[4: PRAYING FOR THE RAIN]

SEONG-JAE  WATCHED MALCOLM SLEEP—THE old wolf at rest, quiescent and calm and so perfectly relaxed—only as long as it took to set an alarm on his phone before he was dozing off himself, giving in to exhaustion and falling away, propped against the headboard with Malcolm tucked against his lap.

But it seemed like no time at all before the soft chime was going off, dragging him from a sleep he did not want to let go of when he was tired down to his bones. He must have shifted in his sleep, when he was sprawled out on his side now…and as he opened one eye to fumble out and find his phone, he was greeted by a pair of warm, sleepy slate blue eyes pressed almost nose to nose with him, watching him intently and making his heart flip, wakefulness striking him like a blow as he realized he was in Malcolm’s bed, tangled up with him, and they were…they were…

Them.

That was as simple as it could get.

“Hi,” Malcolm said softly.

Seong-Jae found his phone in the tangle of the sheets, fumbling sightlessly, and pressed to silence it. “Hi.”

A slow smile spread over Malcolm’s lips. “This is a nice thing to wake up to.”

“I cannot say I particularly mind it, either.”

Malcolm chuckled, voice sleep-husky and heavy. “You can’t just say you like it?”

“That would be feeding your ego.” Seong-Jae leaned in to capture Malcolm’s mouth for a lazy, idle kiss, then murmured, “…but I like it.”

Almost too much.

“You are so stubborn.”

“I will not lie and pretend I am not.” Seong-Jae shifted to pillow his head on his arm, watching Malcolm across the small space between them. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah. I might be willing to admit I needed sleep.”

“Might?” Seong-Jae arched a brow. “I was half a second away from threatening you into it.”

“Your version of threats usually involves kissing me. I’m not complaining.”

“Please remember that I have also threatened you with castration.”

“You don’t mean that.” Slate blue eyes softened. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“I slept enough.”

“I don’t mean sleep.” Malcolm shifted to sit up, propping himself against the headboard, then tugged at the back of Seong-Jae’s shirt. “You’ve seemed a bit off since we started picking apart the specifics of this case.”

“I…mnngh.” Grumbling, Seong-Jae let himself be drawn up to curl in the crook of Malcolm’s arm, head pillowed to his shoulder. “I suppose it simply reminds me of things from a very bad time in my life. Something about this case feels disturbingly familiar, but I cannot put my finger on what.”

Malcolm remained silent for long moments, then asked gently, “Peer pressure, huh?”

“Yes,” Seong-Jae answered.

Then shifted to slip downward, maneuvering until he could tuck his head under Malcolm’s chin, butting into him and making himself comfortable.

Malcolm stilled, before slowly his arms settled around him. “Seong-Jae…?”

“Shut up,” Seong-Jae muttered, draping an arm across his chest. “Just shut up.”

Malcolm, to his credit…

Shut up.

They lingered that way in silence, and it took everything in Seong-Jae not to fall back asleep. To let himself recharge until he no longer felt like he would creak apart every time he moved. To at least…

To at least have more than a few scant seconds to savor this new feeling, the freefall terror and wonder and wildness of surrendering to these feelings for Malcolm instead of denying them at every turn.

“Malcolm?” he whispered into the silence.

The drowsiness in Malcolm’s voice said he had started to drift off as well. “Hm?”

“May I tell you something?”

“Of course, Seong-Jae.”

“When you were injured…” Seong-Jae felt almost ludicrous confessing this…and yet it felt like a secret to be shared, as well. “It bothered me more than it should have that your ex-wife was caring for you.”

Malcolm rumbled thoughtfully, gently. “Were you jealous of her?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted. “I just…wanted to be the one here looking after you.”

“…Seong-Jae.” When Malcolm said his name that way, it tore at him with too many little intimacies, embedding themselves into his heart. “You have got to stop saying shit like that.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Rough fingers brushed under his chin, grazing against his skin in slow sparks, trailing along his jaw. “It just gets me more and more fucked up over you.”

Seong-Jae took a shaky breath. “…I want that. I want you to feel that way.”

“Why?”

“So I know it is not just me.”

“Hey…look at me for a second?”

Seong-Jae opened his eyes, peering up at Malcolm past the tangle of his own hair. Warm blue eyes captured him, held him, kept him…while Malcolm smiled that heart-stopping smile and gently touched Seong-Jae’s lips.

“It’s not just you,” he whispered.

