Touching Evil (10 page)

"I stretch." He reached out, eyes wide as his hand landed on Artie's
chest. The strong heart beat and beat, so steady. "One more."

"One more," Artie repeated, licking his lips and nodding. The hand
not partly inside him moved, fingers searching out the sweet spot on
his thigh as Artie pushed that third finger inside him, so good.

"Artie." A soft sound pushed out of him and he wanted, he wanted it all, so badly he ached. "Please."

"Now, huh? Yeah. Now." Artie pulled free and got the lube again,
slicking up that cock, all red and hard for him, so hot. So hot. When
Artie pushed against him with the wet head, he thought he might explode.

Damn. Oh, damn. Exploding might be smaller than this, might be less than the feeling of Artie inside him.

Pushing forward, Artie stretched him to the breaking point, thick
and so hard, all the way in until Artie's hips cupped his ass. He
moaned, eyes clinging to Artie's. Inside him. Christ. It took all he
was to remember to breathe in, to suck in air. A deep, rough sound
rumbled up from Artie's chest, hips surging as he started to rock
against Greg, filling him over and over. Tremors began deep inside
Greg, threatening to shake him apart, to take him apart. Then Artie's
hand landed on his belly, easing him, centering him right down.

"I got you. I'm right here, Greg. I'm with you all the way." Sweet
touches soothed him, calmed him enough to breathe and relax, letting
Artie in even deeper.

"Oh..." He rippled, the smile stretching his face. "Yes. I know. I
know
, Artie."

He got a smile in return, Artie rocking into him, hands starting to
move on his skin. His throat, his chest, his upper arms all felt
Artie's touch before those rough fingers found his nipples and pinched.
That brought out more of those hungry cries, and he lifted up, tugging
Artie down for a kiss. The kiss turned voracious right off, Artie
licking at his lips, invading his mouth with that hot tongue. He
groaned, wrapping his lips around Artie's tongue and sucking. His cock
rubbed between them, caught against Artie's heat.

"Mmm." The man sounded like Greg was cheesecake. Or hot chocolate.
Artie loved hot chocolate with real milk and marshmallows. He almost
laughed as that popped into his head, but then Artie moved just so, hit
that spot inside him the very best way.

He gasped, nodded. Oh. Oh, yes. Love. There. Good. Don't stop.
Somehow, Artie heard, knew, he could feel it. It just kept on and on,
Artie's face and chest flushed dark, the arm muscles with the marks
Greg'd left standing out strong as Artie grasped his hips.

"Soon. Soon, Artie. I'm going to shake apart." Either that or die. Or come. Something.

"I can't hold it, man. Can't." He could see it in those cloudy eyes,
could feel it in Artie's touch as that hand wrapped around his cock,
pulling hard.

He felt it, that unbelievable sink-ache-pull-fall deep inside him,
and then it was too big to hold, and it poured from him, entire body
jerking and clenching.

"Oh. Oh, fuck!" That was it. Artie came, too, shooting deep inside him, panting and wheezing.

That forced his eyes closed, a rush of
Artie
pouring through him, filling him.

Better. So much better. That was what passed from Artie's skin to
him as they settled together, Artie flopping on him, surprising a grunt
out of him.

He nodded, holding on. They could eat and drink coffee and talk later. Right now, this was enough, this was good.

His rumbling stomach woke him, and Artie stared up at the
cloud-painted ceiling, wondered idly how long it had been since he ate.
Greg felt too good to move, though, so Artie cuddled up.

Goddamn, it had been a frickin’ rough day. Between all the
shit he'd taken over Greg's case, from the secretary to the captain,
and then him and Leah getting slapped with two new cases ... well, it
was a good thing Greg was warm and happy and easy to be with.

It still fucking amazed him. Just flat out sent him into orbit. He
ran one hand down Greg's side, over ribs and hip to the long thigh.

Greg hummed, eyes moving quickly as Greg dreamed, a little smile on those lips.

He grinned, getting up on one elbow and looking down. Long, sharp
angles, smooth, smooth skin. Pretty pretty. Like Greg could hear him,
that long cock started to fill, to curve above the flat belly.

"Mmm." He hummed, too, his hand slipping up and around as Greg's
legs fell open, cupping those balls. Sweet and fuzzy, they weighed
heavy in his hand.

"Your hands." Greg's eyes fluttered, a soft laugh escaping. "I'm not fuzzy, am I?"

