Chapter 17

Deckard eased out of Fong's compact car and opened the back door. "Come on, sleepyhead," he told Perry.

"Huh, wha?" Perry pushed upright and rubbed his eyes. "Oh, right." He got out, hobbling as though his toes hurt.

Deckard ignored the impulse to sweep Perry off his feet and carry him inside. "Nix, come."

His dog jumped out with a lot more enthusiasm, her tail wagging. He ruffled her silky ears. She'd curled up napping with Perry in the corner of Deckard's office for a couple of hours, while Deckard worked through far longer reports than the SPAM one Perry'd been stuck with. Which had vanished a few minutes after he finished filling it out. Someone at SPAM was damned spooky.

Although filling in his new superhero name had made Perry laugh a couple of times, so it wasn't all bad.

"Thanks for the ride," Deckard told Fong. "Retrieving my car's going to be a pain in the ass."

"One of us will give you a lift out there. Least we can do. Have a good night and take care of Sleeping Beauty."

"Hey," Perry protested. "I'm awake."

"You are now." She chuckled, and once Deckard closed the door and called Nix to heel, she drove off.

Perry stuck his lower lip out. "Your friends are so mean to me."

"It's a sign they like you." Deckard wrapped an arm around Perry. "Come on, there's a shower calling our names."

"Our? Like, shower together?"

"Only if you want to." At some point in this long day, he'd given up pretending he didn't want Perry in every way he could have him. "The case is over, at least on our end. I'm off duty and you're no longer an essential witness."

The final key unlocking their path forward had turned when Jeffries had knocked on Deck's office door two hours back…

Deckard had been hip-deep in reports. He'd looked up. "Yes, sir?"

His lieutenant's expression had been unreadable. "Hey, Deck, got a piece of news for you and Crawford."

Perry had sat up from where he'd begun slipping into a doze, pillowed on Nix's plush bed. "Yes?"

"Our bomber's dead. That fox guy."

"He's what? What happened?" Deckard demanded. If the bastard had forced some NCPD officer to shoot him, Deckard hoped it'd been clean, but he wasn't even slightly sorry. His hip and shoulder throbbed from landing in that pit, one fingertip stung where he'd torn a nail climbing out, memories of mangled bodies lurked in his head, and his heart hadn't yet recovered from seeing Perry held at gunpoint, about to die.

"The Lithomancer happened." Jeffries ran a hand over his cropped black curls. "Our nearsighted perp tripped and fell when they were moving him, there in that bunker of his. The Lithomancer laughed at him, fox-guy came back with something really nasty to her. She apparently said, ‘To me,' and a rock leaped up off the floor behind the perp and flew to her hand. Right through his heart like a bullet. Big mess."

"Wow," Perry gasped, his eyes wide. "She could've killed me at any time."

"Perhaps not," Jeffries told him. "That super-agent guy Lightfoot said she could only call her own stones, not random stones. She'd left a couple on the floor in that main room. When fox-guy fell over dead, she said, ‘Oh, oops, my bad,' but then she smiled. No one's buying the idea it was an accident."

"Not likely," Deckard muttered.

"The SPAM guy—" Jeffries had smiled at the phrase, despite everything. "He gagged her, gathered her stones up from the floor and her pockets and put them all in some kind of bag, then hauled her away. She was kicking and screaming around the gag by then, but no one else died."

"Will we get to put her on trial for murder in a court of law?" Deckard had asked. Her nonchalant "Shoot the mail-boy," suggestion to Fox-face still echoed in his chest. He would've liked to see her afraid, shaken out of her arrogant, casually murderous cool. Yeah, I'm holding a grudge. "Fox-face was a human victim."

"Sadly, no. She still goes into the supes' justice system. But with murder committed in front of witnesses, I doubt she'll be getting out soon. And she did save you a hell of a lot of court time, so that's something."

That's definitely a bonus, Deckard thought now, as he nudged Perry up the front steps and into the house. Fox-face's death meant Perry was no longer a witness to any human crimes. Which meant he and Perry were no longer damaging any police case by being together. Or by fucking. High on my agenda. Although not as high as that shower.

He ushered Nix inside, let go of Perry to take her through the kitchen and out the back, made sure she had water in her outdoor bowl, and turned her loose in the yard to enjoy the late-afternoon sun. When he came back inside, a trail of clothes led to the ajar bathroom door. At the end of the trail was a very skimpy pair of black briefs. What a pity. I bet he looked delicious in those. And getting out of them.

Deckard pushed the bathroom door open and froze. Delicious is exactly the word.

Perry stood fully naked next to the taps, round ass on display, adjusting the flow of the shower. He glanced over at the click of the closing door. "Hey, joining me?"

