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Tim took a breath and met Peter Fields' eyes. "I like your nice, hard ass," he said quietly, aware of Frank's presence behind him. Fields laughed, leaned back against the chair, and casually confessed to murder. Afterwards, Frank patted Tim on the shoulder in congratulations for another good day's work. Tim looked up at him and smiled easily, knowing Frank would read the relief in his expression and never realize it had nothing to do with solving the case.
***
It all started--well, not innocently, exactly, since he was looking at a sex toy catalog on the web, but compared to where he ended up, it started out innocently enough. Tim and Julianna had been fucking nearly every night since he'd laid that drunken kiss on her at the Waterfront Christmas party, but one night Julianna'd gotten a call from some college roommate or best friend or something after dinner. She'd set Tim down in front of her new computer and told him to entertain himself.
That was all he'd done, really. He'd checked his email first, but that took all of five minutes. She didn't have any good games, and, well, he was a detective. She had to have known he'd check out her bookmarks, her browser history. He was just looking to see if she had anything interesting, something to pass the time. When he saw a bookmark called "Good Vibrations," he figured maybe it had something to do with the Beach Boys.
No, that wasn't true. He'd heard of the site before--Ballard and Stivers were talking about it one day in the lunch room when he was walking past. They'd been pretty enthusiastic, so, you know, it made sense to check it out.
He was surprised, but not that surprised, when he saw the page she had bookmarked was the one with the cuffs. A couple nights ago when he'd held her wrists up above her head, she'd really liked that. He'd never been into bondage, but he was into her.
She was still talking to her friend, so he surfed around the site a bit. He didn't really get the appeal of nipple clamps or whips, and he had no idea there was such a variety of vibrators available, but it's not like those were meant for him. The porn looked interesting, but he got bored reading through descriptions, so he started looking at the dildos, and through that page he found the harnesses. And those--wow, those were really something he'd never considered before. He thought about how one would look, low on Julianna's hips, that shiny black dildo coming out the front, and he had to shift uncomfortably in his seat, because his jeans were getting tight.
The first time Emma Zoole put her fingers in him while she was giving him a blow job he'd nearly come off the bed--the coffin--in shock, but when she'd taken her mouth off the head of his dick and glared at him he'd settled down. After a few seconds, he started to enjoy it. After a few more minutes, he came so hard he nearly choked her. The next night she'd used one of her toys--he thought it was a vibrator, but he didn't ask--and it was even better than her fingers, because, let's face it, they were a little short to do the job effectively.
Unfortunately, they broke up right after that, and Tim had never gotten the guts to ask another woman if she'd be willing to do that for him. It was a bit awkward to bring up--when was he supposed to ask? He'd used his own fingers a few times, but that wasn't the same. Maybe he just hadn't been going out with the right women, though, because he thought maybe Julianna would. And, fuck, what a thought that was. He squirmed again, reaching down to adjust himself.
"Whatcha looking at, Bayliss?" Julianna asked from over his shoulder.
"What?" he said, pushing the chair in closer to the desk, reflexively hiding his erection. "Uh, nothing, just, you know, checking things out," he said casually.
"I can see that," she answered, leaning to get a better look, her breasts lightly brushing his shoulders. "This stuff turn you on?"
"The cuffs turn you on?" he countered.
"You first," she said, laughing throatily, pressing closer, her breath in his ear.
He swallowed. "Okay, yeah, yeah, it turns me on," he said quickly, pushing his chair back and turning around before he could change his mind. "And the cuffs?"
She looked down appreciatively, then climbed into his lap, rocking against him. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat, reaching behind and under her shirt to unfasten her bra, running his thumbs around to the front, feeling her nipples tighten. She kissed him quickly, playfully, and leaned back to take her top off. He did the same, then mouthed her breasts, tonguing her nipples until she moaned. He took hold of her hips and stood up; she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her into the bedroom.
When she reached for his belt, he grabbed her wrists in one hand, easily holding them away while he unbuckled his belt and popped the button on his jeans. He pulled his belt from his waist and held it up to her face. "You never answered my question," he said breathlessly. "You want me to, uh, to tie you up?"
