dragged his body down Ken's prone frame. "How much do you want it, huh?" He could smell his alpha's body wash, all juniper and olive oil. It made him smell a little bit like a martini, not that Dave would ever tell his beloved something like that. It might make him stop, and Dave did love a martini every now and again.
"I'll show you how much I want it." Ken's laugh was dark but his grin was light. It even lit their dark bedroom.
Ken's muscles tensed and, the next thing Dave knew, he was on his back. He wasn't entirely sure how this had happened, but he liked it. He wrapped his legs around his husband's waist and held on tight, which had the not-at-all intentional effect of grinding their cocks together. He rocked his hips, just a little bit, to emphasize the sensation. Ken gave an appreciative little moan.
They didn’t get a chance to play like this often. Parenthood did things to couples, to relationships. Most of those things were good. Dave wouldn't trade CeCe or JoJo for the world. Having the twins around, however, did make their sexual encounters a little more rushed. The nanny, Joselyn, wasn't usually on duty at night, and who knew when the twins would need someone to step in and help out with something?
Right now though, the twins were at home in Syracuse. They were in Syracuse, and Dave and Ken were in San Francisco. They could take as long as they wanted. They could make as much of a mess as they wanted. And they could make as much noise as they wanted, within reason. The neighbors were there, of course.
Dave let out a groan when Ken finally entered him. "Come on," he urged. "Please, Ken."
Ken didn't need to be asked twice. He pounded away, happy to have a night of freedom. Dave wasn't often a fan of simply boning away like porn stars, but sometimes it was what two guys needed to do. Tonight was one of those times and, as Ken's pace increased to furious, he knew this was going to be one for the record books.
He didn't last, and he didn't think he was meant to. Ken followed over the edge right behind him and, when they were done cleaning up, they fell into bed together. "The cleaning staff are going to hate us," Ken said, with a happy sigh.
Dave shrugged. "I'm sure they get much worse than people having sex in a bed." He nuzzled up to his husband's side. "So what are you going to do all day tomorrow while I'm at the conference?"
"I don't know." Ken nibbled on Dave's neck. "I was trying to decide between drinking myself silly, taking in some of the tourist traps, or maybe going to watch your speech to the Infectious Disease Society Convention."
"Oh, Lord, you can't possibly be interested in seeing that." Dave blushed.
"Babe, I am interested in everything to do with you." Ken kissed his nose. "Let's get some sleep. You have to get up in front of people and be all keynote-y."
Dave didn't think keynote-y was a word, but he'd take it.
The next day, Ken had clearly made his decision. By the time Dave emerged from the shower, Ken was ready and waiting in a nice suit and tie. He even had a guest pass for the convention hanging from a little lanyard around his neck. "I told you," he said, when Dave's jaw dropped, "everything about you interests me."
Dave thought his heart might explode from love for this man. He could have done a lot to express that love right then and there, but he'd have missed his speech. He got dressed, and the two of them headed down to the main ballroom for the Infectious Disease Society of America.
Dave went through his prepared remarks. He'd been asked to give his keynote about infectious diseases in healthcare settings among marginalized populations. That was something he'd been focused on for the past couple of years, thanks to Finn Riley's good offices. He went through his description of the care levels he'd found at Baldwin House, and then at the Justice Center and at a local state penitentiary. He described how inmates had been dealt with at a detention center for undocumented immigrants, where they'd had the first outbreak of cholera in New York State in decades.
"A lot of these facilities came to my attention thanks to a deliberate attack on some of them—Baldwin House and the Justice Center—by someone who wanted funding for meningitis research. That person—who is serving time for murder, don't worry—figured he could get his point across by attacking populations that didn't matter, in order to help populations that were of greater consequence in his mind.
"Well, he did achieve some of his goals. He shined a light, but not in the way he wanted. The thing is, all of those places I described above have populations that are considered 'throwaway people' by at least part of our community. The diseases that show up in those facilities do eventually spread, so it's in our best interests to get involved, but it goes beyond that.
"The diseases that were cropping up in these facilities had all been eliminated a hundred years ago, or at least mitigated. If people in power pay enough attention, and don't throw people away, those diseases can be controlled fairly easily. We are specialists. We have a voice. We work for hospitals, which gives us power. We can be that light, and shine that light.
"What we found, in Syracuse, was that there was plenty of will within the community to make the necessary changes. The people who were affected were willing and eager to solve the problem. The community at large was more than happy to help, since stopping a disease in its tracks meant it wouldn't spread to their families. Even the most fiscally conservative politicians could eventually come to see that it's better to spend a little bit to prevent than it is to spend a ton to cure." He waited for the knowing chuckles the crowd would give; they'd all had to make that argument, with varying degrees of success.
"What we needed to do was to make people aware of a problem, without being judgmental about it. If we go up and say, 'Deplorable conditions found in accused murderer's cell,' then no one cares, right? But he hasn't been convicted of anything. If you go up and say, 'We found x conditions in y facility which do not meet minimum standards for housing, and out of z number of victims of this illness at this prison so and so had not been convicted of any crime,' well, that tells a different story, doesn't it? Or you could simply leave the criminality angle out of it." He shrugged. "It's up to you.
