Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Declan sat at his usual table at the back of Bar-None. He felt safe here, not that he was expecting anyone to sneak up from behind and knife him. It was just that here he knew he could have a private conversation with the fewest people listening in. And if the conversation ended badly, Declan could always sneak out of the bar through Mickey's office, which was right beside him.

He saw a mop of unruly blond hair working its way through the crowd.

"Hey," Charlie said as he sat down across from him. His face was filled with concern. "So," Charlie started, "you get my texts?"

"I did!" Declan said with forced enthusiasm.

"And the big news is that BurlyBiker27 is someone who's wanted by the police. His name is Adolph Moses. And in my interview with Cody White—he's being blackmailed. He's SmoothStud123. And his case is connected to a trial involving Monarch."

"That's good work, Charlie."

Charlie detected an odd tone in Declan's voice. "Did I do something wrong?" Charlie asked. "I thought you'd be really interested in all of this."

"I am. More and more it's starting to appear that Malcolm Tull's death wasn't accidental. He had enough enemies who had a motive, and there's evidence on the victim's computer—the emails and videos, and a nice selection of identifiable culprits."

"Why didn't you return my texts or call?" Charlie interjected.

Declan paused. He knew this conversation would be difficult—he just hadn't anticipated how difficult it would be until now. "I have something I need to talk to you about."

Charlie looked down at his drink. "I was wondering when we'd be having this discussion. This is about Michael, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Have you been lovers for a long time?" Charlie asked.

The hurt in Charlie's voice was soul crushing.

"Charlie. It's not what you think."

"Isn't it?"

Declan reached over and put his hands on Charlie's. "Charlie, look at me."

Charlie remained motionless.

"Look at me, please."

Charlie looked up. His cheeks were damp with tears.

"Charlie. Michael's not my lover. They're my therapist. And, to top it off, Michael's a woman."

"What?"

"And a tougher dyke you wouldn't find at a rodeo," Declan said with a smile.

"She's a…"

Declan saw a slight glimmer returning to Charlie's eyes. "She's been helping me ever since I got kicked off of the police force. Trying to help me would be a better word for it—with my anger towards my father, the cops…myself. And now she's helping me deal with my feelings towards you."

"Your…feelings towards…me?" Charlie's tears continued.

"She's pushing me to jump in with both feet."

"Why didn't you tell me about her in the first place?" Charlie asked. "Don't you trust me?"

"Trust you? You're one of the few people I do trust. Look, I've had a lifelong habit of throwing roadblocks in front of myself whenever things are going well. I'm just a bit fucked up and I didn't want you to find out about it. At least not yet."

"So what does this mean?"

Declan replied, "I think I have to fire you."

Charlie's face fell as he slumped back into his chair and his shoulders sagged. "But why?"

"I care too much about you to let you get hurt. Maybe if you aren't working for me, we can approach the relationship without all the complications."

"But I'm good at my job. I love my job. I love…you. And in terms of keeping me out of danger, that's my decision to make. I'll brush up on my karate. I'll…learn how to punch things! Besides, most of my work is in the office, which is hardly life-threatening." Charlie leaned in close to Declan. "I want to make this work. I know we can do it."

"Charlie, I've been making a lot of bad decisions lately, and this decision is a big one."

"And I've been making a lot of good decisions lately, and I'm not going to let this stop me. Did Michael tell you to fire me so we could have a relationship?"

"Not exactly. She said I was afraid to take emotional risks."

Charlie looked at Declan intently. "What do you really want?"

Declan swirled the drink in front of him, then knocked it back. "What the hell." He stood up, walked around the table, leaned over and kissed Charlie on the mouth. It was a long, passionate kiss. Charlie kissed him back.

"Come on," Declan said, grabbing Charlie by the hand. "I've been waiting too long for this."

They ran like they were being chased by a pack of wolves, through the crowded bar and out onto the street. Declan heard Charlie laughing. He hailed a nearby cab and within minutes they were climbing the stairs to the office.

As they burst through the office door, Declan grabbed Charlie and kissed him again. The moment was broken by a loud shrill noise that filled the air. They both dove for the security panel, simultaneously trying to punch in the code before the security company was called.

"Here, just let me…" Charlie said, pushing Declan aside.

Ten seconds later there was silence.

They turned again to face each other. This time Charlie grabbed Declan by the shirt-front and pulled him in, kissing him gently, then more deeply. Their tongues caressed each other.

"Come on," Declan said, taking Charlie by the hand and leading him to the bed upstairs.

Declan took his time undressing Charlie. He undid his shirt, one button at a time, meticulously stripping his slender shoulders and smooth chest. As he peeled the shirt off of him, he leaned into his torso, and kissed his neck, then his shoulders, then stooped to kiss his chest. He dipped Charlie's body back, as a dancer would dip his partner, then bent forward until his lips brushed against Charlie's nipples, which had hardened with the first touch of his breath.

This was different than Declan's other sexual encounters which were forceful, overpowering and all about taking control over the other man's body. With Charlie, each touch was a gentle caress, whether it was with his lips or his fingers. Charlie was someone to be worshipped, not conquered.

