After some persuasion, Brian Fasser did perhaps the only decent thing he could for his boyfriend and confessed. Not that he had a lot of choice in the matter. Once Cooper and Park knew where to look, the evidence fell into place to irrevocably prove Fasser had murdered his business partner and was planning to run with one hundred percent of the profit and leave the entire mess in Simpson’s lap. They didn’t grow enough apology flowers in the world to fix that. But at least he admitted Simpson had nothing to do with it. Donny was just a perfect patsy who loved Fasser and who Fasser didn’t love back.
Even when Cooper and Park had tied up the last details of the case and could finally drive out of Ann Arbor, Simpson had still been hanging around the station hoping to talk to Fasser, hoping something would change. Hoping the past itself would change.
People fell out of love in phases, even when it should be the most obvious one-and-done sort of deal. Even when you were betrayed and realized the person you thought you cared for had never really existed to begin with. Not really. One moment you could hate them so much it made you sick, and the next moment your brain could totally forget it was even angry and just plain miss the person you used to know. Or thought you knew, anyway.
Cooper was familiar with that well enough himself. Both with romantic relationships and platonic ones like Jef—
He shook his head, rejecting the painful thought. The point was, he’d been there. So when the bureau had wanted to book Simpson for assaulting an agent, Cooper managed to get the charges dropped, despite Park’s disapproving frown. He couldn’t help it. He felt bad for Simpson, he really did. He just hoped a relationship never made him look like that big a schnook. Again.
Cooper glanced automatically at his partner in the passenger seat. Park had been quiet during the drive out of Michigan. Well, even quieter than usual. Preoccupied. An indistinct tension had hovered between them ever since the flower shop, and it hadn’t been helped by the pair of BSI agents that arrived at the end of the day to oversee the transport of Fasser. Cooper didn’t recognize them, but that didn’t mean much. Now that every BSI agent was paired with a Trust agent, Cooper ran across more new faces every case and recognized the names of less than half. That didn’t mean they didn’t recognize him.
“Just couldn’t resist roughing him up, huh?” said the human BSI agent, Mackinnon, as his Trust—wolf—partner, Wylie, loaded Fasser into the back of their van to take to the closest BSI specialized holding facility. “Electrocuting his dick wasn’t enough—you had to cave his face in, too?”
Park moved forward, but Cooper shook his head tightly. “Don’t.” He hated Park feeling like he had to protect him. From his own colleagues, no less.
Besides, everything they said, he deserved.
The initiation of the new program pairing Trust and BSI agents was going well. Cases were being solved faster, relations with the wolf community were slowly, very slowly, getting better, and improved training was making sure the guilty went where they were supposed to and the innocent didn’t get swept up in the investigation. For the most part.
It certainly wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t the disorganized, problematic, unchecked system of a few months ago that had allowed corruption and a serial killer to pass within their ranks. Baby steps. And surprisingly, most of the newly paired agents were getting along.
Just not with Cooper.
Either they didn’t believe he hadn’t been involved with his ex-partner’s crimes or they thought he should be punished for not figuring it out sooner. Cooper didn’t blame them. He just wondered if Park felt the same way.
Cooper had pushed to leave Michigan as soon as they’d handed over Fasser, even though there was no way they’d get all the way back to DC tonight. They’d have to find another motel to stop halfway. But with Mackinnon’s words burning in his mind and Park’s loaded looks practically screaming unspoken questions and concern, he was just too antsy to hang around town. Now, however, trapped in a car and starting to feel the aches and pains of his tussle with Fasser, he wished he hadn’t.
He glanced at Park again, sitting up against the passenger-side door, cheek pressed to the window, one long leg pulled up on the seat. It looked uncomfortable as hell, but Park seemed not to care, lost in thought. His tongue played with the small scar that bisected his upper lip, and his eyes were dilated, whiskey-gold, nearly obliterating the white. They stood out in the dark, lighter than his hair and skin, especially when they caught the reflection of passing headlights and would flash that peculiar and inhuman, flat, greenish-white. Even like this, quiet and contemplative, he looked...wild. Dangerous.
A passing car blared its horn, and Cooper jerked his attention back to the road, swerving away from the lane he’d started to drift into.
“Shit.” He rubbed at his eyes quickly, his pulse racing for a different reason than it had been a second ago. “Sorry.” The word sounded weird between them. How long had they been sitting in silence?
“Are you tired?”
Cooper hesitated. “Yeah, a bit.” Better somehow for his pride to admit fatigue than that he had gotten distracted staring at Park.
“There’s a motel right off the next exit,” Park said, checking his phone. “I wouldn’t mind an early night.”
Cooper raised his eyebrows without looking away from the road. “Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson?”
Park laughed, a light, warm chuckle. “Would I do something like that?”
“I don’t know, would you?” He waited, then added, “Please?”
Cooper only caught the low growl because he was listening for it. It was one of his favorite noises recently and only slipped out when Park lost his careful control.
Unable to resist, Cooper reached for him and Park’s hand met his halfway, fingers nudging in between his, always so eager for physical touch. Cooper brought their clasped hands to his mouth, kissed Park’s knuckles, and heard him sigh happily. That sound was pretty far up on his list, too.
“Hey, who’s seducing who here?” Park said, voice a little rough.
