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Dead Heat: Forged In Fire Ch. 01

By: velvetpie



:: Robby ::

He was going to die. He was going to die and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to save him.

I glared across the moonlight-mottled expanse of warehouse space, desperately fighting the trembles of fear that were coursing through my body and causing my .38 to waver from its shadowed target. Nothing in all the years of my police officer training and field work could have prepared me for this. But nothing could have prepared me for the love of my life, either.

“Don’t be a pussy.” I growled, angrily. ”Be a man and step out where I can see you!” 

The two forms moved forward, the smaller one stumbling slightly within the taller one’s grasp. I kept my eyes focused on them, hoping against hope that I had been wrong, that it wasn’t my Mike standing before me with the silver muzzle of a .45 pressed against the side of his skull. I released a shaky breath, the blood pounding in my head as I surveyed Mike’s dirt-smudged and tear-streaked face, his eyes boring his desperation into me.

“Robby, please.” His whisper sliced through me like a hot knife. “Please. Save me.”

His words catapulted me back to our first meeting …

******

It had been a crazy night. A couple of feisty domestic disturbances, the usual assault and battery calls from the local watering hole, Vince’s, and a lost potbellied pig who’d been found wandering along Highway 40. Clark Bristow, my partner of 8 years, was silently eyeing me from his place in the passenger’s seat.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been awfully quiet tonight, Rob.”

“Nothing.” I mumbled. I did not want to start yet another conversation with him about my love life, especially when I had none. Now, I’m not a bad-looking guy, if I may say so myself. I’m 5’ 11”, weigh about 187 pounds and I have brown eyes and short dark brown hair. My dad was part Cherokee Indian and I have his coloring with my mom’s Huguenot features. I keep myself fit for my job, which means that I work out regularly and I practice tae kwon do, which keeps me limber and fluid. The problem? 

I’m gay.

Yeah, make all the jokes you want about it, but the fact still remains. When I go to bed at night, I have sweet dreams of sweaty, muscled bodies, cum-filled mouths and tight assholes. I’ve endured my share of problems with other guys in the department, but they’ve learned to steer clear of me, especially after I participated in a departmental martial arts demonstration. Guess they all decided that it would be easier to leave me alone than worry about having their heads torn off.

Clark has been the only constant in my tired dance of life. He’s married with three kids and is about the coolest black guy I’ve ever met. He always reminds me of Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction but he’s much more conservative. He tapped a Salem Menthol out of its box and lit it, inhaling while still eyeing me.

“C’mon. Spill it.”

I squirmed in my seat and aimed the Ford towards the downtown area, trying to ignore him, but I knew I couldn’t. “It’s nothing, Clark. Really.”

“You lie like a rug!” He laughed, snorting out smoke. “It’s because of your birthday, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“And the fact that you’re still alone.”

“No.”

“BINGO!” He laughed again, pausing to take another drag. “You really are a rotten liar.”

The radio crackled. “72-05.”

“72-05.” Clark responded.

“A robbery in progress, 3117 Wentworth Boulevard. Repeat, robbery in progress.”

“10-4. ETA 2 minutes. Send a backup unit.”

I was already pressing the accelerator to the floor as Clark threw on the siren and lights. He checked the computer for additional information. “Says it’s one guy with a weapon. Cashier and one customer still inside.”

“Shit.” Hostage situation. I hate them. Innocent civilians break my heart when they’re caught in the line of fire. 

Clark killed the siren and lights as we approached the convenience store. Bright red letters announced “Peppy Mart – Your Last Stop” and I shook my head at that. I certainly hoped that it wasn’t. I pulled the Ford up to the side, doused the lights and jumped out, pulling my revolver out of the kid lamb holster. Clark moved up behind me, his blued revolver in hand. We maneuvered our way to the front double glass doors and peeked in. 

The cashier, a young girl in a smock, was pressed against the cigarette rack, her hands in the air. She stole a quick glance at us, then returned her vision to something hidden behind a metal rack of snacks. I moved out to the side and could just make out an arm, clad in denim and holding a large automatic. It took a few tense moments, but the perp finally moved into view and my heart both skipped a beat and sank at the same time.

The perp was a tall white guy, hippie-haired and evidently in need of cigarettes. He was ordering the cashier to load a plastic bag full of cartons and she kept going, visually upset. Just then, the perp caught the cashier’s furtive look and turned toward us. In his arms was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

He was well-built as evidenced by his muscular arms and the way he filled out his ripped jeans. As I raised my weapon, I couldn’t help but gaze into the hostage’s sea-green eyes, fringed by tousled blond-brown hair, wishing that I could run my fingers through those soft curls and press my mouth against his trembling lips. Clark’s voice cut into my reverie.

“Let the hostage go and put your gun down!”

I inched the door open on my side, drawing the perp’s attention as he swung his weapon back and forth between us but my eyes were drawn to the hostage. I felt my groin tighten as my eyes traveled over his smooth skin, wondering how it would feel under my rough fingertips. 

“Please,” I looked away from the tears boiling over in his eyes. “Save me.”

“Shut up, faggot!” The perp screamed. In one second, all hell broke loose. The perp cracked the hostage on the head with the butt of the gun, then turned towards me. My partner was faster, his gun bucking in his fist as a bullet drilled through the perp’s shoulder. My bullet crashed through his hand and the gun went flying. I kicked it clear and flipped the groaning perp over and away from the unconscious hostage.

“We’re clear, partner!”

It was only a matter of moments before our back up arrived, along with the ambulance that Clark had called for. The cashier was in the corner in tears and the perp was screaming in pain as the attendants wheeled him off. Another attendant was kneeling by the hostage, dabbing at a cut in the back of his head, while another took his vitals. My heart took another leap as I saw that he was awake. Those beautiful eyes connected with mine.

“Thank you.”

I couldn’t think the rest of the night. When the shift ended, I dashed home and could barely contain myself, my hand massaging my growing bulge as I thought about that guy’s beautiful eyes. In my living room, I ripped my shirt open, kicked off my shoes and shed my pants, freeing my straining tool. All eight inches sprang out, slapping my stomach and I quickly sat down, assuming my favorite position: right hand on my dick, my left hand working a thick finger into my asshole.

I groaned as my finger sank deep past the ring and I spit on my hand, wrapping my fingers around my thick cock, beginning to stroke. Tingles burst through my body, radiating outward from my balls and asshole to my thighs and I gasped at the sensation. Ah, yes, so good. I imagined him kneeling between my legs, his lips stretching as he took the slick helmet of my meat into his mouth, tongue gliding over my heated skin. I groaned again, my cock flexing between my fingertips. God, I want him!

I polished the head with some pre-cum and stroked again and again, sighing at the pleasure that skipped up and down my spine. In my mind’s eye, I slid over his body, his sock-shod feet dangling over my shoulders as I pushed my hard dick into his pink pucker. I saw his eyes close, his body trembling in pleasure, his hands caressing my arms, urging me to continue. Then, our bodies moving together, those eyes locked onto mine, climbing the mountain of desire, aching and panting toward the summit, cresting the peak and cumming together, my spunk in his glorious ass and his covering our stomachs. Oh, God! Oh, God!

I exploded all over my chest, ropes of salty-sweet cum erupting from my purple-red cock and lacing into the hair on my chest. I flexed the finger in my asshole again and nearly shouted as I came and came again, my toes curling.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of my spent sex, wondering what I was going to do about my attraction to him and his beautiful eyes.

*****

“Officer Munroe?”