"Let me pee first. The flush makes the water go hot. And then, yeah. Hell, yeah."

Perry's smile was wide and delighted. He took off his glasses and set them beside the sink. Without them… Young Superman, definitely. Although smudged bruises on Perry's legs and chest showed he wasn't invulnerable.

"Wait for me." Deckard stripped as fast as he could, took a quick piss, and turned to Perry. He'd forgotten his own aches and bruises in the heat of that small room, until Perry drew a sharp breath.

"Wow, your hip's all red and purple. And your shoulder."

"I know how to fall, but that pit was ten feet deep and the netting got in the way. I'm fine." He rubbed the sorest bit on his shoulder. Or I will be eventually, because fucking ouch. He didn't let any pain show on his face.

"How did you get out? I forgot to ask."

"Dirt sides, solid enough to dig in foot and hand holds. It took a few minutes, but it wasn't that hard." And then I ran as fast as I ever have, knowing you were with that madman. Deckard cleared his throat. "Hot water will feel good."

"Sure. Of course." Perry pulled open the shower stall door, checked the temperature, and got in. "Ouch. Ow."

"Too hot?" Deckard jumped forward.

"No. Blisters on my toes." Perry held out a dripping hand to him. "Come on in. The water's fine."

Deckard let himself be pulled into the stall under the spray. He shut the door behind him, enclosing them in the warm, steamy space.

"Soap first," Perry murmured, "because I'm a mess."

"This first." Deckard tilted Perry's chin up away from the water and kissed him. This. The taste of Perry's mouth and his warm, solid, breathing body in Deckard's arms settled a shakiness he hadn't wanted to admit. They pressed together, wet skin against skin. Deckard cupped the back of Perry's head and kissed him harder and deeper.

When he leaned away so their eyes could meet, Perry smiled. "Hi. And yes. But let me get the sweat and dirt off first."

"Yes? I didn't ask a question."

"That was a pretty convincing, ‘Do you want to go to bed with me?' question, Deck. Yes, I do. Once we won't turn your sheets to mud." Perry ran a hand down Deckard's arm and held up a grubby fingertip.

"Reasonable." Now bed was on the agenda, Deckard resented any delay, but he wanted Perry's mouth on him, and that meant clean skin. "This stall is cramped. You do you, I do me, and we take it to the bedroom."

"I like a man who knows his own mind." Perry reached for the body wash at the same moment Deckard did, and their hands bumped.

"One more kiss, then wash." Deckard took Perry's mouth again. Maybe two kisses.

Perry laughed and pushed at his chest. "Okay. Enough." He glanced down at where they were both rapidly getting hard. "De-grubify yourself quickly, dirty man."

"Is that even a word?" Deckard grabbed a handful of soap and passed the bottle to Perry.

"It is if I say it is."

Deckard found it hard to focus on getting clean when he had Perry rubbing herbal mint-scented lather all over his lean chest and flat stomach and lower through his neatly trimmed pubes. Perry grinned, adjusted a leg, and slid soapy fingers down behind his balls.

Kill me now.

Closing his eyes was safest. Deckard washed by touch at full speed, taking extra time to scrub his fingers. He opened his eyes to check his cuticles. Maybe a brush?—

Perry grabbed his hand. "There's such a thing as too clean. Or at least, too slow. Come on."

Deckard resisted his pull just long enough to shut off the water, then snatched a big towel from the rail and wrapped it around Perry. He rubbed briskly, trying to counteract the goosebumps on Perry's arms. "Are you cold?"

"Just excited. Get dry and come to bed." Perry snagged the other bath towel and passed it to Deckard.

He took a rough swipe up and down his body and followed Perry's pert rump into the bedroom. Perry hesitated, then said, "Lie down. On your back."

Deckard didn't mind being ordered around when it came from Perry. Although he did want to know where this was going. He stretched out on his back and folded his unbruised arm behind his head. "Now what?"

"Now I wish I had my glasses to see you better. Guess I have to get closer." Perry climbed onto the bed on his knees, straddling Deckard's thighs. He drew a light fingertip across Deckard's bruised hip. "Is this position okay?"

"There's only one thing hurting."

"What's that?"

"My balls." The organs in question throbbed in agreement.

Perry threw back his head and laughed. "That was soooo corny." The lines of his lean biceps and hairless chest and throat were Deckard's new favorite work of art.

Deckard fought back an answering smile. "You gonna do something about it, though?"

Perry patted Deckard's shaft, a motion that did absolutely zero of what he wanted. "Are you asking me nicely?"

"Please—" His voice went dry as Perry licked his palm and dragged one damp, clinging stroke up Deckard, root to tip.

