Every intense, confused emotion cascaded through Kit’s veins as James expertly worked him over the edge. Kit arched back, vision whiting out, and came all over James’s hand.
His chest heaved, each breath dragged with difficulty from his lungs. The orgasm left him tense and loose at once. Utterly drained and shaky.
James murmured something unintelligible, and Darius replied with something Kit couldn’t understand either. His mind floated away, circling somewhere around the vaulted ceiling.James’s hand was in his own jeans now, moving unmistakably, his eyes dark and intense and fixed on Kit as Darius talked him through his own orgasm.
“Yeah, looks like we fucked Kit out,” James was saying when Kit eventually drifted back to the conversation. “Let’s talk later. Do this again. We can negotiate over his ass.”
“Bidding starts at one million.” Kit finally moved his hands from the counter and circled his wrists.
Darius chuckled over the line. “Right. Don’t think I can’t afford—never mind, gotta go.”
The line went quiet, and the kitchen felt vast and empty around them.
Nerves twisted through Kit. He was starting to feel uncomfortable, sitting half-dressed on the counter with cum cooling on his skin. “Is he… Is he all right? Do you know who he…”
James pecked a kiss on Kit’s cheek and moved to the sink. “Darius is fine, and best you don’t know the rest. He’s ethical enough for Bishop, which is more than good enough for me.”
He returned to Kit with a wet dish towel and started cleaning him up. Kit thought about taking the towel from him, but his arms were slow to obey his commands.
“You okay?” James asked suddenly.
Kit jerked in place, then slid from the counter. His socked feet slid a bit on the tile, but James held him firmly upright.
He just got off after listening to Darius assassinate someone.
Pursing his lips, Kit organized his thoughts. “I’m okay.” He pulled his underwear back on, but James stole his jeans away, so he gave up on pants for the rest of the night. “That’s what’s weirding me out, I think. Why am I okay with all of this?”
James went still for a moment, gaze dark and unreadable. Then he ruffled Kit’s hair and kissed him again. “Ask Bishop. He’s better about the whole morality thing. All I’m going to tell you is that I don’t care how fucked up you are, I think you’re sexy just like this.”
Kit laughed despite everything and let James steer him towards dinner and a movie on the couch. A shockingly normal date as Kit turned everything over in his head.
He didn’t get off on the gunshot itself, right? It was just a weird coincidence of timing?
Just a weird adrenaline thing. That was fine.
Two weeks later, Kit caught a glimpse of himself in James’s massive mirror and skidded to a halt. Fuck. He wasn’t going to bother hiding the hickey on his neck—but when the hell did James gnaw on his elbow?
He prodded the unmistakable bruise. Should he change into a long-sleeve shirt? Would Bishop notice? Would Bishop care?
Why should Kit care if Bishop cared?
“Obviously I don’t give a fuck,” Kit informed his reflection. Then he re-tied his short ponytail and headed downstairs.
Bishop was already here for the Devil Whales game. Kit had heard him come in while he was getting ready. Okay, pretending to get ready. He actually just wanted to read one more chapter of his library book.
They were supposed to do this a few days ago, but Bishop had to reschedule. Apparently, he and James met up semi-regularly to watch sports (not Kit’s thing) and have a few beers (definitely Kit’s thing). Kit had mentioned that it sounded likeweirdly wholesome adult playdates—or just dates—considering their other hobbies.
James had just laughed. “Bishop started it as an excuse to share info about cases. I’m the one who added on dinner and beer, because I have enough boring sober business meetings at the office.”
“And the sports?”
“I don’t remember how that happened,” James had admitted. “I guess sometimes it’s just nice to hang out with people who get it.”
Now, Kit followed the familiar voices into the kitchen, where James was getting out plates, and Bishop was tipping back a bottle of beer—
Leaning on the counter, right where Kit got off on the phone with Darius.
The memory froze Kit at the exact moment Bishop looked up at him, bright blue eyes as piercing as ever. The next instant felt longer than it really was as Bishop catalogued every inch of Kit, from the marks on his neck to the holes in his jeans to the black nail polish on his bare toes.