Seong-Jae wasn’t sure who kissed whom first. Only that suddenly they were tangled, breaths gasping, tongues slicked and teasing, twining, and his fingers were buried in handfuls of the old wolf’s hair while those heavy hands gripped his hips and held him in place and made him feel owned. As owned as the hot pressure of Malcolm’s lips, the way he kissed as though he could imprint himself forever on Seong-Jae’s flesh; as owned as the tremors that went through him as Malcolm groaned, the sound utterly raw and sensual and heated, turning Seong-Jae into a complete and utter shivering mess as that rough, gravelly voice scraped over his skin.

“Fuck,” Malcolm whispered against his mouth, thick fingers kneading restless, hungry circles against Seong-Jae’s hips. “This is the part where I ask if it’s all right to touch you, right?”

“Touch me,” Seong-Jae pleaded. “Please.”

The room flashed by in a whirlwind, then, as Malcolm tumbled him onto his back, seized his mouth again, took possession of his body with roving hands, with a knee nudged between his thighs to spread him and make the fit only that much more perfect as Malcolm’s thick, bulky weight eased down atop him, crushing him to the bed. He would never get enough of that feeling—of the pure brute strength of Malcolm weighing him down, capturing him and caging him so he could not fly away. And he shuddered with sinful heat, as their bodies moved together in rhythm that matched the plunge and duel of rough tongues; as he lifted himself up into Malcolm and Malcolm met him with grinding hips and hardness twin to his own and that fucking scent, that dripping hot scent of slicked anticipation, that scent of deep animal fucking that would be all he needed to forget anything but Malcolm.

Yet every tandem thrust and grind, every muted, rumbling moan between their lips…the urgency to be out on the streets, looking for leads, tried to grasp on to him and tug him back from this heat. The guilt, the shame, that the Newtons were waiting for news on their daughter’s assailant and yet Seong-Jae was indulging himself, wrapped up in this gorgeous wild beast of a man with that tangle of iron-gray and silver and chestnut hair showering over him, bare chest exposed inch by inch to Seong-Jae’s exploring fingers. And he completely lost focus, as Malcolm leaned in for another kiss and Seong-Jae met him halfway—only to clash together, unable to fit, mouths clumsy before sliding apart.

Seong-Jae cursed, slumping back against the bed, opening his eyes. He felt at once hot all over and wrong all over, and he sighed, looking up at Malcolm and shaking his head ruefully.

Breathing heavily, Malcolm looked down at him with a scorching gaze, starkly cragged features caught in incomprehension—before the fire in that gaze gentled to a flickering warmth.

“Hey,” Malcolm said huskily, cupping his cheek. “Hey—if you’re not in the right place for it, we don’t have to do anything. I was serious. All you have to do is say no.”

“It is not that,” Seong-Jae said reluctantly. “I desire you, but…I feel as though I am not allowed to have this.” Whatever this was. This moment, this entire fledgling relationship. “As if I am not allowed th3ese human indulgences, considering the cases we work on every day. That it is…unfair, somehow, that we must face people in tragedy and loss, and yet then walk away with our lives untouched.”

“Why?” Malcolm shifted to prop himself up on one elbow, hair sheeting down in a curtain to one side and pooling against the sheets at Seong-Jae’s shoulder. Rough knuckles curled against his cheek. “We didn’t kill those people, Seong-Jae. We may have the duty of carrying that message to the next of kin, but it’s still not our fault. Depriving ourselves of happiness won’t bring them back. All we can do is do our best and find justice for them by finding their killers.” Malcolm smiled faintly. “And then we live, in honor of them. We live, for everyone who wasn’t given that chance.”

“Is that not disrespectful to their memories?”

“No. It’s honoring their memories. Honoring them.” Leaning down, Malcolm rested his brow to Seong-Jae’s, bringing this warmth so close, grizzled beard lush against Seong-Jae’s cheeks. “Besides…we have to have something outside this, Seong-Jae. Or it’ll break us, and then we won’t be able to help anyone at all.” The kiss he gave was chaste, slow, and it did more to Seong-Jae’s raging heart than any could do to his body. “We aren’t untouched by this,” Malcolm whispered against his mouth. “We just have to find ways to hold on to our humanity.”

Seong-Jae sighed, letting himself melt for Malcolm for another stolen moment, and told himself it was allowed. “And this lets you do that?” he asked, soft-kissing the words into Malcolm’s lips.

“Yes. It’s different for everyone, but for me…it’s this.”

Seong-Jae half-smiled. “So that is your rationale for waking up next to a different man every morning.”

