Rowan 18.
In the years since I graduated from the police academy and joined the Morgantown Police Department, I’ve been called to a variety of scenes. Domestic. Overdoses. Street violence. And the odd forgetful elderly person. And since the Golem Guerillas showed up here 3 years ago, the types of calls we respond to have only grown more interesting. In all that time, I’ve never known fear as I have when the call came over the radio for a shooting at the Queen’s Rook.
Tonight was a very important evening at the drag/gay club. A lot of very important people, businessmen to politicians to cray-cray boobs, in attendance. But none more important than Steve. Adrenaline rushed through my body, leaving me cold and shaky as my partner, Scott, drove like a NASCAR finalist through the streets of Morgantown.
Just about every available officer, detective, and Chief Thomas himself, arrived within minutes of the call, descending on the nightclub amid pandemonium. The brothers of GGMC quickly had most of the crowd under control, Apollo triaging the few wounded by the shots fired and debris, while the Rook’s security team handled the inside of the club and monitored those coming and going. Against protocol, I broke away from Scott and the others and asked Archie if he knew where Steve Vajeen might be. He gave me a strange look; I didn’t have time to decipher it, and said he was upstairs in the office. The why was the least of my concern, I just needed to lay eyes on him and know for certain he was safe.
It wasn’t until Steve practically collapsed in my arms that I finally settled enough for my brain to come back online. I called him boy , and he whimpered and snuggled closer to me as if seeking my protection, surrendering to my care.
And now, we’re sitting on the plush couch inside a palatial office in the upstairs of the only drag club in Morgantown, the golems downstairs with my fellow officers trying to make sense of the harrowing turn of events, and all I can do is bury my face in Steve’s hair and breathe him in. I meet Chase Davidson’s worried eyes; he darts his gaze down to Steve and then back to me.
“Boy.” Steve hums a response, stretching like a cat in my lap, his face rubbing against my neck. “Why are you in the office of the Queen’s Rook ?” I’m missing something…probably a lot of things and I’m suddenly wondering how well I know Steve Valjean, Hospitality Specialist to the GGMC.
“Umm…” he begins hesitantly. He shifts until he can see Chase. The normally commanding purple haired tyrant is uncharacteristically nervous.
“Are you two romantically involved?” I glance between the two, my stomach flip-flopping and my cock twitching at the thought. I’ve watched Steve suck the soul out of patched members’ dicks, so imagining Steve and Chase together isn’t difficult, and it certainly has its potential. But a twinge of jealousy and sadness has me frowning. If they are dating or in an open relationship, the chances of Steve becoming my boy are slim to none. The opportunity of a lifetime blinked out of existence. It takes me a minute to register the laughter. Different from Steve’s hysterical mental breakdown of moments before, this is happy and sane laughter. Sort of.
“God no!” They both shout at the same time, then laugh harder. His body bounces in my lap, his perky ass atop my inopportune hard-on pulling a groan from deep in my chest. Despite the torturous friction, his amusement makes me smile. I like happy Steve. Shocked and scared Steve not so much. That’s not true, I like every version of Steve that ever was or ever will be, but I don’t want him to ever be as scared as he was when I first walked in this office.
“Boy,” I say sternly, knowing I don’t have much time before Scott or Chief call me back to do my actual job.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Steve replies softly, arching his neck to meet my eyes. There is trust and arousal and contentment in their depths and…I can’t dive into any of it right now.
“Can you tell me why you are up here, and why Chase looks like he’s constipated?”
“Hey!” Chase protests but waves me off when Steve raises an eyebrow at him in challenge. “Whatever, I hate lying, and I hate deception even more. And you’ve made me do both for way too long.”
“I know, Chase, and I’m sorry. I just wanted…I wanted to be someone else for a while. Someone…normal.”
“Ha!” Chase snorts and laughs, “Normal isn’t spreading your cheeks for chrome-riding-Uncle-Sam-trained-lethal-genetic-lottery-winning-stamina-gods.” Poor guy is a little winded after that tirade and looking a tad bit flushed.
“It is for me. And it can be for you too, for the low, low price of your pants and underwear.”
“What?”
Steve giggles, “Get rid of your pants and underwear and you can spread your cheeks for them too.”
Chase’s gaze drifts to the side, “Hmm.”
“You can contemplate the sexual smorgasbord of GGMC later, I need answers.”
“Ulysses Steven Valjean Wainwright.” Uh… “That is my birth name.”
“Wainwright?” I whisper, sudden and sharp shock ricocheting through my body. “As in Wainwright Enterprises ? You’re a Wainwright? A Wainwright?”
“I think I broke him, Chase. What do I do?” Steve’s voice is teasing, but I can hear the undercurrent of concern.