She licked her lips, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, Bayliss, do it," she said huskily, her arms going limp in his grip.
It took a little work, but eventually he got the belt wrapped the right way around her wrists and the bedposts, holding her securely, but not tight enough to cut off her circulation. She watched him, wide-eyed, her face flushed, mouth open, breathing deeply. He knelt back on the bed, considering. Fuck, she was beautiful. He unzipped his jeans and carefully lowered his boxers over his erection, watching her watch him.
Making a decision, he moved up the bed until he was straddling her chest, his dick bobbing in front of her face. He took hold of the base and held it to her lips, feeling faintly ridiculous, but when she took a sharp breath, opened wide, and wrapped her lips around the head, he didn't give a fuck how ridiculous it was, he just wanted more of that wet heat.
It wasn't enough, though--the angle was wrong, and with her hands restrained she couldn't use them on the shaft (or put her fingers up his ass, he thought quickly, then just as quickly pushed the thought away), so after a couple more and more unsatisfactory minutes he pulled away and started kissing her breasts, hoping she was enjoying herself enough that she wouldn't notice his enthusiasm was starting to wane.
He moved down her body, nipping lightly at the skin on her belly as he unfastened her pants. She lifted her hips so he could pull them and her underwear down, and he took a moment to take them all the way off, considering his options again. When in doubt, he figured, it was best to go with what you knew. "Move up," he said, and she did, bending her knees and sitting up as best she could against the headboard, her breasts bouncing with her breath and movement.
He could see her almost let her legs fall apart--she knew what was coming--but then she wrinkled her brow a tiny bit and left them where they were, knees touching, feet firmly against the sheets. He put his hands on her thighs and spread them apart, getting down on the bed and lifting her legs over his shoulders.
Tim knew what he liked, and he knew what he was good at. Tim liked women--he loved them, with their soft breasts and hips, their pink folds and sea smell. He liked using his mouth on them, feeling their strong thighs clench against his hands and their inner muscles quiver against his tongue as he made them come. He rocked against the sheets a little as he teased Julianna, getting harder just from that and her breathy moans.
He took his time with her, noting the way she was straining towards him as he pressed soft kisses onto her mons, the soft skin just outside her lips, until he finally gave in and thrust his tongue into her, his fingers on her clit. She canted her hips up, crying out. She came almost immediately--fuck, that was hot, he loved it when he could do that, when a woman just let go like that--and he rubbed up against the sheets again, moaning a little. He went back to her after a moment, though, knowing she'd want more than just his tongue in her, but she wanted him in control, too, right? Wasn't that was this was all about, with the belt around her wrists? So he'd take control, like she wanted, make her wait until he was good and ready to put his dick into her.
Fuck, thinking about sliding into her, feeling that tight heat surround him, there was nothing like that. He lost his concentration for a second and had to take a breath, a drop of sweat running down his nose. But she was on the edge again, he could tell. He took her over, just like that, because he was good at this; he'd worked hard to be good at this. He scooted back, listening to her as she panted, letting her come down just a little, knowing he could make her come a third time, maybe even a fourth, if he'd give her a little breather now.
"Bayliss, fuck," she said after a moment, her hips hitching lower, her heels digging into his back, urging him towards her. "Fuck me already."
"Mmm," he said, turning his head to bite her thigh, trying to ignore the impulse to do what she asked and just bury himself inside her. He could see the strain in her arms where she was pulling against the headboard, and he wondered briefly if he should end this and let her loose. But then she moaned again, and he bent down to tongue her clit, and she started to beg him to fuck her, now, please, Bayliss, and he forgot all about the belt restraining her arms.
He surged up the bed, taking her face between his hands and kissing her deeply before fumbling for the box on the bedside table. It seemed to take forever before he managed to roll the condom over his erection, but then finally, finally, he was thrusting into her, so hot and tight and good. She was keening wordlessly, on the edge again, and he moved, he withdrew, got on his knees, pulled her hips up onto his thighs and entered her again, watching her face, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open. He fingered her clit and watched her come, felt her walls contracting against him, and he thrust in again and again, grunting sharply as he let his orgasm build and build until it rushed up through him.
