Hard Time Ch. 02

He didn't have a key but Dean felt like this was the sort of place where you didn't have to lock the door. It would be fairly easy to pick anyway, though there was security camera by the elevator. There was a security code and camera posted at the entrance as well, but he didn't foresee any problem getting back in- he milled around the door until a resident came by and entered the code. It played a four tune melody that Dean quickly memorized.

God it felt good to be free, but no wonder they locked me up, he mused, strolling down the sidewalk of a somewhat familiar street. There had been a development boom and there were several new condo high-rises and upscale stores. But he only had to follow his nose to find the smell of grilling meat. Real meat, deep fried potato wedges and a beer- he was a happy man.

Feeling slightly buzzed, Dean used his change to catch the bus uptown and got off by a less expensive place to buy clothes. He considered how easy it would be to walk out with a shirt on, maybe a pair of sunglasses and belt. But he made his necessary purchases, picked up an application for Waffle House and headed back downtown.

Once back in Ellery's apartment, Dean shaved, changed clothes and brushed his teeth again to get rid of the taste of raw onions. There was a stackable washer and dryer tucked away in the hall, so he started a load of his clothes and towels since quite a few of them seemed to be laying about for some reason. He felt so domestic that he made her bed and straightened up the living room too.

It wasn't until he started cleaning up in the kitchen- putting glasses into the dishwasher and clearing off the counters- that he noticed the phone was blinking. Desmond had left a message.

"Dean McQuaid, you sonofabitch!" That was a good start. "I haven't talked to you in ages. Heard you got locked up. Glad to hear you're on the other side, brother," he chuckled warmly. "Get back to me whenever you're done raising hell. And call my mobile- Catherine heard your message and thinks something's wrong with you."

Dean committed his cell number to memory before he hung up and dialed it.

"Hello?"

"Desmond you motherfucker!"

"Dean, how the hell are you?"

There was an ease to talking with Desmond that he'd forgotten about. He filled him in on married life- wife, kid with one on the way, picket fence, boring job- and listened to Dean's description of medium security prison.

"What's it like being out?"

"Good. Weird. Scary. I don't know what I'm going to do besides apply for a food service job."

"Hmmm. Maybe I can help with that. I know a lot of contractors looking for crew members. It's construction so it's hard but it pays well. I can put in a good word for you. A smooth talker like you could land a position in equipment sales if you work at it long enough." As a civil engineer, Desmond apparently knew most of the contracting firms in the area.

"That would be fantastic."

"No problem. I'll keep in touch about it. Maybe I can take you out for drinks next time I'm free."

"I'll hold you to that. So, um, I know this might sound strange, but you haven't heard from my dad have you?"

"No...Why?"

"Elle sort of told him that I was staying with you. Dad's afraid I'll corrupt her if we live together," Dean explained.

"You haven't, had you? Corrupted her I mean," Desmond asked.

"I hope not," said Dean sincerely.

"She could use it."

"Pardon?"

"I see Elle at the Country Club sometimes, when we meet Catherine's parents for dinner. Last time she told me that she just turned eighteen and if I wasn't married..." He let out a long whistle to indicate that he would have done exactly what Dean had.

"Hey, that's my baby sister you're talking about!" Dean said defensively- and not just because Elle was his sister.

"Come on, you used to drool over Moira all the time."

Desmond's older sister was a dirty, dirty blonde. She got a kick out of teasing all of them, though she wasn't as hard to get as she played.

"That was different- I was a kid. And as I remember, you thought she was hot too."

"I still do. Again, if I wasn't married..." Dean was about to ask what he meant by that, but then he heard Desmond call out "okay hon!" then followed up with, "Listen, I gotta go. But I'm glad you called. And don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Thanks, Des. Tell Moira hi for me."

"I will. She's single you know. Would probably find the whole ex-con thing a turn-on. I'm sure you need to get laid."

Dean forced a laugh before they said good-bye. Hopefully Desmond wouldn't try to do him any favors by setting him up with his sister. After all, he had his own

That evening he waited until after he called his P.O. to break out the booze. By then he really needed it. Dean began to wonder if his parents were right- that he was a bad influence on his little sister. If he was preventing her from a world of opportunities with more successful men. Men who could provide. Men who weren't related.

By the time Elle came home, he was deep in the cups and a moral debacle. Slightly disheveled but still as beautiful, she cried out in surprise when Dean picked her up and spun her around as soon as she put down her things.

"I missed you too," she said before they kissed. "Did you have a good day?" Ellery scanned his face with sight concern, as if she could read the lines of worry written there.

"Great. It started when I woke up next to the most beautiful woman."

"Oh? Is she still here?"

"No. After she had her way with me she paid me off and left."

