Chapter 2 #2
"Yes." Andrew’s free hand twitched to touch his untouched erection. He moved his hand closer, eyes on Ford touching himself. "Can I—”
"No."
Andrew wailed, moving his fingers faster inside of him to accommodate. It felt good, and he enjoyed the way Ford looked at him, imagining he was the one touching him, but it wasn't enough.
Going straight for the sweet spot again and again, Andrew thrust with his fingers harder.
"Fuck, you're incredible," Ford praised him.
"Can I now...? Please?"
"Yes... touch yourself, but don't come. You come when I do."
Andrew's hand on his cock was such an instant relief, he nearly sobbed.
"Slower."
And then he did sob, because, "Please...please..." slow wasn't enough.
"Almost. Slower. Keep using those fingers. Show me how open you are. How much you want it. You do want it, don't you? You want me to fuck you."
"God, yes..."
"I will. Soon, I will. But tonight, you need to come for me just like this. Faster."
Andrew sped up his hand and the fingers inside him, eyes on Ford, who was rapidly moving his own hand over his red and weeping cock.
"F-faster," Ford’s voice stuttered, hoarse now. "Faster. Fast as you can."
Andrew’s hand practically blurred with speed; he was so close to coming.
"Not yet."
"Ford," he growled.
"Almost... almost. Now!" Ford's voice broke off in a cry as he came over his fingers.
Andrew moaned at the sight, finally giving over to the sensations wracking through him and coming so hard, his vision darkened. He nearly swayed on the ledge, correcting himself so that if he did topple, he fell onto the roof instead of all those stories down to the ground.
Gasping and breathing deep, he managed to stay upright, feeling buzzed and sticky.
There was cum all over his coat, but he didn’t care.
He let his eyes drift sluggishly to the other roof, landing on Ford looking blissed out, face a mask of pleased calm, hand still on his dwindling cock, eating up every inch of Andrew he could look at.
Andrew would have blushed if he wasn’t heated and flush from head to toe already. He needed a shower and being out in the open, completely nude save for his shirt, started to creep up on him. “Can I… get dressed now?”
“Go ahead.”
Andrew used his coat to clean up, since it was stained anyway. Eventually, standing at the ledge across from Ford, clothed again but spent, he couldn’t help wishing once more that they were on the same roof.
“So… I get to call the shots again next time?”
Ford hummed at the suggestion, flicking his eyes down Andrew’s body like before. “Looking forward to it.”
“That was…”
Ford raised an eyebrow expectantly.
“Not terrible.”
“You mean, not so bad from someone who gets it wherever they can?”
Andrew cringed. He had been an ass that night, even if he’d felt justified. “I had a bad day. Lately, I’ve had a lot of them. But after this, at least as far as trackers and bugs go, maybe we can call it even?”
“How about a freebie then, since you worked so hard to learn something about our joint quarry today?”
“You know something?”
“Just one thing. They’re not using any fences. Direct to buyer only. So, you can tell your brother not to waste his time.” Ford raised his hand in a swift salute.
“Wait! Whatever happened to that T-shirt and sweats you stole from me?”
“Hmm… we have that ‘next time’, maybe I’ll tell you.” He winked and turned on his heel to go.
Andrew hated that Ford was his competition, but all was indeed fair in… well, not love and war, but whatever else this was.
Still high on sensations, Andrew turned to look out at the city again, glancing at the stone gargoyle he’d used as his pillow. He patted the side of his trusty sentinel. “This one’s just between us and the city, Bruce.”
“Still hacked into your radio, Andrew.” Ford chuckled.
Andrew blushed and ended the call.
ISAAC
“Dad, this is it. You’ll love this place. I practically lived off their chicken salad in college.”
Dad. Isaac still loved that more than he could say.
“I was applying theories of absolute zero again today. Thought of you,” Dalton said after they’d ordered at the counter and sat in an out of the way booth. “If harnessed correctly, it’s almost like stopping time. In your line of work, can you imagine—”
“No shop talk,” Isaac said.
“Come on.” Dalton flashed a cheeky grin. “Discussing theory and application doesn’t put me in any danger.”
“It’s a slippery slope. If you’re so interested in how to apply absolute zero to security consulting, Google it.”
Dalton laughed. He was smart, more than enough to make Isaac proud, not that he ever would have needed his son to prove anything to him.
Dalton had a degree in thermodynamic engineering, working toward his master’s with plans for a PhD, and a cushy job at Avalon, a local research facility.
Isaac had never even finished high school, entirely self-made.
He was proud of that too, but he was glad Dalton had experienced something different.