“I’m sorry.” I squeeze him tight, then sit him next to me on the couch, his long legs draped over my thighs. “Go on.”
“My parents died when I was 17. The heir became the CEO and a millionaire the same night he became an orphan. On the advice of trusted council—”
“He means me. I’m trusted council.”
“Hi, trusted council,” I reply absently.
Steve places his hand on my cheek, forcing me to look at him again. A soft smile tips my lips, and I nip at his thumb. He chuckles, sits back against the arm of the couch and continues to tell me an abridged version of his life story. “I oversee the entirety of Wainwright Enterprises, but have many, many people in place to handle the everyday minutia of each department. Chase, while being my bestest friend since high school, is my personal assistant and the go-between to preserve my anonymity as much as possible.”
I swivel my head to take in the opulent office. “Where does the Queen’s Rook come in? Not a typical investment for a corporation as large and successful as Wainwright Enterprises?”
Steve shrugs as he looks around his office with a secret smile. He’s cute. “It’s mine. For years, I hid away, running the family business from behind the scenes. And someone—”
“I’m someone!” Chase interjects excitedly.
“I thought you were trusted council?”
“I wear many masks.” I dip my chin with a chuckle at Chase.
“I’ve never done anything for myself. It was always in the name of the family, the shareholders, the employees…never for me. Chase and I love drag shows, and gay clubs, and wanted somewhere close to home that was safe enough to be ourselves. To escape the harshness of the real world and Vogue. ” As if practiced, they perform synchronized hand gestures around their faces, giggling as they do it.
“Why the Golem Guerillas? Why wash our dishes and do our laundry and—”
“And be somebody else…turn my mind off and just feel. I come to the Rook a few days a week and pour over reports and filings and schedules, but the rest of the week? I’m free. I’m not CEO of a multibillion-dollar company. I’m not even a drag-princess trying to wrangle a herd of divas. I’m Steve. I suck cock like a champ and my ass is tight and right.”
I lean in close, grinning when Steve inhales sharply. “I’ve seen you in action, boy, I know the pleasure others find in your sinful body.”
He leans closer, his lips just centimeters from my lips. “The only thing I think about when I’m being used as a fuck toy, is what it would be like to be your fuck toy instead.”
“I feel uncomfortable.” Steve and I slowly turn our heads to look at Chase, who appears anything but uncomfortable. The man’s tailored hot pink suit does nothing to hide the hard-on he’s sporting.
Steve snorts, “Perv.” Chase grins unrepentant and lifts a shoulder.
“I wonder what it would be like if you were Rowan’s fuck toy, too.” I bark a laugh, resting my head against Steve’s.
My radio crackles. “Doherty. Where the fuck are you?” Shit. I pat Steve’s hip and stand up. Without giving it too much thought, I bracket him with my arms, ghost my lips across his and whisper, “We aren’t done yet.”
“The conversation? Or…”
“Both.” I click my radio, tilting my head down to speak into it, “Securing the upper floor, I’ll be down in a minute.”
“You better not be dropping a deuce at the scene of a crime—” Scott snaps, but I press the button on my radio to cut him off.
“It’s ok, Officer Doherty,” Chase pats my shoulder, “deuces wait for no one.”
“Truth.” I hold out my fist to Chase. He awkwardly grabs it instead of pounding his fist against mine. Steve and I laugh at him, but he doesn’t seem to care, as his hand slides over mine and up my arm, squeezing here and there, humming to himself as he feels me up.
“Chase!”
“What!” He snatches his hand back and turns swiftly on his heeled shoes. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Quit touching the officer,” Steve grits out.
“Me!?! You were the one all up in his lap like a cat in heat, rubbing yourself against him, you shameless hussy!”
“Boys!”
“Sorry, sir.” Dammit, my erection was starting to go away and now it’s back in full force. Not too concerned with Chase’s immediate submission, but Steve’s…fuck, hearing him call me sir is more thrilling than I anticipated. I have to talk to Jupiter and the others, lay my cards on the table and hope they cut me some slack. The fear I felt not knowing if Steve was hurt earlier…my feelings for him are stronger than I thought. And the way he reciprocated, acquiesced to my authority, there’s no way I can wait until I’m patched to pursue him.
I point at Steve, “Stay here. I will come to you before I leave. If I’m able, I will take you home.”
“To the clubhouse.”
I nod in understanding; he needs the security of the clubhouse after tonight’s events. I can’t say I’ll mind knowing he’s under the same roof as me, safe and sound.
“I will take you to the clubhouse.” I turn to Chase. “Would you be more comfortable staying with Steve and the GGMC?” Chase bites his bottom lip, glances at Steve and nods.
