16. Special K Finds Out Interrogation Is Another Department

Chapter sixteen

Special K Finds Out Interrogation Is Another Department

T he big raid left me completely exhausted. And starving. We never got to eat our Mexican food. It had been left in the conference room. Thankfully, we ordered more when we got home.

Oh, Gawd. Home. Was I already thinking of Doolittle's place as home? Should I be? I bit my lip and looked across the dining room table at him. He was biting into his taco, lettuce, tomatoes, and sauce dripping down his chin and onto his plate. "Waaa?" He glared when he caught me watching him.

"Don't talk with your mouth full and wipe your face."

"Are you my mom now? What the fuck, K?"

I tossed a napkin at him. "No, but damn. You talk to animals. You're not one."

He rolled his eyes and kept eating.

"Tomorrow, we have to go in and do paperwork, and we can find out how the interrogation is going. But afterward, I have to go back to my place."

His face morphed into a frown. "Your place? Uh…can I go with?"

I wanted to say no. I was embarrassed to show him where I lived. I also wanted him to ask me to stay. I wanted to stay with him. Here. But I didn't know how to ask. Or if I should. And his blank face said he didn't either, or he was conflicted about it all. "We'll see."

"Are…Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Going to go home. Like stay there? Alone?" Now, he was fishing. Maybe he did want me. But for what? A relationship? Sex? It was super good sex, and I wasn't about to turn it down. But…

"I might take Mr. Wiggums. What do you think about that?"

Doolittle snorted and dropped the last of his taco on his plate. "Whatever." He grabbed a napkin and wiped his hands and face. "If he would go. Cats are very territorial."

I loved how he wouldn't make the cat do anything it didn't want to and fed it when it wanted food. It was as if the cat owned Doolittle, certainly not the other way around. But he had a way with cats, unlike dogs. I chuckled. Apparently, some birds and rodents as well. "How did you keep Bob from going after the raccoons?"

He shrugged. "Don't change the subject."

"There was a subject?"

"Yes. You. Moving out. That was the subject." He tossed his napkin on the table.

"Are you throwing a fit? Because I can't move out if I haven't even moved in."

"Don't go all Alice in Wonderland on me. I don't need your sideways logic."

"Doolittle? Why are you mad?"

He was, and there was no denying it. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled like a three-year-old having a tantrum. "Not. I'm not."

"You are. Why? What is up with you?"

He sighed. "I'm tired and cranky. It's been a long day."

I couldn't argue with that. And the rest should wait until we both had some rest. "You're right. Let's clean up and go to bed."

The next day, sure as shit, a stack of paperwork to complete was on the desk in the archives waiting for us. I shoved half of it to Doolittle's side. "Here."

"Fuck."

"No lie. It's more than last time. Get started." I waved a pen at him, and he snatched it out of my hand. "Hey."

He stuck his tongue out at me.

I grabbed another pen. "Don't be such a child."

He stuck that tongue out again. "Let's get pizza for lunch."

"Lunch? We just had breakfast." And what a great breakfast. Mutual blowjobs followed by cereal and coffee.

Doolittle shrugged and tapped his pen on the stack of paper. He was procrastinating, but we couldn't have that.

"We don't get to do anything else until this is done. Splitting it up gets it done faster. So get busy."

"Fine," he grumbled but started in on his half. A few minutes later, he said, "This is stupid and redundant."

"Yep. Still have to do it."

"Sucks balls."

"Stop complaining." I smiled when I said it, even loving when he bitched.

He bent to it then, and we worked for nearly two hours before finishing up. "Fuck the gods of Egypt." Doolittle dropped his pen and stretched, arms behind his head. Even dressed in a button-down shirt, he was sexy as fuck like that. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah. Give me a sec…" I finished the last bit I needed and signed it, passing it to Doolittle. "You have to sign." He did, then we shoved the papers into a binder. "We can drop this off on the way down to check on the interrogation. Then we can go get pizza. Deal?"

"Pizza!" He threw a fist in the air. Of course, that was what he focused on.

"This case is important. To both of us."

"I know, K, but I'm tired of it. I need a break, and I think you do too." He grabbed me, gently pulling me to him. He kissed the top of my head. "And I was thinking…"

"Yeah?"

Lights at the other end of the archives popped on with a loud thunk. "Someone's here." We pulled apart. "Hello?" Doolittle called out.

