Chapter 11
Butterflies and whiskey, catching fire to the moon.
Death’s calling to me but I tell him it’s too soon.
Songs to sing, places to see.
I don’t want to go but Death sure wants me.
—Death Calling
DESPITE the chill on his skin, Kane’s cock ached from spending the night against Miki’s lithe body. He’d woken up when Miki got up to let the dog out and then again when Dude came back in. The dog’s weight dipped the mattress slightly as he turned around a few times near Kane’s feet, but Dude settled down quickly, falling off into a snoring heap before Miki shed the sweats he’d worn to hold off the morning cold.
Shivering, the young man crawled back under the blankets and shuffled in close to Kane’s body, leeching as much of Kane’s warmth as he could. Miki’s nose was a sharp bite of ice on Kane’s nipple and he bit back a yelp when Miki rested his cheek on his chest, his breath as hot as his face was cold. Kane’s cock, already hard from its morning drowsiness, stirred and thrust up, reaching out in vain to pierce his boxers. Scolding his libido, Kane shifted, working his hand down to adjust his dick, then wrapped his arms around the sleepy man curled into his torso.
If Kane could have slept a few more hours cuddled up against Miki, he would have easily traded his left nut to do so. His bladder began to complain, pressing down on the hurry up button in his groin. Groaning, he extracted himself from the man’s arms and stumbled to the bathroom to piss. A quick search through the bathroom turned up unopened packages of toothbrushes, and he scrubbed the scum off his teeth until he foamed over like a rabid dog.
The night left its stink on his body, and Kane did a mental inventory of the spare clothes he had left in his SUV. Connor had thrown in a backpack of T-shirts, underwear, and sweats he had in his truck, but Kane wanted his own jeans, not his brother’s too-big hand-me-downs. He ran the shower as hot as he could stand it, then switched over to an icy cold pour from the waterfall spout set into the tile overhead.
His cock apparently still held a grudge at being told to shut up and go back to sleep, because it flared when he began to lather up with Miki’s soap.
A flick of the hot water knob turned the pour lukewarm, and Kane leaned against the stone-tiled shower wall. The glass-enclosed space was large enough for five people, and Kane wondered what exactly the interior designer was thinking Miki would be up to in such a big shower.
Looking at the long sauna bench built against one wall, Kane’s dick sent a ripple of ideas toward his brain about what he could do to Miki if given the chance.
His hand was a poor substitute for Miki’s mouth, but Kane wasn’t going to go begging for affection from the young man he’d left alone in bed. Despite his emotional and physical exhaustion, Miki fought his way out of sleep for the first few hours after Kane lay down next to him. He’d wake, tense and short of breath, his hazel eyes wild with fear. Kane held Miki loosely, rubbing at the small of his back with a gentle brush of his fingers. The frenzied fits and starts slowed. Then Miki’s limbs finally went slack, and Kane wrapped them up in a soft cocoon of blankets, cradling Miki against him when sleep took them both.
His dick, however, had an excellent memory of the man Kane left in bed, and it wept a single pearly drop when Kane’s palm moved over its head.
He pulled on his cock, circling his fingers around the base, then lifting it up to heft it in his hand. His balls were tight, and Kane could feel them rolling, tightening, and falling down with each stroke he gave his shaft. Pressing his shoulders to the tile, Kane bent his knees, letting his back take his weight, and he leaned his head back, thinking of the hot body he had pressed against him in the early morning.
There was something sensual about a man as he slept. Secret, tender noises were shared, swallowed up in the night before anyone could even admit they’d been made, but Kane caught every sigh and murmur Miki’s succulent mouth made. He’d buried his face into the crook of Miki’s neck, inhaling the sweetness of male sweat and green-tea soap. Just a whiff of the lather he’d built up on the washcloth, and Kane found himself nearly ready to burst, remembering the length of Miki’s back against his chest and the press of his round ass on Kane’s cock, the soft cotton of their underwear whispering between them as they shifted in their sleep.
