Connected (Bureau #12)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

O wen awoke and initially tensed in confusion, not knowing where he was. He immediately registered every ache and pain in his abused body, and incongruously, felt hungry.

Keaton lay beside him, bed-headed and smiling. “I’m starving too,” he said. “I can make us something to eat.”

“You’re beautiful.” A non sequitur, but it had to be said.

“I’m still filthy even after a shower. My hair’s a mess. I?—”

“You’re beautiful.”

Keaton continued smiling, but now his eyes gleamed. “You mean that.”

“I do.”

“You were amazing yesterday.” Keaton touched one of the places on Owen’s face that he hoped didn’t hurt.

“ I was? I was amazingly stupid. Got caught like an idiot, and if you hadn’t been crazy enough to show up?—”

Keaton leaned in and interrupted him with a gentle kiss. “You were in a terrible situation, but you didn’t give in to his torture and you kept your cool. You kept that bastard talking, which bought us time, and you came up with the idea that I latched onto to save us. When I needed your help, you were right there; I didn’t even have to explain.”

“Okay,” Owen admitted. “We’re both heroes.” He gently urged Keaton’s head down for another kiss. It was less gentle.

“You’re going to hurt yourself. Your face?—”

“I don’t care.” He did his best to project his not-caring really hard so that Keaton would be sure to catch it.

“Food,” said Keaton, looking amused.

“Can wait.” But then a serious consideration occurred to Owen. “Where’s the chief and Tenrael?” He looked around as if they might pop out from behind the curtains or under the bed… which, with those two, wasn’t entirely impossible.

“I sent them to the guesthouse. Owen, what is Grimes?”

Owen shrugged. “Hell if I know. Nobody does. I’ve heard all kinds of wild rumors and guesses, but…. Nobody knew what Townsend was either. I guess it’s nobody’s business but theirs.” He’d never spent much time speculating. He generally had too many other things to think about.

Like right now, for instance, with Keaton only inches away. “Forget about my boss. Forget about food and the scratches on my face?—”

“They’re slices, not scratches.”

“Forget about them. And coal dust and messy hair. And parents who fucked up. And careers that didn’t turn out as planned. And LA and Copper Springs and everything. Forget about everything but us. If that’s what you want. ’Cause you know what I want.” He held his breath, hoping for the best.

“Hope,” Keaton breathed. And then dove in for a kiss.

For a while they simply made out, warm and cozy in Keaton’s nice bed, the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead and the scents of laundry detergent and soap almost covering the coal odor. Movie stars from a hundred years ago looked down at them from framed photos on the wall, seemingly approving. Owen was naked and Keaton wore only boxer briefs, and their bodies fitted together perfectly.

“Eight years,” Keaton said breathlessly when they paused the kissing in favor of gentle stroking of backs and arms.

“Did you forget how? Doesn’t seem like it.”

Keaton tickled him. “Eight years. And I’m not a kid anymore. Don’t expect fireworks.”

Owen spoke into the crook of Keaton’s neck, where he was sweet and tender. “Don’t want fireworks. I want you . Exactly as you are.”

When Owen was a kid, he’d developed a crush on Criss Tempest because he was cute and funny and seemed so confident onscreen. It turned out, however, that Keaton Gale was much more than that. Still cute, still funny at times. But in real life, as a mature man, he had depth and strength. He would risk his life to defend a near-stranger, and while bound and tortured and threatened with death—and without any special training—he’d defeated a really nasty bad guy.

Keaton moaned. “Oh God. Is it super narcissistic for me to get off on you admiring me?”

“Is that what does it for you?”

“I was an actor, after all.”

“Good. You keep right on doing that with your hand, and I’ll admire the hell out of you.”

The lovemaking that followed certainly wasn’t the most energetic of Owen’s life; neither of them were up for gymnastics. But it was incredibly satisfying, with Keaton able to sense Owen’s every desire and willing to fulfill it, and with Owen happily projecting his pleasure and his joy. There was no physical penetration beyond tongues into mouths, but Owen felt emotionally filled, as if Keaton were both outside and inside of him.

“It’s a loop,” Keaton whispered into Owen’s ear. His breath was warm and gave Owen delicious shivers. “I do something, you feel good, I feel you feeling good, that makes me feel good, I do it some more….”

Owen, who wasn’t quite capable of coherent speech at that point, simply hummed his agreement and undulated against him.

This wasn’t just about getting off. The journey was as worthy as the destination, and if Owen could have prolonged it forever, he would have. But neither of them had stellar stamina at the moment, and that was all right too.

Owen was teetering at the edge but not quite tumbling, one hand in Keaton’s hair and the other working Keaton’s cock, and Keaton mirrored his movements.

Keaton gave a throaty little chuckle. “I forgot I could do this.” And immediately afterward he gently pushed his sensations of pleasure and arousal into Owen.

