Chapter Ten
God
God gestured to the bartender to give him another shot. He was slouched in the same booth at the same bar as last Valentine’s Day, drowning his frustrations in shots of scotch and mugs of Anheuser-Busch.
The door to the bar opened, and a frigid gust of wind preceded his good friend.
He came.
God thought he had what it took to make Day stay with him, but then he saw Prescott Vaughan with his fancy clothes, smooth voice, and charismatic moves that had his partner blushing and eating out of the palm of his hand. God knew he was out of his league.
As Day made his way to the booth with no anger or judgment in his light hazel eyes, God couldn’t help but stare. Had his partner always looked like that? Had it taken seeing him interact with another man to notice? God had known Day hooked up the same as he did, but he’d never come face to face with it.
He didn’t like it…and couldn’t figure out why. He’d been hoping Johnnie Walker would help him make sense of it, but seven shots in, he was still clueless.
Day wore dark jeans and an ivory sweater under a chocolate-brown suede blazer. He cleaned up nicely. It was a drastic change from the blue polyester uniform.
What God really liked was that it looked as if Day’s clothes hadn’t been taken off.
His partner sat and threw up two fingers at the bartender. Neither spoke as Day stared hard into God’s eyes, the weight of the heavy tension pressing down on them. Once they had their fresh drinks, Day was the first to break the silence.
“Why don’t we just make Valentine’s Day our thing, hmm?”
“I didn’t like him,” God blurted.
He was already good and drunk, the ample amount of liquor he’d consumed loosening his tongue.
“No, you didn’t like me with him,” Day countered.
“And he had no right saying your name like that,” God slurred.
Day shook his head as if he was a lost cause and downed his shot.
“Damn, you’re so full of shit…and a cock-blocker.”
God shrugged. “My bad.”
“Yeah, you look real broken up about it.”
“He wasn’t your type.”
“And you know my type, huh?”
“I do, and it’s not some stuck-up rich guy with a fancy yacht, serving you tiny foods that’s finished in two bites.”
Day blinked, watching, listening.
“You want someone on your level.” God thought about his and Day’s friendship. “Someone laid-back. Content to watch SportsCenter or a good crime series, eat suicide wings, and drink an imported brew with you. Or a guy who’s okay with just looking at you while you listen to your jazz albums and do your crossword puzzles.”
God gazed right at his partner, seeing agreement reflected back at him.
“A man that’ll give you a foot rub after a long day of work and tell you how fuckin’ fearlessly amazing you are.”
Day squeezed his eyelids shut. “Stop, God. You’re drunk.”
He didn’t say anything else before he foolishly did all the things he’d just mentioned. But if they went there, they’d no longer be partners on the force. Hell, they wouldn’t even be allowed to work in the same precinct.
God couldn’t have his cake and eat it too.
So he’d take Day the only way he could have him.
Brothers in arms. Best friends.
“Why are you so damn heavy, man? Shit.”
Day was struggling under his weight as he climbed the few steps to his apartment with him practically draped over his back.
“You’re gonna cause me to herniate a disk.”
But anytime God tried to stand on his own, the world tilted to the left.
Day’s grip tightened on his arm, guiding him past the dark living room. God’s legs felt like redwood logs, unable to give Day much help with his weight.
Day’s hot palm against his back was firm but also comforting, almost too soft for a person like him. But he didn’t want it to move.
This close, he could smell Day’s clean, crisp cologne. Something about his scent calmed him, and the tension he’d been carrying leading up to this shitty day had melted off his shoulders.
He should’ve been embarrassed, needing help with walking, but he was enjoying the way Day handled him.
“You’re a damn mess,” Day muttered close to his ear, his voice like gravel, low and gritty.
God knew he was heavy, but Day’s body was like a reinforced wall, sturdy and strong. It was almost possessive in how he held and controlled God’s movements.
They reached the bedroom, and God stumbled forward, but Day’s strong arms were there again, guiding him to the bed until his body dropped onto a soft surface.
God groaned as the world crashed down with him.
