Ropes and Dreams (4 page)

Drake guessed that made sense. He’d know Troy’s availability better than most. But, “Don’t you have Troy’s contact info from the actual report?”

Officer McCain shook his head, once. “No. I didn’t interview him, or I would have written the phone number down legibly. My partner, however, either reversed numbers or heard them wrong, which is why I’m out here now.”

“Oh.” Drake really didn’t know what else to say. Officer McCain seemed to be part cyborg or all robot, as emotionless as he appeared to be. It made Drake kind of uncomfortable even as he admired the stark beauty of the man. He wondered what colour the cop’s eyes were. It was impossible to tell outside with only the moon and porch lights casting arcs of brightness too far away to be helpful. They looked light, though, almost colourless actually.

The silence stretched out and Drake fidgeted, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Buddy tugged at the leash. He couldn’t bring himself to keep looking at McCain, so he watched Buddy instead and let the puppy ‘drag’ him over to the grass underneath one of the trees out front.

If it was rude, well, then he was just rude. Drake simply didn’t know how to handle McCain, nor did he understand why the cop was still standing there. After a few minutes during which Buddy peed on the tree trunk about half a dozen times, Drake bent and petted Buddy, enthusiastically praising him for urinating in the right place.

“Such a good boy, sweetie. Good, good boy,” he crooned as Buddy made happy puppy noises. He thought he heard a sharply indrawn breath behind him, but Drake couldn’t figure out why he would have heard such a thing and so he discounted it. The fine hairs on his nape seemed to catch an electrical current and he straightened up, feeling as though he was being watched.

Of course he was. McCain hadn’t left. Drake turned and peered inquisitively at him. “Was there something else?”

McCain showed some sort of emotion for the first time then, frowning, barely, one side of his mouth dipping down. “No. Just call me and let me know when is a good time. I’d like to take care of this as soon as possible.”

“I’ll see if Troy’s got free time tomorrow evening, or he can come into town—”

“No,” Officer McCain cut in, that frown deepening. “No. I’ll come out here, no sense in him wasting his gas. Doesn’t have to be in the evening, either. Whenever is convenient for him.” Then Officer McCain took a step towards him and stopped. He was staring so intently at Drake it was unnerving. “You could invite me for dinner, though.”

Drake’s mouth dropped wide open, he knew it. His jaw popped and he couldn’t even breathe as McCain gave him a two-fingered salute before turning and leaving.

Drake was still standing there like an idiot as McCain’s tail lights faded into the distance.

Had he just been hit on?

Chapter Three

Driving away from the tempting, flustered man had been difficult, but judging by how very shocked Drake had been in regards to Ian’s light—in his opinion, at least—attempt at making his interest known, leaving had seemed to be the right thing to do. It was either that or grab Drake and kiss him stupid, because those parted lips, the darkened cheeks that even the dim moonlight couldn’t hide, had been damn near irresistible.

Although why Drake would be surprised by Ian’s interest was puzzling. Granted, Drake wasn’t typically handsome, and he wasn’t a toothpick, but both of those were things Ian found appealing.

And he suspected there was a submissive side to Drake just waiting to be explored. Ian really wanted to be the Dom Drake explored it with. He liked the broadness of Drake’s jaw, the way his large eyes tilted down at the corners, giving him a sleepy, bedroom-eyes look. Drake’s thick eyebrows were masculine in appearance, his nose short and upturned but with a bump on the bridge. There was a dark shadow telling Ian Drake likely had to shave daily or sprout a beard.

Drake was shorter than Ian’s own five-seven, which was another reason Ian found him so attractive. Ian was well aware that he had the much talked about ‘short man syndrome’, but he didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t the tallest man in the world. He was still a badass who could defend himself and anyone he cared about. That had been his goal from the time he’d become cognisant of his home life as a child. Ian would never let himself or anyone he loved be hurt again.

To that end, he’d become a police officer as soon as possible. Serve and protect—it was in his blood as surely as being a Dom was.

And something in Drake called to Ian in a visceral way. Ian had never felt such a strong tug of attraction for anyone before. It was exciting…though he probably hadn’t shown it. Ian sighed and parked the cruiser in front of the duplex he rented. Fortunately his Chief didn’t require them to return their vehicles to the lot if they’d been out on police business after their shift.

