tagGay MaleDead Heat: Forged In Fire Ch. 02

Dead Heat: Forged In Fire Ch. 02

byvelvetpie©

:: Michael ::

I spent an anxious evening awaiting a phone call that never came.

I wasn't surprised when Officer Munroe strode into my store the next morning, but I was surprised to see that he was in jeans and a t-shirt. I could see the definition of his muscles and my mouth started watering. Oh, so what! I thought. So he has nice pecs and a six pack. Then, I saw that the jeans were clinging to his sculpted thighs and buttocks. I was in trouble. Big trouble. If only I didn't have an addiction to chocolate milk and hadn't visited that store ...

"Jerry, take over."

I left my worker in charge of the cash register and sauntered up to the cop. He was examining some textured wallpaper and I was momentarily mesmerized as I watched his big, thick fingers stroking the sample square. He seemed like a big, dumb oaf but his appreciation of the Alexander Julian paper told me differently. Yet another revealing fact about this mysterious man. I cleared my throat.

"Need a room redone?"

"Uh, oh, hi." He dropped his hand, his features coloring. I thought his blush was the sweetest thing that I had ever seen.

"Hi." I moved forward and stroked the same square that he had. "Are you looking for wallpaper?"

"Eh, no."

"Too bad." I stood next to him, looking up at the sample wall. "We have a great selection of textured wallpapers."

"I'm sure you do."

His lack of official clothing was disconcerting and I decided that I couldn't afford to play games with him. "So, Officer Munroe, what can I do for you?"

"My name's Robby."

His dark eyes tied my stomach in knots. "Ok, Robby. What can I do for you?"

"I came to find out why you didn't meet me for breakfast."

"Huh?" The smile on his face was priceless and I wished I had a gun right then to put myself out of my misery. "I – I don't understand."

"What's to understand? It's breakfast. Eggs, bacon, orange juice, tea and maybe some hash

browns ... "

"Tea?" I don't know why but I wanted to play his game.

"Yeah, herbal. They also have fresh blueberry muffins with cream cheese and decent lox ... "

My heart was beating so loud that I wondered if anyone else in the store could hear it. He knew that he'd ensnared me with the promise of food. Geez, I was such a cheap date! I wanted to go so badly, but I knew what my instructions had been and dates in public restaurants weren't on the list of acceptable things. "It's nice of you to offer, Robby, but I can't accept."

I was amazed that he didn't look irritated. Instead, he looked almost ... pleased. He stepped closer, his voice a deep sexy hum in my ear. "Ever since you left yesterday, I've been doing nothing but thinking about you. And if you don't go to breakfast with me, I'll be forced to arrest you."

I jumped back, blushing as I laughed at his unexpected audacity. "You wouldn't!"

He slightly turned sideways and showed me the handcuffs tucked into his waist, his smile dark and mischievous. "Try me."

At once, I knew why serial killers and kidnappers were able to convince their victims to come with them. There was nothing I could do to deny Robby. And he damn well knew it.

"All right." I said giving an answering smirk to his knowing smile. "You win."

* * * * *

Robby chose a nice place, sort of out of the way, which made me happy. I had an omelet stuffed with crisp bell peppers, onions and sausage, a plate of golden butter-fried hash browns and washed it down with two pots of orange pekoe tea. Robby just laughed and called me a lightweight as he devoured a stack of buttermilk pancakes, dripping with butter and drizzled with amber maple syrup, two plates of hash browns, six sausage links, eight slices of bacon, an omelet filled with tomatoes, onions and peppers and three slices of wheat bread with apple jelly.

"Holy Jesus!" I laughed, watching him wipe his sexy mouth and tip back a large glass of grapefruit juice. I wanted to reach out and touch his bobbing Adam's apple but restrained myself. I was so turned on by his admission that he was thinking about me that almost everything he did had become sexual. Except eating. "I guess I am a lightweight."

"I've always had a hearty appetite." His dark eyes gazed into mine. "How about you?"