Day stared at him, and God met his partner’s gaze the best he could through his blurry vision.
“You’re so damn handsome,” he slurred.
Day’s eyes widened.
“Fuck, did I say that out loud? Can you hear me speaking?”
“What the hell, God?”
“I hated the way that fancy guy looked at you…like you were his , like he wanted to devour you.”
“Just stop talking.”
Day’s demand came out rough and slow as if he were suffering.
God should’ve shut up, but instead, he reached for Day, needing to touch him again. His hands felt like they were operating without his permission.
His hands were shoved away before Day grabbed the bottom of God’s hoodie and yanked it over his head.
“For fuck’s sake, God. Don’t you think it’s time to get rid of this thing?” Day cursed. “Did you get it from your neighbor’s high school kid? It’s two sizes too small.”
God let out a slight chuckle. Actually, it’s from a thrift store. The cheap one he shopped at didn’t carry a lot of 3X men’s clothes.
Next, his belt buckle was undone, and his jeans were pulled down his legs, then his socks.
Aaah, that feels better.
God didn’t know how loud he was moaning. He just knew he was.
Day was taking care of him. Anyone else would’ve probably tossed him in an Uber and wished him luck that he didn’t end up on a curb and missing his wallet.
How’d I get so lucky when my entire life has been a shit show? One fuckup after another.
Now, he had him . It’d been all him for the last three years. He was sure Day could see how messed up he was, but he didn’t care. Day had seen the darkness in him, yet he stuck around when everyone else had deserted him.
God turned his head, the scent of something powdery and clean catching his attention. The pillow he was lying on smelled like Day, and he was unable to stop himself from burying his face in it and taking a deeper whiff. He wanted to drown himself in it.
I need more.
“God…what the fuck are you doing?” Day’s voice was softer now.
“I can smell you,” he whispered, his throat dry and thick from the alcohol. “What cologne do you use? You smell better than any man I’ve ever been around.”
He immediately regretted saying that, but the floodgates were already open, so he kept allowing shit to spill out.
“You have a cool first name, y’know,” he garbled, face half-buried in the pillow. “I didn’t like that rich prick using it. He said it like you were his world.”
“I’m not in his world, God. I’m in yours.”
God hummed, liking the sound of that.
“But I wouldn’t call you Leonidis…because that’s what he calls you.” God sighed. “I’d call you Leo…yeah, Leo…you’re my Leo.”
Day huffed a quiet “Shit.”
It took some effort—and his stomach rolled—but God flopped onto his back, gazing up at his partner again.
“You’re all I’ve got, Day. Do you know that?” He wasn’t sure if his words were audible. However, he kept mumbling, his eyes drifting closed. “Just you, man. You’re the only one who’s never made me feel like a monster.”
That truth was an uppercut right on the chin, hurting like a son of a bitch. He needed his partner so badly it scared him. What if Day left too?
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me,” he murmured, his plea just shy of a whisper.
“Never.” He heard it faintly. “I’ve wanted you much longer than you know, God.”
He felt a shift in the air as heat penetrated his chest, the feeling of comfort and goodness hovering over him. Day was close, so close.
“If I could have you, Day”—the words slipped out—“I’d protect you with my life. I’d treat you better than anyone has ever treated you. I’ve been with a lot of women…but none of them make me feel like you do. I never laughed, hadn’t laughed in at least twenty years…until I met you.”
He was rambling now.
Suddenly, fingers were in his hair, lightly massaging his scalp, causing a long, throaty rumble to escape. Each careful stroke felt infused with a warmth that sent ripples of desire cascading down his front. His moans grew more intense and passionate, matching the touch, causing his dick to throb for attention.
“Day,” he groaned, sliding his hand inside his briefs.
God gripped himself and satisfied his cock with a long, languid stroke.
A gasp of air hit his cheek, followed by a tortured “Oh, fuck me.”
Then, suddenly, the wonderfulness of the touch was gone, and so was the heat.
The last thing he remembered was bliss deep in his groin before everything faded to black.