"I want to taste you." Perry ran his tongue across his bottom lip.

"Not stopping you." Deckard's sense of responsibility made him add, "Wouldn't you rather I took care of you?"

"Nope." Perry popped the "P" in the word. "I've wanted to get my mouth on you since the night I saw you parading naked in the hallway."

"That was an accident."

"A very happy accident." Perry scooted lower along Deckard's legs, braced one hand on the bed, and raised Deckard's cockhead toward his mouth with the other. Bending low, he swiped a wet, flat-tongued lick over Deckard's slit and hummed. "Mm, good flavor."

"Do that again." Heat built in Deckard's groin. Precum pearled, ready to be tasted.

"But there are other good bits." Perry mouthed around the base of Deckard's cock, then licked down over the top of his sac.

Deckard fought to widen his thighs, and Perry clamped his legs together with knee pressure.

"Brat."

Perry laughed and rose higher over Deckard. "Okay. Spread 'em."

With a little fumbling, they got his legs spread open and Perry on his knees between them.

"Ah, yes. Access." Perry cupped Deckard's sac in his fingers and rolled his balls, then tugged lightly.

Deckard groaned.

"But I still want that taste." Perry lowered himself and sucked Deckard's dick in, right to the back of his throat.

The warm, wet suction pulled a groan from Deck's chest. "Jesus."

Perry swallowed, a tight ripple around Deckard's cockhead, eased back for a breath, then took him deep again, again, again.

"Slow down or this'll be over fast," he warned.

Perry let Deckard's cock slip from between his lips. "No self-control, big man?"

"Not around you."

That ripple of delighted laughter was one of his favorite sounds. "Love it…" Perry's gaze softened as he met Deckard's eyes. Other words hovered between them, but Perry just nodded. "I want to ride you. That okay? Tell me you have condoms."

The picture Perry made above him was not helping Deckard's self-control. He gripped the base of his cock tightly. "Check the bedside drawer. I might've stopped on the way home from work a few days back."

Perry leaned sideways, dug in the drawer, and came out with the sealed box, then a full bottle of lube. "‘Might've,' huh?"

"Did?"

"I like a man with foresight." Sitting back on his heels between Deckard's knees, Perry wrestled with the plastic seals, his tongue tip touching the corner of his mouth.

Jesus, he's so damned pretty. And hot, and kind, and…Deckard groaned as Perry lifted his dick with a firm touch and swiped lube around the leaking slit before rolling a condom down him.

"For a little extra pleasure. And now…" Perry rose up on his knees, reaching behind himself with slick fingers.

"I could do that for you. I want to."

"Ah. No." Perry scrunched his face and took a breath. His slender, hard cock bobbed with his movements as his arm flexed. "I'm too damned worked up. I don't want to come on your fingers."

"All right." Deckard closed his hands around Perry's thighs to steady him.

"Next time." Perry came back for more lube.

Yes. Many next times.

Deckard watched the way Perry's stomach muscles bunched and jumped with his motions, the way his cock softened, then refilled. He bit his lip and breathed through his nose to not ask if Perry was ready. Take all the time you need. I want this to feel so good.

After a couple of minutes punctuated only by their ragged breathing, Perry eased his fingers out, wiped them on a tissue, and poured more lube into his palm. "Your turn." He reached for Deckard's sheathed dick.

"Don't tease me too much if you want any kind of ride."

"I would never."

The warm, smooth glide of that slender, lubed hand up and down the condom revved Deckard higher. He closed his eyes to block the visual, then opened them again to not miss anything.

Perry rose on his knees, shifting his stance wide, and Deckard brought his thighs together between Perry's as he shuffled up to straddle Deckard's hips. There Perry paused. Deckard's dick twitched in futile anticipation. Perry leaned forward and their mouths met.

Deckard wanted to be inside Perry as much as he wanted to breathe, but this kiss? This was more important than air. He put a hand behind Perry's head, the short hairs on the back of Perry's neck prickling his palm, and kissed him with everything he had. When Perry pushed a bold tongue forward, Deckard opened for him. Yes. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. All I need is you.

Perry nipped Deckard's lower lip and eased back, his face flushed, eyes shining. Rising on his knees, he gripped Deckard's erection and guided the tip to his opening. Without losing his grin, he lowered himself, the tight, hot fist of his asshole taking Deckard in. Inch after inch, smoothly, not stopping, Perry clutched Deckard's cock up inside him.

Look at you. Look how perfect you are. Deckard ran his hands up and down Perry's thighs and breathed in slow time with him. Perry paused, shifted position, kept going, until he was seated on Deckard's groin, impaled and flushed and grinning.