It was magnificent.

They cried out in tandem, came in unison. Then they lay next to each other, their breathing in sync as well.

“I would definitely like to do that again,” Keaton said. “And again. If my heart gives out, I will die a happy man.”

“How about we have showers and a meal first? And how about we stay alive?”

Keaton clasped Owen’s hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “I think I’d like that.”

They ended up showering together, which was fun—and something Owen had never done before. Keaton was trim except for a bit of a belly that Owen liked very much. He was also nicely hairy. He was briefly a little embarrassed over Owen’s close scrutiny until he realized how much Owen liked what he saw. At which point Keaton preened. “I was happy when I graduated from twink to otter, but by then there was nobody around to appreciate it.”

“I do.”

“I know.”

After they finally managed to get dressed, Keaton cooked them hamburgers with nuked potatoes. They were just finishing up when Chief Grimes and Tenrael showed up. As usual, Tenrael didn’t say much but seemed amused by the pair of them. Grimes, who ate two more of Keaton’s almond peach muffins, listened to their debriefing but seemed uncharacteristically distracted. Owen couldn’t discern the cause.

Finally, when dusk had fallen, Grimes stood. “Agent Clark, you can put the rest in your report when you return to LA. I’ll have a replacement ID card and car keys delivered to you before you leave here. And weapons. What else will you need to get back home?”

Home. It wasn’t a word that had truly meant anything to Owen for a very long time. He stood and tried to find the right words. Keaton nudged him. “I know what you want, O. I want it too. Tell him.”

Good Lord, it was easy to fall into a relationship with someone who could read your emotions better than you could. Owen gave him a grateful smile before turning to Grimes. “I’m taking early retirement, I guess.”

Grimes gave him a long look. “Do you want to retire?”

Owen sighed. “No. But I’m staying here in Copper Springs.”

“All right.” Grimes looked pensive. “This is a long distance from HQ. Takes a long time for agents to get out this way when needed. I wouldn’t mind having someone stationed here.”

That possibility hadn’t even occurred to Owen. “Seriously?”

“Yes. Look… something’s coming. I don’t know what yet, but it’s big. Townsend knew it. I can’t afford to lose anyone, and certainly not a valued agent like you. I have the feeling Mr. Gale could help our cause as well. As a consultant, maybe.”

It was funny, really. When Miller had attempted to recruit Owen, it wasn’t the threat of torture and death that had tempted Owen to say yes—it was the concept of being needed. Miller had made him feel important instead of like a guy doing a mediocre job while the real stars shone. But now the chief had called him valued and was acting like he meant it. And in Owen’s experience, Grimes was odd, but he wasn’t a liar.

“I might have a few years left in me,” Owen said.

Grimes didn’t smile—he rarely did—but his expression relaxed a little, and Tenrael nodded approval.

“Consultant?” Keaton sounded intrigued.

“You get called in when needed and paid per diem. Ten and I did it for… well, a really long time. Technically, he still does, even though I’m back to being full-time and salaried. When we get back to LA, I’ll send you a contract to look over.” Grimes pressed his lips together for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and urgent. “I don’t know if you realize how rare your talents are and how beneficial. When the shit hits the fan, I’d really like to have you on our team.”

Keaton blinked a few times before standing straighter. “I might like that too.”

They discussed a few more details after that, but the chief was clearly eager to get on his way, and Owen wanted… well, he wanted to start the next phase of his life. Smiling, Keaton wrapped up the last of the muffins for Grimes and then walked outside with him and Tenrael.

After chief and demon had left, Keaton and Owen stood on the porch, watching the sun set behind the cemetery. There was no threat of a storm tonight; the sky was faultless and the still air scented with the flowers in Keaton’s garden. The world and all its worries seemed far away.

“I hope you’re planning to move in with me,” Keaton said, taking Owen’s hand in his.

“If you really want that. I don’t want to be an imposi?—”

Keaton squeezed Owen’s hand hard. “I really want that.”

“It’s a big step. I’ve never been in anything like a relationship.”

“Neither have I.”

“And you’re inviting me into your home after knowing me for only two days.”

“Owen.” Keaton turned so he could set his hands on Owen’s shoulders and look up into his face. “We’ve known each other for over twenty years. And I know you. Exactly who you are and what makes you tick. You’re the person I want in my home.”

They embraced, there on the porch, and Owen wondered whether any of the neighbors could see, and if so, what they thought. Maybe Copper Springs had grown more progressive since he’d been a kid.

“You’re thinking too much,” said Keaton, separating from the hug and tugging Owen toward the door. “You’ve earned some rest. Tomorrow we can worry about organizing our lives.”

Owen liked the sound of our .

“There’s something else I need to do tomorrow,” Owen said. He closed and locked the front door behind them.

“What’s that? More monsters to fight?”

“Just an inner demon or two.”