“Right.” Cooper dropped Park’s hand, which fell into his lap, and gripped the wheel instead. “Do your worst.”
Park started to rub a slow circle into Cooper’s thigh.
“Okay, maybe not your worst. I’d rather not get pulled over, thanks.”
Park huffed and walked his fingers up Cooper’s arm teasingly instead. Cooper bit down on his lip when they passed over the spot where Simpson’s claws had dug in, but it was useless trying to hide anything from Park and his wolf hearing. This was the same man who had once come running across the apartment because he heard Cooper inhale sharply while checking the basketball scores and thought something was seriously wrong.
Park’s hand froze and pulled away. “You were hurt.” Not a question. An accusation for lying earlier.
“It’s nothing. Probably happened before.”
“When?” Park said bitingly. “The cat showing her affection again?”
Park and Boogie had a curiously antagonistic relationship. Curious not because Boogie was usually such a paragon of hospitality, but because Boogie liked Park while Park went out of his way to avoid Boogie and referred to her only as “the cat.”
Cooper sighed. “Okay, so Simpson may have...scratched me a bit. But it didn’t even bleed. You know that’s true or you would have noticed it before now.” He tapped his nose.
Park didn’t like that. “Take this next exit,” he said without any of the flirtation of a moment ago.
They drove in silence for a while, occasionally broken by Park giving directions. Cooper tried to keep his eyes on the road, but the long, flat, straight terrain made it too easy to look around. They were somewhere in Ohio now, and the night sky was so large he imagined he could see the curve of the atmosphere, resting above them like a contact lens. He thought about saying so, but Park had closed his eyes and seemed...off. Lost in thought again and beyond Cooper’s reach.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you upset I got Simpson off?”
“Whoa,” Park said evenly. “What exactly went down in that flower shop?”
Cooper smiled and a flush of relief soothed him. If Park was joking, they’d be okay, surely.
“I’m not upset,” Park added eventually. “Anyway, it was your call.”
“Damn right it was. Besides, isn’t the guy going to suffer enough? That’s got to be the worst breakup ever.”
“As long as you didn’t feel like you had to drop the charges,” Park said, and Cooper stiffened, hands tightening on the wheel. It wasn’t often either of them referenced the animosity Cooper got from the rest of the bureau, and he wasn’t sure he liked hearing it now, even indirectly.
He skirted around the question. “You’re the one always telling me prison is for rehabilitation, not punishment, and the only thing Simpson needs to rehabilitate is his broken heart. And his taste in men. I mean, I’ve had some pretty bad judgment in people before, clearly, but goddamn if it isn’t obvious from the outside.”
Park hummed, possibly an agreement. “‘It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us,’” he said, like he was quoting something.
“That’s some pretty dismal pillow embroidery.”
“Maclean’s words, not mine.” Cooper felt the weight of Park’s gaze on him, and after a moment he continued the quote, “‘But we can still love them—we can love completely without complete understanding.’”
Cooper’s heart beat faster. Park was probably just referencing what a sap Simpson was, but still, he tucked the words away to take out and search for hidden meanings later when he could wonder if Park had meant it for him and get furious at himself for wanting it to be. In the meantime, he laughed it off.
“Sure we can. But that doesn’t mean we should.”
Park huffed, sounding amused, but didn’t comment.
“Do you ever miss teaching?” Cooper asked after a few moments of silence.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Park look at him quickly, a rare, genuinely surprised expression on his face. They almost never discussed their personal lives, a habit they’d fallen into after Florence, when every question about each other’s past seemed to tread too closely to some lie or misunderstanding from their less than ideal first case.
“What makes you ask that?”
“I don’t know, it was just something I was wondering before in the flower shop—”
“Oh, good. Glad to hear your head was firmly in the game.”
“—and the way you talk about books and shit sometimes. It sounds like you miss it.”
“This job has its perks,” Park said vaguely. It was his usual deflection when anything about his life before the Trust came up. Cooper expected it but couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed.
Up ahead, a bunch of cars were parked in the field running along the side of the road, and beyond them some bright, freestanding lights wiped out the stars. Cooper thought of the last stadium lights he had seen: Park naked in a cage, his face twisted with betrayal. Cooper knowing it was his fault...
How could he dare think Park owed him information about his personal life when he was responsible for that? How could he dare think Park was quoting love poems at him? He was lucky to get whatever Park chose to give him.
Park nodded at the lights in the field. “With aliens in town, I like our chances of getting a room.”
“I want to believe,” Cooper said.
The man at the front desk of the motel was short, slight, and a well-crafted sort of pretty. Subtle jewelry in his ears; glowing, poreless bronze skin; brows a tad too perfect to be natural; and a bright smile that got a lot brighter as he took in Park. “Good evening, gentlemen. Can I help you?”
“Do you have any available rooms for tonight?”
“Absolutely. Will that be one room or...?” The man glanced over Cooper with mild curiosity.
“Two,” Park said. Of course it had to be two. The bureau was paying and couldn’t know they shared a room, but the satisfied smile on the man’s face still grated Cooper’s nerves.
“Just the one night, you said? Too bad. Not nearly enough time...to see the sights.” The man fiddled around on the computer, filling out their payment information with slow, deliberate, one-fingered pecks. “In town on business?”