Ian didn’t feel like going back to the police station and wasting time having to be…chatty, which for him meant grunting if someone talked to him. He was by no means a sociable person. Growing up with an abuser in the house, Ian had learned to keep quiet, keep to himself and keep others at a distance. The chances of him ever being Mr Popularity were somewhere around the chances of the Sun shooting icicles to Earth.

Ian got out of the cruiser and locked it before making his way up to the tiny house. He had a front yard that he paid someone to take care of because he killed every plant he touched, just about. The kicker was, Ian liked plants and pretty flowers. They symbolised so many things for him—normalcy, beauty, peace, home.

When he’d been a child, their neighbours two doors down had had a gorgeous yard, the grass always green and roses blooming against the house. Other types of flowers had grown in the beds as well, and Ian had yearned to be those people’s kid. He’d just known they’d have been happy and loving and he would have been safe.

Of course he knew better now. You couldn’t tell if someone was a decent and loving person by their yard. In fact, he thought it was more likely a twisted fuck would want a pretty yard and an attractive house. How else would they draw in their prey? The worst of human monsters rarely looked like the evil souls they were.

Which made him having a nice yard kind of creepy, now that he thought of it like that. Ian shrugged. Whatever, he knew he wasn’t a sociopath, just a tightly controlled man.

The sidewalk was uneven in one spot where it had cracked some time ago. After having tripped over it once, Ian was always careful to step over it now. He had no intention of landing on his face or ass where any of his neighbours could see him. He’d been lucky enough to catch himself that first time, though he’d undoubtedly looked like a fool, pin-wheeling his arms and flailing about.

He took the three steps up to his little porch, noticing the blooms on the roses he’d had planted. The porch bulb cast a yellow glow on them, but they’d be a pretty shade of red in the sunlight.

Ian took the mail from the box beside his door then he unlocked the deadbolt and went inside. He closed the door and locked it automatically as he scanned the living room and dining area. Nothing was out of place. He wasn’t expecting an intruder, but then again, he doubted anyone ever did.

A quick inspection of his home and Ian was finally able to relax. He stripped off his uniform and locked his weapon in the gun safe. In his underwear and barefooted, he walked back into the living room and sat on the couch. His stomach rumbled, but he couldn’t cook worth shit. He’d microwave something later—for now he just wanted to unwind and think about Drake.

Drake’s hair was several inches longer than Ian’s, which wasn’t a surprise as Ian kept his dirty blond hair in a buzz cut. Drake’s was dark, too, either brown or black. Ian hadn’t been able to tell, but he’d bet it was soft—as soft as Drake’s full lips would be.

Ian found the remote and turned the TV on. He started up the DVD he’d had on a few nights ago, a rather hardcore BDSM one he favoured when he was feeling very horny. It was Ian’s favourite because there wasn’t a twink in sight in it. The Dom and sub were both older, regular-looking guys, not buff and muscle-bound.

Drake looked like he’d be a bit soft around the middle, with a round, plump ass that would jiggle every time Ian smacked it. Ian pulled his cock and balls free of his underwear as he watched the Dom stroking the sub’s back. They seemed to have true affection for one another, and if they didn’t, Ian never wanted to know that. It was one reason why he’d never Googled them to see if there were any other movies with them in it.

Ian believed there could be love and lust both in a D/s relationship. Some guys he’d played with had only been in it for the sex and pain, but Ian had always known he wanted more eventually. Just, at twenty-four, he hadn’t expected to find it already.

Maybe he was wrong, and Drake wasn’t the man Ian thought he was. Yeah, Ian didn’t know him, but he just had a feeling he and Drake could have something real together.

Ian’s social ineptness made it difficult for him to be more than the stony-expression-wearing Dom so many of the guys who came on to him wanted. His silence wasn’t owing to him wanting to come off as a badass. He often didn’t know what to say to strike up a conversation. Giving orders was easy enough, because that didn’t require much on his part. Talking, now that was a totally different problem.

When Ian had been younger, he’d tried practising, holding imaginary conversations with guys. Thinking about that made him want to hide his face in shame. He’d been such a damn dork.