"Oh, hi. I'm Greg Travinski. Librarian. You must be Doolittle and K. April said you were working down here."

"For now." Doolittle stuck his hand out to shake, and I copied him. "Can't call you Greg, man. What's your codename?"

"Uh…Bookworm, but seriously, call me Greg. I hate the name, but it's great to have company. I've been on vacation." That explained where he'd been all this time. "But I'm back now and at your service. If you need anything at all, I'm here to help. I have a very high clearance, so accessing any information for you shouldn't be a problem."

"Thanks. Greg. We're headed out now. But maybe we'll chat later." Doolittle nudged me toward the hallway leading out to the elevator.

"Uh, yeah. Bye, Greg."

Greg waved, and we ducked into the elevator. "Well, he was, uh, nice."

Doolittle lifted an eyebrow. "Whatever." Was he jealous? And why?

"So, what were you thinking earlier before we were interrupted?" I asked. "What were you saying?"

"Nothing." I glared at him, and he shrugged me off. "Later, K. Let's get busy and get this done." He gestured to the paperwork I was carrying.

"Fine." We dropped off the paperwork in one department and then headed to another. Interrogation.

The SPAM agent at the desk was a petite blond woman who looked like she might weigh fifty pounds, sopping wet. Her brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun, but her face was still pixie cute. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Analyst Special K, and this is Agent Doolittle." I pointed to him. "We'd like to check in on the information garnered from the prisoner we captured yesterday. Project Triplet."

"Do you have the paperwork?" she asked.

"Uh…paperwork?"

The agent behind the desk sneered. Yep. Sneered at us. Then she reached below her desk and pulled out a stack of papers. "Here. We need them in triplicate. You'll get the information, if it's approved, in three to six weeks." She slammed it down on the desk.

"Three to what?" Doolittle asked, jaw dropping.

I took the papers and looked at them. "How do we get that rushed? We need the information as soon as possible."

"Not my problem." She stood there blank-faced, arms at her side. Then she smiled, sweetly. "Anything else?"

Doolittle glared at her. "Do you do anything besides hand out paperwork?"

Her blank face returned, and I grabbed Doolittle's arm. "Come on." It wouldn't do us any good to piss off the gatekeeper. When we were back in the hallway, I leaned in closer and whispered, "I'll get Leader One on it."

"Who?"

"You know, the guy who was leading this mission and sent us out to the port. I've been calling him Leader One."

"Oh. Yeah, I don't know his name."

"None of us do." I pushed my way through a set of glass doors and headed toward the breakroom. "But if anyone can help get this faster, it will be him." We needed to know what they found out from the captured triplet. It would help us apprehend the other two. And we had to do that to close the case. And that's what we needed, closed cases so we could move up in the organization and get even better cases. And I had to move up in order to fulfill my promise. This case was a great start. But three to six weeks to get that information was ridiculous. This case was important. And Leader One mentioned it could be bigger than we thought.

We sat in the breakroom on that floor and completed the paperwork. I took a picture of the first page that had all the pertinent case document information, then we dropped it off with the ice queen. That was step one. Step two was texting the info and requesting a rush to Leader One.

Step three was waiting.

Since I'd promised Doolittle pizza, we headed out to one of his favorite pubs and ordered pepperoni and extra cheese. And cold beer to go with it. I had to admit it was nice. And Doolittle was right that we needed a break. Before the end of the meal, I got a text back from Leader One.

Hold tight. Might be a few days.

I showed Doolittle. "He didn't say no."

"Nope. And we have a few more days to play hooky now." Doolittle waggled his eyebrows and leered at me suggestively while rubbing his hands together. "Maybe pick up some stuff from your place and head back to mine?"

That was not the move in with me I wanted from him. That was let's fuck around . My grandmother's words came to mind. Something about not buying a cow if you get the milk for free.

"I think you were right about needing a break. I think I'm going to go and chill at home."

I was beginning to read him easily, and I could tell he was surprised at my response. "Why? We have so much fun together."

"Fun? Yeah. But…I'm tired." I didn't know how to say that I was falling for him, and if we kept having fun without any substance behind it, my heart was going to break. It would crack right open. I imagined the sound would be something like the sound that triplet's arm made when it broke. I didn't think I'd ever forget that. And I wondered what else about this job would be permanently marked on my soul before too long.

