anywhere near legal. Michael made a mental note to call one of his buddies in Vice and have them plan a raid.
“Do you come here often?” Cory asked.
Michael curled his lip. What a stupid line.
“Not nearly often enough, angel.”
“Problems at home?”
“Home, work, sleeping. Name it. But, hey, who doesn’t have garbage they need to toss?”
The drinks appeared. “Here’s to tossing our garbage!”
“A fine idea,” Bastian said. Was that a tinge of bitterness?
They toasted, and Michael started to feel sick. More than a Tums could handle. The two enjoyed their drinks and made small talk. But it was the natural progression of events to the inevitable conclusion that almost made him open the door of the van and hurl. He would have if his eyes weren’t glued to the screen as though he were watching a train wreck.
“I have to know something… Is that mouth as sweet as it looks, angel?”
“I don’t know,” Cory said shyly. “I’ve only done it twice.”
Little stinking liar. Surely Bastian didn’t fall for that.
“Why don’t we find a more private place for you to practice?”
The crowd parted, the camera moving again. To the back of the place, down a hallway. Into a small, dark room. A door closed. The shadowy form of the twink moved up to Bastian, too close, blanking out the picture. Sounds of kissing reached their ears, and then the younger man slid to the floor, out of sight, giving them a view of the wall. A zipper was lowered.
Bastian’s groan echoed through the van. Nobody breathed.
The kid must’ve been good, because his friend fucked the twink’s mouth for all he was worth. Flesh slid wetly, noises of pleasure rose, and Michael’s dick hardened in his jeans. He wanted to be the one in that room with Bastian, wanted to slide to his knees.
He wanted to tear Cory the Angel’s pretty little head clean off his shoulders. Rip out his heart and spit on it.
Finally, a shout of release, followed by another. For a few seconds, only heavy breathing cut the silence.
“Can I see you again?” Cory asked.
A pause. “Be here Friday night. We’ll hook up then.”
“Cool.” The twink was happy.
Michael wasn’t. He was in hell, and the kicker was it was all his fault.
And he had no clue how to make things right.
Dietz looked up from his laptop as the door rattled. Tio came in, pockmarked face stoic, as usual. “Well?”
“Seems like Chevalier has let down his guard. Hooked up with some kid tonight, got his rocks off. If it’s a setup, his team is watching from Mars or some shit. Can’t find a trace of ’em.”
“Oh, they’re watching,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m sure of it. The trick is to beat them at their own game.”
“How?”
“By practicing patience.” Quickly, he outlined his plan. “By the time Michael figures out I’m one step ahead, it will be too late.”
Soon, Bastian would be as dead as Maggie Ross. And this time, there would be no mistaking who dealt Michael the blow.
Nine
“Go home, boys. This op has been a huge bust,” Bastian said under his breath, loud enough for the team to hear. Three weeks, and nothing. Not one sign of Dietz. The man just wasn’t going to bite, and they’d all have to come up with a different way to get him.
He’d think about that tomorrow. Right now, he was off-duty, and his primary goal was to get a piece of Cory’s pretty little ass. It wasn’t love, and they both knew it. But it was hot skin and breathy sighs. A way to not be alone for a few hours, with someone who understood what it meant to be on the outside looking in.
Using the key card, Bastian let them in to the motel room he’d rented for the night. Since they’d been hooking up, he hadn’t invited Cory to his condo. That wasn’t about to change, no matter how sweet the kid might be. Taking him home would imply a progression in their relationship that wasn’t going to happen.
But he fully intended to enjoy the lithe, compact body he shoved against the wall when they got inside. The gasp, the innocent, wide blue eyes, went straight to his dick. He pressed himself into the smaller man, letting him get a taste of his arousal. His erection pushed insistently into Cory’s belly, demanding satisfaction.
“Get naked,” he told the younger man.
“Back atcha.”
Bastian stripped, not concerned about the camera or the sound feed. His colleagues would have called it a night, not being eager to hear or see more than they possibly had to, especially Michael. The man had done some major avoiding these past three weeks, as though Bastian had a disease and it might be contagious. Bastian had told the man he needed some distance, but if Michael really cared…
He wondered whether Katrina had told Michael about her and Bastian’s steamy interlude in her office. Neither of them had let on, and Bastian hadn’t asked.
Whatever. Tonight he was going to lose himself in a hot, willing lover. No expectations, no fear, no broken heart. Just forget his own name and drown in wicked sensation, no promise of tomorrow.
Undressing, he laid his clothes on a chair and hid his backup weapon among the folds of his jeans. Cory had glimpsed it once and though it had made the kid nervous, he’d seemed to accept Bastian’s highly edited story of being in law enforcement. He’d even made the requisite joke about handcuffs. Maybe Bastian would bring some next time — if he continued to see Cory.
The younger man climbed on the bed and turned his head to glance at the digital clock on the nightstand before spreading himself on his back. His cock was only at half-mast, but Bastian planned to fix that in a hurry.
Removing a condom and lube from his jeans pocket, he joined Cory and laid the items on the bed. He crawled between the younger man’s legs, wanting a taste of the silky, salty flesh. Cupping his hands under the firm bottom, he lifted his lover slightly and enveloped the thin shaft. Under the skillful stroking of his tongue on the sensitive underside, Cory’s cock hardened and the kid made a helpless sound, thrashing some.
Since he loved being in control almost as much as he loved the actual fucking, he sucked until Cory was babbling mindlessly, skirting the edge of release. Then he pulled off and flipped the kid over, hauling him to his knees. Quickly, he ripped into the small packet and sheathed himself, then spread some lube over his shaft. He prepped Cory, working a finger into the tight ring of muscle, loosening him.
“Come on, fuck me,” he said hoarsely. “Just do it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He frowned. Cory loved ass play, usually liked for him to linger there, and most of the time begged to be rimmed.
“You won’t. Fuck me, please.”
“Okay, if hard and nasty is how you want it, fine by me.” Bastian gripped Cory’s slim hips, lined up, and pushed inside. So tight and hot, just the way he loved it. The inner walls clenching around him, squeezing his cock as he slid in to the balls and out to the tip. Plunged in again. Out.
“Damn, so good. You like being my dirty slut? My whore?”
“Y-yes! Harder!”