I couldn’t have been more irritated the next day. Not only did we have three department meetings to attend, but the Chief wanted to see us. I was attempting to finish the previous evening’s reports when his soft voice broke into my world of self-flagellation. I looked up into his eyes, noticing the hint of blue in the glare of the fluorescent lights and ordered my penis to stay asleep.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Michael Winston.” His lips were beautiful, lightly glossed and curved like a cupid’s bow. They would have been perfect on a girl, but on him, they were magnificent. For some odd reason, I found myself licking my lips as I looked at him. “I was involved in the Peppy Mart robbery last night.”

“Uh, yeah. Have a seat.”

He plopped into the leather-cushioned seat next to my desk and pulled an interior designing magazine out of his bookbag, found his bookmark and contented himself to read while I continued typing. I paused for a moment, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t believe that someone who had nearly been killed last night was calm enough to read a magazine while waiting to talk to a cop about it.

“Sorry. I have to finish this.” I couldn’t believe that I was apologizing but he was just too beautiful. “Give me a few minutes, okay?”

“Sure. No problem.”

:: Michael ::

When I awoke this morning, I had secretly hoped that last night’s events were just a dream, except for the cop. Unfortunately, I was wrong. My head pounded like an anvil and my eyes throbbed in their sockets. I was grateful that I owned my own business and could afford to close the shop for a day. I wouldn’t have been able to work anyway because all I could think about was this cop from last night.

GOD, WAS HE HOT!!!!

He had rescued me and I was grateful, but I thought I felt something more when he pressed his business card into my palm and our fingers touched. The horny part of me saw only his sexy, dark eyes, the size of his hands and the bulge of his crotch that he tried to hide, once I was safe. But the larger part of me, the soft and romantic side, saw the pain in his eyes. I knew at once what type of guy he was. He would accept a fuck, but wouldn’t want to kiss. He was an unemotional prostitute, looking to get his rocks off without a connection.

Nothing that I was vaguely interested in getting involved with.

But something happened. When I sat down at his desk, I made the mistake of looking into his eyes again. And regardless of my previous analysis, I knew that this was deeper than what I saw on the outside. I saw the way he looked at me and I saw him struggling with himself. I saw that he wanted to change and was looking for a lifeline. And I was suddenly determined not to help him in any way. I wanted him to figure out what his own problems were. I saw potential but I was damned if I was gonna help him figure it out.

Now, I love Martha Stewart. I have to say it. I LOVE MARTHA! I pulled out one of her Weddings magazines when I sat down and he shot me an evil glare, but I, of course, ignored him. It was the July issue and I was in desperate need of some Fourth of July ideas. While I was waiting, Manhattan clam chowder, grilled pork tenderloin and blueberry tarts swam before my eyes, forming my red, white and blue celebration. Mmmm, yummy! Now, if I could only have this guy covered with sugared strawberries and whipped cream.

“Thanks for waiting. You ready?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

I waited until he looked up at me, indicating that his computer was ready. “Let’s start with your name first.”

“Michael Winston.”

“Middle name?”

“Adam.”

“Address.”

“2960 Windsor Lake.”

“Age?”

I felt a little cheeky. “Old enough.” He looked up at me, half-smiling. “All right. I’m 25.”

“25? And you own your own business?”

“Yeah.”

I saw a new appreciation of me spring up in his eyes and I decided to turn on a little charm. I found out that his name was Robert Munroe, known as Robby and had been a cop for nearly 17 years. He wouldn’t tell me his age but I guessed that he was in his late thirties. He wasn’t a native and he hadn’t been married and that seemed to be all that he was willing to share while interrogating me. From time to time, I would see a real person emerge from behind the officer blues, a far different individual that wanted to be conquered, but he would always disappear. I changed my mind.

“Are you busy later?” He just glared at me. Maybe I’d made a mistake. “That’s okay. Never mind.”

He lowered his eyes and continued to type the report. “I have to work.”

I was so astonished to hear the words that I sat stunned. “Oh. Okay.”

He kept typing for another moment, then looked up at me. “But I could have breakfast when the shift ends.”

We stared at each other for what seemed to be a long time. Then, a big black guy sat down at the adjoining desk, glanced at him, then turned to me. “Clark Bristow.” He shook my hand. “You’re from the Peppy Mart, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re just finishing up the report.” Office Munroe stammered. I sensed that something else was going on between these two. Maybe they were a couple …

“You married?”

I shook my head at Officer Bristow. “No, sir.” He proceeded to show me the pictures of his beautiful wife and children. I suddenly noticed that Officer Munroe’s desk had no pictures, no personal items. Was that a sign? “They’re lovely, sir.”

Bristow laughed. “Yeah, and they’re a goddamned pain in the ass!” I noticed that Munroe cracked a smile at that. So, the connection’s not sexual.

“Sign here.” I picked up the sheaf of papers that he had presented to me and grabbed the pen he offered. A warning bell suddenly clanged in my head. I couldn’t sign this paper. The saliva in my mouth dried up, my brain kicking into overdrive. 

You see, I don’t exist.

“I can’t sign this.” Munroe and his partner looked up at me.

“What the hell did you say?”

“I - I’m sorry.”

I grabbed my pack and Martha and I went sailing out of the police station, the demons of my past hard on my heels.

Dead Heat: Forged In Fire Ch. 02



:: 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."



Dead Heat: Forged In Fire Ch. 03



:: Michael ::

I couldn't believe that I'd said it. I saw someone get murdered. I hadn't said those words in nearly two years but then the word murder wasn't usually in my vocabulary. Fear was in it. As were loneliness and tears. Those words had been my constant companions. I felt all three as I gazed at Robby's face.

"What'd you say? You saw someone murdered?"

I nodded. It took me a few minutes but I told him my sad story. I had witnessed a murder and had been relocated by the Witness Protection Program. It was cathartic to be able to finally tell someone what had happened and I was happy that it had been Robby. "So what do we do now?"

"I have to call it in. We'll need to get a team in here ... "

"You can't call it in, Robby! He'll know where I am!"

"He who? The killer? Well, I hate to tell you this, but he already knows where you are. That's why your shop just got shot up."

He was right. I'd have to move again and leave my shop behind. "I guess I'll go home and start packing."

"Whoa! Wait a minute! Who said you had to leave?"

"I don't have a choice, Robby. I have to stay alive to testify and that means hiding." I looked over at him. "You want me to stay with you, do you?" His face darkened and I shook my head. "I didn't think so." I stalked over to the door. "God, I'm so stupid."

"Where are you going?"

"Home. Call whomever you need to. If you need me, you know where I'll be." I got into my car and feeling his cum seeping from my hole, I started to cry. "I'm so stupid." My whisper went unheard as I drove away. Alone.

* * * * *

:: Robby ::

"It's definitely a .38." Ernie, the lab tech showed me the slug that he'd pried out of the wall. "We should be able to get a good ballistics test on this."

"Great. Thanks, Ernie." I wasn't really thinking about the investigation that was going on around me. I was haunted by a pair of green eyes that had overflowed with sadness, mostly at my expense. 

Clark smacked me on the back, his face lit by a smile. "It's got ya."

"What?"

"You know something? I've known you a mighty long time and I've never seen you act like this." Bristow whispered, "You're in love."

"No way." I was thinking of how Mike's body had responded to mine, of how silky-smooth his skin was, of how possessive his mouth was, his tongue thrusting into my mouth ...

"Bullshit! You're thinking about him right now. I can see it in your eyes!" He followed me outside and I'd have given good money for the ability to smoke. Even more for a stiff Jameson and Coke. "You've got a big problem, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"He's under WPP and his cover's broken."

"Yeah, I know."

"If they know about this shop, it won't take them long before they find his house."

