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Joe heard a small gasp and whirled around to see Adam had taken a step inside the door. Joe followed Adam’s appalled gaze to the wall above what used to be Adam’s bed. On the wall, the only thing left was a blown up picture of Adam, the same one as the cover shot for the magazine. In what Joe knew was blood—from the smell—were scrawled the words:

  Indulge me.

  Chapter 2

  Joe just had time to shakily acknowledge the incredible relief that he’d insisted on following Adam home when he heard another small sound and turned around to see Adam’s eyes roll up. He lunged and caught the boy before he hit the floor. Adam was out cold.

  Joe settled Adam carefully in his arms then turned and walked down the steps, doing his best not to jostle Adam. He noticed the store was closed and swore softly. Then he remembered the cooler in the truck still had a couple bottles of water. He’d got used to driving around with a cooler and water on the nights he’d had to sleep in there. He managed to open the back door and get Adam inside just as he was stirring.

  Joe started the engine. Adam might need the air on. He put his hand to Adam’s forehead, but it seemed cool. Joe pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and quickly made two calls. Adam groaned just as he finished the second.

  “Hey, lie still. You’re okay.” Joe slid into the back where he’d propped Adam up. Without thinking about it too much, he picked up Adam’s hand. It was cold, clammy. Joe rubbed it.

  Adam blinked slowly. “S-sir?”

  One word that Joe didn’t just like this time. It hit him in the gut, as if that was what he wanted Adam to call him. Joe stilled. Did he? Did he want Adam to call him that? Adam groaned softly, and Joe scooted closer and pulled him in to his side.

  Whatever. Adam needed him now. He had to get his shit together and stop second guessing every damn thing. “Hey, it’s okay. Cops are on their way.”

  One of the calls Joe had made had been to his buddies. There was no way he was going to let this one go to someone he didn’t know. He could hear a siren. He’d also called the paramedics, and a good thing because Adam was now shaking.

  “What was it…who…?” Adam stammered. Joe could feel his panic.

  “Here, take a sip of water.” Joe held the bottle, because Adam’s shaking hands couldn’t. An EMT truck pulled in at the same time as a beat up blue sedan. Joe smiled, satisfied at the sight of Dobbs and Rodriguez. The sheriff car pulled in just as the EMTs were getting out—that was an automatic response because he’d called an ambulance. Joe had a quick word with the paramedics and slid out of the truck. A small hand grabbed his arm—Adam.

  Joe looked into his white face. “Let them check you out. I just need to go talk to the cops.” He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile and moved out of the paramedics’ way.

  Joe put his hand out to Carl Rodriguez. “Thanks, guys.”

  Dobbs got out of the blue sedan and the wiry, bald man pulled a jacket on. He grinned at Joe. “Halloran, you ain’t even been gone one day.”

  Joe laughed and beckoned. “Up here guys. Got any gloves?”

  Rodriguez chuckled and handed Joe a pair of green latex he pulled from his pocket. “Now sir, you haven’t touched anything, have you?”

  “Yeah,” piped up Dobbs, joining in. “Civilians really need to stay out of the way and let the police do their job.”

  “Fuck off, Dobbs,” Joe said, but he was smiling. Then he remembered the reason they were here and sobered as they started up the fire escape.

  Both the cops whistled as they saw the state of the trashed room.

  “Shit, Halloran, you into little boys now? I mean, I know the divorce had to be rough...”

  Joe ignored the teasing. He stared at the same picture of Adam that both cops were gazing at. Dobbs stepped out of the room and got on his radio. Joe knew they needed to know if the blood was human.

  He quickly explained how Adam had got a flat, and he’d followed him home. Both guys seemed to understand his unspoken relief that Adam hadn’t been on his own, and stopped their teasing. Thank God.

  He suddenly wanted to go check on Adam, so he set off down the fire escape. Joe jogged over to his truck. When he arrived, one of the paramedics—someone he had met once before on the job—shook his head. “I would be happier if we brought him to the ER,” he told Joe, “but the kid’s refusing.”

  Joe hunkered down to where Adam was seated. He clearly was refusing the oxygen mask that the other paramedic held as well. Joe looked at Adam. His black hair was plastered to the side of his face where he’d been sweating. Big green eyes made his face even whiter.

