Faith and Fidelity (15 page)

Their eyes met again. Evan swallowed hard, shook his head. “You don't have— ”

“Shut up. I want you. I want to do this.” Matt's voice sounded foreign to his own ears.

Evan was still, then he scooted up, until he was resting against the arm of the couch, his eyes never leaving Matt's face. Matt leaned forward to take his first taste, moving his lips to the side of Evan's cock, caressing it carefully with his tongue. He pulled back and applied his mouth to the shaft, kissing it, listening to the sounds Evan was making— the soft hisses of air that told him he'd hit the right spot. Evan sank back into the cushions, his hands pulling at Matt's shirt “You okay?” Matt whispered.

“Yeah,” came the breathless answer. “Are you?”

“Yeah... ”

“You don't have to... ” Evan moaned softly.

“Want to,” Matt whispered, with authority this time, and then bent his head again to Evan's cock, covering it with slow, wet kisses. Evan gasped, made a halfhearted, inarticulate attempt to beg Matt off, but he didn't listen. He took his time, making his movements gentle and easy. Frankly he had no idea what he was doing, ‘cause getting this
done to you
didn't really prepare you for
doing it
to someone, but ego and love demanded he do this right. Finally, he slipped the tip of Evan's cock into his mouth and the taste exploded across his tongue. Evan was breathing hard and moaning softly, his head thrown back against the arm of the couch. This was fucking terrifying and amazing and oh God, he could barely keep his brain from splintering listening to Evan sob and moan above him. This may be for Evan, but Matt had never been so turned on in his entire life. Matt moved his mouth, trying not to gag, not wanting to spoil it, taking more, and desperately thinking
this isn't enough... more
... Matt closed his eyes and let his mouth make love to Evan, let himself go without thinking about anything but pleasing this man.

The emotion of it all made his body ache, and knowledge that he, Matt Haight, was drawing these sobs of pleasure out of Evan, that he loved Matt as much as Matt loved him... it spurred him on. He dug his fingers into the sharp bones of Evan's pelvis, held him down on the couch and sucked harder, harder... Evan choked out a gasp of surprise and came abruptly, filling Matt's mouth with bitter fluid. Matt swallowed— choking, surprised, and overwhelmed.

He waited until the vibrations strumming through Evan's body stopped, then let him go. Shifted his weight. He laid his head against Evan's muscled thigh, shuddering as if he had been the one to come so hard. He felt Evan's hands softly stroking his hair, digging deeper, touching his scalp with strong fingers. He wondered if this had been a part of him all along and Evan had merely brought it into the open. He wondered if this was just love, not a lifestyle choice, not biology.

“Hey,” Evan croaked, rubbing his hand against the back of Matt's neck. “C'mere. Up here.”

Matt pressed his mouth against Evan's thigh, bit the skin gently, then pulled himself up. They maneuvered themselves to lay side by side, Evan still naked and flushed, Matt fully dressed and throbbing against his zipper so painfully he was starting to see stars.

“Would it be tacky to say ‘oh shit, thanks— that was incredible'?” Evan asked, kissing Matt before he could answer. “And by the way, I think you're a liar.”

“Wha?”

“A liar. ‘Cause if you're telling me that's the first time you've done that... ”

“First time. Boy Scouts honor. Or whatever you call that shit.”

“You weren't kidding when you said you have A material.”

Matt buried his mouth against the side of Evan's neck. Laughed. Felt Evan's hands moving over his back, touching him gently.

“You're seriously overdressed,” Evan whispered. “I want to touch you.”

Matt shivered so hard he thought he might come apart. He didn't move.

“Get up, Matt.”

“You don't have to... ”

Matt suddenly found himself being manhandled and divested of his clothes. “Hey, Evan,” he protested. “Come on.”

His shirt was pulled over his head, and he felt shaky hands on his zipper. He lay there a little dazed, feeling more and more of his skin being exposed to the cool air.

Finally naked, staring up at the ceiling, he felt Evan slide on top of him, felt the air leave his lungs. “You know,” he rasped, trying to keep some coherency, “I didn't do it just to get something in return.”

Evan smirked, moved his body in a slow grind against Matt's. “Then you're an idiot. Shut up, Mr. Haight— you talk too fucking much.”