"You are something else, Peregrine Crawford," Deckard murmured. The smooth heat of Perry's ass and thighs pinned him to the mattress. He ached to buck up, to fuck into Perry, but held as still as he could.

"I knew you'd feel this good." Perry's voice had a breathless quality. He rose a fraction, pushed down harder, then circled his hips, tweaking Deckard's cock.

Deckard groaned.

"Like that?" Perry repeated the motion, then circled the other way.

Deckard shuddered, trying not to dig his fingers into Perry's thighs. "Can I…?"

Perry lifted up a couple of inches and murmured, "You want to fuck me?"

"God, yes."

He braced his hands on the bed. "Do it."

Digging in his heels, Deckard used the leverage to push up into Perry. They both grunted as he drove them together. More. He moved his grip to Perry's hips and bucked upward again. Bending his knees, he scrabbled for more leverage, found it, thrust up.

Perry let out a yelp. "Yeah. Right there. More."

Whatever you need. Deckard went for the same angle and found it from the way Perry jolted under his hands. Okay. You and me. He took up a slow rhythmic thrust and retreat that had Perry moaning and cursing, his fingers flexing in the sheets. Sweat beaded his smooth forehead.

Deckard wanted to do this forever. Have this man on him, around him. See Perry's flushed face, mouth dropped open, his chest heaving. But fire gathered in Deckard's groin, the need to come as sharp as the worst hunger, the most frantic thirst. I want. I need. The words chased through his mind over and over as he sped up, pounding into Perry now, spurred on by Perry's wordless gasps and grunts.

Come on, Perry. Come on. He wanted to jerk Perry off but couldn't let go and keep his angle. Between one moment and the next, the bonfire of his orgasm flashed over him. He groaned and ground upward, his cock jerking and spilling in Perry's welcoming heat, the massive relief a living thing that stole his breath and his sight and left him gasping and blind, mindlessly rutting up into his man.

When he blinked the darkness from his vision and relaxed, his ass hitting the bed, Perry lowered with him. Deckard squinted at Perry's slender, bobbing erection. "Let me…"

Before he could raise a hand, Perry took himself in a tight grip, stroking so fast his hand blurred. One second, another, and then he groaned deep in his chest and jets of spunk erupted over Deckard's chest and throat. A spurt hit his lips, another landed in his hair.

Perry started laughing and groaning in turn, his hand slowing on his softening cock. "Oh my God, that was awesome. I think I jizzed your nose. I'm sorry."

"No sorries." Deckard licked his lip, then swiped the goop off his nose and licked it off his fingers. One last drip welled from Perry's cockhead and landed on Deckard's belly.

Perry let go of himself. "I am done. I am so done."

"C'mere." Deckard held the base of the condom and eased out as Perry lifted his ass. After tossing the condom aside, not caring where it landed, Deckard clutched Perry's biceps. "Lie down. Stay with me."

And when Perry arranged himself in a sprawl across Deckard, ignoring the mess smeared between them, Deckard added, "Stay with me a long time."

"Hm?" Perry blinked sleepily at him.

Now probably wasn't the right moment, but Deckard couldn't wait any longer. "Stay with me. Live with me. This place would be empty without you. I want you in my home and my bed and my life."

Perry's doziness faded. "The case is finished. I'm not in danger anymore."

"Thank God. And yes, that's the point. The case is over. You're not a witness now, and I'm just a regular lonely cop who's found the person he didn't know he needed."

"Me?"

"You."

"The Interior Decorator?"

"You." Deckard cupped Perry's jaw and thumbed his lip. "All the parts of you. I love having my home a living color palette because of the Interior Decorator part of you; but even more, I love having your energy and your kindness in that home, and the way you adore my dog and the way you make me feel happy." He took a breath and said it. "I love you."

"Wow." Perry turned his head enough to kiss Deckard's thumb. "I fell for you around day three, but you kept shooting me down."

Deckard gestured between them. "Cop. Witness. I couldn't do it then, not till the case was closed. If the Lithomancer wasn't a homicidal witch with a liking for chaos who tried to get you killed, I'd send her flowers."

"Yeah, no, I don't think we owe her anything." Perry sighed and snuggled against Deckard's chest.

Deckard set a hand on his head, the short soft hair under his fingers and the puffs of warm breath on his skin an indescribable comfort. "So you'll stay? With me?"

"And Nix?"

Peering down, cross-eyed, Deckard decided the curve of Perry's lips meant he was teasing. "I'll even share my dog with you."

"It's a deal." Perry pressed a kiss to Deckard's shoulder. "In case you didn't figure it out, I love you too."

"Good." Deckard nodded against his pillow as a deep comfort settled inside him. "Perfect."

Perry chuckled against his neck. "Don't tempt fate."