"Yeah, I know."

"And you're head over heels in love with him."

"Yeah, I know."

"Can you say anything else?"

"Sorry." I couldn't think. I was hurting too much. I wanted this to be like every other relationship I'd ever had: purely sexual and it wasn't. I knew it wasn't, no matter how hard I tried to deny it.

"Listen, Robby, I've never interfered in your life but you know I care about you, right?" I swallowed past the lump growing in my throat and nodded weakly. "You need to go over there and get him."

"What am I supposed to do with him?"

"I ain't gay! I thought you already knew what to do!" I looked up, caught his wink and instantly appreciated the lightness he was trying to bring to the situation. I smiled into his jovial face. "But seriously, Rob, I'd say take him to a hotel. Check him in for a night. Then, maybe we can contact someone in WPP and find out what the hell's going on. Sound good?"

"Yeah, Clark." I nodded, sliding into the driver's seat. "Thanks."

Because Mike had filled out the report, I already had his address. It turned out to be a condo, the second in a line of six. As I approached the front door, I noticed that the gate was wide open and the screen door was hanging, broken off by its hinges. 

"Oh, God!" I drew my revolver and crept up to the door. "Michael!" There was no answer. A 60 watt bulb lit the stoop, its weak light shining into the entrance hall. "Michael!" A thick-walled vase was shattered just inside the entrance, a bouquet of white lilies and lilacs strewn over the wood floor. The kitchen was empty as was the living room. I backed up and headed up the carpeted stairs. 

I found him at the top of the stairs, his skin pale in the hall light and a large blossom of red on his left shoulder. "Michael! Mike!" I shook him but he didn't respond. Oh, God! He's dead! "72-05, I need an ambulance at 2, 9, 6, 0 Windsor Lake. Repeat, 2, 9, 6, 0 Windsor Lake. And HURRY!"

* * * * *

For most of the next day, Mike stayed in a coma. I requested guard duty and Clark fought for me to get it. Felder wasn't pleased, but he granted my wish. I sat outside his room, my face carved from stone while my heart churned in my chest. I'd get up every once in a while to check on him but he was always the same. Clark came to relieve me and I walked into his room, standing at his bedside.

"Mike," I started, rubbing my fingertips across his arm. "It's Robby." The beeping of the EKG machine filled the silence. "You've got to wake up." I didn't know what to say, I felt so uncomfortable. I couldn't help but put my finger on his pale lips and trace their outlines. "Please, Mike. Please come back to me."

"He's on too much anesthesia to hear you, Officer." The night nurse murmured as she checked his drip. "I'm lessening it now so we hope to hear him respond in a few hours."

I sat in the oversized chair beside his bed and fell asleep, gazing at his super-pale face. Please, God! Don't let him die! I drifted off to sleep, my hand on top of his.

* * * * *

"Robby."

I thought I heard my name but it sounded so far away.

"Robby!"

I shot up out of the chair, acutely awake and totally disoriented. My eyes found Clark who was standing on the opposite side of Mike's bed and he gestured downward. Mike's eyes were open, glazed and unfocused. "Call the nurse!" He left and I bent near Mike's face. "Mike. Mike." His beautiful eyes blinked and turned towards me. "I'm sorry, Mike. I'm so sorry."

"No need." He whispered. His cold fingers clasped mine. "It'll be over soon."

"No!" I couldn't believe that he had said that and I was furious with him. "Mike, you can't die!"

"Why not?" He licked his cracked lips slowly. "No reason to stay."

"Of course there's a reason to stay!"

"What?"

I looked down, gazing into his eyes. "Me, you asshole! Me!"

His eyes closed. "You don't care about me, Robby." His voice was soft and frail. "Go back to work."

"Michael." His name left my lips in a tormented whisper. "Please don't die. Don't leave me." His eyes opened, focused on me and closed.

* * * * *

:: Michael ::

My entire body ached when I awoke. I wanted to stretch but my brain said no. I flexed my feet and fingers, glad to know that I was not paralyzed but I couldn't seem to think straight. I closed my eyes and tried to remember the last thing I'd seen and kept finding Robby's deep brown eyes.

"Michael." The softness of his voice washed over my body. "Please don't die." My heart froze in my chest. "Don't leave me." I couldn't talk. I wanted to but nothing came out. He saw my open eyes and shouted, "NURSE!"

After what seemed like a thousand pinpricks and examinations later, he returned to my side, Clark grinning over his shoulder. I ignored Robby, instead thanking Clark for his protection. Robby's partner stepped outside, leaving us alone.

"Mike."

"What, Robby?"

"I'm sorry." I let him squirm for a moment, suddenly feeling better. 

"So?"

"Please talk to me." He looked like shit and I was loving every minute of it! "How are you feeling?"

"Sore. Did they get the bullet out?"

"Yes." His hand moved over my bandaged shoulder. "No problems."

"Good."

"Mike, did you see who shot you?"

"No. The person was in my upstairs closet. How's my house?"

"A complete mess. We tried to clean most of it up but ... "

"Yeah, I know. Thanks anyway."

Then he looked into my eyes. "Hurry up and heal. You're staying at my house when the doctor releases you."

"No, I'm not." I started to feel the encompassing warmth of the sedative that the nurse had slipped into my IV drip.

"Yes, you are. I'm not letting anything happen to you again."

"No, I'm not." It was becoming harder to speak. "I want you to have a guilty conscience."

His brown eyes gazed deeply into mine. "I already do. Let me make up for it."

I blissfully succumbed to the sedative. "Fuck you, Robby."

* * * * *

Robby wouldn't take no for an answer, which was no surprise to me. If he wasn't patrolling the hallway outside my door, he was sitting at my bedside and ordering the nurses around with a gentle please. My third day in the hospital, FBI Agent Cal Morton came into my room, introduced himself, then asked Robby to leave.

"I'd rather that he stay."

The agent didn't like it, but he allowed Robby to stay.

"We were sorry to hear your problems, Mike." Morton began. "It's been two years. We thought you were safe here."

"I'd be safer if you would find that piece of shit and get this over with."

"We've been trying, Mike. We were close to him in Florida but he disappeared. But you won't be safe until we find out who ordered the hit."

"Who's the shooter?"

Morton pulled out a file and handed it to Robby. Inside were the particulars of a goon named Conrad Bass. He had pockmarked cheeks, a military buzz cut and a sneer on his curled lips. I could see Robby memorizing his features and my heart fluttered to think that he cared that much. "Conrad Bass. If you ever see him, don't mess with him. He's as bad as they come." Robby nodded to him, then Morton turned back to me. "We need to relocate you."

"No. I'm tired of running, Agent Morton. I'm staying put."

"Mike, do I need to remind you that you're laying in a hospital with a bullet wound in your shoulder?"

"No, you don't need to remind me." I rotated my shoulder, wincing a little. "But I'm not going to run like a scared rabbit."

"He'll be staying with me, Agent Morton."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, he will." Robby didn't even look at me, talking to Morton as if I didn't exist. "He'll be safe with me."

"That's good. It'll be better for me, too, having a contact with someone in local law enforcement."

"Excuse me, did anyone just hear what I said? I'm not staying with him!"

Robby and Morton completely ignored me as they continued talking about security arrangements and Conrad Bass. I sagged in my bed. I didn't want to stay with Robby. He didn't feel the same way I felt about him and I didn't want to get into an unrequited relationship. I knew that I was in more trouble than having Conrad Bass after me.

"Get well, Mike. I'll talk to you tomorrow." I shook Morton's hand and Robby escorted him to the door.

Then I heard the lock click.