“If you don’t mind, Steve.”
“Of course I don’t mind. I can’t stomach anything happening to you. And until we know what promoted tonight’s violence, I don’t want you to be alone.”
“Thank you.” Chase whispers, then crosses the room and sits next to Steve on the couch.
“Someone will be up to get your official statement.” They nod in unison.
There’s a knock on the door before I open it. “Mr. Davidson? It’s Chief Thomas. May I come in?” From one blink to the next, Chase is no longer the scared boy clutching his friend, but the competent night club manager. He strides to the door and opens it, greeting Chief Thomas and encouraging him to enter. I nod, then glance at Steve. His brow is furrowed, and he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek.
Risking an earful from the Chief, I close the distance between Steve and I, lean down and whisper into his ear, “Tell him what you’re comfortable with, boy, but he’s one of the good ones, and he’ll protect your privacy as much as he can. We don’t know who is responsible,” though I have a pretty good idea it’s related to Gretchen, “so anything, no matter how inconsequential you think it might be, is relevant at this point.” His eyes hold so much emotion, I clench my jaw and breathe deeply to calm the urge to scoop him up and hold him tight.
“I understand, sir.” I press my lips to his brow, feeling it smooth out.
“Good boy.” I smirk at the obvious change in his breathing, stand up straight and force one foot in front of the other until I’m downstairs next to Scott.
“Fucking finally. What the fuck takes you so long to shit? You need those fiber supplements.”
“Why are you so concerned with my bowels? You wanna see my ass, just ask, Scott. Ain’t no shame in being curious.” He punches me in the arm and laughs. He points to the main doors, “Head outside and help with crowd control. Lots of looky-loos hanging around.”
Two hours later, the scene is wrapped up, statements have been taken, and pretty much everyone is gone. Of course, some of the brothers are still around doing their own investigation.
Scott pats me on the shoulder outside of the Queen’s Rook . “Rispoli and Jaymes are gonna take me back to the precinct. Shift’s over, take the squad car home and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night, man.”
I’m just about to walk back inside to get Steve when Mars calls out, “Prospect.” I turn around to find him and Mercury walking toward me from down the block. “Are you going back to the precinct?”
“No, sir, I’m taking Steve and his friend Chase to the clubhouse and staying there.” I square my shoulders, “Did you need something?”
Mercury glances up at the building, then his head tilts to the side as he scrutinizes me. A slow smile takes over his face, until he’s showing all his teeth. I don’t know what that look means, but it can’t be good for me.
Mars hands me a black nylon bag. “Take this back with you and give it to Jupiter. Don’t fuck up.” I stifle a smile, Mars being surly always makes me happy for some reason. He would probably slit my throat if he knew that, so I keep it to myself. Once you’ve seen a man spoon feed his wife and daughter making helicopter and tank noises it’s hard not to laugh when he gets all murdery.
I place the bag in my squad car and lock it up, then head inside and make my way to the office upstairs. Steve is lying on the couch with his head in Chase’s lap. Chase’s fingers run through Steve’s hair soothingly. I stop and stare at the peaceful expression on Steve’s face as he sleeps. He’s so fucking beautiful. Inside and out. I know Wainwright Enterprises has an extensive history of philanthropy, not to mention they were the largest donor for tonight’s event. I also know that was Steve’s doing. His heart, bruised and battered from losing his parents, still beats strong.
He has a lot of money. Like a shit ton of it. But I couldn’t care less about that. I do just fine for myself, don’t need anyone to take care of me. But I want to take care of him. I want to be his biggest fan, the shoulder he leans on, cries on, his shield against the world, his escape when it becomes too much. As a man, Steve has everything he could ever want at his fingertips. I’m more concerned about the boy that lives inside him, orphaned and alone.
I want to be his daddy .
“You aren’t going to hurt him, are you?” Chase whispers, pushing me into action, God knows how long I was standing here just staring.
“Hurting him would be like hurting myself, and I ain’t a masochist.”
“But you are a daddy? Or at least a dominant?”
“I am whatever my boy needs.”
Chase looks down at Steve and smiles fondly at him. “I like that answer. He’s my best friend, my brother, my heart. Don’t break my heart.”
There’s nothing I can say to that knowing only time will prove my worth, “Come on, let’s get you two settled at the clubhouse.” Chase stands up gingerly, not wanting to disturb Steve. My hands under his knees and his neck, I lift Steve from the couch, my steps faltering slightly when Steve sighs my name and snuggles closer, rubbing his cheek against my chest. He’s the sweetest surprise and I’ve wasted enough time waiting for permission. If I want to be a Golem, I need to start behaving as one.
Ulysses Steven Valjean Wainwright is mine, let anyone tell me differently.