And introspection was not what he wanted to be doing. Ian blinked back his thoughts and instead watched the sub suck his Dom’s cock. If Ian had Drake on his knees, he’d cup his jaw and hold him still so he could take Drake’s mouth. Ian moaned brokenly and let his eyelids droop almost completely shut. He could still make out the men on the TV but they were blurry.

That was okay, the scene playing out in his mind’s eye was hotter. Drake’s lips wrapped around his cock, sweat sheening Drake’s skin. He’d have Drake keep his hands folded behind his back, and Drake would struggle to keep them there. He’d want to wipe at that sweat, but he’d want to please Ian more.

Ian spat in his hand and fisted his cock. With his other hand, he cupped his balls. Ian wasn’t averse to a little pain himself, and he gave his nuts a squeeze. His cock grew harder and pre-cum leaked from the tip.

“Drake,” he muttered, willing his imaginary lover to look up at him. Drake did so with amber-flecked brown eyes. The need in them spoke to Ian. There was a man who was lost and scared, who needed an anchor, and Ian wanted to be that for him.

Fanciful thinking or not, Ian let himself fantasise. Drake would tongue his slit until Ian urged him to take more. Then he’d work Ian’s foreskin back. Ian mimicked the move with his own hand. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, watching Drake slide those wet lips down his cock.

“Harder,” Ian demanded, gripping his shaft roughly. He began masturbating, the drier burn of his own hand nowhere near the perfection he knew Drake’s mouth would be.

Still, he would know what it felt like to have Drake tongue the thicker vein on his cock, to suck and take him in until Drake’s breath depended on Ian. Ian stroked faster, working his cock, rolling his balls, pushing himself to the brink with imaginary sounds and sights. His climax shoved a grunt out of him and cum spurted onto his hand and belly.

Temporarily sated, Ian drooped where he sat, sinking into the supple leather couch and letting it cradle his body. He lazily smeared the cum over his stomach and chest. Ian didn’t even mind the sticky and itchy, which would happen if he didn’t shower quickly. He liked the messy parts of sex.

The phone rang and he was jerked out of his pleasant dozing moments later. Only a handful of people had his landline number, mainly family members he couldn’t avoid giving it to. They’d have found him anyway. His Chief also had the home number, and Ian figured it was awful of him to hope it was a work emergency rather than his mother or stepfather.

He got up and walked over to the phone on the kitchen table. Ian looked at the caller ID and turned the ringer off. Although the ID read ‘Unknown’ and it could have been a wrong number, it could also have been his stepbrother Norman, and Ian wasn’t ever going to talk to that asshole again if he could help it. Despite asking his mom not to give out his number to anyone else, Ian knew she wouldn’t be able to say no to Norman or to Norman’s father, Bart. Bart would give it to Norman just to give him someone to fuck with.

Ian hadn’t let Norman get to him in years, not since leaving home at eighteen. That didn’t stop Norman from trying. Ian made sure there was no message left, then he turned the ringer back on and went to shower.

He kept picturing Drake in the shower with him, in the bathroom, the hall, the kitchen even as he zapped a chicken fried steak dinner. It was kind of worrisome, actually, the way he was obsessing over Drake.

But he remembered his mother talking about how she’d seen his father and just knew. In an instant, she’d decided Anthony McCain would be hers, and she’d known he’d feel the same eventually.

They’d had three years together before Anthony had been killed in a freak accident. Ian had been two years old, and he had no memory of his father. He only had one picture, but it was enough to tell him he looked just like the man.

Maybe the whole love at first sight thing had happened to his mom, but Ian wasn’t so far over the moon that he felt himself in love with Drake. He was just intensely attracted to him. Ian wanted the potential for love to be there.

He stood in the kitchen and watched the timer on the microwave count down. The kitchen itself was clean, as was all of the place. Ian couldn’t stand messes. There was nothing in the place that made it feel like home. That, to Ian, was outside. His landscaped little lawn. Decorating, like cooking, was something he utterly sucked at. Not caring to suck at anything other than giving head, Ian refused to even try sprucing up the duplex.

Besides, he intended to find someone who would care enough about him to want to make his place a home.