"I get it. It's fine. Maybe it's best to take a break. I mean. You know. We've been together twenty-four-seven since we started this case."

"Yeah…"

He looked sad but resigned. I wanted him to be sad and ask me for more. But he wasn't going to do that, was he? No. So he could sit there being sad and alone. I grabbed my phone. "I'll get a Lyft."

Thirty minutes later, I was in my apartment. It sure didn't feel like home. It was empty and silent. At Doolittle's, there was always some kind of noise. Maybe that was us. The cat. A movie. Whatever. I turned the TV on, but it still wasn't the same. It was cold.

I took a shower and crawled in bed with a book I had wanted to read and kept putting off. But I couldn't focus, so I turned off the light and pulled the blanket over my head.

And thought about Doolittle.

I'd been stupid to pick him for my partner. He hit every one of my buttons. Smart, sexy, quirky. He had a great sense of sarcasm. I hadn't known how much I would like him though. And I didn't know how compatible we were. How sexy he was with his smoldering bedroom eyes. How yummy he smelled. How I wanted him to cover me with his body, kiss me until I was stupid.

He was going to throw me off track. I'd thought he was a great pick to get me ahead, but now I felt he could ruin me.

I couldn't stop thinking about him. And my dick was rock hard. Grabbing the lube, I would have to rub one out quick if I was going to get any sleep. Though, that would still be unlikely. Perhaps it would get my brain to stop churning. I lubed up and stroked my cock. Of course, I imagined Doolittle. And I blew in record time. And didn't bother to clean up. I rubbed the mess on my sheet and rolled over.

My phone woke me up. I had to answer it because it could be a SPAM call.

It wasn't.

It was Doolittle. A very drunk Doolittle. He rambled on for a bit before I had a chance to talk. "Henry. Come on. Henry. Go to bed, man." I thought using his real name would help. It didn't.

"I liked it when you called me Doo. It was so cute. You're cute. I need you."

"Henry. Doo. Go to bed, and I'll come over in the morning. It's…" I glanced at my alarm clock. "Shit. It's three a.m."

"I miss you." His words were slurred. I knew he drank. He'd been drinking when we met, but this was worse. I felt like I was the cause of it. For half a second. But I wasn't the one who wouldn't or couldn't ask for what I wanted.

Or was I?

Maybe we had both been scared. But I jacked off and went to bed while he stayed up drinking.

I sighed. "If I come over now, you'll be passed out by the time I get there. I won't be able to wake you up. I won't get in. And I'll be left standing on your doorstep in the middle of the night. So no, thank you, mister."

"Wiggums will let you in."

"Cat's can't let me in. You have to let him in. He has no thumbs."

"For Bastetstest sakes-es…why didn't she give dem thumbs?"

"You are so drunk. Sleep it off, Doolittle." I hung up on him then. He was ridiculous. I'd go see him in the morning with strong coffee, a greasy Waffle House breakfast, and Tylenol.

That was exactly what I did. After he ate and drank two large cups of Waffle House coffee, he apologized. "I have to admit I like having you here. More than I thought I would or could. And I drank too much and acted like an idiot."

"Why didn't you tell me how you felt to start with?"

"Scared. If you don't like me back…I don't want a fuck buddy. I mean, I did, but now I don't. I want you. Here. All the time."

"What are you saying?" After waking me up in the middle of the night, I was damn sure going to make him spell it out.

He huffed a little, but then he looked at me with the sweetest expression, one I hadn't seen before, and I wasn't quite sure what it meant. "I want you to live with me. Move in. Here." And there it was. Exactly what I'd wanted all along. "Please."

Losing control, I jumped him as if the butterflies in my stomach had fluttered so hard they flew me right into his arms. I wouldn't normally throw myself at a man, but this time, that was exactly what I did. Thankfully, he caught me. Then he kissed me. But. Despite pouncing on him, I needed to put the brakes on. "I soo-so want to say yes, but we have other things to work out."

"Like what?"

"Like work."

"Oh." He stuck his nose in my hair. "I hardly thought about that. Is that a problem? Working together and living together?"

"If it was only a living situation, no. But this is a relationship. Isn't it?"

"Yes." He squeezed me a little like he didn't ever want to let me go. This. This right here was what I needed. Like the proverbial icing on the cake, the ask, the cuddle, the feeling that I meant everything to him. "Will they split us up?"