"Just right here. It's a good thing." Stroking those soft hairs,
Artie moved up to the curls crowning Greg's growing cock. "I love how
you feel."

Greg stretched out, "I used to ache for this. I'd sit in your chair and think."

"I'm still not sure how I got so lucky, man." It just floored him. Absolutely fucking killed him.

"It was that first phone call, when you called me a fucking lunatic and threatened to have me arrested. I was hooked."

Hooting, he smacked Greg's ass lightly. "So romantic. Amazing how you saw through me."

"Hey! I'm psychic!" Greg chuckled, sat up and kissed him, tongue sliding over his bottom lip.

"Mmmhmm. So what am I thinking now?"

"You're trying to decide whether we should eat now and go for two orgasms later or split them up and order in from Tuscana's."

His stomach grumbled again, and he laughed his ass off. "I think food, man. I'm starving."

Greg grinned, goosed him and nodded. "I have stew. Eggs. Uh ... Fried rice."

"How about eggs and bacon and all to go with the coffee you promised
me." Seemed like breakfast time. Even if it was only ten P.M.

"Now, why would a macrobiotic, clean-living, new-age store owner
have bacon in his house?" Those eyes went wide and guileless. Bastard.
The man loved anything greasy and bad for him.

"I know where you hide that little freezer. Alice may not. But I do." Yeah. Like Greg was an innocent. He snorted silently.

Greg grabbed a pair of sweats, tossed another pair toward him. "I
don't see how she can think bacon is bad for you. It's like crispy
heaven."

"It is, indeed. Lord knows, she just can't hack eating Wilbur or
Charlotte or whatever." The sweats slid on easy, old and smooth and
Greg's. Sexy.

"Charlotte was the spider. I've eaten spider, you know? In Colombia. It was ... crunchy." Greg gave him a wink, eyes twinkling.

"That's gross, babe." He grinned. "Now spider crab? Deep fry it. Hoo yeah."

"Maja squinado?" Greg nodded. "Did you know that they migrate seasonally? It's quite fascinating, really..."

Christ, the man was near impossible to gross out.

"Nutbag." Scratching, Artie wandered toward the kitchen, somehow not
grossed out enough to not be hungry. "I just like them in sushi. It's
better if I don't know their personal habits."

Some nice thick bacon came out, along with frozen biscuits and a can
of grape juice concentrate. "Now there's something we've never had
together."

"Sushi? Can you handle that? All of that cutting and arranging and
shit?" He thought about it a minute. "I bet Alice knows how to roll it,
huh?"

"I don't know. I'll ask. Maybe I can learn. I used to love tuna nigiri."

Hell, to smooth away that wistful look? Artie might learn himself.
Surely he could at least get the crab salad thingee right. Though the
rice might be beyond him. He got out a frying pan for the bacon. He
could do that, nice and crisp. Greg had to make the eggs all fluffy
though.

"Is it rude to ask what you miss most?"

"Up until very recently? Sleeping next to someone." Greg handed him
the bacon. "Now I miss going to the movies. Real popcorn. Huge image.
The whole thing. I loved going before the accident."

"Yeah. Yeah, that would suck." He'd been able to lose himself in
movies ever since he was a kid, when the sci-fi flicks started coming
out, and the special effects were just awful. He bumped hips with Greg
as they got the stove set up, just grinning.

"I manage okay. DVDs have special features." Greg kissed his cheek before heading for the eggs. "What's your favorite movie?"

"Promise not to laugh?" The bacon sizzled merrily away, waiting for
him to flip it. One more second, yeah, that would get all of the bendy
out of it. "
Raiders of the Lost Ark
."

"Yeah? I love when the guys melt at the end. Too gory. Very cool.
Pulp Fiction
was the last movie I saw at the theater." Greg started whisking the eggs, whistling away.

"Man, I hated that movie." One, two, five. He was damned hungry. "It just made no sense, man."

"I went with a bunch of kids from my lab. I thought Sam Jackson was fascinating, but the violence factor? Eh."

"It was the constant cussing, man. It just made me deaf five minutes
into the movie." Fuck, he could curse a blue streak if his momma wasn't
around, but that? Had been excessive.

"Well, I imagine it's sort of antithetical to what you are, what you do for a living, Artie."

"A little, yeah." He went to feed Duke a piece of bacon before
remembering where he was. That piece stopped just short of the floor,
his hand cupping it.

Greg chuckled, applauded. "Poor Duke. I bet he misses you."

