Freckle's claws clicked on the tile as she walked over to her bowl and began to lap up the water. She paused suddenly and cocked her head--a key was turning, unlocking the back door. Freckle froze in anticipation. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of the human as the door silently swung open.
A man, shrouded in shadows, entered the apartment. "Shit!" the man exclaimed as the strap on his leather duffle bag got tangled on the doorknob.
HE'S here! He's finally here! The dog began to emit yips of unadulterated joy as she leapt into the air and bounced against the man's chest.
"Hey, Freck," the man whispered as he carefully placed his heavy burden on a barstool. He crouched down and scratched the dog behind her long, silky ears. When he looked like he was about to straighten up, she laid down and rolled onto her back, whimpering. "Ok, Ok, old girl!" A gentle hand stroked her stomach as she pawed the air in ecstasy.
Suddenly, the man groaned and clutched his forehead. Sliding down to sit on the floor, his fingers gently massaged his temples.
The dog rolled over and crawled onto his lap to stare up at him with concerned eyes. "I'm fine girl." The hands lowered as he leaned back and propped himself more comfortably against the wall. "What a disastrous trip! I thought I saw Noah float by when we were crossing the bridge."
His right hand slowly rose to pat the pockets of his raincoat--until he discovered which one contained the pain medication. "I guess I do need one," the man whispered reluctantly. When he had found it, he slowly opened the bottle and dropped a pill into his palm. Then the trembling hand rose to place the pill in his mouth. He closed his eyes and gulped, swallowing the medication.
//A year ago, I couldn't take anything without water--a lot has changed this year. But not everything has been a positive change. I'm one year older, but am I one bit less naïve?//
The blond man sighed and stretched out his arms. "I am exhausted, hungry, soaking wet and I have a headache the size of Long Island. So, if you have to go out, you're outta' luck. That little pill will have me in Never Never Land very soon. So, I am just going to crawl into bed and enjoy the ride."
He really wouldn't--he hated taking anything, but his body was making it known that it needed some help tonight. Three nights of insomnia-- worrying about 'the right thing to do and the consequences of doing anything' were enough. //Let someone else carry the world's problems on their shoulders. I'm getting some sleep.//
He gently pushed the dog off his lap as he used the barstool to pull himself to his feet. With the grace of a dancer, he pivoted around and grabbed his keys out of the door, which he closed. He turned and grabbed the bag as he strode out of the kitchen.
The apartment was dark, but the man navigated through the furniture without mishap, the dog padding beside him. When he reached the bedroom, he lowered his burden onto a bench. He slipped a long jacket off of his shoulders and walked over to the closet. Pulling out a hanger, he used it to drape the coat on a hook located on the inside of the closet door--it could dry there. He slapped the door closed with satisfaction.
Turning around, he pulled the tail of his white linen shirt out of his pants and had begun to unfasten the buttons when he noticed the sound of quiet breathing in the room. "What the hell?" he whispered. He turned to face the bed and spotted someone tucked under the sheets. He cautiously tiptoed over to the side of the bed and tugged a corner of the sheet away from the slumbering person's face.
A strikingly handsome face, with dark hair was revealed. The blond man's brow creased in bewilderment. Suddenly, the dark-haired stranger sighed and rolled over. His sudden movement revealed a muscular arm and acres of creamy, white skin that seemed to glow in the dim light emanating from the windows.
The blond man used his left hand to turn on a table lamp as he continued to stare at the mysterious person on the bed. //Who are you and why are you sleeping here? If you're a burglar, which seems unlikely considering the security in this building, why are you sleeping on the job?//
The man's lips twitched with amusement. //God, I must be beyond tired if finding a sleeping man in the bed, while I'm supposedly alone in the house, isn't making me nervous. Is he a friend of Angus? He looks familiar.//
Tired blue eyes scanned the room and spotted a wallet, lying on the night table. He reached down and snatched it up eagerly. It fell open to reveal some sort of badge and a picture identification.
