“I prefer a personal inspection, Detective. You’ve taught me never to rely on only what I see, so I intend to use all my senses.”
Paul’s nostrils flared, and a wicked grin gleamed. “Do you, now?”
They entered the bedroom, where Cliff pushed him onto the mattress. “Spread them.”
“Isn’t that my line?” But he lay back, and Cliff stood over him, his gaze feasting on the thick ridge of Paul’s cock rising from the dark nest of hair, the heavy balls resting between his muscled thighs.
“Do you want it to be mine tonight?”
They didn’t often switch, but Paul had no hesitation when Cliff grabbed the lube and slicked his fingers. He bit his lip and opened his legs.
“You’re mine. Any way you want it.”
“You.” Cliff slid one slick finger into Paul’s snug heat. He loved hearing him gasp and tighten around him. “I want you. Only you. Always.” He added a second finger, delving deeper and crooking them upward.
Paul arched into his fingers. “Ahh, yeah. Me too. Yeah.” He flailed for a second before grasping his cock and beginning the up-and-down motion.
Cliff loved watching him lose control. It was one of the rare times Paul gave himself permission to be totally free and in the moment, and Cliff ached to take away all the pain he knew Paul carried within. So when he removed his fingers and slid inside Paul, he rested there for a second, allowing them to become part of each other.
He kissed Paul. “I love you. You don’t ever have to worry about losing me.”
Paul crooked up one corner of his mouth. “I think I found what I was looking for.” He contracted his muscles, and a streak of electricity raced through Cliff, spreading its fire further, entangling him in an ever-tightening web of desire.
“You have.” He gasped and began to move, slowly at first, withdrawing to almost the point of slipping out, then pushing inside even deeper. Paul met his thrusts with hard rolls of his hips until they were soon caught up in a rhythm of lust and love and desire.
“Fuck, Cliff, God.” Paul flung his head back, thick neck veins bulging, and Cliff drove deeper into his fiery hold. He’d entered that point of no return where his blood boiled hot and strong and he couldn’t stop pumping hard into Paul. The man consumed him.
“Oh, God.” Cliff tensed, gave one final push and came, and a moment later Paul’s release spilled between them, coating their stomachs. Cliff buried his neck against the strong cords of Paul’s neck, and he kissed and licked Paul’s sweaty skin, feeling the strength of his beating pulse.
A heavy arm clamped down on him. “Don’t move.”
“Mmm. You got it, Detective. That’s an order I’m following willingly.”
Cliff closed his eyes.
* * *
Two hours later, after another shower and a delicious dinner of chicken piccata, gnocchi, and broccoli rabe, Cliff reclined on the couch in his favorite position: head in Paul’s lap, snuggled up to his side. They each had their drink, Paul opting for a whiskey soda while Cliff enjoyed a glass of white wine.
“How was the rest of your shift?” Drowsy from the abundance of food, good wine, and amazing sex, Cliff barely paid attention to the movie. Perfection was found right there, with Paul’s fingers playing in his hair and their bodies nestled together.
“Not what I expected.” Paul sighed and paused the movie.
Cliff glanced up to see tension marring his handsome features. “Why do I feel like that’s not a good thing?”
“Because it’s not. This afternoon Rob and I checked out the break-in at the jewelry store. We now think there might be a pattern, possibly connected with what happened here today.”
“Here?” Cliff struggled to sit up, and swung his legs over the side of the couch. “What’re you talking about? What can they possibly have to do with each other?”
Paul frowned into his glass. “Nothing that I can say right now. But we all need to be on our guard. I’m sensing something happening here, in Thornwood Park, I never thought I’d see.”
“I’m not liking the way this sounds. Are you in danger?”
Paul slid an arm around his shoulder. “None of us are safe.” He kissed Cliff’s hair. “And I’m glad you and I are here. Together.”
“As much as you worry about me, you know I worry a hell of a lot about you. Every day when you leave I think about how I’d feel if I got a call you’d been hurt. Or worse.”
Paul picked up his drink and took a deep swallow. “I became a cop because I wanted to see justice done, and after Harley died, it was the only way I felt I could make sense of his death. When they told us what happened…” His fingers tightened around the glass. “I went crazy. I put a fist through the wall and contemplated putting a bullet through my head. The pain…the agony of losing my little brother…I can’t explain it. I always thought we’d have time. Time when he came home to become the friends we always should’ve been. But time ran out, and I blame myself.”
“You can’t.” Cliff put his hand on Paul’s back and felt the sweat-dampened skin. “Harley wanted to see the world and to enlist. It had nothing to do with you. He did love you, you know.”
“He did?” The hopeful note in Paul’s voice broke Cliff’s heart. “You aren’t saying that to make me feel good, are you?”
“Babe, I have better ways of making you feel good.” Cliff brushed the hair off his temple and kissed him. “No. Before he left, we talked. When he came home, his plan was to get closer to you. But he also said that even though you might not have had time for him then, when you were younger, he remembered you teaching him how to swim in the lake and how you never got mad when he’d follow you to the tree house in the yard. He said you were the best big brother he could’ve wanted.”
“I used to go there when it all got too much. Even when I was a kid, I knew I was different from the other boys I played with.”
“Maybe Harley knew.”
“What?” Paul stiffened and faced him, eyes wide with shock. “H-how? Why do you say that?”
“Our last dinner together, he told me how much he loved you and that he sensed something eating away inside you. He said it was like that since you were kids, keeping you tied up in knots. You think you’re the strong, silent type, but everyone needs someone to lean on.” Cliff took his hand. “He said when he came home, he planned on being that person for you.”
“Dammit.” Paul wiped his eyes, and Cliff slid his arms around Paul’s shoulders.
“I’ll be your person now.”
With a rough, almost desperate grab, Paul hugged him close. “You already are.”
Paul held him a few moments longer, then let him go and rubbed his face. “I’m glad you told me. All I ever wanted was to be sure he knew I cared and loved him.”
“He did.”
The tension lines around Paul’s mouth and eyes smoothed, and he looked younger and freer than he ever had before. “I avoided talking about him for so long because I was afraid to open all the old wounds. But you sharing that history you have with my brother gives me some peace.” He shook his head. “Not completely, because deep down, I’ll still be missing him and what we could’ve had together. That’ll never go away. But thank you, not only for this, but for believing there was something more to me than only Detective Paul Monroe.”