Robby walked over the side of the bed, settling carefully on one side of the mattress and drawing the sheet off of my body. "What are you doing?"

"Convincing you that it's a good idea to stay at my place."

"Robby ... "

Those were the last words I spoke for a long time. His mouth covered mine, ending my futile protests and my sleeping cock quickly awoke. Robby's tongue traveled along the seam of my mouth, sliding in and sweeping over mine. I shuddered, my skin tingling. I felt his fingers in my hair, rubbing my scalp and neck and I moaned at the pleasant sensation. He pulled back, looking into my eyes.

"Are you convinced yet?"

I shook my head. "No."

Again, he applied the exquisite torture of his kisses, their heat taking my breath away. His fingers found the tie to my gown and he drew it down my uninjured side, then gently over my bandaged shoulder. I trembled at the cool air sliding over my naked skin, then trembled again at the look in Robby's eyes as he surveyed my body. His hand slid over me, from collarbones to pectorals, caressing and worshiping as he went. I hissed in pleasure when the rough pads of his fingers circled my nipples, making them rise into hard points. 

He leaned down and sucked the left one into his mouth while his fingers played with the other one. "Are you convinced yet?"

I gasped as his teeth grazed my sensitive nipple and he pinched the other simultaneously. My entire body tingled and my prick twitched. "No."

His hand moved down my body, over my clenched stomach muscles, following the golden line of hair that ended in a mound of curls and my straining cock. His fingers encircled my stalk, squeezing gently, then moving down to cup my heavy balls. I moaned, arching against his hand as it returned to my cock and gave a hard tip to root stroke. He knew how to work me and I loved it. Over and over, he stroked, his grip sensuously hovering between firm and feathery, sending electrical tingles down my spine and into my asshole. I wanted to cum but he held me back, grasping the bottom of my stalk. My toes were curled, permanently, I thought.

His breath was hot in my ear, his tongue licking the lobe. "Are you convinced yet?"

"No."

He leaned up and kissed me again, straddling me on all fours. Then, he moved down, his wet, hot mouth leaving a trail over my neck, my nipples and my stomach. I closed my eyes, feeling the heat of his breath on my quivering stomach, then his tongue giving my cock a long lollipop lick. I groaned, gritting my teeth. He licked twice more, then sucked the head in, pressing down until most of my cock was in his mouth. "Oh, Robby." I breathed. With each pass, my prick grew thicker in his hot mouth. I couldn't take it but couldn't find the words to warn him.

I shouted his name as I came, my asshole pulsing as I shot a wad of thick cum down his throat. I felt him swallow as I loosed another and another load, my head swimming with the pleasure. He made sure that I was clean and replaced my gown, tucking me in.

"Now are you convinced?"

I sighed, drifting off to sleep, his lips gently pressed against my forehead.

"Yes."



Dead Heat: Forged In Fire Ch. 04



:: Robby ::

I couldn’t believe that I was a nervous wreck. Why, you ask? Mike’s coming home today. After ten long days in the hospital, he was coming to my house, to finish his recuperation and to hide out until we could catch Conrad Bass. I had cleaned the house from top to bottom and had the guest room prepared, secretly hoping that it would never be used. I wanted Mike in my bed, in my arms. He was already in my heart.

I’d been thinking more and more about him, I found. Nights of patrolling were interrupted with my calls to the hospital and he always answered with laughter in his voice. You’re such a mother hen! Clark laughed his ass off, thoroughly enjoying the sight of his usually super-masculine partner in the grips of love. He thanked me for the entertainment, saying that he now knew what he had looked like when he courted his wife. My spare hours were spent at the hospital, either watching Mike sleep or grabbing a few Zs in the chair, next to his bed. My partner was right. I was in love.

I went over the preparations in my mind again. I had a bouquet of roses in his bedroom, new soap in the shower and fresh towels there, too. The fridge was full of chocolate milk, his favorite and two snowy bottles of champagne were in the freezer, chilling nicely. Did I forget anything?

The doorbell startled me into motion and I almost tripped over my feet as I sailed to the door. Mike and Clark stood on the doorstep, Mike’s injured shoulder in a dark blue immobilizer. “Hi.”

“Hi. Come on in.” I wanted to kiss him but I didn’t want to gross Clark out. My partner softly snickered as he entered, setting several bags and a suitcase on the floor. “Want a beer, Clark?”

“Naw. I can’t stay. Sondra’s making chateaubriand for two tonight.”

“For two?”

“Yeah, the kids are at her mother’s, so … “ He winked. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Make sure you’re able to walk tomorrow. I don’t want to have to carry you around all night.” I called as he ducked out.

He laughed. “Yeah! And make sure you take your own advice.”

:: Michael ::

I didn’t know what to expect from him so it was a shock when he closed the space between us and pulled me into his embrace, his mouth devouring mine with authority. I couldn’t help the tremble that snaked down my spine and I put my good arm around his waist, pressing my body against his. I sensed a difference in him and something in the way he responded to me partially wiped the uncertainty from my mind. I had worried that he was only interested in the sex and not in me. Now …?

“That’s a hell of a welcome.” I breathed, catching his dark sparkling eyes. He lowered his gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the passion he’d expressed. He needs control. The answer suddenly struck me. He can’t control his feelings for me and he doesn’t know how to deal with that. 

“No one’s ever accused me of being inhospitable.” He joked awkwardly, letting me go and taking a step back. I sensed the protective cop persona slipping back into place. “Are you hungry?”

“No, but I could use a drink.”

“Would champagne be okay? I bought a couple of bottles … “ He shrugged his shoulders, avoiding my eyes and stubbing the toe of his loafer into the carpet. Oh, God! He’s nervous!

“Champagne would be marvelous.” I replied. “Champagne and a bath. A real bath.”

“That can be arranged.” His smile was genuine. “How about we get your bath started and pop the champagne?”

“Okay.” He gave me a quick tour of his house and I was surprised to find that it wasn’t overly masculine, like many apartments’ I’d seen. The furniture was tasteful. A bamboo couch, ottoman and armed chair occupied most of the living room along with bookcases filled with leather-bound books. I paused to read some of the titles, amazed to find Dostoevsky and Thoreau huddled on those shelves.

The kitchen was spartan, a lone non-stick pan on the stove’s top. Green and red apples were perched in a teak bowl on the island and I noted that he liked green apple Palmolive to clean his dishes. The basement was musty-smelling and carpeted. A big screen TV was in one corner surrounded by comfortable chairs and a bar was just opposite. An upended bongo drum held cue sticks for the forest green-felted pool table and the other corner was occupied by a treadmill, weight machine and rowing machine.

There were three bathrooms, one each in the basement, main floor and second floor. The top floor contained three bedrooms. The first room was an office workout area, complete with computer. The second room was the master suite, done in varying shades of blue. The king-size bed had an inviting plump comforter and loads of pillows. The side wall held a grouping of watercolors, mostly of water scenes, fishing boats and one of an elderly woman holding a dog.

“My grandmother, Elisa.” He offered. “She sat for that just before she died.”

“Did you do these?” His silence gave me an answer. Robby Munroe was such a conundrum. Hard on the outside, soft as a gooey caramel on the inside. I scrutinized the paintings, amazed at the emotion that oozed out of the watercolors. “You should show these, Robby. They’re magnificent!”

He nodded slightly and moved through to the next room. Another room, again tastefully done and colorful, especially with the dozen roses in the dresser vase. “Are these for me?”

“Yes.”

I slipped one out and inhaled the gentle scent. I broke the bottom of the stem off, tucking it into a buttonhole of his shirt. “How about that bath?”