The blond bent down closer to the lamp, to read the information. "New York Police Department. Hmm, so my pseudo-thief is in law enforcement--I feel so much better now. Detective Christopher Keller." He turned to face the stranger who seemed to have mistaken the apartment for a Motel 6 and grinned. "So, your name is...Chris."
His eyes narrowed in concentration; he examined a small picture on the id as he bent over the bed to compare it to the sleeper. "Yup. That's him. Maybe this is some kind of practical joke? Well, I'm willing to play along. I could use a good laugh at this point."
The sleeping man was starting to become more aware, he turned toward the blond and sighed. "Toby," he whispered as his eyelashes fluttered.
The blond sank down onto the edge of the bed. He was enjoying looking at the bounty of riches displayed before him. The tight tee-shirt clung to the man's upper body--which was a masterpiece of masculinity. The blond was surprised by his body's reaction to the man's sensual beauty; this instant attraction was startling. He found himself longing to see the color of the man's eyes. That thought triggered a memory in his drug-fogged mind--the man in the park!!
//Somebody up there must like me!//
He held the id in his right hand and waited for the man to completely awaken.
He had been dreaming--about the dog drinking a cup of tea--while Schillinger and McLain ate a sheet cake that was decorated in the image of the portrait. In the background, the ugly grandfather clock had grown huge and was chiming the time of the murder. The sound began to penetrate through to Chris, slowly waking him.
It felt like someone was pounding on his aching head with a sledge hammer. Chris wished the person would finish trying to smash in his skull, he was tired and he wanted to get back to sleep.
//Jesus, now this IDIOT is talking. Can't you see I'm trying to sleep!! Shut the fuck up!//
//That would be more effective if I actually spoke the words aloud. But if I speak, it's gonna make my head hurt more, so I'll let this idiot survive for a little while longer.//
//Light!!! Light is bad! OK, your life expectancy just got much shorter--sleeping person here! You don't turn on a light when a person is trying to sleep through a hellacious hangover.// Chris rolled over and tried to face away from the light, but it was too late. He was gradually coming awake.
Chris heard the soft voice again, whispering...what sounded like his name. The voice. The voice. It sounded so familiar. Chris scrunched his brow as he tried to gather his befuddled senses together and identify the speaker.
Suddenly, he knew. His heart ached with longing. "Toby!" he whispered.
"Very good. Now would you mind telling me who YOU are and what you are doing sleeping in MY bed? Not that I'm complaining about *that*."
Bolting into a sitting position, Chris' unfocused gaze beheld a blond man sitting casually on the bed with his wallet dangling in his hand.
//Oh, my god. I've gone completely nuts! Sean told me that I was getting too worked up over a dead guy and now I'm hallucinating.//
Chris rubbed a hand across his eyes and blinked. But the man was still there. Supple muscles were revealed through the damp, clinging shirt. The shirt hung open and Chris feasted his eyes on the creamy skin of the man's chest. And it got better. Supply curved shoulders turned into a graceful nape, blond curls and silky blond hair that glittered with raindrops. Chris's salacious inspection continued to catalog the delectable sight before him.
Blue eyes that were filled with curiosity and good humor. //The lips-- oh, the lips. Moist and kissable. God, this is the most vivid dream that I have ever had. I can even smell him and he smells great-- cologne, soap and rain. And he looks...absolutely edible.//
//Well, I can either roll over and go back to sleep and hope my sanity has returned by morning or I can enjoy this insanity while it lasts. H'm--Times up! I choose the insanity, while it lasts.//
Chris lunged forward and captured the man's wrists in a confining grip. Raising them over the man's head, he used his body to nudge the man downward until he was sprawled out on his back. The detective trapped the body beneath him as he captured the soft lips in an urgent kiss.
Initially the man seemed surprised by Chris' advances. He stiffed up and tried to evade Chris' eager mouth.