It took a minute before he came back to himself, calves cramping up, still breathing like he'd run a few miles. Julianna's legs, lax and sweaty, were draped over his. He pulled out, letting her gently back down onto the bed and getting up to drop the condom in the trash.
"That was great, Tim," she murmured happily when he returned to the bed. "Think you could let me loose, though? My shoulders are starting to ache."
"Shit, Julianna, I'm sorry," he said, reaching up to undo the belt buckle. "Are you okay?" What the hell had he been thinking, fucking her on his knees like he was some kind of porn star? She was strong, and, yeah, it was her idea, but he was a lot bigger and stronger than she was. He could have hurt her.
"I'm fine, Bayliss," she said, rubbing her wrists. He tried to see if the skin was abraded, but he couldn't tell. "I'm better than fine. I'm better than I've been in months, all right?"
"All right," he answered, and she turned to rest her head on his chest. He wanted to ask if she'd done anything like that with Mike, but he knew better, so he just stroked her hair, wondering what he'd gotten himself into.
"Hey, Bayliss, can I ask you a question?" she said a moment later.
"Sure, sure," he said, wondering why she never called him by his first name.
"The, uh, what you were looking at," she said, and, shit, was she blushing? After what they'd just done? "Were you serious? Does that really turn you on?"
"Yeah, I was serious," he said, trying not to snap at her.
"Is it the idea of, say, me and another woman that turns you on? Because it's mostly lesbians who use those things," she said, but her shoulders were tense, and for the first time since he'd met her he didn't quite buy her confident tone.
"Two women, yeah, that's, you know, that's hot," he said, because it was, but he wasn't going to let that distract him. "The thing is, that wasn't what I was thinking about. I was thinking about, uh, about ass play," he added, wincing internally as he said the words--seriously, "ass play"?
She didn't say anything for a moment, and he thought, that's it, I've fucked it up, but then she said, "You ever done anything like that?"
"Yeah, yeah, a couple times," he said. "This woman I went out with, she, she was the one who--just her fingers, at first, but then this one time she used, uh, one of her toys. It was--I liked it," he said awkwardly.
"I'm a medical doctor, Bayliss; I do know about the prostate," she said. Her tone was acerbic, but her shoulders had relaxed noticeably. "I get the appeal."
"Uh, okay, good," he said. He had a feeling he'd passed some sort of test, but he had no idea what it was. He glanced at the clock. "Listen, I've got a shift at the bar in an hour--I'd better get going." He sat up and reached for his boxers and jeans.
"Why don't you call Munch or Lewis and make them take the shift?" she asked. "Spend the night here, with me. I've got ice cream in the freezer--you want some?"
"Munch is out with Billie Lou, and Lewis is sick," he answered, pulling his jeans on, looking for his shirt. He wasn't lying, not exactly. Lewis wasn't sick so much as he was sick of working nights at the bar and then a full twelve at the station. "I could come back after closing, but you'll probably be asleep."
"No, you're right," she said, waving him off, "although I don't know why Munch gets to have more time off than you do."
"He doesn't," Tim said quickly. "I'm working tomorrow, but I have Wednesday off. I'll see you then, all right?"
"It's a date," she said, pulling the sheets up. "Just think, while you're serving watered down drinks to Baltimore's finest, I'll be eating ice cream in bed."
"Our drinks aren't watered down," he retorted, as he knew she expected him to. "Shit, my shirt's in the other room. I'll see you, you know, Wednesday. Enjoy your ice cream." He walked into the living room.
"Hey, Bayliss?" her voice called from the bedroom.
"Yeah, what?" he asked, trying to hide his annoyance as he buttoned his shirt.
"Bring your cuffs on Wednesday, huh?" she said, laughing.
"Bring my cuffs?" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He pulled his socks on, shoved his feet in his shoes, grabbed his keys and coat, and left. If he hurried, he'd have time for a quick shower at home before he had to be at the bar.