"I don't know. But I feel like we have to say something and ask if we can stay together."

"Let's wait to tell them. Let's see this case through. That will be good ammo, you know? A reason to let us stay together. I like being your partner."

"Me too." I thought about all of it. Staying with Doolittle was what I wanted. As an agent, as a lover, as a partner. But he was right. We needed more ammo. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to go in and find another case? An easier one that we could close fast while we're waiting for this one?"

"I was thinking we could go back to bed."

"You're lecherous, you know that?"

He smiled a toothy grin. "Maybe."

"Compromise?" When he nodded, I continued. "We clean up. Shower together. Yeah?" I waggled my eyebrows. "You can give me a blowjob for your bullshit last night." I pointed at him.

"And then?"

"Yep. Then we go into the office and find a simple case."

He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. "You're an evil taskmaster. But let's do it." He stood and took my hand, leading me to the bathroom. He slowly stripped me, pulling my T-shirt over my head. He kissed the tops of my shoulders and down my chest. "I love your body. So lean. And your skin is silky soft."

"I have like no hair." I ran my hand over my bare chest to show him. "Just like this bit here." I touched my barely-there happy trail.

Doolittle dropped to his knees and kissed my stomach, tonguing my belly button. He pulled my pants down over my hips and kissed the bone jutting out. My hard cock nearly smacked him in the face when he released it, pushing my pants all the way to my ankles. He even kissed my knobby knees. "All of you. Sexy." He made me believe him. I'd always thought I was cute but nothing to write home about. A boy next door and a little geeky, but Doolittle kissed my thigh, dragging his tongue along my skin, telling me otherwise with his actions.

He nosed under my balls and flicked his tongue over them. "Are you playing?" I asked.

"Yes…" He hummed and licked a stripe up my cock. With a quick swirl around the head, he went down, shoving me against the bathroom vanity. I was practically naked while he was dressed. Well, at least in a tank top and tight boxers. While his head bobbed over my cock, he slurped and sucked, worshipping me like my dick was everything.

I held the sink with one hand to give me some stability since my knees had turned to rubber, and the other, I plunged into his dark hair. It was silky soft, and the subtle scent of sandalwood and citrus wafted up. It must be his shampoo that smelled that great. I wanted to stick my nose right in there, but I wasn't moving with him sucking my cock like a vacuum cleaner.

"So good, Doo…" Remembering he'd said he liked that shortened name, I was going to use it to my advantage. I tugged his hair a little, urging him on. "Make me come…yeah, like that."

He held me pressed against the cabinet in a way that I couldn't thrust my hips. I had to rely on him to do it. And that orgasm danced around, making me want to chase it. Making me moan in ways I never thought I could. The bathroom sounded like a bad porn, but I didn't give a fuck. I needed his mouth, his hands. His fingers kneaded my balls.

"Coming…com-ming…ugh!" I shot out. Finally, finally, release. I slumped forward, and Doolittle stood to catch me. I'd never felt safer.

Walking into the archives felt a little like going home. It was the same as ever, but now I looked at it through a new lens. The labyrinth of shelves still held possibilities, but they may or may not be for the two of us as a team. I didn't know for sure what SPAM's policy on partners dating was, and I didn't want to find out for fear of being torn apart. I wanted to work with Doolittle now more than ever.

As we made our way through, examining this case or that, we were never too far apart. We were like yin and yang. He moved to the left, I followed. I moved to the right, and he went with me. He was my moon and I was the tide. Or something equally as cheesy as that.

"Hey, K…"

"Yeah?" I only had to turn my head to see him flipping through a file.

"Think I got something. Looks easy. Don't know why this was filed as a cold case."

I closed the distance between us—a whole three steps—and peered down at the paperwork. A dead body had washed up on the shores of Clearwater Beach. It was unusual only because of the strange markings, and despite an autopsy, no cause of death could be determined.

But the case wasn't even pursued. No one investigated. At all. The markings made it obvious someone with superpowers had killed this man. And it probably wouldn't be hard to track down the person with a little leg work. Nothing was in the file about the victim's life, family, job, or social group. Nothing. Only his identity, which was normally the hard part. Dean Broxston. Age twenty-three at the time of death. The case was only five years old.

"Not a lot to go on. But I'd bet we could figure it out if we could gather more information quickly."

