up in supplication. “What scene? Did you hear back from someone about Halloran?”

We both reached our desks and sat, and I noticed a cup of coffee front and center on my blotter. It made me feel guilty for yelling at her. It was lukewarm, but I needed the caffeine, so I made quick work of it before it became unbearable.

“The scene at my house,” I said, not looking at her while I booted up my computer.

“Your house?”

“Yeah, someone broke in yesterday.”

“When?” she demanded.

“While we were at brunch. We came back and the courtyard door was open. Nothing stolen or broken, but they left something behind, which I’m about to check with the evidence team.”

“What was it?” I told her, and she frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me about this right away?”

“Myah, there is life outside of work. Yesterday was a big day for you. I didn’t want anything to spoil it.”

“Life outside of work.... Gavin, you’re about to be my brother-in-law. If our friendship over the last almost two years hasn’t qualified us for outside of work interaction, then that most certainly does.”

I looked away from the email I was composing to meet her intent gaze. “You’re right. And any other day, I’d have called you right away. Myah, you got engaged. I got a keychain. It’s not that big a deal. I told you the second I saw you again. It’s not like I deliberately kept you in the dark. All I’m guilty of is not interrupting you and Cole for something you couldn’t do anything about anyway.”

With narrowed eyes, she assessed me. “Fine. What are you checking on with forensics?”

“Just requesting initial reports and a description and any photos they took of the keychain.” My fingers pounded the keyboard harder than necessary, belying the calm I wanted to project. I knew if I got worked up, so would Myah, and she wouldn’t drop my waiting to tell her about the break-in.

“So what happened afterward?” she asked.

“Kittridge suggested Ben and I stay at a hotel while the techs worked and to get ourselves calmed down. We ended up downtown at the Millennium, trying to make an occasion out of it.”

“Oh, I’ve heard good things about their restaurant. Did you eat there?” She sounded sharper than the question deserved, but I guessed she was still trying to let go of the slight.

I shook my head. “Thought about it, but we were too tired by the time dinner rolled around to leave the room, so we got room service and vegged the rest of the night.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Tired, huh? Wore each other out? Oh, hey, speaking of, would you be interested in wedding dress shopping with me?”

I goggled at her. “How is that any kind of segue, and what makes you think I would be interested in that?” I asked incredulously.

“I hear you’re into certain bodice-like clothing items,” she said, voice low and secretive as she leaned toward me across her desk.

“Your fiancée has a big fucking mouth.”

“Well, your brother knows which side his bread is buttered on.”

“Ask Chrissy or Sandra if they want to go. I’m sure they’d be happy to.” I waved a hand in the general direction of her phone.

She shook her head. “Well, Chrissy’s probably not going to be comfortable standing around for hours, as pregnant as she is. But I can always ask, and those places usually have chairs.”

It occurred to me then how little I knew about Myah’s background. She had no family to speak of in the area, and I wasn’t sure she had family elsewhere. She had no siblings, I knew, because she loved to ask me about my childhood growing up with three brothers and had once told me she was an only child. But as far as cousins or her parents were concerned, I didn’t know.

“What about one of your friends from Chicago?” She’d transferred to St. Louis from the Chicago Police Department, but had always been vague as to the catalyst for that transfer, though she had said one of her former coworkers almost cost her her badge. I never pushed, because she was a good cop and I respected her integrity. When she’d told me about the number of partners she’d gone through up there, I had a feeling she’d had a run in with a few misogynists and when she refused to take their shit, they ganged up on her.

So it was no surprise when her face clouded over. “There’s no one in Chicago I’m interested in keeping in touch with.”

“Surely you made friends while you were there. Or have one or two from college or the academy?” I kept as much incredulity out of my voice as possible. I adored Myah. She was funny and sharp and took no shit from anyone. She leaned on no one and had always been there for me and my family. It wasn’t right to think of her alone, aside from my obnoxious brother and the rest of our meddling clan. Beyond that, she was a great person. Who wouldn’t want to be her friend?

“No, Gavin. I don’t. They all drifted away over the years. My friends are here. My parents are dead, and my mom’s one sister never had kids. She’s too old to travel from Oregon for the wedding, let alone for something as silly as dress shopping. Hell,
I
don’t want to deal with dress shopping, but it’s not like I can walk down the aisle naked.”

“Yeah, you could!” one of the detectives, Louderback, shouted from the other side of the room. That’s when I realized she’d steadily gotten louder and more adamant about her isolation.

“Hey, fuck off, Louderback,” I called, glaring. “That’s my sister-in-law you’re drooling over.”

“All right, all right, don’t get your panties in a twist, DeGrassi,” Louderback, the slob with the coffee stain on his tie and only a passing acquaintance with a razor blade, returned, hands up in surrender. “We all know you wear them,” he muttered, though he might as well have said it through a megaphone.

I went glacier cold. “What?”

“Hey, I don’t care what you put over that pansy ass of yours, as long as you keep it far away from me,” Louderback said with false nobility, as if him
letting
me deign to share his rank and office were a cause for which he deserved kudos.

I turned to Myah, incredulous and full of sarcasm. “Why is it, as soon as a guy comes out of the closet, all the fat slobs in the room think we’re after their stinky asses? I’d go celibate before I’d fuck Louderback.”