:: Robby ::

I opened the champagne, put the frosty bottle into the steel bucket and placed it on the tray beside the chilled glasses and carried it up to my bathroom. Mike was soaking in the water, his eyes closed and his injured shoulder above the water line. I set the tray on the rattan stand, his eyes opening lazily at the noise. I opened the bottle, handed him a glass and poured the foamy liquid. I filled my own glass and looked at him.

“To us.” Our glasses clinked and I watched, hypnotized by the sight of his soft lips on the edge of the glass. “Thank you for becoming my protector.”

I didn’t know what to say. He was talking to the cop in me and the cop responded in kind. “It’s not a problem.”

“Would you protect everyone like this?”

I answered truthfully. “If that’s what was required, yes.”

Mike took a sip of the champagne and set his glass down, turning his back to me in the tub. “Thanks. I can take it from here.”

My grand romantic ideas deflated like my cock and I pushed the chair back, rising. “See you in the morning.”

This is why you’re alone. I told myself, putting the unopened bottle in the fridge. And you deserve it.

*****

Clark and Agent Morton arrived early in the morning and I was surprised to find Mike awake and hanging out in the privacy-fenced backyard. He welcomed my colleague and the FBI agent with respectful handshakes but ignored me.

Morton had gotten some new information about Bass. They were able to trace a rental car to him and forensics had found a shell casing in the gear box that was going to be tested against the slugs we already had. The shop was being dismantled and the contents of his apartment were being placed into storage. Mike’s face fell with every revelation and I wanted to reach out to him but I knew that he wouldn’t accept my consolation. He said that his office was working hard to locate Bass and expect to find him soon.

“Can I move to a hotel?”

Morton glanced at me, then turned to Mike. “I thought we’d already settled that.”

“No, you and Officer Munroe settled it, but no one asked me. I want to be moved to a hotel.”

“Well, we’ll think about it.” Morton arose, packing his paperwork away. “Robby, I’ll give you a call when the forensics exam comes back.”

“Thanks.”

I shook his hand and watched Clark and him drive away. Mike had already gone inside, completely ignoring me. When I went to find him, I found the guestroom door closed and the muffled sounds of his soft sobbing. I wanted to knock but found myself unable to. My heart was a rock in my chest.

*****

When I went on shift that night, all I could think about was Mike. I kept asking myself serious questions. What did I really want from this relationship? What did I want from life? Did I want to be alone forever? Did I want to ignore the feelings that I had for Mike? For the first time in years, I let Clark drive because I was unable to keep my mind on the road. Clark tried to talk to me but I couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence. He decided that we should stop at Lori’s Diner for a quick meal and a little conversation. He was astounded to find that I couldn’t eat. So was I.

“Okay, Robby. Spill it.”

It took fifteen minutes for me to explain everything I was feeling. By the end, I was so distraught that I was close to tears, something that had never happened to me before. My partner listened quietly and let a bit of silence pass before he spoke.

“I cheated on Sondra once.” He chewed a bite of his cheeseburger, following it with a slurp of chocolate malt. “Guess it was a combination of stress and arguments and I went out one night and didn’t come home until the next morning.” He paused to dump a load of ketchup onto his fries and black peppered them thoroughly. “When I came home, she knew what I’d done and she wasn’t angry. But she wouldn’t talk to me any more. She wouldn’t let me touch her. She wouldn’t even look at me.” Clark looked at me. “Can you imagine what that’s like? Having the one thing that you want the most in the world and you can’t have it?”

Yes, I knew. And it was my fault that I couldn’t have it.

“The thing that really killed me was when I got her to look at me. Her eyes were empty, hollow. There was no love for me in her eyes and I had never seen that before.” He cleared his throat. “That broke my heart.” Silence fell between us as he bit off a few more bites of burger. “I tell you, Robby, I don’t ever want to see that again.” I nodded. 

I had wanted hot sex but I’d been kidding myself. Mike had grabbed me at the convenience store with his expressive eyes. The fear when he was in the perp’s grasp and the shyness and appreciation after the rescue. Then, the pure lust when I sucked his dick and the despair from this morning. Finally, what I’d seen when he walked into my house yesterday. Love. And I remembered how I had felt, knowing that it was all for me. He loves me.

And I love him. The admission crushed the walls I had built and I felt naked and free. I grabbed a bunch of Bristow’s fries and shoved them into my mouth with a smile.

“We’d better get going.” He shoved the plate away and stood. I told him that I’d pay for the meal in exchange for his advice and he just laughed, heading outside. I went to the register and waited patiently for the change when I noticed that Clark was talking to someone. Probably a tourist asking for directions.

The waitress counted the change into my hand and I turned to leave, just as Clark’s visitor turned his head, heading down the sidewalk as Clark moved to the car. Conrad Bass!

“No!” I screamed.

Our police car exploded.

:: Michael ::

I didn’t hear him come into the room but I felt his weight on the edge of the bed.

I flicked the lamp on and turned to him, frightened to see that his uniform was ripped and covered with blood and a square of gauze was taped to his left temple.

“Robby! What happened?”

He raised red watery eyes to mine. “Clark is dead.”

“Oh, Robby!” And he cried. I pulled him down into my arms and held him close while his tears poured out. In between sobs, he told me about the explosion. Clark had been killed instantly. He had had a good-sized chunk of glass removed from his forehead and a few other patrons had glass injuries also.

“Mike, I’ve been so afraid.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what?”

“You.” He sat up, his hand on my hip, his dark eyes searching mine.

My cock pulsed in my pajamas. “Why would you be afraid of me?”

“Because of what I see in your eyes.”

He lowered his face until his lips brushed my cheek. I raised a hand to his cheek, closing my eyes in pleasure. “And what do you see in my eyes?”

Tears brimmed in his eyes as he sought mine out again. “Me.”

He turned his face so that our mouths connected like pieces of a puzzle and I groaned at the feel of his tongue pushing against mine. My body relaxed under his pleasant weight and I wrapped my arms around him, trying to draw him closer. For several long minutes, he ravished my mouth, face and neck, licking and nibbling as he went. 

“Come on. Let’s take a shower.”

:: Robby ::

The shower was heaven. I felt raw and bruised but I’d never felt so alive. 

I wanted to crumble to the floor in a pool of tears but another part of me wanted to grab Mike and fly off. I wondered if schizophrenic people experienced the same disjointedness. I took a deep breath and swallowed my pride and fear.

“I love you, Mike.”

“Wha-what?” He opened the shower door, his delicious eyes bright with tears.

“You heard me.” I yanked him in, pulling him against me. “I love you.”

:: Robby and Michael ::

Mike was stunned to hear the words, words he had ached and dreamed of hearing, but Robby had really said those words. I love you. And he meant them. Could forever be far behind? He stumbled into the shower fully-clothed and met Robby’s mouth in a bruising, passion-filled kiss. Sleek, wet skin and muscle met his questing fingers and he moaned at the feel of Robby’s majestic body.

“My PJs … “ Mike whispered. 

Robby released his mouth long enough to slide the wet pajamas to the shower floor and pulled Mike against him, moaning as their sleek, wet skins slid together. Mike felt so good against him, his hands raising goosebumps as they roamed over Robby’s skin. Soft fingers traced the hard planes of his back and buttocks, delving into the cleft and drawing circles around his pucker. Robby moaned again.

“Mike, make love to me.”

Mike pulled back, surveying Robby’s face. “Robby, you don’t have to … “

“Yes, I do.” Robby knew how important this was. He had always been the one to top, always the one to dominate. He didn’t want that now. He wanted to feel Mike inside him, to feel him cum deep inside him. “Please, Mike.”