“No,” Cooper said shortly.
Park added in a nicer tone, “On our way back from business.”
“So it’s time for pleasure.” The man winked and his fingers lingered while handing Park back his card. Park smiled. Cooper rolled his eyes. “Maybe you have time to take in a couple local legends after all. My name is Javier.”
Local legend number one, no doubt, Cooper thought watching the way his fingers slid over Park’s palm as he finally let go of the card.
“What would you recommend, Javier?” Park asked, either clueless to the blatant flirtation or deliberately leading him on.
“Depends on what you’re in the mood for. Food? Drinks? Fun?”
Park looked at Cooper questioningly. They’d eaten on the road, but Park was pretty constantly hungry. Something to do with the metabolic needs of his daily shift to wolf form. Too bad Javier’s ass wasn’t high in calories, because it was one hundred percent on the menu.
Cooper concentrated on relaxing his jaw. “I’m not hungry,” he said, trying his best not to sound like a petulant child. Park frowned and seemed like he was going to argue, and Cooper’s stomach clenched.
Unfortunately, since they’d been partnered full-time he’d been forced to explain his eating needs to Park. Ever since being attacked by a werewolf over a year ago and having thirty percent of his small intestine removed, Cooper had needed to adjust his eating habits to smaller, more frequent meals to reduce the strain on his guts. He’d tried to hide it from Park for as long as possible, not needing more reasons for Park to think he was weak. For a time, Cooper even tried to ignore his diet and eat what Park was eating when he ate it—hard for even an average human person—and had paid some disastrously rough consequences. But they spent a lot of time together, and after a short couple weeks of working and sleeping together most days, Park had awkwardly brought the subject up himself and Cooper was forced to explain.
He regretted it every day.
Ever since then Park had been hyper-vigilant that Cooper was getting enough nutrition. He often cooked him little omelets in the morning before Cooper woke, had started researching supplements and vitamins he thought Cooper should take, and packed snacks for him on cases as if he was a child.
Park opened his mouth now, almost certainly to insist Cooper get some protein before bed. If he brought up his health issues and babied him in front of perfect-brows Javier, Cooper was going to flip a shit. “Shouldn’t you—”
He quickly cut Park off. “So what else is there to do?”
Javier didn’t even look at him. “Well, if you came in off the highway, you may have noticed our very own famous haunted corn maze.”
Park said, “We did see some lights.”
“After dark it’s for adults only. Best thrills in the county.”
Cooper imagined wandering around a corn maze in the pitch black and decided he’d honestly prefer an alien abduction.
“And there’s the haunted hayride if you think you’re brave enough for some spooky stories. Ooooo.” Javier made a sound that might have been a ghost noise but sounded a bit too X-rated for your run-of-the-mill Casper.
It made Park smile, though. “Isn’t it a little early for that stuff?” he asked.
“It’s never too early for a good monster story to get the heart racing.” Javier winked. He seemed to linger just a bit on the word monster. And was it Cooper’s imagination, or did his eyes flicker, just a little? “Don’t you agree, sir?”
Cooper grabbed his room’s key card off the desk and backed away. He felt flushed, his skin too tight, and the scratches on his shoulders were starting to throb. “I’m exhausted. I’m gonna head up. See you tomorrow.”
Park looked startled by his sudden departure, but Javier cheerfully waved goodbye and Cooper left—no, retreated. If he were a wolf, his tail would be glued between his legs. But he was just a man. And a pretty pathetic one these days, at that.
Safely in his room, Cooper tossed his bag in the corner, locked his weapons in the safe, and sat on the bed in his clothes. He checked his messages. His boss, Special Agent in Charge Santiago, had called to express her approval of the quick and efficient wrap-up to the case. Perhaps she hadn’t heard the full story of the flower shop incident. Ava, his young neighbor and cat sitter extraordinaire, had texted three pictures of Boogie looking various shades of smug. She had apparently presented Ava with a large live cricket that morning. There were pictures of that as well. He wondered if she and Boogie both had considered that a job well done and just let the critter hop back into the crevices of his apartment. He grimaced.
The sounds of footsteps and laughter drifted down the hall—Javier guiding Park to the room next door to Cooper’s, just in case he got lost in the labyrinth of the two-story motel. Cooper waited, barely breathing, until he heard the sound of Park entering his room and Javier’s footsteps leaving, back down the hall, alone. He sighed, at the same time relieved and frustrated with himself for being so.
Cooper briefly imagined going by Park’s room and suggesting they go out and make time for some pleasure. They weren’t in any real rush to get back to DC, after all. Now that this case was closed, they each had a couple days off. Days Cooper had been planning to use to, well, talk. With Park. About them. And what that meant, exactly. Or something.
Suddenly the thought of a night wandering around lost in a corn maze didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.
Feeling twitchy and not at all tired anymore, he got up and rummaged through his overnight bag for the little tube of Neosporin he kept with him at all times. It was tucked into a subtle inside pocket along with condoms and lube, which he had also started carrying with him. Not that he and Park should be fucking on cases. But if one year as a Boy Scout had taught him anything...it wasn’t explicitly to carry condoms with you at all times—if it had, maybe he wouldn’t have dropped out—but he did like to be prepared. Besides, the case was over and he didn’t need two days to talk. In theory, anyway.
