Handcuffs and Lace 27 -Brass Balls (6 page)

Oak waited nervously. He strained to hear and wondered what was taking so long. He’d made the offer to join him as pain-free for Wyatt as possible. He heard him in the bathroom and there were a few steps on the creaking hardwood floors. Oak stood in his doorway. He smiled and shook his head to himself at the surprising caution that the confident captain had shown tonight. It endeared him all the more.

Oak leaned his shoulder against the bedroom doorframe. His cock hardened as he waited and for the fulfillment of Wyatt’s promise that he’d take care of it.
He heard steps again, the glow of light went off downstairs and a thrill of anticipation fluttered in his gut. His smile broadened. Wyatt turning off the lights to come upstairs meant he’d stay all night. God, where had the lump in his throat come from? He almost laughed he was so happy.
But the steps never hit the stairs. Cold spilled through the joy in stomach as the sounds wended through the kitchen and the unmistakable,
shook-shook
of the glass sliding doors opened and closed.
Wyatt had left.
Was it a joke? Oak waited several more minutes, hoping Wyatt only needed fresh air, or a supply of condoms. He should have shouted out that he had a box before he’d gone, he decided. He took the opportunity to shower so he’d be fresh when Wyatt came back.
Ten o’clock became eleven.
He went to the window of the darkened guest room. A light in Wyatt’s living room went out. Ten minutes later, the bedroom one did too. Oak stayed at the window a little longer, hoping to catch a glimpse of him trekking back through the woods in the dark.
By midnight, Oak felt numb. He had the vague sense of heat on his face, in his throat, and something in his chest ached. He barely made it to the bathroom before he started heaving. He brushed his teeth and went to bed.
He knew the symptoms of shock well enough to know that tomorrow the pain would start. He closed his lids over eyes that felt too dry and hot. He wouldn’t cry. Real men didn’t cry. Even gay men. He’d have to remind himself of that again in the morning.

Chapter Eight
“What the fuck did you do to my kid?” John yelled in Wyatt’s face.

Wyatt paled. Jesus, how had he known? Had Oak told him about Saturday night? “Are we discussing work?”
“Hell, no, and you damn well know it!”
Shit, this wasn’t how he’d ever wanted John to find out. Not that he had
wanted
John to find out. But evidently he did and he wasn’t happy.
“I fucked up,” Wyatt said, deciding that confession was the best route.
John stormed the short space in Wyatt’s living room. It had been nearly two weeks and Wyatt had successfully avoided all contact with Oak, though it hadn’t been easy. In fact, it had been laden with several instances where he had to keep from walking through the woods to pick up with Oak where he’d left off. Oak had been right. After all the years he’d known Oak, it wasn’t wanting him or loving him that was the problem. It was being sure that Oak wanted him as much as Wyatt did, and being ready for whatever ridicule resulted in them becoming a couple.
Oak wasn’t talking to him either, and it made Wyatt miserable. He’d gotten used to the drop bys, even before the first kiss. He missed seeing his face and hearing his voice. He missed just about goddamn everything about the guy and it was his own stupid fault for not admitting it as boldly as Oak had.
“You
fucked
my son, Wyatt,” John bellowed, not yet out of steam.
“I know this doesn’t make it right, but I wanted him,” Wyatt explained.
“Want? You couldn’t keep it in your pants because why? You were thinking with your dick?”
Wyatt winced. “It’s more than that. You know me better than to think I’d screw around with him lightly.”
“I
thought
I did. You proved me wrong.” John swung around, his eyes bulging with piss and vinegar.
Wyatt swallowed his pride. “Oak,” his voice rasped over the name, “is special.”
“Is that why he’s being a surly ass? Because you think he’s
special
? Fuck you, Wyatt and fuck your damn heat-seeking cock that went after my son!”
He’d had enough. He could apologize and he should, but being berated because he’d fallen for Oak? That was plain stupid.
“Give him some more credit than that, John,” Wyatt snapped. “Oak’s an amazing man. He’s a cop with more integrity than most of the force. He’s kind, generous, and loyal to his friends and family. He’s got a mind of his own and knows how to use it. He’s funny, smart, sexy as hell, and damn you right back if you think that all it took to get me interested was another gay man’s ass. Fuck
you
!”
John’s jaw tightened. “Did you tell him all that?”
“What? No.” What was he on about? This was the most confusing argument Wyatt had been in for a long time.
“Why? Why doesn’t he know you’re in love with him?”
“I’m not,” Wyatt protested.
“Yes, you are, but you’re a sorry sonofabitch who doesn’t know when it hits him.”
“I don’t—what the fuck are you talking about?”
“Did you think I hung up my detecting skills when I retired? Did you think I didn’t know he was in love with you and that you were more than a little attentive to him? I’m not a moron.”
Wyatt stilled. John might not be a moron, but apparently Wyatt was. He stayed quiet while he tried to process John’s accusation.
“C’mon, would you have fucked my son for any other reason than because you’re in love with him?” John shot him an impatient look, like he was speaking to a child.
“But I did have sex with him,” Wyatt admitted quietly.
“I know. It’s written all over both of you and your sulky-ass faces.” John grunted with frustration like he’d heard many times over the years. “Even Sheila knows you two should be together, and she had the hardest time with Oak’s homosexuality.”
They both stared at each other for a few moments.
Wyatt broke the silence first. “But she set me up with Owen at dinner that night.”
“We kind of thought there might be some chemistry between you and Oak. Sheila thought that having another man there might get one, or both of you, to make a decision. It worked until you messed everything up.” John’s voice had quieted. “I don’t need details, but you hooked up with my son. It didn’t last because otherwise the two of you would be all kissy-face and a couple. So why the hell aren’t you two kissy-face and a couple?
What did you do
?”
Wyatt dropped his gaze. “I walked away.”
“Why?”
“Because, John,” he said, frustration getting the better of him again. “Because I know what I’d be getting into, and it’s scary as hell. He needs time to really think about it before he makes some rash, life-changing decision.”
“Bullshit!”
“Oh, you don’t believe me?”
“No,” John insisted. “You just got through telling me how smart and pretty and wise and shit he is. You can’t go back on your story.”
“Interrogation tactics? Really?”
“If they bust the right balls, then I’ll fucking pull it out of my hat when I want to,” John defended gruffly.
Wyatt groan-laughed. “Of course you would.”
“So?” John’s anger dissipated as fast as it had come on. It was proof that he wasn’t actually furious at Wyatt for what he’d done, just confused and pissed that he was confused.
“I froze up,” Wyatt admitted quietly. “I froze up and didn’t check in with what I was feeling for Oak.”
“Don’t go all Oprah on me. Just make it right. You got that? Tell
him
this touchy-feely shit, not me.” He wrinkled his nose with distaste. “If that means exploring your inner gay, then do that. Just be honest with him. Be honest with yourself, for fuck’s sake, before you ruin everybody’s life.”
Wyatt smile ruefully. “Got it.”
“Do you? I don’t want to storm over there with Sheila, but I will. I’m sick of her whining about our boy’s heart breaking. But if you make her cry again, I’m damn well gonna make you fix her.”
John was shaking his finger at him now. Wyatt laughed, grabbed the digit and nodded. “Yeah, I got it.”
* * * *
The next morning, Wyatt knew what he had to do. He called the Chief of Police first out of courtesy. Then he called human resources. By mid-morning he’d received all the assorted warnings. He pushed away from his desk and wove through the maze of desks to Oak’s.
“My office. Now,” he barked.
Oak exchanged looks with Sommerset. Sommerset shrugged. Wyatt left, expecting Oak to follow and pleased when the door to his office shut a moment later.
“Captain?” Oak asked.
Wyatt walked back over to where he stood. “Your parents know.”
Oak’s face remained stony. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, sir. I don’t discuss my cases with anyone outside this precinct.”
“Us, Detective. They know about us.”
Oak’s eyes flashed. “I was under the impression that there
is
no us.”
“Do you want there to be?”
He seemed to mull the question. “I’ve stuck my neck out one too many times to answer that one.
Sir
.”
Wyatt got right in his face. “Listen closely. Are you listening?”
A tightening of the other man’s lips was all Wyatt got for an answer.
“Good. I’m about forty-five seconds from kissing you in full view of the office. There’s only one thing that’s going to stop me.”
Oak’s gaze darted to Wyatt’s lips. “What’s that?”
“You, saying no.”
“I’m not out to the crew,” Oak told him.
“Neither am I. Ten seconds.”
Oak’s eyes lifted to his again. He thought he saw hope. “Wait. You’d better be sure you want this, Captain. Don’t let me walk away then refuse to follow me again.”
Hurt laced Oak’s words. Wyatt filled with regret. “I’ll follow you anywhere, if you’re game.”
A small smile lifted the corner of Oak’s lips. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Resume your count.”
“Two, one,” Wyatt murmured.
He closed the gap, taking his time to test the resilience of Oak’s mouth. When it was no longer enough, he tipped his head to the side and traced Oak’s lips with the tip of his tongue. Oak opened for him, tangling his tongue with Wyatt’s.
Wyatt’s knees felt weak, but he smiled as they parted. “Do you want to look first?”
Oak glanced out over the office. Startled faces quickly averted. Some stared unabashedly. “I guess we’re out.”