"Are we still talking about food?"

He smiled but it was a tight, leaving me wondering what was going on in his heart. "Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you're honest with me or not."

I grabbed my lukewarm cup of tea and sat back in the booth. "I presume you're asking about the report."

"Yes."

I took a long sip, my brain swirling. "What would you say if I said couldn't tell you?"

His expression hardened but his eyes retained an air of gentleness. "I would want to know why."

"As a cop?" I couldn't help myself. I wanted Robby more than I've wanted any one in a long time. I needed to know what his agenda was.

"Yes, as a cop." He leaned forward and let his fingers traced the line of my jaw. "And maybe as a lover."

My crotch suddenly tightened. Visions of him on top of me, pounding his lovely length of flesh into my sweat-slicked ass nearly made me drop the mug. I set it on the table, still holding his eyes. "As enticing as that sounds, I have to decline."

He pulled back, confusion written on his handsome features, which was quickly replaced by the police face that he wore during the attempted robbery. "Mr. Winston, it's imperative that you sign that report. Otherwise, we can't press charges and the perp walks. You want that?"

Now I was Mr. Winston. I knew that I had hurt his feelings but I just couldn't tell him the truth, my truth. He'd think I was a crackpot. Someone wants to kill you? Sure, kid. Now just go along with these gentlemen. They'll take you someplace nice and quiet ... with padded walls! "No, but I have no choice."

"Why? Are you afraid that he'll come after you?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"I can't tell you."

He shook his head, fishing bills out of his wallet and tossing it on the table with the bill. "Well, then, I guess we're through here."

I set the mug down with a hollow feeling in my chest. So the flirtation was just for show; just to get me to sign that fucking report. Still, deep inside, I knew that there was a connection between us and I hoped that maybe he could see past it.

"Fine." I dropped a ten on top of his money. "Thanks for nothing."

:: Robby ::

Okay, say it. I fucked up. I really fucked up. But I was pissed off, okay? Just because I'm a cop doesn't mean that I can't be pissed off!

"Didn't get it, did you?" Clark glanced up at me when I shoved my chair back and sat down hard, hearing the metal groan under my weight. "I told you that wasn't going to work."

"Clark, shut the fuck up, would you?" I flicked the computer on and waited for it to boot up, avoiding Bristow's laughing face. I really couldn't say anything. When I had told him that I was going to pay Winston a visit, he'd just laughed. Why don't you just ask him out? I had brushed him off. "Something's scaring him from signing."

"Did you pull his history?"

"Of course, but there's ... nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nope. Not a thing. Not even a speeding ticket."

Bristow rubbed his chin. "What's the date of his license?"

I checked the printout. There was no date and I told Clark as much. "That's strange."

"No, it's not." Clark sat back, making his chair scream in agony. "He's in hiding, Robby. This stinks of the Feds."

Feds. Would make sense, but I just couldn't buy into it. "Then why wouldn't he tell me that?"

Clark leaned across his desk, gesturing me to lean in also. "Just because you want his dick doesn't mean that he has to trust you."

I nodded, chastising myself for not looking past the surface. My training had taught me that but it seemed that everything I usually practiced was going out the window, all propelled by his beautiful eyes.

Bristow's phone rang just then and he spoke tersely into the receiver before slamming it down. "Time to visit the Chief."

* * * * *

Murray Felder was a bitch.

He'd transferred from Miami-Dade and thought he could work pastels into the department, along with his dinosaur-like ideas of management. Still, he managed to run the department like a well-oiled clock and kept us out of the media radar, allowing us to perform our jobs. But I didn't like him. There was a smarmy, street edge to his presentation, reminding me of a well-dressed pimp with great connections. I did my best to stay away from him and I wasn't too happy that I, with my partner, now had a private audience with him.

Bristow knocked on the door and ushered us in, giving me a sly warning glance to "keep me cool".