***
Tim couldn't get Julianna's request out of his mind the next day. It helped that the Waterfront was packed, and he and Frank caught a fresh case the next morning, but he couldn't get it out of his head. She couldn't have been serious--could she?
On Tuesday night he looked at his cuffs sitting next to his gun and holster on the bureau. He put his head in his hands. If she asked, and he said no, she'd be pissed. But if he said yes--how could he possibly say yes? Didn't she know what kind of damage they could do? Maybe if she had some cuffs like the ones online, nice wide ones with lots of padding, maybe that would be okay, but not his cuffs. They were official, police-issue cuffs, not a toy.
Maybe she'd just been joking. The more he thought about it, though, the less he believed it. He was fucked.
That night he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. He had a dream that morning, but it wasn't a nightmare, not exactly. First it was Julianna, sucking him off, and then Emma was there, a black dildo in her hands. He started fucking Julianna, and Emma was behind him, getting ready to fuck him. He was so hard, so excited, and then he looked over his shoulder and Emma was gone. Gee was standing there, his dick in his hand, getting ready to fuck Tim.
He woke with a start and shook his head, trying to get rid of the image. Where the hell had that come from? He'd had dreams before--everyone had homoerotic dreams sometimes, he'd read that--but Gee? That was sick. There must be something wrong with him, to dream something like that.
He went for a run, then took a long shower, ignoring the blinking on his answering machine until he'd gotten dressed and eaten a late lunch. He was still tired; he didn't get the energy from his run that he usually did. He thought about calling Julianna and canceling, but her voice on the answering machine was warm, and when he called her back and invited her over, she didn't mention his handcuffs, just said she was looking forward to seeing him. By the time they got off the phone, he was looking forward to it as well.
He changed the sheets on his bed, started some laundry, went to the market to pick up some ice cream and other essentials. Julianna was great--she was intelligent, she understood why his work was important, and she was beautiful and uninhibited. So she had a thing for restraints. He could work with that. It wasn't like he didn't have any fantasies of his own. He helped her out, and maybe she was going to help him out.
Emma'd slept in a coffin, and Julianna liked cemeteries. And being tied up, apparently. He wasn't sure what that said about his taste in women, but he wasn't sorry he'd gotten involved, not with either of them. Frank would--well, he wasn't ever going to tell Frank about this, but Frank wanted him to embrace his darker side, and he figured this counted.
When he got home from the market, he put his gun and cuffs in the closet. Out of sight was out of mind, right? He started some pasta sauce, thinking, as he always did, of Steve Crosetti's rant even as he added the mushrooms and peppers. At least Steve hadn't shown up in any of his dreams--not yet, anyway, he thought with a preemptory shudder. Gee was better than Crosetti, but why couldn't he have dreamed of Howard? Kellerman, Lewis, even--his mind skittered away from thinking about Frank, because he had had dreams about Frank before, more than once, but that was just because they were partners. It was natural to have dreams about someone you spent that much time with. Frank had had dreams about him, even told him about them. Sure, they weren't that kind of dream, but still. People dreamed about their partners.
Another shower wouldn't be a bad idea, he thought, just a quick one, and then he'd better shave, since he hadn't done that earlier.
Once out of the shower, he busied himself with setting the table, making a salad, and digging through the back of his pantry looking for the candles. This wasn't a first date, and it wasn't like he was really serious about Julianna, but he didn't invite people over to his place very often. He wasn't going to get dressed up or anything--he had more than enough of suits and ties at work--but couldn't hurt to make a nice impression.
Julianna showed up ten minutes late, her cheeks pink with the cold, a bottle of wine in her hands and a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She dropped the bag and her coat on the sofa, revealing a grey silk blouse and form-fitting black pants. The scarf he'd given her was draped loosely around her neck.
"Julianna, hey, you look great," he murmured, kissing her quickly and taking the wine.
"Thanks, Bayliss," she answered, smiling. "What do you say we open this up? Where's your corkscrew?"
"In the kitchen," he said, taking her by the hand and leading her through the living room. "I'll get the glasses."
She had two more glasses during dinner, which was a little more than usual for her, and then she went to the kitchen looking for another bottle.