//I don't think so.// The detective began to nibble tenderly on a lush lower lip till the blond gasped. When the lips parted, Chris' tongue invaded the sweet mouth and stroked the velvety interior-- exploring. The kiss was hard, and urgent. He was ravenous and couldn't seem to get enough.
When a curious tongue tentatively stroked his, Chris moaned his approval. He released the wrists so that his hands could surround the beloved face, cupping it in his palms. Trembling fingers traced over the high forehead and the golden eyebrows--stroking, memorizing.
Chris could feel his heart pounding and his skin felt like it was on fire. He felt out of control and he was enjoying the ride. It all felt so *good*, so perfect. His body urged him to ravish--to crawl inside of this man's body and claim his soul.
Chris felt the man's fingers in his hair, running his fingers through the dark strands as they pressed him closer, silently entreating him to continue the kisses.
Tongues dueled. Thrusting, sucking--the kiss built in intensity-- until Chris had to release the captured mouth to take a breath. As oxygen filled his aching lungs, he nibbled on the soft skin on his dream lover's neck. He suckled the tender flesh into his mouth and bit gently as he used his tongue to soothe the sensitive skin. //Mine. He's mine.//
Chris felt a pair of long legs wrap themselves around his lower body. It made him feel so safe, cocooned against the warm body. It was also very arousing. His groin was throbbing with the need for release--it felt like most of his blood cells were rushing down there to join the party.
Whimpers and moans from his dream lover told him that the man was enjoying Chris' efforts. His skin tasted salty and Chris licked his neck eagerly, tracing along the collar bone and back to that delectable curve where the neck and shoulder met. But there was more territory to explore--he trailed his tongue up the neck and continued his feast on the man's jaw, till he reached a delicate ear. As he sucked on the soft lobe, the body beneath him thrust up against him and the man whimpered.
Chris felt a cock brush against his own, so hot and hard -- he moaned in ecstasy. His body begged him to finish this--so he captured the delicate mouth again and continued the mind-numbing kisses as his right hand stroked down the chest, opening the shirt further. When his hand reached a waistband, it froze.
His body urged him to finish ravishing this man--to touch more soft flesh and to claim the willing body beneath him. But his brain was finally waking up and it was starting to realize that something was terribly wrong. //This dream is a little too vivid. Which means that it must really be happening.//
Chris pressed his forehead against the warm one beneath his while soft hands slid down the detective's back. He felt them slide under the hem of his tee-shirt; Chris shivered when they touched his back--flesh against flesh. The hands traced over his muscles in fascination as they gently caressed his sensitive skin.
//This isn't a dream. My heart is racing. I can feel him breathing beneath me. He belongs there. But he isn't supposed to be there. But...why??//
As if from far away, he heard a dog barking--it sounded like it was...having a fit or something. Why would there be a dog around? Chris raised his head and glared down at a spaniel. "LAY DOWN!!" he bellowed. The dog instantly cowered, tucking its tail between its legs before it crawled under the bed.
//That's better. What a yippy little furball Toby owns...TOBY!//
"Holy fuckin' shit!" Chris sat up and stared at the familiar features.
"What?" the gentle voice enquired. Chris evaded the questing hands and leaped off the bed. He ran over to the wall to turn on a light switch.
Slowly, he walked back over to the bed where the man had remained, still draped wantonly on the sheets. Eyes as blue as a summer sky were dazed and drowsy from passion. The lips were swollen from Chris' kisses.
Chris rubbed his eye sockets with his palms, but the blond apparition was still there. Chris reached out a trembling hand and pinched the man's arm.
"Ow," the blond man knocked his hand away and rubbed his arm. "What the HELL did you do that for?" he huffed. "Has anyone ever informed you that you need to work on your seduction techniques? You can't have many satisfied patrons if this is your regular routine."
"Wha'?" Chris tilted his head in confusion.
