Shattered Glass(67)

“Are you paying attention, Detective?” Peter asked, smirking while grabbing my ankles. I had to look up from his crotch to answer—which made responding irrelevant.

“That’s rhetorical,” I said, yanking my shirt over my head while he dragged my pants past my hips. My back smacked against the sofa cushion.

“So, I’m on the bed at his house,” Peter continued, while my brain held up protest signs that read ‘Iss Schmiss’. “Iss comes out of the bathroom with a homemade tattoo gun and says if I don’t give him my hand he’ll knock me out, break my fingers and do the tattoo anyway.” Iss Schmiss, the protester chanted as Peter knelt before me completely naked, lifting my ankles in the air and knee-walking between them.

“You planning on repeating this story in about five minutes?”

“Five minutes? We’ll have to work on your stamina.”

Either I was crazy, or stupid, because I stopped him before he could touch me. If his hands even brushed my skin, my brain would stage a sit-in until I bent over.

When had I started thinking about bending over?

Peter finished hurriedly, “It is—was— it was Iss’s way of protecting those he thought belonged to him. I just had to show it if I got busted and ask for Detective Joe Dench. That’s how I met Joe.”

Before the last words were out of my mouth, he brushed aside my hand and climbed between my legs, folding my knees to my chest. “Story’s over now. We have to go to the court soon.”

Court? Oh. Cai’s bond was being decided at three. My brain had officially declared itself on strike while my other head took over the thinking.

“Breathe, Austin.” I immediately obeyed the gentle command.

“I don’t need an entire lesson on gay sex in one hour.” I swallowed.

“I’m going to take a lot longer than an hour,” he promised. We had two and some change before he had to be at the courthouse. That was my last recollection before Peter’s cock touched mine and rendered all thought moot.

When the doorbell rang, my head tilted back at the same time as his mouth lifted from my lips. Peter moved to the inside of the sofa while I scooted from under him. As I grabbed my pants, the chime sounded again. “Coming.” I threw Peter’s jeans at him with a look that dared him to say a word.

He chuckled, sliding up one pant leg. We were moving methodically, not hastily, which proved a mistake.

Before either of our pants was waist high, the front door flew open, and in walked my best friend.





Dear God, I’ll Take That Lobotomy Now. Thanks, —Austin

“Ready for the ga—” Dave’s grin fell as his jaw unhinged and then clacked back together, “—me.” In rapid succession he dropped the six pack of beers from his hand, causing me to yell a frantic, “Oh, shit,” while he croaked, “Fuck, I didn’t—” and dropped the pizza box upside-down, both of us turning our backs to each other. “Fuck. Oh, fuck. I’m really sorry, Oz.” Then he started laughing.

“Jesus Christ. Can I just come out to someone in a normal fucking fashion?” I jerked my pants closed while Peter and Dave continued to laugh. It was only luck that I didn’t catch my balls or pubes in my zipper. Knew I shouldn’t have given him a key.

“Sorry,” Dave sputtered, now laughing uproariously while picking up a beer at arms-length. It spewed yellow liquid across my hardwood floors as he headed to the trash. Midway he stopped and blinked. “Pete?”

“Detective Buchanan,” Peter smiled tentatively, buttoning the top of his jeans.

“You know each other? Never mind. Answer in a minute. I’m going to go take a shower. I can’t have a fucking discussion like this.” When Peter started to follow me, I shook my head and nodded to the guest bathroom. I wasn’t going to have Dave thinking about Peter and me showering together.

“Stain on your crotch says you already had a fucking discussion.” Dave chuckled. I froze halfway up the stairs, praying for a natural disaster, before finishing the climb to my bedroom.

My shower would have made lightning look lethargic, as would the speed with which I pulled on jeans and a t-shirt. Foregoing shoes, I jogged back downstairs to find Dave rinsing a towel off in the kitchen sink.

“Thanks for cleaning up the beer,” I said, not even bothering to explain what he witnessed. Dave and I had jacked off together plenty of times. Our friendship didn’t lend itself to embarrassment. Hence his laughing at catching me with another man on my sofa and my being perturbed rather than humiliated.

“Isn’t he like twelve?” Dave nodded to the hallway where the guest bedroom lay.