"Hey, c'mere," he said, coming up behind her and bending to kiss her neck, his hands circling her waist. "Forget the wine, huh?"
He could feel her resist for a moment before she turned in his arms and pulled his head to hers for a slow, deep kiss. He brought his hands up her back, fingers sliding on the silk, pulling the fabric out of her waistband. Her skin was silky, too, warm and soft. She pressed up against him, swaying a little, and broke off the kiss with a murmur.
"Mmm, that was nice," Tim said, bringing his hand to her cheek.
"Nice, yeah, but sometimes I feel like I need a step stool with you, Bayliss. Can we maybe move this to the couch?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure," he said agreeably, wondering if he'd ever meet a woman close to his own height. At least Julianna was taller than Emma had been. He walked with her to the sofa, hand on the small of her back, his dick heavy in his pants.
They made out for a few minutes, and Tim was getting into it, unbuttoning her blouse, stroking lightly over the top of her bra. Her hands were busy pushing his shirt up; she brushed her fingers over his belly. It tickled. He chuckled, and she took advantage and shoved him back towards the arm of the sofa, climbing on top of him. He ended up with his head resting on her duffel bag. She grinned, slowly pulling the scarf from around her neck, but when she went for his wrist he sat up so quickly he nearly knocked her over.
"Uh, no, sorry, Julianna," he said, surprised by how strongly he'd reacted.
"Hey, it's okay," she answered, but she was frowning.
"Here, let me," he said, reaching for the scarf, but she shook her head.
"I said it's okay," she said sharply. "You're not into it--no big deal."
"Okay," he said, pulling her closer to kiss her again, but the mood was broken, and she sat up after another moment. He sighed, frustrated--he may have freaked out for a minute, but his dick was straining against his zipper, disappointed with the lack of action.
He leaned back against the duffel bag, which was lumpier than he was expecting. "What have you got in this thing, anyway?" he asked, turning his head to look at it.
She flushed and looked away. "I picked up a few things," she said, glancing back at him.
"Oh yeah? Like what?" he asked, sitting up again. "Show me."
She looked at him for a second, then seemed to come to some sort of decision, reaching over his shoulder for the bag. He moved out of the way, turning so he could see as she unzipped the pocket. She reached in and pulled out--holy shit--a dildo. It was bright blue, but it was still clearly a fake penis. Julianna reached in again, producing a pair of padded leather cuffs. He held his breath as she reached into the bag a third time and pulled out what looked at first like a jumbled bunch of black straps.
"Is that--?" he said, and she nodded. "Wow," he said, stunned.
"I figured in for a penny, in for a pound, right?" she said, smiling uneasily. "I haven't, uh, actually tried it on yet, so I hope I can figure out how it fits."
"I could maybe help with that," Tim said, running a finger along the waistband of her pants.
"I'll manage," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to get out of this," she added, her forehead wrinkling.
"I, uh, I can make it worth your while," he said quickly--too quickly.
"Oh yeah? I'm gonna hold you to that, Bayliss," she said, holding up the cuffs and grinning.
He smiled back weakly, realizing she expected they'd use the cuffs first. He did some thinking while they moved into the bedroom, and by the time they'd undressed he figured out a compromise he thought he could deal with.
He wouldn't let her restrain him, but he let her blindfold him with her scarf, and he kept his hands gripped around the headboard like she wanted. He had to admit that was pretty hot, if ultimately unsatisfying, since she wouldn't let him come, not yet. Once she was the one who was blindfolded, once she had the cuffs on, then he'd be able to go for it. At least these cuffs had adjustable straps, and the padding looked a lot more comfortable than he thought his belt must have been.
Thoughts like that kept distracting him while he fucked her, but by the time she was cuffed and blindfolded, he'd been hard for so long that he didn't really care, as long as he finally got to come. Besides, she was clearly really into it, and that worked for him.
Afterwards, they ate some ice cream in bed, sprawling loose and relaxed on the wrinkled sheets. Tim threw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Julianna had his bathrobe on, wrapped almost double across her waist, the sleeves rolled up so they wouldn't get into her dessert, and he felt a deep ache of anticipation, even though it was still a little too soon for any real action.