"The fake id was a great touch, but let's cut to the chase or you can leave. I'm sure you're quite expensive and I'm starting to appreciate Nik's gift. It was Nik that hired you, right?"
"Are you STONED?" Chris collapsed onto the bed beside the blond. "I am most certainly not a prostitute. And I am getting a little tired of people suggesting that I am one--this makes twice!! AND I don't know who the hell your friend Nick is!" Chris snapped out. "AND what are YOU doing here? Do you know that everyone thinks that you're dead?"
"Excuse me, come again? I'm dead? It might be the meds befuddling my brain, but I don't feel dead," a dreamy smile formed on the blonde's face. "And considering the last few nights I've had--if this is death, I'm not complaining. Can we do the kissing thing again?"
Chris stared into the dilated blue eyes, and grimaced. //He may not be stoned, but he's on something. This guy's in a 'happy place'. It's damn tempting, but I'm better off letting him sleep. I have things to do.//
"I have to call the station. There has been a serious screw up here. Leave it to the feds. I think that they'd appreciate knowing that their victim isn't even dead."
The man yawned and stretched. "It's four o'clock. I think you should wait until it's morning. So, about the kissing??"
"NO." Chris reached out and picked up the cell phone and began to dial his precinct.
Toby sighed in regret. "You could be a little more generous. You utilized my clothes and my bed--how about doing something for me?"
It had been the best kiss that Toby had ever experienced--that it wasn't just because of the pills. Being held in the man's arms seemed so necessary that Toby couldn't understand why he had ended the embrace. Since the man had escaped to the other side of the room, Toby decided to give up. When he rose to his feet, the floor swayed.
//I hate that side effect of those damn pills...But I've never dreamed up a gorgeous man who jumped my bones and then made them melt. I like this new prescription--it's a keeper!//
Chris waited impatiently, pushing the appropriate buttons on the touch pad. //Damn voice mail.//
"You even used my *toothbrush*!" the voice groused from the bathroom before the sounds of his preparations for bed began.
Chris rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, as he tried to make his body wake up. //Well, he's as gorgeous I imagined. And passionate too. But I never would have guessed that he was so...irresistible. Cripes.//
He walked out of the room carrying the phone; the sound of the water running in the bathroom was making it difficult for him to hear the computerized voice telling him the right numbers to press.
Chris left a message asking his captain to call him at his earliest convenience. Next he called his partner. When the familiar voice mail message had played, Chris sighed in relief.
//Finally.//
"Hi, Sleeping Beauty! You will want to give me a call on my cell phone when you get this message, since the feds screwed up--as usual. The victim wasn't Tobias Beecher! I'm not sure who the hell it was right now. I'll explain this better when you call me. Bye."
When Chris entered the bedroom, he found Toby asleep on the bed dressed only in silk boxer shorts. The spaniel lay at his feet, curled up against him.
Chris's salacious gaze savored the delicious view before him. The body was slim, but the muscles were toned. His eyes studied the sinfully-sexy back that tapered off into the pert ass; Chris licked his lips as he imagined his hands traveling down the smooth skin. The temptation was to crawl into bed and wrap his body back around the blond--to hold him, to breathe in his scent and savor his living body beside him.
Chris recognized how this man could potentially change his whole life, but he wasn't complaining. Chris' heart sang. //He's alive. He's alive.//
He walked over to the bed and stroked the soft blond hair before he leaned down to kiss the pouty lips. He covered the man with the sheets and spent several minutes tucking them around him before he was satisfied, before Chris reluctantly turned the lights off and walked out the door.
He'd be sleeping on the couch--away from temptation. Chris knew that he was grinning like a love-struck teenager, but he didn't care. He had finally found it--true love. Someone had granted him a second chance, because his Toby was alive. And he would court him--he'd romance that man until he was just as smitten as Chris felt. Chris collapsed onto the couch and started making plans until he surrendered to sleep.
Go to next part.