Kane closed his fist over his cock, pulling up hard and slow until his clenched fingers reached the glans. The flare caught the rush of warm water pouring down from the cascade showerhead, parting to splatter down on Kane’s thighs and heavy balls. He spread his fingers over his stomach, stroking at the hair around his belly button as he ran his fingers down his shaft. Closing his eyes, he imagined the tightness around his cock was Miki’s mouth and the press of his thumb lapping at the wet underside the man’s flexible tongue exploring the length of him.
His hand drew him faster, rolling what little loose skin he had on his cock until it grew taut in his grasp. Thumbing his head, Kane peeled back his slit, using the edge of his nail to score the soft flesh at the head of his penis. Miki’s sharp teeth would leave their mark, Kane was sure of it. He’d nibble and bite, making Kane jerk and jump even as he slid his cock down Miki’s tight throat.
Miki’s full lips would fold over his head when Kane pulled out, suckling him tightly before running the edges of his bite over Kane’s velvety glans. Tightening his grip, he played with himself hard, pulling his palm over his head, then back down to his root, squeezing lightly when he reached the top. His fingers kissed the pout of his cock, pinching him in until the slight tingle along his shaft grew. His nipples ached nearly as much as his sex, and Kane skimmed his free hand over them, rubbing the flat of his palm over the rough nubs.
Kane kept the rhythm of his strokes slightly off, pulling up slowly, then plunging back down his shaft in a stuttering slowness. He imagined Miki would take his time at first, then devour him whole. The water was a poor substitute for the wet of Miki’s mouth, but Kane took what he could get.
Skimming his fingers over his sac, he searched out the skin under his balls. Fluttering his fingertips over the delicate stretch there, he teased his hole, then tugged at the heaviness dangling beneath his cock. A few tugs was all he needed, and Kane sagged, sliding a few inches down the stone wall. The grout dug into his skin, scoring him as lightly as Miki’s nails might, and it was enough to take him to the edge.
Grabbing his shaft, Kane tightened his hold and picked up his pace, pulling his palm up and over his weeping head with quick, short jerks. The rush hit him hard, strong enough to bring down a dark haze over his eyes, and Kane rode it out, biting down hard so he wouldn’t shout Miki’s name as he came.
He pinched at the tight swirls on his chest, echoing the press of his fingers on his head. Another swipe down his cock, and his balls tightened, nearly too soon for Kane to do anything but let the climax hit. It slammed into him, rising up from his curled up sac and pouring electric shockwaves through his dick. The wave of his seed nearly scorched the skin from his hand, and he barely had time to take a gasping breath when another followed, as intense and as hot as the first.
His cock danced, spilling and gasping its climax as his balls emptied themselves of his desire. It was too much to take, and Kane sagged, buckling from the darkness threatening to overtake him. It seemed like an eternity of pleasure to the point of being pain when finally his cock gave up its writhing and sagged under the weight of its release.
The water continued to pour in a rush over Kane’s shoulders, tepid and comfortable, but if he didn’t move soon, his legs wouldn’t hold him up much longer. The slick stone was hard against his spine, and a creaking ache in his back and knees warned him of an impending, vicious muscle cramp. His hands shook as he reached for the hot water knob, but it twisted easily in his grasp, and a moment later, steam fogged up the shower glass, obscuring the rest of the bathroom from him.
He lathered up again, snorting when his dick responded feebly to the green-tea soap as it foamed on the washcloth. Carefully washing his cock and balls, Kane used one hand to lean against the wall, needing it to support his trembling muscles as he rinsed off his release.
“Jesus, Miki,” Kane mumbled, bending his head forward under the pour until the water ran through his hair. “What the hell have I gotten myself into with you?”
It was too soon for them. Kane knew that in his gut. Miki was riding a wave of nightmares and old pain. Something lingered in Miki’s psyche, something rotting so deep inside of him it made the man question who he was even as he clung to Kane for support. It’d risen when Miki’s silent tears succumbed to a whispering keen, and the man rocked slightly as Kane stroked his shoulders and sides.
They fucked me up so much. I don’t even know if I really like guys. Suppose it’s just ’cause of what they did to me? he’d murmured, nearly low enough for Kane to miss hearing. That why no one really wants anything but a fuck? You think that’s why no one sticks around? ’Cause that’s all they made me good for? Fucking?