He and Park had been sleeping together for almost four months now, and Cooper still hadn’t found a way to clarify what was going on. Were they dating? Fuck buddies? Clumsily falling onto each other’s dicks with regularity? They didn’t go on dates. They worked together. They hung around Cooper’s apartment watching movies and discussing books. They had sex. They didn’t talk about it.
Any sweet nothings exchanged happened in the dark while covered in sweat and other fluids, and were thus void. Most of the time Cooper fully expected Park would just stop showing up at his apartment one day and that would be that. They still wouldn’t talk about it and they’d keep working together, without the sex, until Cooper imploded like a collapsing black hole of emotional repression.
In the hall he heard a knock, and for one embarrassingly giddy moment he thought it was Park, using some ESP shit to eavesdrop on Cooper’s neuroses and here to tell him he did care and he would never stop showing up.
Cooper kicked himself. Have some shame, Dayton.
But then he heard the door to the room next to him open and recognized the flirty receptionist’s voice, back again. Cooper hurried to his door and peered out the peephole but couldn’t see anything at that angle. Feeling absurdly childish, he strained his ears to hear, but Javier’s voice had dropped to a murmur.
Cooper imagined what he’d do if he didn’t hear the footsteps leaving alone this time. If instead he heard two voices move into the other room. He wished he weren’t too chickenshit to walk out into the hall and stake his claim on Park right then and there.
Of course he wouldn’t. He couldn’t risk word getting back to the bureau. They’d separate them as partners at a minimum, and despite what SAC Santiago had assured him, he still felt his position with the BSI was tentative at best.
That’s what Cooper told himself. But that wasn’t the real reason. Even if he was a wolf, the chances of this Javier guy somehow finding out they were BSI agents and reporting an inappropriate relationship to DC were nonexistent. It was the relationship part that kept Cooper frozen in place, listening at peepholes. He just didn’t have the right to stake claims on anyone.
In the hall, the voices ceased and Park’s door closed softly. Cooper tensed. Held his breath. Listened. But the TV in the room on the other side suddenly switched on, and he couldn’t hear voices coming from Park’s. Or footsteps leaving.
Cooper forced himself back to his bag and pulled off his T-shirt to get a look at the scratches. They couldn’t even really be called that. More like four angry pinpricks that faded in comparison to the bruises around them. Still, they stung like hell as he rubbed Neosporin in. Everything was hurting more than before for some reason.
He put his T-shirt back on, and then, after a moment’s consideration, his jacket, too. If caught, he could pretend to be looking for the vending machines. Park would even approve of that, as long as it was trail mix.
Cooper checked that the coast was clear and then stepped into the hall. Not breathing and stepping as softly as possible, he crept the few short feet to Park’s door and listened for voices. He swore to god, if he heard Javier making any ghost sounds, he would—
Park’s muted laughter hummed through the wall. Cooper pounded on the door before he could get a rational thought in. Three official knocks. And then another three. And another.
Across the hall, a woman in pajamas opened her door a crack, keeping the chain on, and peered out. “What the hell—”
Cooper flipped her his badge. “BSI. Back in your room, ma’am.” She slammed her door shut quickly.
He was about to knock again when Park’s door opened. He had changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt and was smiling. He looked warm and relaxed in every line of his body except for his bare feet. Those were tensed and he rocked slightly but continuously on the front pads, but that was typical. A quirk Cooper had noticed not long after Park had started spending most nights at Cooper’s apartment. Cooper would always wake after Park did and find him rocking gently on his toes by the stove, cooking them breakfast. The familiar sight released something tight and snarled in Cooper’s throat, and he sighed.
The reprieve was short-lived when Park raised his eyebrow in surprise and said, “Oh, it’s you.”
“Expecting someone else?” Cooper snapped, and shoved past him into the room. He glanced around the empty space and frowned at the television where Grace Kelly was gesturing excitedly from a murderer’s apartment while Jimmy Stewart flipped out in his wheelchair across the way. He punched the off button aggressively.
“Hey. Didn’t you say I should watch that?” Park asked. He’d closed the door and was leaning against the little desk pushed against the wall. His hands held the edge and his large shoulders turned in on themselves, making him look smaller than he was, purposefully unguarded and non-threatening.
Cooper recognized this stance, too. He’d watched Park slip into it often enough while interviewing suspects and witnesses: humans who got edgy, their reptilian brains picking up on some predatory aura Park gave off, or other wolves who recognized him as a threat, no subconscious necessary. Park would pull in on himself like he could trick them into calming down. The weird thing was, it usually worked. And now he was using it on Cooper, looking touchable and comfortable and sweet.
Cooper fought it, unwilling to let go of his anger yet and admit he’d stormed in here for no reason. He grumbled, “Yeah, well. Who starts a movie right in the middle?” It was a playful argument they had often, lounging around Cooper’s apartment. How could so much about Park feel so familiar while Cooper still knew so little about him?
Park tilted his head. “Is that why you were yelling at the neighbors and trying to break down my door? To critique my viewing experience?” He shook his head, mock impressed. “Ebert’s got nothing on you.”
Cooper scowled but drifted toward him anyway like he was being pulled, and Park shuffled his legs apart slightly until he matched Cooper’s height. Cooper ran a hand over Park’s chest, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles, and didn’t look him in the eye.