"Oh, he's living it up on the caviar he found under the counter, I
bet." From Leah's last big thing with her hubby; she'd sent it home
with him just for Duke. Artie played hide and seek with it weekly.

"Oh, you should get him a fish tank. He'd watch it for hours." The
biscuits beeped in the microwave and the eggs got dumped in a bowl.

"He would. But then he'd
eat
them. Did I ever tell you that
Leah had a lizard once?" Man, she'd babysat Duke. There had been
monitor parts all over the place. Ick.

"Uh-oh." Greg's nose wrinkled. "How long did it take to clean it up?"

"Oh, not long. It was the endless ‘your cat ate my pet’ harangue that took forever." Artie shuddered.

"Oh, lord." Greg looked at him. "Never let Duke near the baby."

Hooting, he put the last of the bacon on a paper towel lined plate.
"You should see him, Greg. Curling up next to Leah's belly and
talking
to the sprog."

"Yeah? No shit? You'll have to take a picture. I want to see." They
got the mess of food to the table, Greg grabbing the honey and butter
and hot sauce on the way.

"He's fucking hilarious. He wants it out now so they can commune."
That silly cat was in love. Big time. Not as much as he was with Greg.
But close.

"Poor Leah. Maybe she's got a built-in babysitter with him."

"Maybe. Though her hubster would be terrified." Yeah, well. It
wasn't his fault they didn't get along. Duke was just ... picky. And
possessive. And, uh. Crazy. He forked up some eggs right out of the
bowl. "Mmm."

"Enough salt?" Greg was pottering again, plates and napkins, coffee and juice and milk, this and that.

"Uh-huh. Come eat, man. You're skin and bones." Waggling his eyebrow, Artie teased, "Though I like jumping your bones."

"What are your thoughts about my skin?" Greg sat next to him, fingers sliding along his thigh.

"It's soft." Soft and smooth, except where it wasn't, the little
patches of fuzzy that Greg didn't like to admit were there, so damned
intriguing.

"Oh." He got another grin, then Greg reached for a biscuit. "I don't have any blackberry jam, will honey work?"

"Yeah. It will work just fine." His cock jolted, honey and Greg's
skin and the brush of that arm across his chest conspiring to make him
gasp.

The biscuit fell to the table, Greg's eyes wide. "Oh, we'll never finish eating if you think things like that."

Throat tight, Artie nodded, picking up the biscuit and feeding Greg a bite with honey on it. "I know. I just. Damn."

Greg nodded, licking his fingers clean with a soft, hot tongue,
catching the drips of honey. Uhn. Artie shuddered, thinking a whole lot
more of those kinds of thoughts. The ones that made Greg start to pant
as Artie thought them.

"Eat your eggs, Artie." Greg's mouth found the pulse point on his wrist, eyes closing.

"Bacon..." They'd have to eat the bacon. It sucked warmed over.

"Uh-huh. No limpness. Limposity. Limpitude."

"Right." Limp? Nope. Not a bit. He leaned in and licked a drop of honey off Greg's lips.

Fuck, that husky little sound was worth writing home about. "We were going to eat first."

Greg shifted, picked up another bite of biscuit and fed it to him.

"We were. Are." Hell, he really couldn't do it again without food.
They made their way through the whole meal by eating off each
others’ fingers. Hot and sensual and surprisingly relaxing, they
managed to eat it all without jumping each other's bones.

Artie blinked when all of the food was gone. "Hey. We ate."

"We did. What good people we are, not wasting food."

"Starving children in Africa and all." Witty. Lovely. Artie just leaned, moving up against Greg.

"Mmmhmm." Greg settled in his lap, eyelids fluttering for just a
second. "Do you know how many pieces of furniture I haven't seduced
someone on in here?"

"I bet I do. There's like, my chair and your bed that you have. Where next?" Here seemed good. Excellent in fact.

"Yeah. I like here. The bathtub's been used. We'll have to try the cabinet sometime." Those long fingers framed his face.

Just the thought of that made him overheat like a toaster with a
bagel stuck in it. Artie chuckled. What a thought. "That sounds like a
plan, you know?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." Greg chuckled, leaning in to kiss him, tongue pushing right in to taste him.

"Mmm." All he could do was hum and clutch Greg to him and kiss back. He explored and tasted, pushing the kiss deeper and harder.

Greg moaned into him, hips rocking, rubbing against Artie's belly and making all sorts of promises.