It stung to hear those words. Kane’s stomach clenched when Miki bared his raw soul. Nothing Kane said would take away those doubts. They both knew that anything Kane could say to him would be fleeting and hollow. Instead, they just held one another, first in the soft light of the living room, then in the comforting darkness of a bed linen cocoon as they were serenaded by a snoring dog.
“Damn it, I just want to kill someone for putting this shit on him,” Kane swore. “Or go in there and fuck him, like that would do any good. I can’t do jack shit right now, and now I’m talking to myself like some fricking crazy person.”
He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, letting the steam pour out into the room. His muscles were still tight, even with the stroking off, and Kane hunted through the cabinets for anything resembling aspirin. Coming up with a nearly full bottle of ibuprofen, he shook out a few and gulped them down dry, leaving the bottle out so he could force two or three down Miki’s throat.
“Well, not like I didn’t wear enough of Connor’s shit growing up.” Rooting through what Connor left him, Kane frowned at his choices. He leaned over to roll the borrowed sweats up enough so he didn’t drag them on the ground. “Great, and they fucking say SWAT all over them. Egotistical bastard.”
The sweats were too soft from years of washing, and the hems unfolded when Kane walked to the kitchen. Digging out a package of Kona coffee from the squillions of bags Miki had stashed in his industrial-sized freezer, he tapped out a heap of grounds into the steel coffee filter and stepped back—falling flat on his ass when his heel caught the back of Connor’s sweats, and he slid forward, unable to catch himself before he slammed into the kitchen floor.
“To hell with this,” Kane growled, getting up slowly from the floor. “I’ve got to have something in the car. At least something to wear that won’t try to kill me until I can find the washing machine in this place.”
A quick glance toward the open archway reassured him that Miki was still asleep. Yawning, the terrier stretched and groggily stumbled off of the edge of the bed, shaking out his blond fur before trotting up to sniff at Kane’s ankle.
“I’m just going to the car,” Kane promised the dog. Grabbing his keys off of the table, he held his hand up to Dude. “Stay here. I’m going to be right back.”
Still barefoot, he opened the front door—and reeled back when the screaming started.
“FUCKING hell,” Miki swore as he tripped over a sneaker.
His leg hurt, and the throb in his knee was nearly seismic as it thumped its displeasure. The Nike was too large for his foot, and he blinked, trying to make sense of the size eleven shoe in the middle of his bedroom floor. His answer came to him in a rush of memory: disheveled black hair, a sinful Irish whiskey voice, and delectably large hands cradling him as he unsuccessfully tried not to cry. He sniffed, catching a whiff of Kane on his clothes, and yawned again, padding out to the living room to find out what all the yelling was about.
The front door was open, and Miki scrubbed at his eyes when the watery afternoon sun hit his face. Taking a few steps from the threshold was a mistake. When his bare feet hit the long swatch of damp grass separating the warehouse from the cement walk, a crowd of people swarmed toward him.
Miki turned his head, ignoring the crowd. He spotted his dog and limped over to where Dude stood, furiously ravaging a man’s pants leg. Further down the walk, Kane shoved a beefy-faced photographer to the ground, shattering the man’s camera when he threw it onto the asphalt.
Amid all of it, nearly every single person clamoring in on him was shouting his name, trying to get his attention.
“Miki! Is it true you murdered your own dog and blamed it on a stalker?”
He didn’t spare the man a second glance. Dude was done chewing up the tabloid reporter’s pants and was beginning to nip at the tender flesh he found under the fabric. The man’s alarmed shouts were shrill, and Miki precariously bent over to lift the dog off the ground. His knee joint protested being twisted around but held as he stood back up.
“Dude, cut your shit,” he scolded, hefting the dog under his arm.
“Miki! Over here! Is this man your new lover? Have you finally gotten over Damien’s death?”
“There’s a rumor the Mitchells are suing you over the rights to Sinner Gin’s songs. How do you feel about that, Miki?”
“Is this the detective investigating your prostitution charges? Do you have any comment about that?”