"I don't know how much time we have." Doolittle looked at me, raised an eyebrow, then peered around the corner of the aisle.

"What?"

"Let's ask Bookman, the librarian, to help."

"Bookworm."

"Whatever. Let's get him to do some of the basic research. Three pairs of hands will go faster. What was his name?" He whispered that last part.

"Uh…Greg."

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure. Come on."

It didn't take much to convince Greg to help us. He didn't have much else to do. The archives were full of old cases but nothing new. Everything that happened in the last few years was stored on the computer servers and locked down based on classification. Everything that happened with our new case, all that paperwork we'd filled out, would be digitized and transferred to a current status. But anything older was here. And probably would be forever unless some newbies came along and made a discovery like we had. All of that meant that the librarian's job was basically refiling things agents like us pulled out. And that didn't happen often. Sure, new agents did this all the time, but right now, Doolittle and I were the only new team in Tampa. Who knew when the next team would show up.

With nothing else to do, Greg jumped on our bandwagon pretty quickly, and we spent a few hours digging into Dane Broxston's life.

At least until our phones buzzed with a new text from Leader One.

Case Update. Report to 345 in thirty minutes.

"Already?" I asked, looking over at Doolittle across the desk. "Do you think they got something out of Triplet One?"

"We could sit here and guess all day and never get it right. Let's go get some coffee and head up. Greg, are you okay here?"

"Oh, yeah. I'll put an updated dossier together before you get back." He waved us off as we thanked him and headed upstairs. I only felt a little guilty leaving him there. That's how things went at SPAM, apparently, sometimes. Also, he seemed happy to be doing something productive for once, so I let it go.

And got coffee from the third-floor breakroom. It was pretty good. That was one thing SPAM didn't cut corners on, for sure. With all these agents working on cases around the clock, good coffee was a necessity. Or at least I imagined that to be the case.

"We're the first ones here." Doolittle opened the glass door to the conference room, ushering me in.

We sat next to each other at the table, sipping coffee and, at least in my case, trying to act normal and not like I wanted to tackle him and drag him up on top of that long table so I could devour him. I had to stop thinking that way before I popped wood. I didn't need a hard-on when the other agents walked in. I'd have to scoot up and hide it under the table, and that wouldn't look suspicious at all. Assuming we were working with seasoned agents, I didn't think I would fool them for long. Oh, Gawd. It would be like high school all over again.

I stopped worrying over everything as the rest of the team assembled. Light chatter between them filled the air, but they didn't speak to us. I figured they didn't really know us well, so I didn't take it personally. Then, Leader One walked in at the thirty-minute mark on the dot.

He used his clicker again, bringing up a map on the big screen. "More people have been abducted that meet the profile. Recent. In the last twenty-four hours. The state wants to put its human trafficking task force on this. I can only hold them off so long. We have to find the other two triplets."

"Sir?" Doolittle asked.

"Yes?"

"Any information from the captured triplet that would help us?"

"No."

I wondered if his no was that we had no information, that he hadn't talked, or if we simply didn't have the information yet due to the old red tape stopping us. If it were the latter, that would suck. Lives were at stake here.

Leader One pointed out the locations. Jacksonville. Two people, suspected to be a couple, taken from the Florida State Campus. Four hours later, two more unrelated victims were taken from Tallahassee, not far from Florida State Campus there. And one additional, only seventeen years old, from the Florida A&M campus.

"We suspect, based on Special K's earlier findings, that they may be headed back down the I-75 corridor. Gainesville is next." There was a huge campus there for the University of Florida. "We have a task team, including undercover agents who meet the profile of the victims stationed there now. If that doesn't work, we'll have to wait for them to return to Tampa."

"What do we do now?" I couldn't help but ask.

The answer should have been obvious. "Wait. We wait." Leader One turned off the screen. "Dismissed."

I stood with a sigh. I wished there was something more we could do to help those kids. "That last one was only seventeen. That kind of hits me hard."

"You were younger when you went to college?"

I nodded. "Sixteen."

Doolittle put his arm around my shoulders. "They'll find him. We'll get him home safe."

"I hope so."

We checked in downstairs, and true to his word, Greg had a new report ready to go.

Dane Broxston.

Mother, Claire Broxston.

Father, Charles "Chucky" Broxston.

Divorced. Both still living in Dunedin, Florida, only about five miles north of where Dane's body was found.