  Adam shook his head as Joe bent closer. “I can’t afford it.”

  “Adam, they have to treat you,” Joe said.

  Adam shook his head again and tried to rise from his seat. Joe held him in place. He sighed in total exasperation. Stubborn boy.

  “Do you have a friend we can call?” the paramedic put in, trying to be helpful. Adam hesitated.

  “He’ll be staying with me,” Joe blurted out.

  Adam’s mouth rounded in surprise. Joe didn’t blame him—the words had shocked the hell out of him as well.

  Joe never really gave Adam the chance to object, but he noticed Adam didn’t really try either. Once the decision seemed to be made, things were wrapped up pretty quickly. Dobbs took an initial statement from Adam, and the paramedics left. Joe intervened when it was clear Adam was getting distraught at the implication from the detective that it was someone Adam knew who had done this. Joe got Adam settled in his truck and went to say goodbye to the two detectives, and he quickly texted Rodriguez his new address.

  When he was all done, Joe slid in the driver’s seat, and Adam cracked his eyes open. He still looked like a stiff breeze could have taken him out.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to do this, Sir.”

  There it was again. That word that seemed so natural dropping from plump, pink lips. “Look, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Joe deliberately kept his voice light, despite naturally wanting to drop it an octave or two, and despite him mentally chaining the boy to an A-frame.

  Adam nodded, his eyes drooping. “I’m sorry. I don’t do blood very well.”

  Joe grinned and set the truck into drive. “Yeah, all the more reason for you to stay away from Kerrick.”

  Adam smiled and closed his eyes.

  They drove a short distance until finally Joe pulled into the underground parking space for his new apartment. He’d loved Callum’s parking arrangement and if there had been any spare apartments in Callum’s building, he would have taken one. Failing that, underground parking had been a prerequisite for him when he finally searched for a place.

  Adam was out for the count, and Joe hated having to wake him to get him inside. Adam stirred and managed to get on his feet to get out of the car. He mumbled softly as Joe helped him in the elevator and up to the spare room.

  Joe stopped at the door. Shit. What was I thinking? He didn’t even have a damn bed in there.

  He quickly directed Adam to the master bedroom instead. Adam had clearly passed exhaustion point. He stumbled to the bed and just sat there, eyes half closed. “Sorry.” He bent to untie his sneakers, and if Joe hadn’t been holding on, he would have tipped straight onto the floor.

  “Adam, just sit.” Joe quickly took of Adam’s shoes and socks. He eyed the boy’s tight leather pants. Not really comfortable for sleeping in. “Adam, you need to take these pants off. I’m going to help you, okay?”

  Joe pushed Adam so he was on his back, and Adam went without a fight. Quickly, Joe bent over and unbuttoned Adam’s pants. They didn’t even have a zip for God’s sake. Joe’s hands were shaking as he undid them.

  Fuck. Adam had gone commando. Joe sat down on the bed, totally at a loss. He looked over at Adam. The boy breathed steady and even—he was fast asleep.

  Joe could do this. For God’s sake, he was a Dom. He spent most evenings around completely naked men and wome
n, so why the hell was he getting in such a twist about this?

  Decision made, Joe stood up again and unfastened the last two buttons on Adam’s pants. He swallowed, felt like he hadn’t had a drink in days, like he’d just crossed the Sahara or some shit. Shaky hands eased the black leather over slim hips, and Adam’s cock peeked out. Not hard or anything, but just there. Looking at him. Shit. Joe was so totally fucked. He finished pulling Adam’s pants off and doing his best not to look, gently turned Adam on his side, and pulled the comforter over him. He pulled one of the pillows down and carefully slid his hand under Adam’s neck to ease his head up a little. He was just laying him down when Adam sighed a little and bent his head.

  Joe went completely still. Adam’s cheek fit perfectly in his cupped hand. Adam even bent a little more and rubbed his cheek on Joe’s palm. Joe’s heart was beating so loudly he was convinced his neighbors could hear it. In fact, the lead news item on television the next day would probably be some shit about an ex-Orlando detective dropping dead of a heart attack.