Danny Cerelli got his wish because when he padded downstairs the next morning— trying to gain custody of the remote control before his sisters got up— he found Matt Haight sprawled on the couch, tangled in an afghan. He was delighted, because Matt was cool and fun, and when he was around Danny's dad was happy.

He went into the kitchen and dug out the box of granola bars he'd hidden under the sink. His stupid twin sister Elizabeth liked the peanut butter ones too and she'd hog them up if he let her. The milk was a bit trickier, but Danny managed to pour himself a glass without spilling (much) and went back into the living room.

Matt was sitting up, his hair going all crazy, rubbing his eyes. He had a NYPD T-shirt just like Danny's dad.

“Hey, Matt,” Danny enthused. “You're here!”

Matt smiled at him. “Yeah, kid, I'm here.” He checked the mantel clock. “What the heck are you doing up at... at seven forty? Jeez kid.”

Danny shrugged. “Not tired anymore. Want some of my granola bar? It's peanut butter.”

“Nah. I'll wait for breakfast. You wanna watch TV, don't you?”

The eight-year-old nodded enthusiastically.

Matt sighed. “Fine. C'mere. You can sit on the couch with me.” He swung his legs over, put them on the coffee table. “What are we watching?”

Danny gave another shrug as he settled next to Matt. “Don't care. But this means I get to pick before stupid Elizabeth gets up.”

“Elizabeth isn't stupid. That's not, uh, nice.”

Danny rolled his eyes. He stuffed some of the granola bar in his mouth, knowing it was crazy to argue with adults about his stupid sister. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, flicked through the channels until he found an old black-and-white Tarzan movie. He usually didn't like these sort of things, but hey! They were tying guys to trees and ripping them in half. Excellent!

He and Matt sat there for almost two hours, watching the natives kill more hunters, until the rest of the family came downstairs.

It turned out to be a great day, a great weekend, in Danny's opinion. Matt stayed until Sunday night— and in between there was pizza and a trip to the movies and a couple of hours at the arcade and more pizza. And Danny's dad was in a great mood, he laughed and smiled and told jokes. It was almost like when Mommy was alive, because everyone was happy and they were all together. But now Mommy lived in Heaven with God, and instead Matt was there, and Danny thought that was just fine.

Another Monday morning, another big smile plastered on the face of Evan Cerelli. Helena was waiting for him on the steps of the station house. She waved a piece of paper in his face.

“Morning!” she said enthusiastically. “We have an address on Robin Phelps— suspected rapist, con man, and slipperiest son of a bitch in the five boroughs.”

“Good, good. Does this mean I can't get coffee?”

She pulled a bag from behind her back. “Don't say I never do nice things for you, ‘kay?” They walked toward their car. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“It was fine, thank you for asking. And yours?”

“Keen. I cleaned out my closets then went shopping and filled them up again.” She gave him a grin and leaned closer. “Soooo... ?”

Evan raised his eyebrows. “No.”

“Aw c'mon, Evan.” She laughed. “Dish. Your boyfriend is
cute
.” She laughed harder as he blushed crimson. They settled into the car— Evan driving.

“That'll be enough of that Detective Abbot,” he croaked, pulling into the rush hour traffic.

“Seriously, Evan, tell me... what the hell happened? I mean, is this like something you've always known?”

He sighed heavily. “Could we talk about something else?”

“No.”

“I'll let you tell me all about the clothes you bought... ”

“No. I think you should talk about this, Evan— it's a lot more complicated than you just entering the dating field again! And if I'm the only one who knows... ”

“Helena... please... I don't know the answers to half the questions I think you're going to ask... ”

“Just answer me this— when did you know?”

“I met Matt in September. I didn't really realize what was going on until... ”

“No, no... I mean... you liking men.”

“Helena... ”

“Evan, you can be totally open with me.”

“I don't like men, Helena.”

“Hi, hello. Saw you kissing Matt Haight, who is most certainly a guy.”

“Yeah, but... it's not like this has happened before... ” Evan's voice trailed off, he had a sudden flash of this weekend, remembered being in the shower late Saturday night, Matt on his knees... and Evan snapped his attention back to driving, before he killed someone. “What he and I... have... it isn't anything I've felt... experienced.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“And him?”