That caught Miki’s attention, and he narrowed his eyes at the reporter as he limped past the swarm to where Kane was shouting at the man he’d pushed. Dude squirmed in Miki’s arms, barking his head off at the people trailing after Miki like lost ducklings. The noise level rose and overwhelmed him, a buzzing cacophony he’d not missed since he was released from the hospital. The badgering stalked him with every step Miki took. Questions followed him, voices shouting after him about his injuries, his damaged relationship with Damien’s parents, and the dead man found in his garage.
“Let’s go back inside,” Miki shouted at Kane so the man would hear him above the fray. “I’ll call the cops.”
“I am the fucking cops!” Kane growled back. “God, I’m going to shoot one of these assholes.”
“You don’t even have your shoes on, and I think you left your gun in the house.” He laughed, then nearly toppled over when someone pushed him from behind. “I own this end of the street. It’s private property. There’s a sign and everything. I’ll call them in for trespassing.”
“I’d rather fucking shoot them,” Kane grumbled. “Give me the dog. I’ll hold him.”
“How about if I hold him and you shove us back to the house?” Miki nodded to the front door. Dude snapped at a cheek that got too close to Miki, taking a nip of skin with his bite. The man howled and clutched at his face, a small pinch of pink skin peeking out between his fingers. “Or I could just hold him in front of me like the Cleaners from Labyrinth.”
“I’m going to sue! Your damned dog bit me!” The scream was lost in the blizzard of shouts and cameras whirring for the perfect shot.
“Talk to that asshole.” Miki jerked his chin toward the photographer who lost his camera to Kane’s temper. “You guys can go in on a lawyer. Now get the fuck off my property. All of you.”
It was hard going, much more difficult than most of the paparazzi crowds he’d dealt with before. Not for the first time in his life, Miki wished Damien was around. The guitarist seemed to have snake-charming ability to fend off the packs of photographers who stalked them. With Kane’s arm around his shoulders, Miki held the terrier as firmly as he could while the cop led him back into the house.
The crowd was reluctant to let them escape, blocking the front door. The press of bodies grew too hot for Miki to stand, and he gulped in large pulls of air, hoping to escape the claustrophobic walls of people. Kane shoved hard, pushing through the mass to give Miki room to walk.
It took Miki some time. The dog squirmed, eager to catch another bite of someone’s face or arm. Dude’s teeth came dangerously close to a woman’s nose, and she jerked back, toppling a cameraman behind her. They scattered and fell, human dominoes stacked too tightly together for comfort, taking Miki down with them.
He felt himself falling forward, his foot catching on someone’s leg or ankle. Miki twisted, holding Dude close to his belly when he went down. He hit the pavement and choked on the air rushing out of his chest. Something gave in his leg, a tearing heat spreading out from his knee to hook into his balls before twisting a snarling pain through his body.
Gasping, he let go of the dog and rolled over, covering his head to protect himself from the stampede of people around him. Dude jumped free, landing gracefully on the grass. Waves of pain hit Miki’s spine, and he let his stomach have its way, puking out what little he had left in him. Miki heard Dude barking and snapping at the people around him, but he couldn’t focus on the furry blond blur long enough to yell at the terrier to stop.
Strong hands grabbed Miki’s upper arms, hoisting him up. The world tilted, brightening when he was lifted up over the bodies around him. Slung across Kane’s shoulders, Miki hissed when another wave of pain hit him, and he horked, dry heaving over Kane’s chest.
“Shit, you sound like my mom’s cat. Hold on.” Kane turned, shoving people aside with his bulk. Miki was precariously balanced across his back in a half-assed piggy back. Hands were grabbing at his sweats, threatening to pull them down off his slender hips. Bodies jostled them, and Kane pushed back as much as he could. “Dude! Get in the house! Now!”
The dog took one last look at the throng, gave a final defiant bark, and trotted back into the house, tail up high in insult.
“Put me down,” Miki growled. “I can walk.”
For a second, Miki thought Kane was ready to dump him onto his feet on the sidewalk, but the cop was only shifting his hold on Miki’s arms. Draped down Kane’s spine, he had to duck his head when the man plowed through the last of the crowd. A brush of cold air kissed Miki’s bare hip, and he made a grab for his sweats, tugging them back up over his leg.