"What we have," Dave continued, before he could ramble too badly, "is an opportunity. We have an opportunity to help people. For the most part, they know what they need. It's a matter of getting it."
People applauded and he made his way back to his table. The other professionals turned to their breakfasts, and then everyone broke for the day.
Dave and Ken split for the day too, because Ken might be willing to listen to Dave give the keynote but he had no interest in a statistical analysis of the 1918 influenza epidemic and its effect of fertility rates among survivors. They agreed to meet up at the front desk of the hotel and then head out for dinner someplace that was not the hotel, so Dave could see a little bit more of the city than the convention hotel.
Dave showed up at the lobby to meet Ken, just as he'd promised. He found his husband over near the bar, just as they'd agreed. What he didn't expect to find near the bar was a gray-haired man with wrinkles, just an inch or two short of average height. Even though the years hadn't been kind to the old man, and he walked with a cane now, Dave would recognize his father anywhere.
The fact that he was sitting only a few chairs away from Ken threatened to make him fall over.
Dave approached Ken. Maybe it was just coincidence. Obviously Dad was here, but Dad might not want to go back to New York. Plenty of people in New York would recognize the old man and wouldn't view him kindly. "Hey, babe," he said. He took the seat on Ken's other side, hoping his husband's muscles hid him completely.
No dice. His father turned around slowly, like a scene from a movie. "Why Davey. No hugs for your old man?"
Dave clenched his jaw. "Dad. They let you out of jail."
"They did. Paroled me for good behavior, they said." He laughed, like the old days when he and Dave could share a joke. "I think they just needed the space, myself. Not that I'm about to complain, mind you. I'm just saying."
"So. When did this happen?" Dave signaled the bartender and gestured to Ken's martini. He was going to need a drink for this. Maybe it was better, however, if he didn't drink at all.
"About a month ago. I stayed with your sister for a few weeks, but you know me. I like my independence. I'm looking for a place to land now. Then I saw you were speaking at this conference and I figured I'd stop in and say hello. It's been a while."
"It has." Dave gripped Ken's hand, underneath the bar where Dad couldn't see.
"Are you going to introduce me to your little friend here?"
Ken stiffened, but he turned to face Dad. "Hi. I'm Deputy Ken Sykora, Onondaga County Sheriff's Department. I'm Dave's husband."
Dad lifted his eyebrows until they almost touched his hairline. "You got married? And to a cop? Davey, Davey. I'm sure he's a great guy. I'm sure he's a fine figure of a man, but he's not, you know. He's not like us."
Dave pinched the bridge of his nose. Thank God the bartender appeared when he did, Dave's martini in hand. Dave could have kissed him then. "Yeah. Well, that was part of the appeal, you know? Plus, we kind of went through this whole trial by fire thing."
"Not literal fire, I hope." Dad sniffed. "I might be a crook but I draw the line at arson. Those guys are awful cell mates."
"I'd bet." Dave sipped from his drink.
Ken took a long, cool look at Dad. "So, Mr. Stanek. You came all this way, out to San Francisco, to see Dave?"
"Well, like I said, it's been a while." Dad's green eyes twinkled. "Is it a crime to miss my only son?"
"It is a little suspicious when you had the warden tell him you didn't want any contact." Ken fixed Dave's father with a look; the look he gave suspects. It was the look that made them cry.
Dad sighed. "I did say that. And you know what? I'm not sorry. It was the way I felt at the time." He rubbed at his arm. "I still do, kind of. I was so angry. I loved you, Dave. I gave you everything. We were so close."
"We were." Dave looked down at his drink, and then he took a gulp of it. "But here's the thing, Dad. I never wanted to be part of your scam, and you couldn't deal with that."
"Nope." Dad cackled. "I couldn't. Neither could your mother. She's off in Kentucky, by the way. She bought herself a distillery."
Dave snorted into his martini, more or less against his will. "Sounds about right."
Ken wrapped an arm around Dave's shoulders. "So are you going to go and stay with her?"
"Maybe." Dad sighed. "I just… you wind up with a lot of time on your hands in jail. You get a lot of time to think about things. And I still think you should have stayed by your family. That said, I can kind of see why you wouldn't. I think your mother and I were too arrogant to see that anyone caught up with us was going down. It was wrong of us to ask you to be part of it."
Dave almost dropped his drink. "Am I being punched right now?"
"I don't know what that means. But no, you're not being punched. I just want to try to have some kind of relationship with you. I don't think we can ever be as close as we were, and I know your mother—well, she's your mom." Dave understood what his father was trying to say. His mother was not interested in maintaining anything. "Trust is probably going to be kind of hard to build," he said, after a moment. "But I'm willing to give it a shot. At least we can keep in touch, right?"
Dad perked up, like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you, Davey."
Dave hugged his father. Later on that night, he'd have time to unpack what had just happened. "I wasn't sitting around pining for my estranged father," he said, "but I'm kind of okay with this. We were pretty close, once."
"I got that impression." Ken took Dave's hand. "Do you think it's okay to have him around?"
"I think we'll have to watch him. But I think it's good… I don't know. Life is short, I guess. I'd rather spend it building bridges."
Ken kissed him. "The only bridge I want to build is with you."
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