"Come in." Felder was wearing a teal suit jacket over pleated cream pants today, his dark hair perfectly sculpted and his manicure immaculate. I groaned silently as I sat down, praying that this would be a quick interview. "Hey, guys! How are you?"

Clark looked at me, squirmed uncomfortably in his chair and grinned at Felder. "Great, Chief. What's up?"

"The Peppy Mart witness." I groaned so loud that Felder heard me. "I understand that we have a problem."

"No, sir. No problem." Clark offered, glaring at me.

"Then why hasn't he signed the report?"

"He's been busy, sir. We have to go back out to his business to get him to sign."

"Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Get it done! The owner's screaming at me to get things handled."

Bristow arose, using his movement to signal an end to the interview. "We'll take care of it, chief." I followed, my head full of confusion and ... sadness? When we reached our desks, my partner thumped me on the chest. "Go get that report signed."

I swear that I tasted blood in my mouth. I climbed into the car, leaving him to a mountain of paperwork while I headed for Winston's interior decorating store. It was well after ten p.m. and the exterior lights had been turned off. I parked in the front and strode to the door, peering inside. I was surprised to see Winston behind the counter, then thought that he would probably be counting receipts.

The expression on his face turned from serious to rapturous. Tousled curls rolled back as he tilted his head, closing his eyes in abject bliss. His pink lips opened and he slid his index finger between his lips, sucking and biting it. I glanced around to see if I had been observed and seeing no one, I moved to the side, creeping into the alleyway to continue my peeping.

Winston looked down, both hands caressing the head of his lover, who was obviously giving him a blow job and threw his head back again, his soft mouth open. I imagined the sound that he would make: breathy and deep and my cock twitched, hardening instantly. That should be me! I palmed my rock-hard package and made my way down the alley, searching for the freight entrance.

"Oh, yeah." I heard. Winston's melodious voice floated back to the loading dock area. I locked the door and moved forward through the office area and into the lighting section. "Oh, Jerry, yes. Suck my cock." Jeweled attachments of chandeliers and torchière lamps swayed as I passed through, their light bathing the two lovers. I could barely see the head of the other man, Jerry, over the edge of the glass counter so I moved up slowly, until I was looking down at the action. Jerry's head was bobbing on Winston's dick, foam forming at the edges of his mouth. I gasped, realizing that it was loud enough for them to hear.

"Officer Munroe!"

Jerry fell back to the floor, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and Winston desperately tried to tuck himself back into his pants. I looked at the young man on the floor. "You can go." He wasted no time in jumping to his feet and sprinting toward the back of the store. I waited until I heard the door slam shut and turned to Winston.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

I decided not to answer him. I moved close enough so that he could smell my cologne and watched the scent grab him, refueling his lust. "What do you think?" I was surprised to find myself kneeling and pushing his hands away from the front of his pants. I looked up into his eyes and pulled the zipper down, stuffing his hard cock into my mouth. His eyes closed and he groaned, leaning against the back counter. "Like that, do you?"

"Fuck, yes!" He hissed. He was larger than I thought he'd be and I worked my tongue over his thick head, enjoying the power I had over his body. I put my hands around his waist and pulled him closer so that his dick slid further down my throat. "Oh, yes, Robby. Do me." It thrilled me to hear my voice on his lips and I stopped my actions, giving him an extra hard, smacking suck.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me." His voice was deep and husky, his green eyes glazed. I stood up, pushing his pants down to his ankles. His hands rested on my biceps, moving upward until he held the lapels of my uniform shirt, then yanked me forward. I felt the current flow from my lips to his and I moaned, uncertain of when I'd ever felt this before. Once our tongues connected, I knew that I'd never felt this before. His hard penis pressed against my groin and he rubbed against me, wanting more skin. He sucked my tongue into his mouth and released it with a smack, turning his back to me, his delicious ass bared to my pleasure.

I unzipped my uniform pants and dropped them to my feet, following with my boxers. My cock unfurled and I moved behind him, rubbing my meat in his sweat-slick trench. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

He gasped at the hot breath I breathed in his ear. "Yes."