The press of warm bodies followed them to the threshold. Kane gently put Miki down, his eyes narrowing when Miki yelped in agony. His knee buckled, and he grabbed at Kane to keep his balance. Clutching the man’s arms, he bent his head down and panted, forcing himself to work past the crippling pain. He let go of Kane suddenly and pushed against the man’s broad chest.
“Close the door,” Miki spat out. “If they stick their fingers in, just slam it harder.”
Someone snagged Miki’s arm through the opening of the door, and Kane pushed back. Shoving at the man holding Miki, Kane balled his hand into a fist and let fly. His knuckles connected with the reporter’s nose, crunching it to the side. Wedging himself into the doorframe, Kane stood his ground, keeping his body between the horde and Miki.
“Get inside, Miki,” Kane growled. “We need to get somebody down here to get these assholes off your property.”
A camera stuck through the opening clattered to the floor as its owner’s wrist was caught against the door. From the resistance against Kane’s shove, Miki guessed the man caught more than one person’s fingers. The door bounced slightly as Kane gave the reporters space to pull out their various body parts. Then he shoved it closed again, snapping the door tightly against the jamb.
Miki hobbled over to the couch and grabbed at the back for support. His left leg hurt from taking all of his weight, and the twinge in his right ankle was a warning he’d injured more than his knee. Sitting on the far end of the couch, Dude lolled a smile at him, clearly pleased at the battle he waged against the people outside.
Kane stood by the door and stared at Miki, stiff, furious, and brimming with energy. The man’s deep blue eyes were snapping with anger, and Miki almost winced under the intensity of Kane’s stare. As calmly as he could, he edged around the arm of the couch and tried to ease into the cushions without making too much noise.
He failed miserably.
The pain was intolerable, jerking his nerves up his spine and tingling shockwaves into his teeth. His mouth thickened with viscous spit, and Miki gulped, choking on the sudden mouthful of liquid moving across his tongue. Grabbing at the sofa with both hands, Miki tilted forward and panted, riding out the scorching heat traveling up his leg.
“Come here,” Kane murmured, stepping up behind Miki.
He tried shoving the cop away, but Kane’s arms were already around his waist, lifting him up to ease the pressure against his joints. Kane ducked his head, nudging Miki’s arm up over his shoulder.
“Hold on to me. Let’s get you into the bathroom.” Kane hitched his stride short, gently easing Miki to the bathroom. “I’ll grab some ice for your knee, and you can sit in there with your leg up while I hunt you down some drugs.”
“I’ve got some Jack on the fridge,” Miki grumbled. “God, this fucking hurts.”
“Whiskey isn’t the answer,” Kane sighed. “As much as I’d like to get stinking drunk with you, I think it’s time to give some of the crap the doctors pushed on you a try.”
“Don’t want to get addicted to that shit,” Miki said, shaking his head. “I’ve got to watch for that. They think I had some shit in my system when they found me.”
“You were like, what? Two? Three?” Kane stopped walking and peered down at Miki. “Jesus Christ.”
He shrugged. It wasn’t anything he thought much about, not after so many years of not knowing where he came from or even really giving a shit about the people who let him wander out into the street covered only in a dirty diaper.
“Doesn’t matter.” Miki sucked in a mouthful of air, and Kane lifted him up again. “Old news. No one gives a shit about it now, especially me. Don’t get your panties up in a twist.”
“It’s still not fair.” Kane grimaced. “Yeah, I know. I’m a cop. Life isn’t fucking fair, but shit, sometimes I hate people.”
“Yeah, me too,” Miki admitted. “Especially the ones banging down my door right now.”
“Bathroom first.” Kane’s voice dropped an octave, a grumbling roar that tantalized Miki’s cock more than he’d like. “I’ll call the station and get someone out there to chase them away. Hell, I might not even wait for someone to show up ’cause I’m serious about going out there and shooting them for doing this to you.”
“Yeah, just don’t go do that before you get me the ice.” He grunted when Kane eased him onto the long bench next to the whirlpool. “And if you really fucking loved me, you’d make sure that ice has some whiskey around it.”