“A newcomer much like myself,” he said drily.

“Wow. I mean, wow. You never had any interest in men... but you're in love with Matt?”

“I never said the word love,” he choked.

“What kind of greenhorn detective do you think I am? It was written all over both your faces in the basement on Thanksgiving.”

Evan swallowed hard. “That obvious?”

“Neon would have been subtle in comparison.”

They drove along in silence until they came to the Upper West Side apartment building where their suspect was apparently hanging out. Evan parked the car slightly down the block and turned to Helena.

“Like, really obvious?”

“What?”

“We're not ready to... make this public... It's still really new and... ”

“Evan, honey, before I saw you kissing him I had no idea. Afterward, it was impossible to miss. Okay?”

He sighed. Oh this was getting complicated. “Okay.”

They got out of the car and walked into the building— no doorman, old and unkempt lobby. 5G was what they were looking for. No elevator. They exchanged exasperated looks and headed up the stairs.

Evan's brain was nowhere in this building— it was anxiously processing what Helena said. Thinking about the kiss in the basement. And all the ones that followed it between Thursday and Sunday night, when Matt had finally forced himself out the door, his tongue in Evan's mouth up until the last second. They were like horny teenagers the entire time— and only the presence of the kids had forced them to stop. He'd gotten about eight minutes of sleep the whole weekend.

“5G,” Helena announced, breathing a little heavily.

Evan nodded, motioned toward the door. “You knocking or am I?” She was constantly riding him for taking the “macho lead” as she called it, so he practiced letting her take the front role as often as possible.

She shrugged. “Boys first today.”

Smiling, Evan shook his head, knocked on the door. “Robin Phelps?” he called loudly. “Police. We need to speak to you for a moment. Robin Phelps?” They heard some movement on the other side and both took a small step back. Then nothing.

“This is the police Mr.— ” Evan raised his fist to knock again, started to call out the suspect's name, then suddenly a force threw him backward. The blow stunned him for a second then the pain hit so quickly he lost his ability to breath.

Instinct took over. He tried to sit up, grab his gun, but realized he couldn't move, couldn't move anything... He could feel the cold tile against his cheek but he couldn't see, couldn't hear... There was a buzz in his head like a swarm of angry bees...

He remembered Helena had been standing next to him and he tried desperately to move his head, to see where she was, but he couldn't. It was like he didn't have control of his body. The pain in his chest was crushing him and each breath grew a little harder to draw. He needed to find Helena, wanted to ask if she was all right, ask her why it was so cold and so loud and did they get the guy?

And why was it so dark he couldn't see a thing...

“Captain Victor Wolkowski. They told me you were taking care of my two officers.”

The young doctor nodded, extended his hand. “Dr. Waresa, Chief Resident. Captain, the female detective... ”

“Abbot.”

“Yes. She has a dislocated shoulder and mild concussion. She's been sedated and will be moved to a room shortly.

“So she'll be fine?”

“Yes. She's in a lot of pain but not in any danger.”

Wolkowski nodded— that took half the weight off his chest. “And Detective Cerelli?”

Dr. Waresa's expression got slightly more serious. “The shotgun blast sent pieces of the door— slivers of metal and wood— into his chest. He's in surgery now.”

Vic felt his jaw clench. “And? What are we looking at here, Dr. Waresa?”

The doctor gave a small shake of his head. “Surgery of any kind is risky, Captain. He has shards of material embedded in his chest— we're not sure if there's any damage to his lungs, heart... Part of the operation will be to assess any damage. I suggest you contact their families as soon as possible.” A nurse came up quietly beside them and whispered something Dr. Waresa.

“Excuse me, Captain. I need to go to another patient. You can either wait here or upstairs in the surgical waiting room.”

With that Dr. Waresa turned and walked away, leaving Wolkowski standing bleakly in the hallway of St. Vincent's hospital. He had been in this moment so many times over the years that he pushed the fear and anger and walked outside to use his cell.

Their suspect, Robin Phelps, was long gone. At the scene they found an old shotgun— improperly loaded— and enough drugs to open a pharmacy. They assumed that the drugs had led to the nonworking gun— and those were the two reasons Evan Cerelli was still alive. Moses stood grimly in front of Vic, delivering his update.