Epilogue
Four months later…

Wyatt climbed the steps of the deck with the last box. He grinned at Oak as he passed the doors, and Oak closed them.
“It’s official?” Oak asked.
“Yeah, this was the last one.” Saying that, Wyatt let it drop to the floor. He grabbed Oak in a bear hug. He pulled back to look at his best friend and lover. “We aren’t moving too fast for you?”
“Hell, no. You’d have moved in the first week if it was up to me.”
“The lease.”
“Yeah, the lease. I know.” Oak grinned. He nuzzled into Wyatt’s neck and gave him several wet kisses.
“Keep playing like that, and I’ll bend you over the table.”
Oak opened Wyatt’s pants, reaching in to grasp his cock. “I’ve been wearing a butt plug all day. We aren’t waiting on me.”
“I’m sweaty,” Wyatt protested.
“I don’t care.”
Fondling became stroking. Wyatt’s eyes wanted to cross it felt so damn good. “I’m going to come if you keep that up.”
Oak fished a condom out of his pocket seeming to have prepared for just such a seduction. Wyatt pulled of his cotton shirt while Oak dressed his cock, then made quick work of his own clothes. Wyatt finished undressing.
He spun Oak around. “Grab your ankles, boy.” He gave a swat to the hard round ass in front of him.
Oak bent in half, he parted his legs giving him full access.
Wyatt cupped the dark orbs between his lover’s legs, stroking a thumb back and forth across them, then up to circle the blue wedge blocking his hole. Oak shivered. Wyatt teasingly tugged on the plug a few times before extracting it. Then without further delay, he pushed in, sinking his cock as far as he could go.
Oak moaned long and low, a sound that echoed Wyatt’s thoughts exactly.
“God, I love you,” Wyatt rasped.
“God, I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” Oak teased in the same tone.
Wyatt slapped his ass.
Oak laughed. “I love you, too.”

About the Author

Mia makes her home in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she divides her time between a job and spying on people. Mia enjoys long walks in Como Park, daisies, dancing in the snow...(Delete prior sentence, meant for personal ad)...

Mr. Perfect may apply in person for a thorough evaluation and trial. All others will be towed.
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