“No.” Cooper cleared his throat. “I thought I heard a knock earlier.”
“Hmm,” Park said, arching into the touch slightly, without moving his hands. He always seemed slightly warmer than most people. Whether that was a wolf thing or a Park thing, Cooper wasn’t sure. He’d never asked in case the answer was neither and Cooper’s own body just flushed every time they touched.
After a moment, when it became clear Park wasn’t going to continue, Cooper pressed. “Was that the ever-helpful Javier?” He worked hard to keep the question banally curious, but when he glanced up, Park’s lips were twitching with repressed amusement. “What did he want?”
“To be helpful. More or less.” Park shrugged, but one of his hands drifted forward to ghost down Cooper’s spine. Reassuring, comforting.
“Help you take a roll in his hayride,” Cooper bit out, but even as he did, his hands gentled and dipped lower, playing with the elastic of Park’s sweatpants. He could feel the stir of interest brush teasingly at his wrists. “What did you tell him?”
“The truth.”
Cooper hoped Park couldn’t feel his hands tremble. “Which is?”
“I told him I already had urgent plans.”
“Oh, do you?” Cooper stiffened and pulled away slightly, only to be trapped by Park’s hand at his back.
Park skated his nose along Cooper’s jawline, into his hair, inhaling deeply and then back down to nuzzle the sensitive spot behind his ear. “Mmmhmm. I had the middle of a movie to catch.”
Cooper snorted. “Then I can’t say I’m sorry for interrupting.” He dragged the tips of his fingers down the front of Park’s sweats, tracing the outline of his hardening dick.
Park fidgeted, chasing Cooper’s fingers, but his face remained unchanged, calm and mildly amused. “Oh, that’s okay. If I’m really, really lucky I’ll make it just in time for the end.”
“The hell you will.” Cooper growled, shoved Park back, and dropped to his knees. He pushed his face against Park’s groin, breathing in the familiar musk of his arousal, and mouthed along his dick through the fabric.
Park huffed and ran his hand gently through Cooper’s hair, just long enough to get a good grip in. He’d need to get it cut soon. Certainly before he saw his dad. Not that he had any plans to see his father soon. But the recently retired Sheriff Dayton had been phoning about three times a day for the last week, and Cooper couldn’t dodge his calls forever. That kind of persistence usually meant he was going to successfully guilt Cooper into a visit.
“Hey.” Park pulled his hips away. “Where did you go?”
“I’m right here. Who else’s mouth did you think was on your dick?”
“Jealous, Agent Dayton?”
Cooper looked away from Park’s too-knowing gaze and pushed his face into the crease of his groin and thigh. “Why would I be?”
Park couldn’t pull back again with the desk pressing into his ass, so he gently pushed Cooper’s face away, thumb on his chin.
Cooper sighed pointedly. He could usually count on sex with Park as the one thing that reliably turned his mind off. If he was busy fucking he couldn’t be expected to do anything else, like fix things or talk. But lately even these precious, simple moments were being interrupted by his mind pinballing around all the things he tried to avoid. And Park wasn’t helping.
“I don’t know,” Park said delicately, like he was picking his words carefully, keeping his tone intentionally light. “Shall we examine the clues? You ran off in the lobby when Javier started flirting with me. You were skulking in the hallway.” Cooper started to protest but Park cut him off, saying, “I could hear you. And then you kicked in my door ’cause you thought you heard a knock.”
Cooper made a face at him, embarrassed and annoyed. Time to get Park back on track and off focusing on him. He dipped his head so that Park’s thumb slid across his mouth. He licked the pad and murmured, “You want to solve a mystery now, Scooby-Doo? Really?” He bit the thumb gently, enjoying the sound of Park’s breath hitching.
“I just don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about something...”
This was the opening Cooper should have been looking for. But if it didn’t go well...and if he didn’t get the answer he wanted...and if...and if...
Avoid, avoid, avoid, his heart beat. He felt another wave of longing for the peace of single-minded, no-expectations sex.
“Mmmhmm. Okay.” Cooper slipped his lips around Park’s thumb and sucked, looking up at Park in what he hoped was an alluring way, though an ex had once told him the wide-eyed thing just made him look like a terrified squirrel getting some bad news. Definitely not the image he was going for when trying to get his face fucked.
He worked his tongue around Park’s thumb and tried to inject some sultry knowingness into his eyes.
Unbelievably, Park was still talking, though admittedly his voice was a bit ragged. “...I mean, if there’s anything you want to say about something...”
Cooper released Park’s thumb with a pop. “Christ, you don’t quit. Like a dog with a bone.”
“Wolf with a bone,” Park corrected, patting his own dick in his pants. “I just don’t want you to think—”
“Yes, I agree!” Cooper interrupted. “I don’t want me to think either.” He softened his tone and slid his hands slowly up Park’s thighs. “The only mystery I want to work on right now is the mystery of Agent Park, in the motel room”—he pulled Park’s sweatpants down, freeing his dick to bob in interest—“with the candlestick.”
Park laughed. “God, you’re a dork—”
He choked off when Cooper guided Park’s dick to his lips and whimpered at the familiar taste. He kissed and licked the head before working about half of Park’s length into his mouth, the other half covered by his fist. His left hand reached around to brush the bottom of Park’s ass teasingly.