"And you want this from me?"

I did a deep knee bend and hissed as my dick slid over his quivering asshole. He yelped in kind, his breath light as I reached around and grasped his heavy tool. "Yes." He pushed back against me. ""Please, Robby. Fuck me."

His words burned in my mind as I dipped and brought the head of my enflamed cock to his asshole. Part of me thought about foreplay but the rest of me nixed those thoughts, especially as he pushed back against me. The smooth helmet of my dick breached his tight ring and I gasped as I slid into his hot hole. His body shivered in my grasp and he turned his head to me, his mouth searching for mine, his moan reverberating through our kiss.

Oh, God! I forced myself to think about something else when he moved. My hard cock throbbed within his tight confines, enveloped in his velvety flesh. Oh, so god-damned good!

"I've wanted you since I saw you." I heard myself saying, rocking into him. He groaned at my words, seeking my mouth again and I paused in mid-stroke to accept his tongue. "You make me so crazy, I can't think straight."

I rotated my hips, grinding in deep and he whimpered, flexing that sweet muscle and taking me even deeper. I gasped, feeling tingly and bent him over, plunging in and out, in and out. Every stroke brought a breathless moan from him, his hand wrapped around his own meat, fingers moving in a blur. I reached around and put my hand over his, something inside me wanting to make this more than sex, wanting to honor the connection that rippled between us. He leaned back against me, moving with me, his hand in my hair as our mouths joined again.

With a long exhalation and loud groan, he came, emptying himself all over our fingers and the spasms of his ass muscles sent me careening over the edge. I came like I'd never cum before, sucking his tongue into my mouth and whimpering like a baby. The explosion left us both shaken and I sagged to my knees, taking him with me to the floor. My prick slipped out of him, leaving a silvery slug trail and he sighed, eyes closed. I don't know how long we lay there, but I was glad that the area was carpeted and clean.

"Why did you come here?"

I didn't know what to say. "To see you."

He rolled over, eyes searching mine as our noses touched gently. "To get me to sign that report or for a quick fuck?"

"To see you." I repeated. I couldn't help myself as I leaned forward and took his sweet mouth again. He sighed, melting against me and I broke the kiss, gazing into those amazing eyes. "But you do have to sign the report, Winston."

"Mike."

"What?"

"My name is Michael. Either call me that or Mike." He arose and the romance quickly disappeared as he yanked up his pants. "God, I'm stupid." He pushed the cash register drawer closed with a bang, his back turned to me. "I actually thought you wanted me."

"Michael," I moved up behind him, buttoning my own pants. "I do want you."

"You're a liar!" He shouted at me, whirling in his anger. I was disheartened to see tears brimming in his eyes. "Leave me alone!" He wiped his cheek. "No, on second thought, just get the fuck out of here!"

"No, Mike. I won't leave."

"Get out!"

"No!" He threw an angry punch that I easily sidestepped and within a matter of moments, I had him pinned in my arms, struggling to escape. A loud noise distracted us and I pulled him to the floor as gunshots rang out, bullets whizzing around us. I drew my service revolver and peered over the counter's edge, but couldn't see anything. There was a squeal of tires, then silence.

Mike was curled in a fetal ball, sobs racking his body. I knelt beside him. "Are you okay?" He nodded yes and I pushed his sunny curls off his face so I could see his eyes. "Does this have to do with why you won't sign the report?" He didn't answer, he just sobbed. "Mike, please. I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on!"

"I'm so tired, Robby. I'm so tired of being scared." He slowly sat up, battling to stop his tears and losing. "I'm so tired of hiding and being alone."

His anguish ripped through me and I lifted his head, meeting his teary eyes. "You're not alone any more, Mike. Please let me help you." Let me in, I wanted to say.

His voice was low and scratchy, his lip trembling. "I won't be able to see you again, once I tell you."

I touched his cheek, smoothing the tears away. "Tell me."

He took a breath and said,

"I saw someone get murdered."

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