One brother. Younger. Maxwell.

That's where things got interesting. Maxwell left home the year before the body was found.

He since joined SPAM and went to basic field training.

Current whereabouts: CLASSIFIED

"Classified? How classified? I have a blue clearance." I tapped the folder in front of me. "I think we need to check into him."

"Sorry. Clearance on this is Red Plus."

"Red Plus ? Plus what, for crying to Nephthys." Doolittle slapped his file on the desk.

"Nep-what?" Greg asked.

"Sorry, Egyptian goddess of sorrow," Doolittle explained as if his weird Egyptian deity comments weren't a little odd. I suspected he did it as a tieback to his former life that he didn't want to completely let go of.

"Okay. Back on track." I tapped the file. "Location is out of our hands right now. But what else do we know about our Max here? What's his power?"

"While that's also classified, I did a little more digging. This didn't come from SPAM archives, but local newspaper archives for Clearwater and the surrounding areas." He slid another piece of paper across the table. Doolittle and I scrunched in together, shoulders touching—and sending those warm feelings down my spine—to look at it together.

Local teen expelled from school—Dunedin High. Max had apparently hurt several members of the football team. No one was sure how, but several of them had strange marks on their bodies, almost like burns and very much like the ones found on his brother. None of them had been killed, but two were hospitalized, which is where Greg found pictures of the burns.

"This is excellent."

"Yes, but you have a problem." Greg pulled the paperwork back together.

"Problem?" I didn't see a problem. I saw a solved case. This kid got his powers and hurt some other kids. Probably killed his brother by accident. It felt all too familiar to me. It was a weird funhouse mirror of my life. Instead of the brother with power dying, it was the one without and SPAM recruited the one left… "Oh."

"What?" Doolittle asked.

"He's a SPAM agent. With a mega-clearance needed to access where he is, what his power is, what he's doing, what cases he's on. He's an assassin, Doo. Working for SPAM. They're not going to give him up. This case was dumped here, no one investigated. They knew what happened." I threw my hands up. It seemed unfair.

"What do we do with this?"

"File the report." Greg slid the file back toward us. "Mark it with the Red Plus Classification. You get credit for solving a case. But it's up to SPAM what to do with it. To be honest, guys, this should never have been down here."

I rubbed my face. "I don't like how this one went."

"Your brother?" Doolittle asked, obviously putting the pieces together.

"Yeah." It was always Wren. He constantly lurked in my brain, taking up space, keeping me on track.

We sat there silently for a little while and then did exactly what Greg said. We filled out the paperwork on it. Tagged it with the appropriate clearance and filed the report. None of these cases were ever going to be simple.

Then we went home. I was done with this day.

Frustrated was an understatement. We ordered Mexican food. Doolittle made us Vodka mules. Not exactly Mexican but the lime juice and ginger beer were refreshing and actually went well with the food.

Then we went to bed. I didn't feel like watching a movie or anything else. Laying beside Doolittle and naked cuddling was exactly what I needed. Skin on skin time. He held me close, and we rubbed our bare legs together. I rested my head against his chest while he peppered kisses on the side and back of my head. It didn't take long before he shifted us over to our sides so he could kiss down my neck. "K…you smell so good. Taste better…"

"Mmm…" It felt divine as his kisses turned to licks, then sucks and nibbles. It woke my cock up, and it pressed against his upper thigh.

Doolittle pushed me to my back and continued devouring me, attacking my nipples one at a time. "Delicious," he muttered between licks and sucks. "I love having you here."

The love word made my heart flutter. It was way too soon for that, and he didn't say he loved me but loved having me. Different things, entirely. Still. My heart was not listening. Nope. It was beating too loud for that. "Doo. I want you…" And apparently, it was directing my mouth.

"You got me. Don't you know that yet?" He chuckled softly and fumbled around the nightstand for the lube and condom that we didn't particularly need. We all tested with SPAM regularly, and neither of us had been seeing anyone else.

"Want to skip the rubber?" I took it from him and set it back on the nightstand.

"You sure?"

"Been with anyone else—"

"No," he answered quickly, and then his lips were on mine. His tongue rubbed against mine, teasing and playing. Demanding more, and I gave it.