“It doesn’t hurt. That, and I just like sex.” Malcolm’s shoulders shook with unvoiced laughter. “But I don’t think I’ll be waking up next to anyone new any time soon. At least, I hope not.” His smile faded, a touch of uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “We never really discussed exclusivity.”

“We have not had time to discuss much of anything.”

“Well…we’ve got a minute now, since we’re on the topic.” Watching him carefully, Malcolm asked, “Would you be bothered if I still wanted to sleep with other people?”

The vehement, almost nauseating feeling of gut-twisting emotion that roused inside Seong-Jae at the notion answered him even before he forced out a grit-toothed “…yes.”

“I don’t want to,” Malcolm said quickly. “I just wanted to know how you felt.”

Seong-Jae wrinkled his nose at him. That was a sideways, roundabout way to ask.

“I…” He struggled to articulate his thoughts, his feelings, before managing, “I am not objectively against polyamorous relationships or open sexual arrangements…but because of how I feel about intercourse, it is very difficult for me to let it be just sex, freely shared with others. The very nature of it makes it polyamory for me, and I do not think I am comfortably wired for that, particularly when my partner feels differently about sex and would likely find their own sexual encounters far more casual than I would.”

“It’s okay,” Malcolm soothed. “Maybe I was never really honest with myself, but…casual sex was a way for me to fill space. There’s nothing wrong with being comfortable with sex at a casual level, but I deliberat3ely did it in a way that didn’t require emotional investment because I wasn’t ready for emotional investment.” He silenced, searching Seong-Jae’s face, then continued more softly, “…I am now. And frankly I only have the emotional energy for one person in specific.” He curled a hand to nudge his knuckles against Seong-Jae’s chest. “You.”

Malcolm sighed, but a warm, almost tender smile lingered on his lips. “I’m very tired, Seong-Jae. I feel older than I even am. I just…don’t have the energy to shape my life around someone else for a serious commitment anymore.” He shook his head. “But you’re worth finding that energy. You give me that energy. It’s worth making the effort with you, when I wasn’t even interested in trying before.” He caught Seong-Jae’s chin, holding him firmly between thumb and forefinger, until Seong-Jae couldn’t look away from that intense gaze if he wanted to. “Is that clear enough?”

Too clear. Too blunt. Too open, too honest, too much emotion; Malcolm was always too much.

And Seong-Jae would not have him any other way.

“Yes,” he said, and pushed himself up to reclaim that kiss that had been stolen away by his troubled thoughts.

This time when they came together it was fever—simmering under Seong-Jae’s skin, as he let everything fall away to feel and nothing more. Feel, taste, wrapping his every sense up in Malcolm until his world was the heady scent of masculinity and the taste as he tangled and fought with Malcolm for every groaning, gasping sight of pressure that made his mouth tingle hot and swollen; the borderline obscene pressure of Malcolm’s weight bearing down on him, the perfect way it felt to spread his thighs and wrap them against Malcolm’s hips and lift them up into every grinding thrust that let him feel the thickness of Malcolm’s cock, remember how it felt spearing inside him and melting him from the inside until he was nothing but liquid heat and an all-consuming craving for more.

“Malcolm,” he breathed, curling his fingers against Malcolm’s shoulders, digging in until the old wolf hissed—and rewarded him with sharp teeth biting over his mouth, his jaw, racing against his skin and leaving him ignited in patterns and trails that turned his body into an art of pleasure and left him arching, moving beneath Malcolm, straining against his weight. He wasn’t sure what he was begging for, only that every bite brought him a touch closer; his clothing felt too tight all of a sudden, keeping him from bursting out of his skin with the rush and high of sensation that surged through him every time their hips crashed together and he surrendered to this heat.

Fuck, he loved how heavy Malcolm was. Smothering, overbearing, the only time Seong-Jae actually had to struggle against that easy strength and writhed just to feel that bulk holding him down, Malcolm’s hips moved against his inner thighs, and Seong-Jae bit his nails into Malcolm’s back—then tossed his head back as with a growl, Malcolm jerked, back arching and hips snapping forward and that grinding pressure pushing to the point of perfect unendurable pain.

“Seong-Jae,” Malcolm breathed raggedly, pushing himself up over him, looking down with eyes that burned like wildfire in the sky, alight with a consuming and possessive dominance. “Strip.”

Any other time Seong-Jae might have argued. Might have fought Malcolm for that command in his voice…but right now he was too lost, swimming in this heady sensation, the demand, the control. He looked up at Malcolm for dazed moments, then caught his shirt and tore it away, tossing it across the bed to fall to the floor. Pants next, boxer-briefs tangled in them…and then he was all sensitive skin and the feeling of rough slacks kissing and teasing and scraping the soft crease where his inner thigh met his groin as Malcolm never, ever stopped moving, refusing to give him a moment’s relief from friction on fire and yet never giving him what he truly craved.