“Good, that’s good,” Park said, and ran his hand gently through Cooper’s hair. Cooper didn’t want to go down that mental road again. Instead he concentrated on the quivering muscles of Park’s thighs as he resisted thrusting, the weight of Park on his tongue, filling his mouth, the heat, and pulse of his taint beneath his fingers.
Cooper looked up at Park. His eyes were closed and his head was to the side in an almost quizzical tilt. What was he thinking about? Who was he thinking about?
Cooper felt a spike of possessiveness and annoyance. He pulled his mouth off slowly and tapped the back of Park’s balls until his eyes opened and he looked down at Cooper.
“Watch me,” Cooper demanded. He rubbed the head over his lips and then tapped it against his tongue. Park growled so low in his throat, Cooper swore he could feel it in his bones. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Not in fear. Not exactly, anyway. Not in a way he could ever explain without Park getting that puckered, worried look. But there was vulnerability there. And that frightened Cooper still.
He licked a long stripe up the underside of Park’s shaft. “Mine,” he whispered.
He felt Park’s whole body twitch, and looked up to catch a strange expression flicker across his face. His eyes were unnaturally dilated and gleaming. Well, natural for him. But Cooper had an even harder time reading him than usual when he was like this.
“Yours,” Park said, voice gruff, restrained.
Cooper groaned and worked Park’s cock into his throat as far as he could this time. Park’s fingers traced the corners of Cooper’s lips where they stretched around his dick.
“So pretty,” he murmured. He nudged Cooper’s crotch with his bare foot, and Cooper almost choked. “Take it out. You want me to watch you, then show me how much you like this.”
Cooper hurriedly ripped off his jacket and shirt, undid his jeans, and shuffled them and his underwear down his thighs while Park watched. He groaned again with the wave of relief when he took himself in hand and stroked.
Park guided his dick back into Cooper’s mouth and began to thrust shallowly. Cooper’s other hand grabbed Park’s meaty ass, squeezed, and tugged. His fingers slipped into the crack, searching until he found Park’s hole and pressed against the flinching muscle.
Park snarled, “Yes,” and Cooper bobbed his head further, encouraging Park to go deeper, to take over and drive the obsessive thoughts away.
Park took a gentle but unrelenting grasp of the back of Cooper’s head, stilling his movement, and began to fuck his face in earnest. Park knew by now exactly how much Cooper could take, not all but enough, and controlled the depth with a level of precision and care that made Cooper moan, the sound wet, muffled, obscene.
He was pulling desperately at his own dick now, matching Park’s pace.
“Fuck, Cooper, I—” Park’s broken voice was all the warning Cooper got before his mouth flooded with Park’s orgasm, fingers tightening in his hair. He greedily tried to swallow as much as possible, but some still dribbled out the corners, down his chin. He licked up what had spilled down Park’s cock.
When he was done, Cooper looked up to find Park watching him, eyelids so low they might have been closed except for the gold glimmer beneath dark lashes. His face was unmoving and unnerving.
“Oliver?” Cooper questioned, voice all spit and grit, his throat wrecked.
Park shook his head like he was waking up from a trance. He slid to his knees in front of Cooper, hand still gripping his hair. He pulled Cooper’s head back gently, angling his face up, and examined it.
“Messy,” Park said, and Cooper whimpered.
Park wiped his fingers across Cooper’s lips and chin, collecting the trails of come and spit there, and brought them down to Cooper’s leaking dick, knocking Cooper’s own hand away and taking hold firmly. He lowered his mouth down to the long line of Cooper’s exposed throat and grazed his teeth across the tendon.
“My mess,” Park said into his skin. So softly Cooper wasn’t sure he heard it.
One, two, three hard strokes, and Cooper’s orgasm ripped through him almost violently, shouting and thrusting through Park’s slick fingers. Park’s hand released his hair and slid down to support the small of his back, holding their bodies firmly together. Cooper’s head flopped forward onto Park’s warm shoulder. His gasps slowed to fast breathing, which eventually relaxed into deep, shaky inhales where he could smell the heady mix of Park’s skin, sweaty T-shirt, and sex.
He became aware of Park’s hand stroking up and down his back, from the top of his neck to the bottom curve of his ass. Gentle, soothing, protective.
Cooper pulled away, avoiding Park’s eyes. “I should, uh, take a shower.”
He slipped out of Park’s hold and pulled his pants back up with a disgusted wince, then got up and hurried into the bathroom, closing the door. He hesitated over the lock. He wanted desperately to be alone, but locking it seemed like a slap in the face if Park heard it and wasn’t even intending to follow. And of course he would hear it.
Cooper left it untouched and hurried out of his clothes and into the shower, turning the temperature up to blistering heat. Hotel water always got so much hotter than his own apartment’s, but he didn’t feel as appreciative as usual.
He felt raw. A stripped wire, exposed, delicate and flinching. It wasn’t...bad. But it triggered his need for space. As if one touch or one word would zap them both.
Or worse, he’d cave and say something stupid.
People got a free pass for the shit they say during sex. That was just common courtesy. But directly afterwards was the most dangerous time for Cooper, and before he admitted anything, he had to be sure he wasn’t alone.