Julianna seemed pretty tired, though, leaning against him, her eyes closed, the empty bowl forgotten on her lap. Maybe he should drop it, save it for some other time. He stroked her hair gently, feeling tender and protective. She really was beautiful.
"I haven't forgotten, Bayliss," she mumbled, and just like that his dick was really invested in the conversation. "Just give me a few more minutes, okay?"
"Take your time," he said, kissing her temple, but he could feel his heart speeding up. His dick was more than invested now, it was actively involved. This was going to be good.
He continued stroking her hair, occasionally caressing the back of her neck or her cheek. She murmured wordlessly, turning her head just enough to touch her lips to his collarbone. He brushed his mouth against her forehead, her cheekbone, the bridge of her nose, ran his thumb lightly along her jawbone and under her chin. She lifted her head obligingly until their mouths met. She still tasted faintly of mint chocolate chip.
She smiled when he moved away long enough to take his shirt off, then pressed her back against the pillows to kiss her neck, suck the lobe of her ear into his mouth, run his tongue along the shell. He tugged at the tie on the robe after a minute, loosening it enough so he could gain access to her skin. He spread it out around her, kissing his way across her chest and down her body. There was no reason to rush. When he got to below her navel, though, she put her hand on his cheek and said, "No, Bayliss, wait."
"What?" he said, looking up at her, wishing his hair wasn't always falling in his face. He really needed to get it cut again.
"You still want us to try that contraption out, you'd better stop what you're doing before I change my mind," she said. "If you don't care, then, please, by all means, continue."
"No, no, that's okay, I can stop," he said, grinning as he sat up. "Uh, as long as you're okay with it," he added, studying her face.
"I said I'd do it," she said sharply. "Just, shit, give me a minute, okay?" She tied the robe around her waist again and went into the living room. A moment later he saw her head into the bathroom carrying her bag.
Setting the ice cream bowls in the sink took less than a minute. He stood in the kitchen for a moment, strangely reluctant to go back to the bedroom. He leaned back against the counter, his erection deflating. She obviously wasn't as into this as he was, but, fuck, he'd done what she wanted. She should do this for him, square business.
No, that wasn't--he was an asshole. He should let it go. Just because he'd done what she wanted didn't mean she had to do something that made her so uncomfortable.
He pushed himself up off the counter, determined to tell her it was okay, she didn't have to do anything, they could just have regular sex, but then he looked through into the bedroom and saw her emerge. The robe was open at the waist, revealing the harness, the blue dildo (really very lifelike, despite the color) sticking straight out the front. His mouth went dry, his own very real dick started its own trajectory upward and outward, and he was back in the room, standing in front of her, before he even realized he'd moved.
"I feel like an idiot," Julianna said hesitantly, but he put his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her against him, kissing her deeply, the dildo pressing up against his thigh, her breasts against his chest. It was strange; it was electric. It was amazing.
"You look incredible," he said when he broke the kiss.
She laughed nervously. "I never would have pegged you as being into chicks with dicks, Bayliss," she said, a little of her usual confidence back in her voice.
"I'm into you," he insisted, although a treacherous part of his mind disagreed. "Come on--how do you think we should do this?"
"This is your fantasy, not mine," she reminded him. "You tell me what to do with this thing, I'll do it, but don't expect me to call the shots."
After some experimentation, they went with what seemed easiest, Tim face down on the bed, ass up in the air, Julianna behind him on her knees. Tim felt plenty ridiculous himself when he first got into position, especially once he heard her pull on a glove, a glove she'd no doubt brought from the morgue, and then felt her push a finger full of cold lubricant up his ass. It felt weird, clinical--the glove just made him more aware of her background. It was like he was at his doctor's office, only completely naked and on his knees. At least she hadn't asked him to turn his head and cough.
Then she pushed in a little deeper, added a second finger, and leaned close enough so her thighs brushed up against his just as her fingers brushed his prostate, and he was back in it, breathing in the scent of sex rising from the sheets, remembering how she'd looked, back to just wanting it, wanting more. The moment he felt the head of the dildo--her dick--press inside him, he forgot about everything else. She eased it in slowly, asking him if he was okay. He said yes, barely holding back from moaning, wishing she'd just get with the program and fuck him already.