Our gentle caresses were gone, and in their wake, insistent hands grabbed at each other. And eventually, Doolittle grabbed my cock and stroked it. I moaned and panted, wanting more. Wanting to be filled. But my lover knew it. He held up the lube and dropped some in his hand before he was on me again. He stroked me with a sticky hand, then slid lower, behind my balls, finding my hole. We had been fucking so much that it didn't take a lot to get me ready, and my body was eager. Sometimes, it was as if my hole wanted him more than I did, but that maybe wasn't possible. I wanted everything he was. Because when he stopped being a sarcastic bore who drank too much, he was quite snarky and fun. He was smart in ways I was only starting to appreciate.

He pressed against my sensitive prostrate, and I yowled like his stupid cat.

Doolittle smiled knowingly but didn't say a word, and he didn't laugh. So I spread my legs wider, letting him in. He pressed the head of his cock, bare for the first time, to my entrance and pushed. It felt different, warmer. He gasped. "Ky…" One changed syllable to my name and everything shifted.

"Henry. I…" I didn't tell him how I felt. I swallowed it back. The first time shouldn't happen when he was fucking me silly.

"Yes… You feel so fucking good." He pulled out slowly and back in. "So fucking… Ahh…good." Then he picked up the pace until he was grunting.

I wrapped one leg over his hip, canting my hips in the process. The new position allowed me to thrust in time with him. He gasped and thrust harder until we were both chasing our release.

With a grunt, he came, hot in my ass, as he grabbed it with one hand, holding me tighter. "Come for me, Ky…"

I grabbed my dick and pumped it hard and fast, but I was right there, and it only took a couple strokes before I splashed out all over the both of us with a loud moan.

"I love your face when you come." Doolittle chuckled, letting me down to the mattress gently. "Let me get something to clean up." He came back and did what he said before crawling in next to me. "That was fantastic, K."

"It was. Yeah." I snuggled into him, and he wrapped his arms around me.

"Then why are you still broody?"

I sighed. He wasn't wrong because our second case was still on my mind. "It's still bothering me that Broxston not only got away with killing his brother but was rewarded for it."

"Rewarded?"

"Wasn't he? Trained. Given a job. Traveling the world."

"We don't really know any of that, K. It's a lot of assuming. You don't know what his life is like. And that may be irritating, but I think there's more to it."

"Of course there is. It was way too close to home. It was Wren all over again. But worse. And that could have been us."

"Could have been anyone, but it wasn't."

I rolled over on my side, and Doolittle immediately took the big spoon position. I hugged his arm. "It could have been anyone. It still could be. Tomorrow, some kid could get his powers and freak out. And no one can do anything about it."

He kissed the back of my head. "You have the sweetest heart." I probably heard more than he said, which was a much nicer thought to drift off to sleep with.

Until the yowling. "Fuck. What the hell is that?"

"The cat," Doolittle mumbled and shuffled around. "Fucking cat."

It continued to howl as if someone was killing it. "What's he going on like that for? Is he okay? What time is it?" I moved to sit up, but Doolittle patted my shoulder.

"Stay. He wants in and probably food. And fuck me, it's about three in the morning."

Why was it always three a.m. when my sleep was so brutally interrupted? "Ugh. Shut him up…" I rolled over, not loving Mr. Wiggums nearly as much as I used to. I pulled the blankets over my head, and listened to a one-sided conversation as Doolittle opened the slider.

"Cat. Shut the fuck up." Then cabinets opened and shut. "I'm feeding you already, geez. Temperamental—what?"

Then it was quiet. Maybe I heard a meow, but I couldn't be sure. Doolittle came back into the bedroom and crawled under the blanket with me.

"All sorted?" I asked as we got comfortable all over again.

"Yes, but he said the weirdest thing."

"What?"

Doolittle stole half of my pillow. "He said food now, fight evil tomorrow."

"That is weird."

"Yeah, I asked him what he meant, and he said protect the other from evil tomorrow."

"Fucking weird, Doo." Part of me wanted to go get the cat and have Doolittle interrogate him on what he meant, but the other part wanted to go the fuck back to sleep.

"Yeah…the other animals called the triplets evil. That's what's bothering me here."

"Oh, that's what's bothering you? Animals can identify evil, and cats can make predictions. At three fucking a.m. Go to sleep."

"I will, though." He grabbed me, pulling me in possessively and snuggling against me. "I'll protect you from any and all evil with all that I am."

Well fuck me.