  Joe shook his head, made his legs work, tried very hard to ignore the other part of his body. Very hard—urghh. He opened his dresser and fished around for a pair of shorts. He headed for the shower that joined to his bedroom, and he had no intention of making it cold. After all, it was his shower and about time it was christened. When he was done, he would head for the couch.

  Fuck. Joe banged his head against the wall. He didn’t have a couch. The store actually tried to deliver one yesterday, but as usual Joe had been late at work. Now he definitely needed a shower.

  Joe turned the shower on. He knew it was fancy, could be pre-programmed and all that, but right now he was too distracted to care. Joe got in and stood under the beating spray. God that was good.

  He leaned forward against the wall, the hot water pounding his neck. How had he got himself into this? That boy. If he was going to be honest with himself, he’d been watching the boy for weeks.

  He squeezed some gel out onto his palm and started soaping himself up. His hands trailed lower, to his cock. Joe lazily palmed himself and tried to think about Callie, or Sarah from the club. Callie was a nice handful, the way her hips swung when she danced, two cute blond pig-tails bouncing along with some very nice tits. More than a handful. Very nice. Joe rubbed a little harder.

  He must have been more tired than he thought. It looked like his dick wasn’t getting the exciting picture Callie presented. Joe nearly groaned. No, his dick was completely uninterested. God, maybe he was getting old. Thirty-one and he felt about fifty some days. Two failed marriages he really didn’t want to think about. His dick was completely limp. It was a complete waste of a good shower. Joe sighed and washed his hair, not that he had much hair to wash—more like a fuzzy scalp really.

  Joe turned the water off and toweled himself dry. Where the fuck was he going to sleep? He didn’t even have spare bedding to use to go lay on the lounge floor, and no pillows except the ones on the bed.

  Joe opened the bathroom door quietly after donning his shorts. He grinned. Adam was curled into a ball and snoring softly. He eyed the bed warily. It was huge, super-king. Surely he could sleep at one side and manage not to go near Adam? Hell, there was nowhere else to sleep.

  Joe padded to the bed and, before he could change his mind, discreetly slid under the covers. He turned his back to Adam and determinedly shut his eyes.

  ****

  Joe woke slowly with the strange feeling he was in someone else’s bed, because there was definitely someone else’s arm draped across his middle, a head resting on his chest, and a leg resting somewhere it shouldn’t.

  Shit. He remembered. His ribs heaved upward over his thankfully-still-beating, still-attached heart. He swallowed, idly wondering if now was a good time to consider getting a drinking water dispenser for his bedroom. He’d never suffered from such a lack of spit before. Joe tried to think about what should be the first part of Adam’s body he could move first.

  Adam’s leg moved. His hand. Move his goddamn hand. Joe desperately tried to get his attention off Adam’s leg. Joe’s dick, however, hadn’t got that memo. Joe lifted his head and stared accusingly at the tent in the comforter—the one that wasn’t entirely caused by Adam’s leg. Adam moved. Joe went completely still. If he could have demanded his cells to stop duplicating, he would have. Joe then realized Adam had gone completely still as well. Well, shit, now Adam was awake and wondering how the hell to get out of this mess. Adam’s head moved upwards. Joe tried, he really did. Every bit of his brain was telling him not to lower his head, to check if Adam was watching him.

  Sleepy green eyes blinked and stared at him. Outside of Joe’s brain, he knew the world had continued to spin. People were getting up and going to work. Some were seeing if they could catch an early game. Some had even groaned and thanked the fuck they could roll back over. No one cared that Joe hadn’t. No one noticed that on its last rotation, the world had paused and dumped Joe off somewhere. The world, its people, and its continued spinning now had nothing whatsoever to do with Joe.

  There was only one part of Joe’s body currently interested in whatever was going on in here, and his brain had nothing to do with it. Actually, Joe qualified, gulping, that wasn’t strictly true. His second ex-wife always said he kept his brain in his pants.

  “Hi.”

  Joe heard the word but didn’t think he could get his throat to work well enough to actually form the sound of a reply. He settled on a half-smile. He cleared his throat. Noisily. “Err...I haven’t got a spare bed. Or a spare couch. Actually, no, I haven’t any couches.”

  Adam twinkled. Oh God. He screwed his eyes up, getting that funny light in them, and yes “twinkled” was a fair and accurate description. He also didn’t move.