"Sounds smart too," Elle chuckled.

"How bout you?" he asked, watching her remove the clips from her hair and shake it free. A hint of strawberries wafted to his nose.

"I woke up to a dangerous criminal who wouldn't leave me alone until I passed out from cumming."

"Sounds exciting."

"Exhausting really. But I do hope I see him again." Elle kicked off her shoes with a sigh of relief.

"Nightcap?" he offered. "I found olives in your pitifully stocked fridge. I can make you a vodka martini, extra dirty."

"Please," she said simply, peeling her dress socks off on the sofa. "I may have found you a job," Elle called while he mixed their drinks using his sister's method of chilling the vodka in a glass carafe of ice cubes and straining it out with a slotted spoon. "Chef said there was an opening in the dish pits."

"I may have a lead of my own," Dean informed her, handing over a glass complete with a toothpick-skewer of olives. Elle accepted with a look of curiosity so he continued.

"I got a hold of Desmond today. You know- they guy who's putting me up? Said he might be able to hook me up with a construction job. Good money. Potential to advance, so he says. He also said that he still sees you sometimes, which you conveniently forgot to mention," Dean added.

Elle shrugged. "On occasion. His in-laws are members. Why- what did he have to say about me?"

Dean took a sip before choosing the right words. "I think he has a crush on you."

His sister blushed noticeably- and not just from the alcohol.

"Has he come on to you?" he asked more angrily than he intended.

"No more than any other man there with a frigid wife. Why? Are you jealous?" Elle taunted.

"No. Of course not," he lied.

"Come on, Dean. It was harmless flirting. I used to have somewhat of a crush on him too, when I was a girl."

"You never told me that either."

"I got smitten with you as well, if that makes you feel any better," she confessed, resting her head against Dean's chest. One of her hands started slipping up under his shirt sleeve- something she used to do when they were younger. He'd never said so, but it drove him crazy.

"It does," Dean mused. "How old were you?"

"Eleven or twelve. You bought that old muscle car and spent hours fixing it in the driveway with no shirt on. God, I swooned every time I saw you all greased up, working on that piece of crap."

"She wasn't a piece of crap," he retorted, remembering his vintage Barracuda with great fondness. "She was my Black Beauty. Once I got her running, she purred like a tiger, ran like a cheetah, and got me all kinds of pussy."

"Now I think I'm getting jealous," Elle joked.

"Is that why you kept trying to help me?" he remembered suddenly- Ellery asking what this or that was under the hood, or trying to hand him his tools when he worked under the chassis.

"I thought if I seemed interested in cars, you might not think I was such a stupid little girl."

"I never thought you were stupid. But I did think you were trying to annoy me. You could never find the right sized socket wrench."

"I did that on purpose. So you would have to explain the sizes to me all over again."

"You brat!"

"I know. I'm sorry. I picked something up after work, though, that might make it better." There was a wicked gleam to her eyes that piqued Dean's interest considerably.

"A 1970 Plymouth Barracuda?"

"No. But it is related to lube jobs," Ellery hinted.

A few possibilities ran through Dean's head while Ellery dug through her oversized purse until she produced a bag from a drug-store.

"I'm not old enough to shop at the Love Shack, but I thought this might be sufficient," said Elle about the tube of flavored "intimacy gel". "I thought you'd like Wild Cherry."

"I do love the taste of a ripe cherry." The implications of her purchase had Dean's heart beating fast. Dare he ask?

"I've been thinking all day about how good it felt when you fingered me there and I thought we could try it again tonight. If you're in the mood," Elle demurred, looking a bit embarrassed at her forthright request.

"You tell me- am I in the mood?" asked Dean, taking her hand and touching it to the half-mast pole, slowly rising in his pants.

"I don't know...I might have to investigate further." He watched Elle unwrap his package; obviously she was in quite the mood herself. "Should I test out this lube on you? Make sure it tastes good," she suggested once she'd gotten to the prize inside.

"You'd better," said Dean gruffly as his sister stroked his hardness with something akin to reverence. The squirt of viscous gel felt shockingly cold at first, but Elle remedied that with her hot mouth. Suddenly, all of his worries seemed very far away.

"Does it taste good, baby?"

"Yeah...It tastes like dick pie..." she murmured, licking from his shaft to his cockhead before continuing her magnificent blowjob.

"Fuck, Ellie. I didn't know what a dirty girl you were," he gasped, reaching under her blouse to grab her perfect tits.

"Will you make me even dirtier, big Brother? Will you make me your anal slut too?"

Good thing he'd washed so many towels.





Hope you enjoyed! Not sure if there will be a third, but if you have any suggestions for what you'd like to see Dean and Ellery get up to next, let me know...