Chapter Five Hidden in the Sand
Chapter five
Hidden in the Sand
Ten years ago, September, twenty-first, 2014, 9.25pm
“Come to bed, for god’s sake, Kenny!”
Chuckling, Kenny closed his laptop, and swivelled in his office chair to stalk across the landing to his bedroom. He leant on the door frame, folding his arms, and drank in the beauty in his bed. Because there, laid out naked with stunning pale skin, waves of striking blond hair, a gorgeous smile worthy of a dental advertisement and a sculpted body offering him a damn good reason to stop combing through all the files, textbooks and evidence, was PC Jack Bentley.
Jack should have been a model. He could turn heads for better reasons than he wore a uniform and commanded it. He was too precious to fight crime. Too boyish. And as he lay there, hands behind his head, grin wide and gazing at Kenny as if he would give him everything he needed to forget his day job, Kenny’s stomach rippled with anticipation. Jack looked like he’d break, but Kenny had railed him into the mattress too many times before and he hadn’t yet.
He was tougher than he looked.
Physically.
Mentally, he’d broken a while back.
“Can we have a playdate?” Jack waggled his toes, his dick half-hard and enticing.
“Have you been good?” Kenny arched an eyebrow.
“Very.”
Kenny rolled down his shirt sleeves, skin tingling. “Then get ready, baby. I’ll take you out of your mind.”
Jack bit his lip and nodded with all the enthusiasm of a child at Christmas.
Kenny stripped out of his shirt, slowly and seductively, and Jack’s pupils dilated. He was a stark contrast to Jack. Darker toned, unruly dark hair that grew too quickly and scattered over his body as if he were a beast. Maybe he was? Maybe he was becoming one through osmosis. But Jack gazed at him as if he were his saviour. Because Kenny was. In these moments. He knew what Jack needed. Perhaps the only one who’d ever understand.
Stripped, Kenny climbed on the bed, lying atop Jack, and kissed him, languidly. The way Jack needed him to. He was already humming. Writhing. Revelling in what Kenny gave him, which was attention. Soft, gentle and unconditional.
He kissed down his neck, then leaned up. “Where do you want to go, baby?”
“The beach.”
“Mmm, good choice.” Kenny kissed him again, invading his mouth with his tongue. “Golden sand beneath our toes.” He nipped his earlobe. “Sea splashing at our feet.” He rutted against Jack, cock hardening and enjoying the storytelling just as much. Although Kenny got more out of the feeling of control. Of being able to get inside Jack’s inner thoughts and deepest desires. “Shall we have some candy floss?”
“Oh, yes, please!”
Kenny shuffled around, reaching for the scented lube on his bedside table. As he popped the cap, Jack writhed beneath him and inhaled the sweet smell of sugary strawberry. Kenny could feel Jack’s heart beating through his chest. He was excited. So was Kenny. Because Kenny had control here. All the control. Jack was loose. Pliable. Begging for Kenny to dominate him. Not in a masochistic way. Not with chains and buckles and malevolence. Jack yearned to succumb to his inner passivity. To give himself to Kenny in a way he couldn’t with anyone else. Outside these doors, he played the part of an authority figure. He lived up to the masculine stereotype his father had instilled in him. But in here, he was nothing but a pool of gooey submissiveness, desperate for Kenny to take him out of his mind.
“Let’s build a sandcastle.” Kenny shimmied down his body, kissing as he went, falling in between Jack’s spread legs, pushing them back and apart, slathering the lube around his balls, along the sensitive skin beneath. “That’s a wonderful sandcastle, baby. Let’s put a moat around it.” He circled his fingers around Jack’s hole, earning a moan for his trouble. “That’s it, baby. Such a good boy. What a beautiful day I’m having with you.” He inserted a finger into Jack and he arched his back, chest rising and falling with his shallow pants. “Do you like that?”
“Yes, daddy.” Jack’s cock twitched, the tip leaking into the fair hair surrounding his belly. “I love it. I love you .”
Kenny closed his eyes, trying to shut off his professional instincts. But they were there. They’d always be there. Because he knew Jack wrestled with profound psychological conflicts rooted in unresolved paternal attachment issues. By day, he was an upstanding police constable, driven by a need for validation from his late father. A man whose unmet expectations left Jack chasing approval he could never receive. At night, Jack’s vulnerability emerged in a yearning for submission, a reenactment of the “good boy” approval he’d been denied as a child.
With Kenny as the only person who understood his fractures, Jack felt safe enough to fall apart. Kenny knew the psychological implications of indulging Jack’s needs rather than guiding him toward proper healing, but desire—complex and twisted—often overpowered rationality. In their intimate moments, Kenny became the figure Jack craved. A pseudo-father, a source of approval, and the saviour Jack had always needed.
And Kenny found himself craving that control every bit as much.
He inserted another finger, invading Jack and stroking his prostate. “That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well. So good.” Kenny kissed Jack’s thigh, biting down into the muscle. “So tasty.”
“Need you in me, Kenny.”
“Who makes the rules, baby?”
Jack tucked his chin into his chest to peer down. “You do.”
“Then you wait like a good boy. I’m not finished here yet.” He inserted a third finger, then rose to lick up Jack’s length, swiping his tongue to taste the seeping pre-cum.
A phone rang, vibrating against the bedside table.
“Shit!” Jack reached for it.
“Leave it.”
“I can’t, I’m on call.”
Kenny removed his fingers, shuffling away, allowing Jack to sit up against the headboard and merge back into the copper. “Sarge?”
Kenny let him talk, finding his underwear on the floor. No doubt Jack would be called out to somewhere or other and he wouldn’t see him for hours. Maybe days. Such as their strange, unwise relationship had been for a few years now. It didn’t matter, Kenny would go back to putting his face in those case files instead…
Jack hung up, pale.
“You okay?” Kenny stepped into his boxers.
“We’re arresting them.”
Kenny bolted upright. “What? When?”
“Now. Sarge has called me in. They struck again. Surveillance has been on them all week and they struck. Found a kid running from the house. We got a survivor! Fuck, Kenny, you were right. They couldn’t stop themselves. We got them this time!” Jack shivered. Trembled. And launched off the bed to find his clothes. “They want me to go in as forensic liaison. Inside the fucking house!”
“Hey, hey, wait.” Kenny grabbed his arm, squeezing his fingers into biceps. “I’m coming with you.”
“That’s not wise. This is a live arrest. It could be messy. It’s not for civilians.”
“I’m not a civilian. I helped with this. I led you to them, for fuck’s sake!”
“You’re not police, Kenny.”
“You can’t stop me from following you.”
“Kenny, please. If we find her—”
“I’m coming with you.”