He aggressively scrubbed hotel shampoo through his hair and then down his body. Desert Rose. It smelled like every other generic soap out there. How many hotels had he and Park shared together in the last four months? There’d been a lot. A lot of solved cases, done by the book, including today, though perhaps it wasn’t as clean a finish as Cooper would have liked. Whatever his colleagues said, they were good partners. In the field, and in bed.
Frankly, Cooper had been in committed, monogamous relationships with a lot less chemistry, so why was it so hard to say he wanted something like that for them? They had fun together. Wanting to continue that fun under a different name—or any name, really—shouldn’t be such a big deal.
It’s not like he was saying he was in love or anything. He didn’t love Park. He’d only met the guy a few months ago and knew almost nothing about him. That would be totally crazy. They got along well and he wanted to find out if Park planned on them continuing to get along well for the foreseeable future, or if he was interested in getting along well with anyone else. Because if not, Cooper wanted to know now before he started to really feel for the guy. And that was it. Right?
Cooper finished and dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist. He was grateful Park had left him alone and given him space to recover himself. He always did without complaint, even though he knew Park liked to be physically affectionate post-sex. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it? If Park just wanted a fuck buddy, there were lower maintenance options all over the place. In fact, one was just a shout away, wandering the halls and “ooo-ing” like the Ghost of Christmas Ass. Cooper bet perfect-brows Javier wouldn’t run out on a cuddle.
He grimaced and went back into the bedroom. Park was sitting on the bed, Cooper’s jacket in his lap. He was playing with the holes where Fasser’s claws had ripped through the material, beneath the arm, but he wasn’t looking at it, just staring thoughtfully toward the huge window. The tip of his tongue traced the scar on his upper lip.
Cooper sat beside Park on the bed and touched his shoulder lightly. Just say it, Dayton. What’s the worst that could happen?
“Par—Oliver, I actually do want to talk to you. About before...” He took a deep breath.
“You told me you wouldn’t go in alone,” Park said.
Cooper swallowed his words, completely thrown off balance. He hurriedly tried to recalibrate. “That’s not what I—we already talked about this,” he said slowly, frustrated that Park, usually so in tune with his needs, had chosen this moment to misunderstand him. A small, frightened part of him wondered if it was intentional. Wondered if he was being cut off before he began to mercifully save them both the humiliation of unrequited...interest. “I told you I saw Simpson closing suspiciously early. I went in to stall.”
“You knew I was on my way with the search warrant. You should have waited for me. Like we said.”
“Like you said.”
Park looked at him at last, brow furrowed. “I didn’t realize you had a problem with my authority.”
Cooper sputtered. “Your authority?”
“I didn’t mean—” Park’s face was regretful, but it was too late.
“Is that who you are? My boss? My alpha?” That was a low blow.
He flinched like Cooper knew he would. Park avoided all language that could be considered animalistic. His ex-pack was his “family who he had grown apart from.” His daily need to shift was “getting a run in.” And the “A-word” was just a big fat no-fly zone. And not because it wasn’t applicable.
Cooper wasn’t an idiot. Most of the time. He had seen the way other Trust members treated Park. Wary respect. Some with deference. Others avoidance. Park and Agent Chan in particular went out of their way to not cross paths.
“I like her a lot,” Park had explained when Cooper commented on it, wondering if there was bad blood there. “I respect her. We just have a couple of big personalities and that doesn’t always...mesh.”
Cooper’s eyebrows had shot off his face. Amy Chan was the most stone-faced, humorless, and quiet person Cooper had ever met. She was also the best interrogator they had. Sometimes all she had to do was walk into the room and the suspect would start confessing. Must be that big personality.
She’d always been polite, if a bit standoffish, with Cooper, though. All the Trust people were. Despite having more reason to hate him, the wolf agents never once gave Cooper shit the way his own fellow human BSI agents did. Cooper had asked Park about it once, half-joking, relaxed, fucked-out and naked in bed around the second week of them being partners. “Is that because of you? Have you stuck some kind of ‘No Trespassing, Property of’ sign on my back?”
Cooper never forgot the look of horror on Park’s face. “I have not once thought of you like that,” he finally said brusquely, rolling away from Cooper and avoiding his eyes.
Cooper felt like Park had sucker-punched him. “Right. Of course. I was just joking.” And he sort of had been.
About the sign.
But that look of revulsion, quickly masked, was as clear a rejection as Cooper needed.
That isn’t what this is. Don’t get attached.
Cooper had never tried to reference or clarify their sexual relationship again.
Until now.
He hadn’t even gotten close to the topic and Park had that familiar look of horror on again. Because of the “A-word”? Or because Cooper had dared hint that there was something else between them besides work and sex?
Cooper pushed the panic back and tried to rewind, laugh it off. “So if you’re my alpha does that mean I’m in your pack now? What are the health benefits like? Paid vacation?”
“No! Of course not. You know we’re not...like that,” Park said, and this time he didn’t go with the joke.
Because he doesn’t want you to embarrass yourself hoping for more.
“No, of course not.” The bitterness in Cooper’s voice clunked out and fell flat between them like a bat making contact with the ball all wrong. Ugly, weak, and dead on impact.