Mike couldn’t resist the plea in Robby’s fathomless eyes. He leaned forward and kissed him again, his tongue tangling with Robby’s as he reached for the hot and cold knobs. The water ceased with an errant drip. He didn’t want Robby’s first time to be in the shower, like some crude gym fuck. He wanted him in bed and that was where he led his lover. 

Robby lay back on the bed, welcoming Mike into the circle of his arms. He couldn’t seem to get enough of kissing and touching Mike. His hands learned every inch of the blond’s athletic body while his tongue mapped every inch of his soft mouth. Mike purred like a cat when his hands grasped his globes, his fingers pulling them apart and sliding down into his hole. Mike’s body jackknifed, grinding their hard cocks together, his moan echoed by Robby.

Mike broke the kiss, flipped Robby over and began to kiss his back. His entire body was a monument to exercise and he intended to make sure that Robby knew that he was grateful. His lips started at his neck, biting the tendons and causing Robby to respond with a guttural hiss. “Oh, God, Mike. Yes.” Robby’s gasp was a sweet caress, urging him to continue and Mike did, moving over sculpted back muscles and down to his luscious ass. 

Robby felt Mike’s hand underneath his groin and he heard a gentle whisper in his ear. “Assume the position.” His entire body trembling, he raised up on all fours, his aching prick and waiting asshole exposed. His heart slammed in his chest as Mike’s fat tongue laved his asscheeks, slowly and completely, then slipped into the crack, sliding down until it reached his grasping hole. The breath left his lungs as Mike’s serpentine tongue pressed inside, spreading his sphincter wide.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Mike grabbed Robby’s hips and started his assault, systematically tongue-fucking, then rimming Robby’s asshole, drawing hisses and grunts of pleasure. His finger quickly followed, then two, opening Robby farther. Robby groaned. “Fuck me, Mike.”

Mike turned Robby back over and pushed his legs up, aiming the fat head of his prick at Robby’s well-lubed hole. He leaned down so that he could kiss Robby’s lips, pushing forward slightly so that the head popped in. Robby’s body went taut and a whimper escaped their connected mouths. He held still for a few moments, allowing Robby to get used to his size, then gently moved forward again, sliding in to the hilt.

“Oh, Mike.” Robby groaned. He had never felt so full before. Electrical tingles shot from his asshole directly into his straining cock and he fought the urge to cum just from the feeling alone. Then Mike moved and a shout of pure delight erupted from his throat, his penis leaping as ropes of thick cum sprayed onto his chest. He had never cum so hard or felt something as wonderful as that. And to look up into Mike’s eyes and see him smiling was the icing on the cake.

Mike was surprised that Robby had cum so quickly and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from following. Robby’s velvet, hot passage massaged him like a snake digesting its food and he fought his lust down, waiting until his muscles relaxed again, then moved again. He felt so good. So hot, so deep. He groaned, feeling the walls grasp and surround him. “Oh, Robby.”

“Yeah, Mike, fuck me.”

Mike started moving faster, his eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure, watching Robby’s semi-hard cock come to life again. “Yeah, I’ll fuck you, Robby.” He pushed the words through gritted teeth. “And when I finish, you’ll know you’re mine.” A bolt of pleasure streaked down his spine. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.” Robby’s brain was fogged with sex and he let himself succumb to the building pleasure. He wrapped a hand around his tool and pumped it in his hard fist.

“Say it again.” 

“I’m yours!”

“Oh, fuck! I love you!”

Spots of white flared behind his eyes as he poured his seed into Robby’s clutching ass, his gasp matching Robby’s. Robby’s cum spurted again, covering his chest with a veil of white. Mike fell sideways, his pulsing dick slowly wilting within Robby’s body, then finally sliding free. Robby’s voice was low and breathy.

“That was the most incredible thing that I’ve ever felt.”

Mike moved up alongside him, rubbing his hand across his quivering stomach. “Me, too. I guess it’s different when you have feelings for someone.” He pushed up on one elbow, looking down into his eyes. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Yes.” Robby ran his hand through Mike’s tousled curls, cupping his cheek. “I’m yours and I love you.”

Mike let the tears fall and proceeded to kiss them both into a place far from the danger that waited outside.



Dead Heat: Forged In Fire Ch. 05



:: Robby ::

Clark's funeral was three days later. I spent the days torn in two; part of me grieved over Clark's death and wrestled with the feelings of guilt and anger while the other part soared in absolute bliss over my relationship with Mike. Things were so different. I moved his things into my bedroom and it became our house. I woke up to his angelic face and went to sleep with my arms wrapped around him. Our sex became lovemaking: deep, slow, long and hot and we never parted without saying 'I love you'. The sweetest thing was coming home after a long shift and finding him asleep on the couch, wrapped in my robe, waiting for me.

"Mike?" At home, after the funeral, I held him close, pressing kisses into his soft hair. "I need to talk to you about something." He looked up at me, his eyes stricken, but he allowed me to pull him onto the couch and onto my lap. "There's something I didn't tell you."

"Please don't tell me you're married."

"No, nothing like that." I took a deep breath. "I saw Conrad Bass."

His face went pale. "What?"

"I think he's the one who killed Clark. He spoke to Clark outside the diner before he got into the patrol car."

I felt Mike's body begin to tremble. The idyllic four days we'd shared had been a vacation from reality and neither one of us wanted to acknowledge it. He melted into my arms and I was proud to see that he wasn't crying. "I wish I hadn't seen him."  

"I know you do, honey." I gave him a long squeeze. "But then, I'd never have met you."

His mouth moved gently over mine, his hand creeping into the hair at the back of my neck and I sighed at the strength of the feelings for him that flowed through me. He was so beautiful. I just had to have him again. I let my hand move up his thigh and rest heavily on his hardening package. He pressed my hand down, his hips lifting to grind upwards with a deep moan and a shiver. "Oh, Mike." I whispered, softly. "I can't get enough of you."

"Then don't try to stop." Heat flared in my belly at his words and I crushed my mouth to his, roughly sucking his tongue into my mouth as my hands undid his pants. He lifted his hips, pulling them off and opened his legs, moaning as his balls fell into my hands. I rolled them between my fingers and gave a gentle pull. He moaned again. I moved my hand up his cock and stroked him until he was arched like a bow across my lap, my name slipping from his lips.

"Stand up."

He did as I asked, removing his shirt and I took my shirt and pants off also, surprising him by grabbing his hips and shoving his hard meat into my mouth. He wrapped his fingers in my hair, fucking my throat with his big rod. He was so turned on that it was only a matter of minutes before he was pumping his load into my mouth, screaming my name. I saved a mouthful of cum and pulled his mouth down, sharing his essence.

My cock now shouted for release. Mike dropped to his knees and took me into his mouth, bobbing up and down the length of my enflamed shaft, pausing to lave the underside of my thick head and rub his teeth along the ridges. I endured as much of his ministrations as I could before whirling him around and pulling him down onto my rod. He squealed and I gasped an apology for the lack of lubrication. His answer was only to tell me to fuck him harder. So I did. My climax was almost as fast as his was. I jabbed my prick deep into his bowels as I unloaded, grunting into his ear.

We rested together, still connected and whispering soft words of love. I held him tightly against me, his heart beating under my fingertips.

"I have an idea."

"Yes, love?"

"Use me as bait."

"Bait? For Bass?"

"Yeah."

"No way."

"Robby, he would come out in the open to get me, you know he would."

"I already lost Clark, Mike. I'm not going to lose you."

"You won't lose me!" He turned to me, searching my face. "You'll be close by."

"No, Mike. I don't like it."