  “I’m not complaining...Sir,” he said.

  It was that word again. The one word that would be Joe’s salvation and his downfall. So, Adam wanted to play, did he? Well—

  “Present yourself, sub.” Joe’s voice dropped at least two octaves as the rest of his body caught on. It was about time he got Adam out of his system once and for all.

  Adam’s eyes nearly lifted to his hairline, but in seconds he was on the floor, kneeling and, from the waist down…naked.

  Joe got up carefully and walked around the bed. “This is your one and only chance to say no. Just because we may scene here doesn’t mean we will at the club. I am not Callum, and you are not Lee. We are not in a relationship, and I am not looking for any type of long term sub.”

  Joe had been called a bastard many times on the job and often by his second ex-wife. However, as he saw the light leave Adam’s eyes it was the first time he had ever felt like one.

  This was clearly the answer though. This inexplicable attraction. This aberration. He would do this and get it out of his system once and for all. Joe stared at Adam. He hadn’t replied, and he kept his head lowered. “I need words...sub.” Shit. Joe had nearly called him boy. But he wasn’t his, and he would never be.

  Adam looked up. The depth of his gaze hit Joe in the gut. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—do this, and it was on the tip of his tongue to call a halt to the whole thing.

  “Yes, Sir. I agree. This time only.” Joe held his breath as Adam opened his mouth, the words banal and robotic. “No relationship. You are not my Master.” Adam looked back at the floor.

  Joe stood straighter. He’d seen Adam’s shoulders dip slightly as he repeated Joe’s terms.

  “Strip,” Joe commanded. Adam stood quickly and peeled off his t-shirt. It dropped to the floor. “Pick it up, fold it and put it on the chair.” Joe watched Adam oblige, but didn’t move. “Now, strip me.” Joe kept himself statue-still as Adam’s slim fingers brushed at his hips to remove his shorts. Joe carefully stepped out of them, and Adam placed them neatly with his shirt. He hovered then, eyes down in front of Joe.

  “Kneel.”

  Without a second’s pause, Adam dropped in front of Joe. Joe’s cock
was clearly interested in the proceedings, the way it jutted out. It was so close to Adam’s mouth he could feel the soft stir of Adam’s warm breath riding his skin.

  “You know what to do, sub.” Joe exhaled as Adam lifted his hand to grasp his cock. “Hands behind your back.” Joe nearly barked out the order. He was amazed not only that his vocal chords were functioning at all, but that he sounded so unaffected.

  Adam obediently caught one hand in the other behind his ass. Good boy was on the tip of Joe’s tongue, but then he remembered and caught himself.

  Joe did gasp then. His mouth opened on a silent O, and he closed his eyes as the most perfect—the most fucking perfect goddamn amazing—lips closed over his cock. He fisted his hands in alarm as the pure bliss nearly had him shooting in Adam’s mouth within seconds. He’d had head, never given it obviously, but this was nothing like he’d ever felt before. The pounding in Joe’s chest now matched the pounding in his groin. Joe could feel every drop of blood in his head drain south and center in the middle of his universe, which was at least two feet lower than it used to be. He clenched his jaw and hardened his abdomen. He couldn’t come too early, and there was no way he could tell Adam to stop. He tried to relax his hands and reached around the back of Adam’s head, desperate to anchor himself to something to stop his world from shattering.

  A desperate guttural groan bled from his lips. Adam pushed down and scraped back with his teeth. Joe’s legs barely held him up. He knew he was digging into Adam’s scalp with his fingers. Hot, tight, incredible wet suction pulled at his very soul.

  Adam made one small needy sound. A whine, a murmur, a small catalyst that resonated inside him. Joe blew his load. He had no warning, could give no warning. One second he was dying from pleasure, the next every cell in his body exploded with life.

  Adam drew back gently. Joe’s lungs were heaving, and he forced himself to open his eyes. Knew what he would see. Adam was panting softly, head lifted, eyes fixed on Joe, a stark question mirrored in them. The same one that Joe’s disbelieving brain was screaming at him. There was no way once would get this out of his system. He was in a shit load of trouble, and he was embarrassed at the slight tremor in the hand he held out to Adam, to get him off his knees.