And he was ready to kill Malcolm, when the old wolf abruptly stopped with one last nuzzle to the peak of his chin.

Stopped and drew back, resting with powerful thighs spread against the bed, his button-down shirt hanging open over his tight, thickly furred chest. His gaze kindled, as he raked a look over Seong-Jae that made him feel more naked than naked, his cock pulsing and leaking against his stomach, seeming to throb harder and spill more thick needy runnels of pre-come with every scorching look.

“Up,” Malcolm whispered. “On your knees.”

Arrogant jot—but only for Malcolm would Seong-Jae comply, slinking upright and onto his knees. Spreading his thighs, he twisted to give Malcolm his back, looking over his shoulder at him—only to find Malcolm watching him transfixed, his cock leaving a dark, damp mark against his slacks, thrusting hard. Seong-Jae licked his tingling lips, his mouth and his body both warring with the ache to be filled…yet his body won, as Malcolm uncapped the lube on the nightstand, slicked his fingers, and slid into Seong-Jae with a roughness that made him toss his head back and snarl.

Instinctively he clenched—and every tight contraction of his inner walls made him feel so much, every ridge of Malcolm’s knuckles, every erratic tremor that went through Malcolm and expressed itself in shuddering breaths and irregular thrusts that lost such control Seong-Jae could only curl forward, panting through his teeth, a low whine meeting a growl in the back of his throat. Fuck…fuck, he loved that feeling, at once rough and thick and silkily liquid, moving in and out of him and controlling the pace of his breaths, his pulse, his entire body. He breathed to the feeling of those thick fingers inside him, thrusting raw, thrusting deep, winding him up and ready to pop.

And when Malcolm spread his fingers, stretched him, made more room inside him…

“Not yet,” that rumbling-silk voice purred into his ear, as Malcolm gently withdrew his fingers. “I don’t like you to come too soon…and you’re very sensitive, aren’t you, Seong-Jae?”

He flushed. So what if it was true—that the slightest touch, once he’d given in, could turn him radioactive with desire?

And that beard against his throat, that voice against his ear…

He was collapsing, from the things Malcolm and only Malcolm could do to him.

And Malcolm and only Malcolm would ever know the sound of Seong-Jae’s voice raised in a throat-ripping cry, as those fingers were replaced by the thick flare of Malcolm’s cock-head, the heavy weight of the shaft pulsing and pressing against him. Seong-Jae grasped at the headboard, bracing himself—but nothing could brace him for the searing, stretching, tearing burn of Malcolm’s cock sinking into him.

Lube only made it filthier; it didn’t make it hurt less, just turning Seong-Jae’s body slick and dripping until Malcolm’s cock felt like a massive, wet tongue searching into him, tracing over every hotly sensitive, shuddering place inside him, while the runnels of pre-come and lube pouring off that swollen, throbbing length dripped against Seong-Jae and made him feel dirty inside.

Groaning, he arched his back—but fell still with a hiss, gritting his teeth as Malcolm gripped his hips. That muscular weight pressed against his back; thick thighs flanked his, and suddenly he was trapped, overpowered by Malcolm’s presence, his sheer raw bulk, caging Seong-Jae against the headboard and wrapping him in warmth. Panting shallowly, he choked on a cry as Malcolm used that grasp to jerk him back…and impaled him on those last few inches, filling him completely with the burning, perfect sensation of being stretched, taken, fucked.

At once pleasure and excruciating over-stimulation, losing himself in Malcolm this way…and yet Malcolm was only just beginning. His mouth traced over Seong-Jae’s shoulders, his back, trailing shivers as Malcolm stroked long, crude fingers down the tops of Seong-Jae’s spread thighs.

“Last night you said I wasn’t hurting you enough,” Malcolm whispered, a dark edge to his tongue; he caught Seong-Jae’s earlobe in his teeth, playing at it with his tongue. “How much do you like to be hurt, Seong-Jae?”

And Seong-Jae could only answer with a wordless, husky, breaking cry of sheer erotic pleasure as Malcolm curled his hands inward, palms against Seong-Jae’s inner thighs.

And pressing outward, stretching him impossibly wide.