"Robby," His soft fingers traced the muscles in my tight jaw, stroking gently. "I don't want to hide the rest of my life. I want to bathe in the sunshine and dance in the rain." He turned my head so that our eyes met. "With you."

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right but I was afraid of losing him. "I'll talk to the chief about it and let you know, okay?"

He nodded and laid back against me. I wondered if he could hear how fast my heart was beating.

:: Michael ::

I was glad that Robby decided to accept my idea about being bait. I had been thinking of it long before he told me that he'd seen Bass and that information just convinced me that it would work. I didn't want to live cooped up and constantly protected. I wanted to enjoy life with him and Conrad Bass was standing in my way.

Robby called from work two nights later and said that the chief and Agent Morton had agreed to the set up. We'd use a grand re-opening event for my shop and wait to see him show up. The grand re-opening party was scheduled for the next evening at 9 and a uniformed officer would take me over to the shop at 8. Robby made arrangements for the security and all was in readiness.

Robby had to leave at 7 and I laid in bed, watching him get ready for work. He kept looking over at me, probably because I was naked and lying on top of the covers, still sweaty from the fucking he'd just given me.

"Is there something wrong?"

He nodded, buttoning his shirt. "Just worried."

"Oh, that's it? I thought you were looking at my ass." I laughed but he didn't join me and I got up, stepping behind him and putting my arms around him. "Everything will be fine, Robby."

He let out a deep sigh, covering my hands with his. "You just don't know how scared I am." His voice was small.

"Just remember, it'll all be over tonight. Then we can start our life together."

He turned in my arms, pressing kisses across my face. "That sounds wonderful." We enjoyed a long, deep kiss before he grabbed his hat and headed down the stairs. "Don't forget to be ready at 8."

"I'll be ready." I stood at the top of the stairs as he opened the door. "I love you, Robby."

"I love you, Mike." And he was gone.

* * * * *

Since I had an hour to kill, I took the Dostoevsky down and read a good bit of it before hopping into the shower and preparing to go to the shop. It was kind of weird to be dressing for a murderer but I tried to think about Robby as I put on one of his button-down shirts and a comfortable pair of Dockers. My hair was perfect, nails were trimmed and clean and teeth were brushed.

At 8 o'clock, the doorbell rang. I looked out and saw the patrol car in the driveway and knew my ride was here. I opened the door and stared into the dark eyes of Conrad Bass. He stepped over the officer lying in a pool of blood on the porch and brandished a silver revolver, pointing it at me.

"Hi, Mike. I'm here to take you to your appointment."

* * * * *

:: Robby ::

I peered through the set of binoculars, watching the activities below. Agent Morton and I had been on the rooftop of the building opposite Mike's store and were observing the people entering and exiting the shop. Most had been employees of the interior design shop mixed with a few undercover officers. All seemed to have gone well and I was waiting for Mike to show, with Officer Deland, his assigned escort. They were thirteen minutes late.

"Did you speak with him today?"

"Mike?" I answered the agent's question. "Of course."

"And he was ready for this?"

"Yes."

Morton briefly took the binoculars from me and swept the area. "I should tell you that you should be prepared that he might not show up."

"Oh, Bass will be here."

"That's not who I'm talking about."

My heart was slamming in my chest as I digested his words. I couldn't believe that Mike would run away. He was as committed to this as I was. I took the binoculars back and slowly roamed over the busy area. A large white package truck was backing up in the rear, the words ISHTAR CARPETS on its side. I knew those would be the Persian carpets that Mike had ordered. The Polish crystal chandeliers had arrived earlier and a truck containing the Italian ceramics had just departed. But still no Mike.

"Hey, Robby. What's that?"

Morton's gesture brought my focus to a cab that had pulled into the vacant lot on the other side of the building. Two figures were walking across the dirt-filled space and I watched as they headed into the rear of the shop. Something made the hairs rise on the back of my neck and a spurt of adrenalin tightened my chest. I knew it was Mike.

"Something's wrong, Cal."

"Then let's not wait."

I followed Cal down the serpentine stairs, hitting the street and streaking across into the shadowed alley. I thought about the first time I'd seen Mike having sex in the shop. It seemed like such a long time ago. The dock was empty, except a catering truck with two attendants in white chef uniforms unloading racks of baked bread and fruit tarts. 

"Did you see anyone come through here?"

"Yeah." The shorter one said, pointing to a separate set of back stairs. "Three guys just went up there."

"Thanks." Morton moved to the bottom of the stairs, glancing back at me. "Back up?"

I knew what he was saying. He was giving me an opportunity to avenge Clark's death. "No." I said softly. "Not yet."

He nodded. "Okay, then let's go." Cal moved quietly up the steel staircase, peering into the grimy windows. "I don't see any movement." I nodded, acknowledging his whisper and forced the fear down as he pushed the heavy steel door open. Silence flooded the landing. Morton glanced at me and I moved past him, into the building and the door squeaked shut behind us.

"That's bullshit!" A voice raised in anger pierced the still air. We crept forward in the darkness, relying on the shadows to hide us. "You owe me!"

"I don't owe you anything!" A second voice answered. "I paid you for a service and you fucked up!"

"It wasn't my fault that he had a lover!"

"It was your fault that you didn't kill him!"

The entranceway opened into a large room that was empty and opened into a huge area that mirrored the entire main floor below. Moonlight filtered in from the skylights, highlighting a figure seated in a chair. My heart did a flip-flop. Was it Mike? Was he dead? Morton gave me an eye gesture toward the chair to make note of it and motioned for us to head to the right, towards the voices.

"You're the one who asked me to kill him! You should have had all the information for me!"

"It wasn't my fault!"

"The fuck it wasn't!"

Cal took the right side and I crept along the left side of the wall, trying to box the source of the voices. The wood flooring was brittle with age and it was hard to advance without making a noise. I heard a loud crack from the other side of the room and a gun blazed into life, its muzzle spitting flames towards Cal's location. I heard a groan, then a thud.

"They're onto us. Give me my money and let me get the fuck out of here!"

"Okay. Take it."

The gun flashed again, the sparks accompanied by a scream of anguish and fury. I knew what had happened. One criminal had shot the other. It was a common scenario in the world of crime. I stood between this person and freedom. I was next.

"Don't move! You're surrounded!"

Bullets zinged in my direction and I ducked, cursing myself for my stupidity. I couldn't see and that made things extremely dangerous. I fired in the general direction and received no answering fire. I remained crouched in the thick dust, fighting a sneeze and waiting for an auditory clue. A loud groan and a scrape alerted me to the other room and I raced in, crouching low and searching the spotty darkness.

"Robby!"

"Shut up!"

My mind went blank as I went numb. My hands felt like ice and the breath froze in my lungs. I knew at once that one of those voices belonged to Mike and that he was going to die. He was going to die and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to save him.

"Don't be a pussy." I growled, angrily. "Be a man and step out where I can see you!" 

From the edge of my peripheral vision, I saw two forms, the smaller one stumbling slightly within the taller one's grasp. I kept my eyes focused on them, hoping that I had been wrong, that it wasn't my Michael standing before me with the silver muzzle of a .45 pressed against the side of his skull. I released a shaky breath, the blood pounding in my head as I surveyed Mike's dirt-smudged and tear-streaked face, his eyes boring his desperation into me.

"Robby, please." His whisper sliced through me like a hot knife. "Please. Save me."

Chief Felder smashed the gun against Mike's temple, drawing blood and a groan of pain. "I told you to shut the fuck up!" Felder's eyes locked with mine and I saw the sheen of nervous sweat dotting his forehead. "Hello, Officer Munroe." I didn't like the way he emphasized Officer. It sounded like a disease.