And then she did.
He'd remembered it as being really good when Emma had done it, but this, this was better than he'd remembered, god, and when she reached her hand around to his dick and started stroking it in concert with the toy moving in and out of his body, it was astonishing, better than he'd dared hope for. He groaned, rocking his hips to bring her deeper inside him, until he could feel warm leather against his ass. He reached up and covered her hand on his dick with his, stroking more quickly, just fucking wanting it, wanting this, not patient enough to wait, just taking what he wanted. It took a moment, but then she got it, started really giving it to him, harder and faster and deeper, their hands moving quickly on his dick, and he heard the sounds he was making with a sort of disbelieving fascination even as he came all over their interlaced fingers.
She pulled out quickly, and he rolled over onto his side, still breathing hard, as she went into the bathroom. He figured he should probably get up and follow her, but he couldn't seem to move. He was going to be sore tomorrow.
He forced himself to get up after a minute, using the towel he'd stashed in the nightstand to wipe himself and the bed off as best he could. There was still a little bit of a wet spot. If he'd been alone he would have taken the other side of the bed, but instead he just threw a clean t-shirt on top of it and pulled on a pair of boxers. He wondered vaguely what was taking her so long in the bathroom before he fell asleep.
He woke when she got into bed. She turned on her side, reaching over to get the light, and he moved closer, putting his arm around her and nuzzling her neck. She had a t shirt on. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do--had she gotten off at all? What did she want now? He nuzzled her neck again. She smelled really good. He wasn't up for anything, but maybe she was, and it was only fair he reciprocate.
"Go back to sleep, Bayliss," she said in that world-weary tone she favored.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine, just tired," she answered. "Seriously, all I want to do is sleep."
He murmured his assent and fell back asleep almost immediately.
Tim dreamed of Michael Jordan fucking him, slow and deep and insistent, and he woke with more than the usual morning wood. He stretched, his eyes still closed, and reached for Julianna. When he failed to find her, he opened his eyes. The bathroom door was closed--she must be in there, although he couldn't hear the water running. Maybe she was putting on her make up. He glanced at the clock. It was a couple hours before his shift started.
Maybe she'd be up for something this morning. Nothing like last night, probably, although it would be great if she was, but, yeah, just regular sex, that would be good. Maybe they could take a shower together. He got up and went to the bathroom, knocking softly on the door.
"What, Bayliss?" Julianna said. She sounded pissed off.
"You, uh, you want some breakfast?" he asked, rethinking his plan. "I've got cereal, and I think I have eggs, and I can make some coffee," he added.
She opened the door and came out. She was dressed, more casually than she'd been the night before, and she looked as annoyed as she'd sounded through the bathroom door. "Don't give me that look," she said, moving past him. "Coffee's all I need, and I made a pot already, so go ahead if you want to take a shower," she added.
"Okay," he said, wondering what her problem was. "You sure you don't need anything?"
"I've been in your kitchen before, Bayliss--I can find the Frosted Flakes if I need to."
"Yeah, yeah, okay," he said. Maybe she'd be in a better mood after she'd had some more coffee.
He intended to make it quick, but once he got under the hot spray, he couldn't help lingering a little, especially once he finished washing his hair and face and started on his body. The moment he closed his eyes, images from his dream swirled through his head. Instead of ignoring them like he should, he deliberately focused on the night before. He ran the soap over his ass, then awkwardly pushed his left index finger up and in.
He was a little sore, but not enough to cancel the jolt of pleasure he felt when he found his prostate. He took his dick in his right hand and began to stroke.
He tried to concentrate on Julianna, the way she'd looked in the harness, the way he'd felt, but his mind refused to cooperate, flashing instead to his dream, to Michael Jordan, tall and bald and strong, and, he had to admit, extremely hot. Finally he gave up and just went with it, allowing himself to imagine Jordan's hands on his body, Jordan's lips on the back of his neck, Frank's--Jordan's--Frank's--dick in him, and then he was coming, relieved the sound of the water was there to muffle his groan.