Myah shook her head, clucking her tongue and returning to her monitor, no doubt hoping by not engaging, the whole uncomfortable situation would die. Her cheeks flamed red, probably both in anger and embarrassment.

“Some of us wish you
would
go celibate. At least you didn’t breed before your wife left you,” Louderback growled, coming laboriously to his feet. “No little faggot DeGrassis to worry about. No wonder she ditched you for Sawyer, who tells me, by the way, that you got a hard-on for that cop from Fourth who bought it, spread out all naked and handcuffed to his bed.”

Across our desks, Myah’s eyes burned into mine, slowly shaking her head, wordlessly admonishing me not to rise to the bait. I gave her an apologetic shrug, coming to my feet, too. No one disrespects my partner or the dead in front of me. There was no letting that slide. Maybe the old Gavin would have shut his mouth, taken the high road, but I no longer cared to make sure everyone else’s feathers weren’t ruffled. Life was too fucking short to take that kind of shit.

“That right, Louderback? At least I could get it up when I was married. I understand that’s the reason why your wife got so drunk at the precinct Christmas party and tried to get into every pair of pants in Vice and half the patrol officers.”

“You shit shoveler. It’s not like you need to get it up when you’re obviously the girl in any relationship, taking it up the tan track—”

“There a problem here?” Sergeant Kittridge asked from the door leading to the interrogation rooms and his office.

“No, sir.” Louderback backed down, scurrying to his seat like a teacher’s pet who’d learned there’d be extra credit offered for ass kissery.

I said nothing, tightening my lips against a tirade. I knew better than to let the assholes on the force get to me, but insulting Myah first and then me, using the tragedy that had befallen a murder victim, had been too much to ignore. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I waited for Kittridge to say something. He didn’t disappoint.

“DeGrassi, my office, now.”

I followed humbly, and when we reached his office, he shut the door. The heavy steel reverberated like a rock rolled to seal the entrance to a tomb. I waited for the invitation to sit, then did so, still silent.

“You tell Hayes yet about the break-in yesterday?”

“Yes, just now, sir,” I answered, surprised. Wasn’t he going to shout me down to size for getting in a pissing match with Louderback?

“Good.” He passed me a thin file. “I had one of the forensics boys drop a copy of their report by my house last night after they wrote up their findings. I want you to have a look.”

While I flipped through the papers, scanning for details, Kittridge snapped into his phone for Myah to join us. The door opened scant seconds later, and my partner primly took a seat.

“Sir, DeGrassi was only defending me from some horrible things Louderback said, and Louderback is the one who went after Gavin so disgustingly.”

I stared at the papers, transfixed and barely acknowledging my partner’s defense of me.

“I’ll talk to Louderback, Hayes. Don’t worry about it. DeGrassi’s good, far as I’m concerned. I heard most of the conversation anyway.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said absently, bringing the folder forward and pointing to one section. “Is this right?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you both about. No useable prints from your house, Gavin, and the break-in was clean. No pry marks on your door or tire tracks in the mud nearby. No footprints, either. But the keychain is another story.” I passed the paperwork to Myah, who studied it intently. “Solid print off the little flogger handle and the attached key. Also, the department serializes all bump keys issued to officers in order to make sure they’re handled with caution, well-guarded, and returned in the event of a transfer.”

“So you’re sure?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s Arnold Stevenson’s bump key. Inventory listing of Doug Halloran’s personal effects shows his bump key is missing. Gun, backup gun, Taser accounted for. All Halloran’s equipment was there except this. DNA came back about the same time your B and E reports came in, and it matches the sample found on Stevenson.”

“Alex Dennan again.”

“Yes.”

“And he was in your house, possibly using Halloran’s bump key to get in and leave you Stevenson’s bump key,” Myah said, looking over at me in horror.

“Apparently,” I said dryly.

“So we’re putting a round-the-clock detail on your house, DeGrassi,” Kittridge said, leaning back in his chair, which squeaked in protest.

I nodded, not thrilled at being on any killer’s radar again. Ben would flip his shit, not to mention my parents. “If we could keep that quiet, Sergeant, I’d appreciate it. My family’s gotten rather protective in the last year, and as long as I’m covered, I see no need to worry them further.”

“No problem. I’d also like you to check in at intervals throughout the day when you’re off duty. Not because I’m babysitting you,” Kittridge assured me when I started to protest. “But because there’s an unpredictable suspect who knows something about your past and appears to be trying to communicate.”

“Sir,” Myah said, leaning forward. “I don’t think it would be totally out of line to have protection inside Gavin’s home.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Myah!” I exclaimed.

“Hear me out,” she snapped, and then turned back to the boss. “If there’s no one visible on the street watching over their house, maybe this guy will try something again, and if he does, we can grab him. But with someone in the house, Ben and Gavin will still be safe. Less conspicuous, and much more likely to make an arrest if he tries again. Not to mention, it’ll keep Gavin’s family from seeing someone posted outside and getting nervous.”

“No,” Kittridge said immediately. I sagged in relief. The last thing I wanted was more nosy cops in my house, poking in my business. “I will not offer him up as bait for someone as dangerous as the perp we’re dealing with.” That was the line Kittridge told me he wouldn’t cross, and I was grateful for it.