He jerked, shuddering, dragging his nails against the headboard and gasping out broken sounds as with every bit Malcolm stretched his thighs wider, pain shot sweetly up his inner thigh muscles to tug at his groin, his cock bucking and threatening to spill; the more Malcolm opened him, exposed him, too…the tighter Seong-Jae’s ass clenched involuntarily against Malcolm’s cock, until Seong-Jae couldn’t stop grinding and twisting his hips just to make it move and push him past this struggling, unbearable burn that was threatening to devour him completely.

“Malcolm,” he whispered, shivering as he pressed his hips back toward him, and Malcolm shuddered, growling.

“Say it again.”

“Malcolm.”

As if his name had snapped his leash, Malcolm let out a deep and thrilling snarl, braced a hand over Seong-Jae’s on the headboard, pressed his other hand to Seong-Jae’s stomach, pulling him in…

…and then held him down and fucked him raw.

Seong-Jae was caught between the headboard and Malcolm’s body, trapped, tossed back and forth as ripping, brutal thrusts worked in and out of him, battering his flesh until he felt so swollen inside, so soft, liquid-hot and burning sweet and fuck he was losing it, losing himself, falling into Malcolm and refusing to come up for air. Malcolm kissed his shoulders again and again, worshipful, soft, a spark of gentleness that softened even the harshest pain as he tore into Seong-Jae like a wild animal and gave him every hurt and pleasure and wildness he craved.

And as Seong-Jae touched himself, as he gave himself that last perfect spark, Malcolm’s fingers laced with his, moving over his cock with such demanding urgency, saying without words for me, for me, come with me, for me.

Seong-Jae’s breaking came as suddenly as a shattering of glass.

And Malcolm’s name on his lips, Malcolm’s cock swelling inside him to fill him with that deliciously dirty sensation of being wet and used and sore inside…

Seong-Jae surrendered a battle he had not realized he was fighting, until he was willing to give himself up so completely to pleasure, to sensation, to touch.

To Malcolm.

^

SEONG-JAE SUPPOSED HE SHOULD FEEL guilty for the extra time spent lingering in bed, tangled together naked and catching their breaths…

…but he needed this to be able to function, as much as he needed sleep.

Finally, though, he forced himself to pry free from Malcolm, wincing as he shifted himself upright and his sore body protested. He stretched, arching his back, then yawned and slumped back against the headboard, watching Malcolm as he rolled over and stretched out, the sinuous dip of his spine flowing between the broad crags and canyon walls of his back enticing Seong-Jae to reach out and touch.

“Do you feel well enough to get back to work on the case?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Malcolm murmured drowsily, propping his chin on his folded forearms. “But I’m going to sleep for two days straight after this.”

“You should not need to,” Seong-Jae chided gently. “You know this sort of pace is not normal. Even if at times it is urgent to pursue a killer before they can escape…we were never meant to do this day in, day out, without a moment’s rest.”

“I know.” Malcolm idly toyed his fingers into the sheets, plucking up ridges. “I don’t know why I feel so much urgency on this one when it’s probably going to go cold, and I wouldn’t call any of what we’ve found a lead.” He sighed, massive shoulders shrugging like mountains. “It’s not like Tisha Jones. We know where Anne is…and we know what’s going to happen to her, once her parents come to grips with it or the machines just…stop being enough.” He smiled bitterly. “Maybe I’m superstitious. Some part of me thinks if we find who pushed her, she’ll wake up and be okay. Next I’ll start believing in the tooth fairy.”

“Hope is not a terrible thing to have. You told me that.” Seong-Jae traced that pained curve of Malcolm’s lips, and earned a kiss to his fingertips for it. “But you cannot let it drive you to such extremes that you cannot function.” He hefted one of Malcolm’s thick arms, trying to lift it, only for it to thud back down heavily to the bed. “Breakfast. Your mind and body need food. The case can wait until you eat.” He twisted his lips and shifted gingerly, then winced as pain speared up inside him. “And until I can walk.”

Malcolm lifted himself up on his elbows and, with a devilish smirk, leaned in to steal a kiss that was all soft lips and scratchy beard. “…if I’m supposed to feel bad for that, I don’t.”

“Do not ever.” Seong-Jae trailed his fingers down Malcolm’s chest. “…but I will take it out on your hide soon.”

“Yeah?” Malcolm’s grin only widened, before he rolled out of bed, a thing of power and beauty, sensuality and pure bestial energy vibrating off him in waves. “I think I’ll look forward to that,” he said, and Seong-Jae smiled to himself, sinking back against the pillows to watch Malcolm move about the kitchen.

Ridiculous old wolf.

Ridiculous, stubborn, frustrating…

…and everything Seong-Jae needed, in this moment.