"Hey, Chief." My voice wavered. Mike moaned again, raising his hand to his bleeding head. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing. Just a ... " He pointed the gun toward the ceiling in deep thought. "A misunderstanding." The muzzle returned to Mike's head. "You can leave. I think I can take care of this."

"I can't do that, chief. He's a federally-protected witness and I have to take him in to custody."

"Him?" Felder gave Mike a violent shake. "Why, he's just a piece of shit."

"It doesn't matter, chief. I have to take him in."

Felder glanced from Mike to me. "Why? He's a fag. A filthy, fucking fag!"

He smacked Mike with the gun again and he slumped forward. I knew that he was unconscious and hoped that he was okay. "I know that, sir."

"He wanted to ruin my life."

"I don't think he wanted to do that, sir."

"Oh, yes, he did!" Felder was unhinged with his rage. He kept waving the gun around as he talked about his life in Miami and the fact that Mike had happened upon him having sex with Mouse, a male prostitute. If that information would have gotten out, he would have had to resign and he wasn't willing to do that. So he had hired Conrad, who killed Mouse, not knowing that Mike had seen the murder. "He wanted to ruin everything, the little piece of shit." Felder cocked the trigger, spittle dotting his lips. "Now, I can get rid of him."

Two loud bangs reverberated in the space. I knew that one had come from my gun and that bullet found its target in Felder's heart. The second bullet drilled a smoky hole in the chief's forehead and I nearly grinned as Agent Morton lurched forward, a huge blossom of red on his right shoulder. Felder screamed, the gun flying harmlessly from his hand as he lost his balance and stumbled backwards. 

The rotten banister broke under his weight and he tumbled back and down, smashing into Czech chandelier and a halogen torchiere, coming to rest in the glass and metal arms of the rear showcase. Bright red blood flowed onto the forest green velvet covers, a thick wedge of glass neatly slicing through his neck and nearly decapitating him. Felder was dead.

As Morton went to check on Bass, I ran to Mike's side, gathering him into my arms and gazing down at his pale features. Blood seeping from the wound gleamed like mercury in the moonlight and wound a jagged river down his cheek.

"Mike." I whispered, stroking his clean cheek. "Mike, please wake up." He didn't move. "Mike. Mike, please!" Still no movement. Morton came over, clutching my shoulder painfully.

"Bass is dead."

I didn't care. It wasn't important. Mike was. I slapped his cheek, gently trying to awaken him. "Mike. Please, honey. Please wake up!"

I couldn't stop the tears from running down my cheeks as I reeled through memories of us. My fingers wanted the softness of his skin, my lips wanted the softness of his mouth and my cock wanted the softness of his ass. I wanted to see him sleeping in my oversized robe. I wanted to watch him take a shower. I wanted to see the beauty in his eyes when he came. I could not live the rest of my life without seeing those things again.

"Michael, "I whispered. "It's time to dance in the rain." His eyelashes fluttered. "It's time to begin our life."

Mike's groan was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. He tried to touch his wound but I kept his hand down, helping him to sit up. His unfocused eyes blinked a few times before locking onto mine and I hugged him so hard that he yelped.

"I'm so glad you're okay." I touched my lips to his.

"So am I." He winced. "You wouldn't happen to have any chocolate milk with you, wouldja?" 



Dead Heat: Forged In Fire Ch. 06



:: Robby and Michael ::

If someone were to have told Michael Winston that he would be this happy, he would have told him that he was crazy. He looked across the store and smiled. The tiny space was packed with people and he had been so busy that he realized that he was going to have to find a larger place. The publicity that he had received after the grand re-opening and the murder had made him a reluctant hero and the interior decoration job that he'd done for the Mayor's wife had brought him more business than he could have imagined.

And Robby. He sighed deeply. In the days since the incident, Robby had continued his metamorphosis. He retained his outer hard shell for his police work, but when he came home, he was all silk and satin inside. He laughed more often. He cried more often. He opened himself up and shared every bit of his life with Mike. Mike watched Robby's catharsis, amazed at his partner's rebirth. He couldn't be more proud of him.

The back door bell rang and he left Jerry in charge of the register to answer it. Instead of a vendor waiting to deliver product, Robby stood there, a bouquet of tulips in one hand and a huge picnic basket in the other. No words needed to be spoken; both men moved together and their mouths touched softly, Mike's arms curled around Robby's neck.

"I didn't expect to see you today."

"Why not? Can't a new detective take his honey out for lunch?"

Mike's face broke into a grin and he hugged Robby. "You passed!"

"Yep. I start next week. First shift." Robby's dark eyes met his. "I'll be home for dinner every night."

Mike hugged him again. That had been so important to Robby. He wanted to be able to come home and spend the evening with Mike, like ordinary couples. They could shower together and go to bed together. And wake up together. "Oh, Robby."

"Here, take these and come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise, of course." Robby handed the flowers to Mike and watched as he hurriedly dropped them into a vase and gave them a little water. 

"I have to tell Jerry that I'm leaving."

"Well, hurry up!" Robby accepted Mike's kiss and watched with smile as the blond ran to give instructions to his employee, then came back to his side. Robby led him to the car and leaned close, taking a deep kiss for himself, before slipping the black satin blindfold over Mike's face.

The ride only took ten minutes but it was the most exciting of Mike's life. He kept his hands clasped in his lap until Robby reached over and grabbed one, intertwining fingers and giving a squeeze. Mike accepted his hand when they got out at their destination, melting against Robby when his partner's lips coaxed another deep kiss from his. A small set of stairs and then, the sound of keys, the clicking of a lock and the squealing of hinges.

Robby stayed behind Mike, his hands on his hips, leading him into the building. "Now, stay right here and don't touch that blindfold." He kissed Mike's soft lips again and grabbing the picnic basket and a blanket, he laid out the contents of the basket, complete with a rose. Perfect! "All right, you can take off the blindfold now."

Mike slid the blindfold off, blinking his eyes against the light and smiled. Robby had spread two blankets on the floor, one laden with food and two frosty bottles of champagne. "Wow, Robby, this is really nice, but won't we get into trouble?"

"Trouble?"

"Someone owns this building."

"Yes, someone does." Robby strode over to Mike, dropping a set of keys in Mike's palm. "You do."

The breath caught in Mike's throat. He barely heard Robby's voice saying, This is your new shop. The space was huge, with two floors and a gorgeous view of the water. He walked over to the windows and blinked away tears, gazing out over the water. Our new shop.

"You're not saying very much." Robby whispered, moving up behind his lover.

"I'm sorry, Robby. I just don't have words right now. It was so unexpected and so wonderful." Mike leaned back into him, closing his eyes in happiness.

"You've been doing so well that I knew it wouldn't be long before you'd need a bigger place." His heart was pounding in his chest, his mouth suddenly dry. "I figured that it could be your wedding present."

Wedding? The word streaked through Mike's brain and he slowly turned in Robby's arms, searching his eyes. Robby's hand opened and a thick gold band with a single diamond rested within. "Robby ... "

"I can't imagine not spending the rest of my life with you." Robby's voice cracked. "You've taught me so much, Mike. I can love you without fear and I want to give you my heart. Would you do me the honor of being my husband?"

Mike looked down into Robby's tear-filled eyes, feeling as if he was in a dream. "Oh, yes, Robby! Yes!" He shivered as the band slid onto his finger and jumped into Robby's arms. For long moments, the two men remained in the embrace, sobbing in happiness. "I love you, Robby. I love you so much!"

"I love you, Mike."