He didn’t look anything like Isaac, only a trait here or there, a specific smile, gesture, or way he said something.
And his eyes; he had Isaac’s eyes, bright blue to contrast his mother’s dark skin.
“I’ll get you one of these days, Dad,” he said, drum-tapping the table before he pushed out of the booth to head toward the bathrooms. “Be right back.”
A past life of skirting the law meant Isaac was almost always on edge, perceptive to any threats he might have to defend against, but especially around Dalton.
He had to be alert, because he had so much more to lose.
One of the reasons he’d never considered giving up crime before was because he’d never found something to replace that thrill or possessive sense of accomplishment.
Dalton was so much better than anything he’d ever stolen.
Everything was looking up, and it had all been acquired legally. Mostly. His job. Time with Dalton. Escapades with Andrew Wen in dark rooms and on rooftops…
“Ford?”
Isaac jumped and had to wonder if he’d summoned Andrew simply by thinking of him, because suddenly, there he was, coming from around Isaac’s shoulder. “Andrew.”
“Hi.” There wasn’t any confrontation in his expression today, just a rare, hesitant smile. “Here to enjoy the chicken salad or planning a stick-up later?” he teased—teased, like he was honestly happy to see Isaac.
“What is it with the chicken salad here? Can’t be that special.”
“It’s the dried cherries.”
The warmth that spread through Isaac’s chest surprised him, but he didn’t have much time before Dalton would be back, and Andrew discovering he had a son was just as bad as any enemies.
Then a bitter thought crossed his mind. “Did you track me again?”
“What? No. I just come here.”
That might be true. This was closer to the persona Isaac remembered from when Andrew was a detective. Sympathetic, earnest, almost sweet. It was just as well that he’d found his way off the force.
He looked like he had half a mind to take the empty seat in front of Isaac but hesitated with a bite at his lip. “I know we’re still at odds professionally, and I’m sure you’ll infuriate me to no end trying to steal more jobs from me in the future, but… I never actually apologized for Christmas.”
“Andrew—”
“I get why you left,” he pushed on. “I wasn’t exactly hospitable, and you still kept your end of the bargain. You’ve been a model citizen ever since. You know, besides shameless shenanigans in uniform and invasion of privacy,” he whispered. “But I won’t talk if you don’t.”
The smile that lit Isaac’s face in response surprised him too. He tried to think of a comeback, only for Andrew’s eyes to fall to the empty seat again and notice the second drinking glass.
“Are you on a date?”
“No,” Isaac said too hastily. “It’s not a date.”
“If it was one of your associates, you wouldn’t care, but you’re anxious. Stealing more clients from me already? Or maybe you are planning a job, and you just use security as a front.”
He was teasing again, Isaac could tell, but that's what all the naysayers said: that Isaac was faking it. Once word of the new thief finally spread, they’d all say it was him. A few skirts of the law were one thing, but he couldn't risk going back to jail, not when he had Dalton.
Dalton—who was out of the bathroom and headed for their table!
“Listen, now isn’t the best—”
“Andrew?”
Andrew spun around when Dalton called his name.
When Dalton called his name.
“Dalton? Oh my God, how are you?”
They hugged, completely unabashed in their open display of affection.
“Why are you never on Facebook?” Dalton squeezed Andrew tightly. “I can hardly keep up. Did I hear you quit the force?”
“Almost a year ago now. I started a security firm.”
“That’s awesome! And kind of funny. My dad does security too. Dad? What’s with the face?”
Dalton’s eyes landed on Isaac, and when Andrew turned to see that no, there was no other man in line of sight to be the bearer of that endearment, his jaw nearly hit the floor.
“Dad?”
“Do you and Andrew know each other?”
“How do you know each other?” Isaac threw back, because if they’d slept together, he would have an aneurism right there in the café.
“Andrew tutored me in Art History in college. How do you know him?”
The actual answers flitted through Isaac’s mind.
He was my nemesis.
He’s the detective who put me in jail.
We fucked on his living room sofa half an hour before I met you, and I helped him through two orgasms yesterday.
“We… dated,” Isaac sputtered—and what the hell was he thinking?! “Briefly.”
‘WHAT?’ Andrew mouthed in disbelief, but he must not have been able to think of a better answer either, because he screwed his face into embarrassed shock for Dalton’s sake and said, “Yeah! Very briefly. Boy, that must sound super weird since he’s your dad.”
“Not… weird,” Dalton said, glancing stoically between them. He had Isaac’s knack for hiding his emotions unless he wanted others to know them. “I mean, we’re all adults. You’re a good guy, Andrew, and Dad’s—”