Park must have heard it, too, of course he did, because when he spoke again his voice was gentle and unsure. “You’re my partner, Cooper. I don’t—I respect you...as my partner. I don’t think of you like a—in that way. Our...” Park paused and then gestured between them. “This other stuff doesn’t change that.”
The hurt, confusion, and disappointment all clamored to the surface, wanting to be the first out of Cooper’s mouth. He pushed everything aside to deal with later, in private, and latched on to the anger. He always did.
“Okay, partner. Then how about respecting my decision to pursue the suspect as I saw fit?”
“I—”
“Because you know I’ve been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you have.” He could see Park’s frustration growing. His corneas were expanding slightly, the carefully contained animal within waking up at the blatant disrespect.
Good.
Get angry, Cooper thought. He wanted Park as furious as he was. He was so sick of always being the one to lose control. Of being the one left trembling and unraveled at Park’s feet. The one who had to run and hide his emotions behind closed doors because god fucking forbid he share himself with someone who wasn’t willing to share back. Who even now was trying to retreat behind the same blankly professional mask he gave everyone else.
“I know you’re a good agent. I didn’t say you weren’t. But sometimes—” Park shook his head.
“This has really not been your night for finishing a sentence. Sometimes what?”
Park’s eyes flashed, and if possible his face got stonier.
“I, the senior agent, made a call, and you know what? It got us Fasser.”
“It got us this,” Park countered, holding up the torn jacket.
“What, a ripped jacket? I was planning on getting that let out in the shoulders anyway.” Cooper shrugged as blasély as he could. “Saves me a trip to the tailor.”
“Don’t joke about that.” Park threw the jacket across the room.
Cooper’s heart raced. Fuck hayrides, the thrill of a good argument was burning through his veins. Vaguely he knew he should stop, turn back before he broke something irreparable. But the moment he stopped feeling angry, the hurt would set in.
“What’s this about really? Is it what happened before? With...” He could hardly say the name. “With Je-Jefferson? You really don’t trust me on my own with a suspect? Just like the rest of them.”
“Of course I do,” Park said, sounding exasperated. “That’s not it at all. If I don’t trust you with anyone, it’s yourself.”
Cooper stopped short. “Okay, you’re going to have to explain that to me.”
Park eyed the scratches on Cooper’s shoulder and then glanced down, lingering on the four thick scars across Cooper’s belly peeking out of the towel around his waist, still prominent well over a year later.
“Sometimes I worry you aren’t being careful. Like you need to prove something or”—Park gently took Cooper’s hand and squeezed—“like you don’t care what could happen.”
Cooper blinked, shocked enough that his anger disappeared for the moment, like a cloud passing across the sun. “You think I’m, what, trying to get myself killed?”
“No. I did not say that,” Park said firmly.
“But you think I take unnecessary risks. You don’t think I handle myself properly in the field.” Cooper hesitated, but this time Park didn’t argue. “That doesn’t sound like you respect me as an agent.”
Park shook his head and stroked Cooper’s hand with his thumb. “No, I do. I just want to protect you.”
Cooper laughed quietly, frustrated that Park was toying with the line that he himself had drawn not five minutes ago. “But that’s not how this works. We’re partners, remember? Just partners. I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need you to worry about me and feed me. I am a grown-ass man. I don’t need you.”
Cooper’s breath caught as the last words slipped out. But it was too late. Park’s face had gone carefully blank. He let go of Cooper’s hand.
“Park, that’s not what I—”
“No, I understand. And look, you’re right. Of course.” Park looked away. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t respect or trust your abilities. That was never my intention.”
“Oliver—”
“Cooper, please. I’m tired.” Park hesitated, and Cooper couldn’t breathe waiting for the rest of that sentence. Tired of having this conversation? Tired of taking this shit? Tired of you? “I just want to sleep.”
Ah. That kind of tired. Either that or he’d changed his mind. Because, some people actually, you know, think before speaking so as not to hurt others. Park pulled off his clothes quickly, tossing them across the room with uncharacteristic messiness.
“Can I...” Cooper didn’t even want to ask because he didn’t want to be denied. He cleared his throat. “Can I stay?”
“Of course,” Park said. Soothing words, but the tone was flat and he didn’t quite look at Cooper as he said it, busying himself with getting under the covers.
Cooper settled in beside him, not touching, and turned off the lights.
The sudden darkness counterintuitively made the room feel less intimate than before. Lights and shadows from the road invaded the space and danced across the ceiling. The occasional voices of people in other rooms drifted in through the walls. Cooper felt exposed and alone. He wanted to reach for Park, to reassure himself of that connection, that he was still...there. But the potential pain from Park pulling away from the touch or, god, outright rejecting it, far outweighed the slightly sickening feeling of being shut out from him.
Cooper put his hand tentatively in the space between them in bed and watched his own fingers play with the sheet for a while. Then he studied Park’s profile from under his lashes. His mouth looked soft and relaxed, and Cooper longed to brush his fingers over it. Park’s eyes were still open but unfocused, awake but not really here. Obviously lost in thoughts that Cooper could only guess at but did not seem particularly pleasant.
The fear of what those thoughts could be pulled Cooper’s hand back from the middle ground and rolled him over so his back was to Park. He curled up slightly and didn’t dare move again until morning.