Once he was out of the shower, he dried off numbly, wondering what the fuck was going on with him. He tried to rationalize it, tried to deny it, but he was a detective. He couldn't ignore facts. And the fact was, he'd just masturbated while thinking of his partner.
It no longer took much thought to pick out a suit and tie for the day, although he remembered his anxiety when he started on the mayor's security detail and only owned two suits and three ties. On this day he settled on a brown suit and the same blue button-down he'd worn the night of the Christmas party. He absently knotted his tie as he walked into the kitchen, hoping Julianna'd left him some coffee, wondering if she'd left. He was so caught up in what had happened in the shower that he'd practically forgotten her bad mood, although he remembered the moment he saw her sitting at the table, frowning at the paper.
"Morning," he said, deliberately neutral. He bent to kiss her cheek, but she pulled away. "Jesus, Julianna, what's going on with you this morning?" he asked, fed up.
"Nothing," she said apologetically. "I didn't sleep well, okay?"
"Okay, okay," he replied, aware he'd slept better than he usually did. "Is there any coffee left?"
"Help yourself," she said, tilting her head towards the coffee pot, in which there was maybe one cup left, and that only if he used his smallest cup. He started another pot, adding more than the usual amount of milk to his cup, realizing too late that there wasn't enough left for his cereal.
"Sure you don't want any eggs?" he asked, although he wasn't sure how long the three eggs left in his fridge had been there. "Or we could go grab a bite at The Daily Grind--I have some time before I have to be at the station."
"That's okay, Bayliss," she said. "I'm not really hungry. You go on, though, if you want. I can let myself out."
"Nah, that's okay," he said. "You done with that?" he asked, reaching for her coffee cup. When she nodded, he took it over to the dishwasher. If she hadn't been there, he probably would have just left his dishes in the sink, or even on the table, but you needed to be more careful when you had a guest in your house, especially a woman.
He started to pull the top rack out, then stopped abruptly. He stood there a second, staring, before deliberately putting Julianna's coffee cup in the rack and turning to look at her. "Julianna?" he asked.
"What?" she said, not looking up from the paper.
"Why is this in my dishwasher?" he said, gesturing at the dildo nestled in the rack.
"They said it was dishwasher safe," she replied absently. "Actually, they said that was the best way to wash it."
"Okay," he said, with what he felt was admirable patience. "Only, see, that doesn't tell me why it's in my dishwasher."
"What do you mean?" she asked, and he could tell she was trying to appear perplexed, but there was something else behind her eyes. "Why should I take it home? I bought it for you."
"For me? But it's yours," he said, feeling uneasy. "I mean, we can use it again--I'd like that, really--but you can't--"
"I bought it for you, Bayliss," she insisted. "What the fuck am I going to do with a dildo? I've got a couple vibrators at home already. Keep it already--you'll get more use of it than I would."
"Uh. . . " he said, lost, because he was sure there was something he could say that would make it clear how ridiculous she was being, only he couldn't think of what that thing was.
"I would have thought if you were going to have a moment of heterosexual panic it would have happened last night," she said, shaking her head. "Seriously, Bayliss, what's the big deal? It's a gift, okay?"
He stared at her. Heterosexual panic--what the fuck was that supposed to mean? "Listen, just take it with you, all right?"
She stared at him, then shook her head again. "Fine," she snapped, getting up, grabbing the toy, and walking quickly towards the living room. "Look, I've got to go."
"Okay," he said, still lost. "I, uh, I'll see you tonight?"
"Sure, fine," she said, and then she grabbed her bag and walked out the door.
He stared at the closed door for a long moment, wondering what the hell just happened, wondering what it all meant.
He couldn't stop thinking about it. When he was with Frank at the crime scene, he kept remembering the night before, how he'd felt. He couldn't forget it while he and Julianna were breaking up. He couldn't even get it out of his mind when he and Frank were questioning witnesses. By the time they finally had Fields in custody, he was sick of wondering.
END