Declan dropped to his knees. His tongue traced the path from Charlie's navel, down the light trail of hair that ran towards his waist. He expertly removed Charlie's belt and unbuttoned the waistband of his pants. He gripped the fly-tab with his teeth and lowered it, letting his nose graze the cotton of Charlie's briefs. The scent of the sweat on Charlie's pubic hair filled his nostrils and caused his pulse to race.

Declan rid him of his pants, then, still kneeling before him, slid his underwear over the mounds of his ass, freeing his hard cock which shot upwards and slapped the underside of Declan's chin, surprising him and Charlie. They both burst out laughing.

Declan stood, and started to tickle Charlie, throwing him into hysterical laughter, before he picked him up and tossed him onto the bed.

Declan peeled his own tight-fitting clothes off of his muscled body, slowly removing his pants and underwear. He crawled up from the foot of the bed and hovered above Charlie, stopping only to swallow his cock to the root for a moment, then continued upwards until they were face-to-face. The young man's smile was angelic. Declan gently kissed him, then lowered himself onto Charlie's erection. Declan's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in ecstasy. He knew then that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

* * * *

In the morning, Charlie lay with his head on Declan's chest. He could hear Declan's heart pounding. The two were damp with sweat, as were the sheets.

He ran his fingers through Declan's chest hair. It was as black as night. Declan leaned in, kissed him on the head and held him close.

Charlie fell silent. He was worried. He pressed his head further into the cradle between Declan's arm and chest.

"What's wrong?" Declan asked.

Charlie sat up looking towards the end of the bed, then, finding his courage, looked Declan in the face.

"Was I okay?" Charlie asked.

"Okay?"

"You know. In bed? I didn't bore you, did I?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Because…you know. You've had a lot of guys to compare me with."

"I wouldn't say that," Declan replied.

"Survey companies would be thrilled to have your sample size—oh my God!" Charlie realized he had basically called Declan a whore. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm a terrible person and—"

Declan put his finger on Charlie's lips. "Shhh. You're working yourself up over nothing. You were perfect. And do you know why? Because you're Charlie Watts. No one else can claim that. And if you're worried about technique…no one, and I mean no one has fucked me like that."

"Really?"

"This is gonna sound weird," Declan said, "but you did it with your whole body and soul. Most guys do it like they're jerking off. They do it just to come. You…you did it like you wanted to be a part of me, and that was special."

Charlie looked up at Declan. "Since you brought up the subject of skill, how did you get the condom on my cock? I certainly didn't do it."

Declan smiled. "We all have our secrets."

Charlie looked at him and raised a single eyebrow.

Declan finally confessed, "I popped it in my mouth after I got undressed. When I went down on you, I unrolled it as I went. Something I learned to do to protect myself a long time ago."

"That must have taken a lot of practise." Charlie rolled on top of Declan and stared at him intently."

Declan just smiled mysteriously.

Charlie pointed to the scar that cut through Declan's left eyebrow. "How did you get that?"

"That was when I was thrown into an open car door in my first week of police training."

"And that?" Charlie asked, stroking a three-centimetre-long scar between two ribs on Declan's right side.

"A knife. A junkie did that to me in a back alley when I was trying to get to his friend who was OD'ing."

Charlie sucked in air at the thought of it. "Ouch. How about that one?" he said, tracing his index finger around a broad, shiny ten-centimetre scar on Declan's inner right calf.

"That was my own fault. I got that when I learned how hot a motorcycle exhaust pipe can get. Let that be a lesson to you—always wear long pants when you get on a bike. So, how about you?"

Declan pushed Charlie flat on his back. "You've gotta have war wounds somewhere. There," he said, pointing to Charlie's lower abdomen.

"Appendix. Hardly what I'd call a war wound."

Declan leaned down and kissed it, then began to tickle Charlie until he was hysterical with laughter again.

Declan's phone rang.

"Ignore it," Declan said. "I'm only interested in you right now."

Charlie looked over and noticed the caller ID. It was four letters. "I think you should take this."

Declan looked at the caller ID and scowled. "I need you to take this. Answer like you would if you were in the office."

Charlie nodded, then answered. "Declan Hunt Investigations. Charlie Watts speaking. How may I help you?"

Declan slid down the bed and started nibbling on Charlie's toes.

"Is Declan Hunt there, please?" a voice asked.

"I'm afraid he can't come to the phone at the moment," Charlie said, trying to control his breathing as Declan went to town.

"This is Sergeant Kaci Bowen from the RCMP, Drumheller detachment. We understand that Mr Hunt has been involved with an investigation at Hoodoo House, near Rosebud."

"Yes, we, I mean, Mr Hunt was working there." Charlie's voice went up an octave as Declan did something magical with his tongue.

"It's come to our attention that a computer was located on the premises and it's currently in Mr Hunt's possession. Tell Mr Hunt I'd like to see him and the computer in Drumheller no later than four p.m. today or we'll send someone to Calgary to retrieve it."