"Oh?" Tristan stuck his tongue out and, with exceptional thoroughness, licked all around his lips, making sure his tongue cleaned every centimeter.
Cade froze.
"Did I get it all?" Tristan asked with a sparkle of mischief in his eye and something other than innocence in his tone.
Jesus Christ, he wanted that tongue on him. He could picture it lapping at his dick, or sticking out waiting for him to paint it with cum. He wanted those lips on him too, preferably stretched thin around his cock.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Hanging his head, Cade mumbled a "Yeah," scowled into his bowl, and mentally bludgeoned the dirty thoughts that popped up like some absurd game of whack-a-mole.
When they finished their meal, he sent Tristan away from the kitchen so he could wash dishes and get some much-needed distance from the other man.
Later, Cade found the redhead on the sofa, picking at the blanket with his uninjured hand. The sun had set, and darkness swallowed the space outside the cabin. Dim light shone from the cabin lamps, casting a warm, yellowish glow over the small space.
Tristan's mood had shifted, and for some reason, he seemed smaller, more vulnerable in this light. It made Cade want to do something crazy, like hold him.
Cade had run across a fair number of victims in his work, and he had always felt sympathy for their situation and a strong desire to make things right for them, to avenge their losses. But he had never had this level of close contact with them, and he had never wanted to hug a victim before.
And he had definitely never wanted to fuck one.
But Tristan was different. He was brave, smart and dedicated to helping the investigation. He didn't act like most victims, didn't give in to tears and helplessness, but instead got more pissed and determined. He was obviously a strong person, but even strong people had their limits, and as Cade sat down next to him, he felt a strange compulsion to protect him, not only physically, but emotionally as well.
When his brain caught up with these bizarre feelings, he decided it had finally happened; after twelve years in this job, he had finally cracked. He was having a god-damned nervous breakdown.
Cade searched for words to break the silence and lighten Tristan's mood. Luckily for him, a text from Annabeth distracted him from his troubling thoughts.
"What does it say?" Tristan asked hopefully.
"It says, 'This fucking encryption is pissing me off. I'm close, but not quite there."
"Oh," Tristan said as he nodded quietly. His face drooped, and Cade offered a quiet, "I'm sorry."
He had expected questions for Annabeth, insistence that they do something else, or some anger or frustration, but Tristan remained quiet and contemplative. They sat there without speaking until the redhead looked up with his big, honey eyes and said, "I was an asshole as a teenager."
Cade frowned, wondering where that random statement came from. "Most people are."
"Some of us still are," Tristan quipped, smirking at him.
"You're hysterical," Cade snarked.
Tristan's weak smile faded, then he continued, "To Nat, I mean. And my mom, too, a little anyway. I didn't pay them much attention. I worked part-time to help my mom, went to school, and hung out with my friends, but I didn't spend too much time with them, you know?"
Cade had no experience with family dynamics, but he agreed based on what he heard from others and what he had seen on TV. "Sounds pretty normal for a teenager."
"I took them for granted," Tristan admitted as if confessing a great sin. "Until it was too late."
Tristan peeked up at him as if to gauge his reaction, but Cade had no words of wisdom and could only nod encouragingly.
"She didn't tell us she was sick until after I graduated from college. She didn't want me to worry, to get off track. By the time she told us about her diagnosis, she had been sick for several months. She had been going to treatments alone, protecting us from the truth.
"When I found out, I tried to take care of her and Natalie. Nat was thirteen, going through puberty and middle school, and she really needed Mom. But Mom got really sick pretty quickly, and soon I was trying to hold the family together, trying to help Nat when I realized I really didn't know her that well anymore."
"That sucks," Cade offered, hoping Tristan would finish the story.
"Yeah. I did the best I could, but it never seemed enough. And now, with Mom gone and Natalie missing, I feel so guilty, like I wasted precious time. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah, it does."
