Curling his fingers, he gently scored Chris’ flesh as he brought them back down and farther to roll unobstructed nipples. Chris bucked. Soul-deep, his groan ripped from him like the waking cry of a dead man.

“I want to touch you,” Chris pleaded on ragged gasps.

Vin laughed, a low rumbling chuckle that made Chris’ cock weep. “I know.”

He ran his hands over Chris’ stretched torso, temporarily turning his ticklish sides into untried sensual zones.

“Please.”

“Shut up. I’m busy.” Vin detoured, not missing an inch of Chris’ chest or shoulders with his curious hands. Sometimes he alternated pressured fingertips, soft caresses, gentle kneading with the sharp edge of his nails.

Chris twisted against the cuffs. His voice left him in an open-mouthed cry when Vin feasted on his nipple, taking and pulling it between his teeth. Oh, God, rough sex had never felt so good.

Vin ventured lower. He grasped Chris’ cock and the swift, firm pumping made Chris senseless with need. Eyes rolled back, he was vaguely cognizant of more than hands, lips, teeth and cock toward the sublime pleasure of release, he barely noticed when cool gel touched his ass.

One finger then two plied him, rhythmically fucking Chris in sync with his tugging cock.

“Oh, God! Oh my fucking-I’m gonna fucking cum.”

Vin’s wicked chuckle closed the deal, and for the second time, Chris spilled. His hips jerked off the bed. His body clenched on Vin’s thick fingers and Chris slid headlong into shouting, thrusting bliss.

Chris melted back. Vin removed his fingers and continued to milk every ounce from Chris’ cock. Distant ripping reached his ears. Delayed awareness shortened the two-second gap between recognition of tearing condom wrapper and Vin pushing Chris’s knees against his butt.

“My turn, rookie.”

Sudden hilt-driving cock and ass-slapping balls brought Chris groaning back to life. Vin rammed forward, grunting at full entry. He slid almost all the way out while Chris’ body shamelessly tried to hold its prize. The loss didn’t last long. Vin slammed forward and drew out slower, grazing Chris’ prostate with every well-aimed thrust.

Chris could barely keep up. Bombarded with sensations and lust, he hung on to what he knew. Vin-sexy, silent, maniac-in-bed detective-fucked his needy body perfectly. Didn’t he do anything badly?

Vin’s cock seemed to swell inside him. Chris wrapped his fingers around the headboard slats, keeping his body steady when Vin’s need took on a demanding pace. Like Chris’, Vin’s body gleamed in the lamp light from their frenzied coupling.

“Harder,” Chris moaned.

Vin slammed into him, their bodies grinding in the gray area between pleasure and delicious pain. With a violent shout Chris felt to his bones, Vin threw his head back and fucked through the tide of orgasm as though he were raging against the powerful storm.

Chris stared in dazed wonder. The image of his lover, taut, glistening, his eyes sealed and lips curled back at the moment of orgasm, would be imprinted on his memories forever.

Several shuddering thrusts later, Vin’s head sagged forward. Their labored breathing rasped together in sawing fashion, like mystical lovers pumping on one another, in their own right.

Wordlessly, Vin pulled out. He snatched the wet washcloth and cleaned Chris’ chest and abdomen, then carefully swiped Chris’ cock and ass. A lover’s gesture or consideration, surely.

Chris didn’t know whether to smile or laugh or question what had just happened, so he said nothing when Vin got up and went to the bathroom. Water ran in the next room and whooshed from a wrung cloth a few times, then it shut off. Vin came back clean and gloriously naked. He also made another cleaning pass on Chris’ body before tossing the cloth to the table.

Chris waited for Vin to say something.

Could be overwhelmed. That was fucking amazing!

Maybe Vin thought so too. The longer he took, the less Chris felt like smiling.

Vin fished inside the bag and pulled out a small key ring. He unlocked the cuffs. Chris winced as he lowered his arms and rubbed the tired muscles. He had a feeling he’d be sore in more places than that tomorrow…today. Whatever.

He’d just about given up hope of conversation when Vin sat by his hip. He leaned over like he had before, but this time Chris sank his fingers into Vin’s hair and pulled him down. Vin let himself be taken, kissing Chris back in soft sucking caresses.

He took hold of Chris’ wrists and forced them back onto the pillow.

“What?” Chris’ brow furrowed.

Vin sealed a final kiss on his lips. “Good night.” He reached for the lamp and plunged them into darkness.

“What the fuck?” Chris called out, groping for Vin with aching arms.

“Might not suck being tied to a rookie after all,” Vin said, easily avoiding him and walking to the door.

Chris awoke to the smell of sausage. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, wondering how he could have drifted off after Vin’s cutting goodnight. The red welts on his wrists, rug-burn-fur burn-reminded him with cock-thickening clarity.

“Fuck you, Frankenstein,” he muttered sleepily.

Dragging himself out of bed, he showered and pulled on Vin’s sweats. Rich breakfast sausage, butter, and coffee crumbled his stubborn resistance and Chris sullenly went to the kitchen.

“Morning,” Vin said, holding out a coffee mug.

Chris reached for it, but Vin grabbed his forearm out of nowhere, a scowl on his face. Shit, morning after regrets?

“From the cuffs?” Vin rotated Chris’ arm, studying the fur-burn.

“Matching pair,” Chris said, lifting his other hand for Vin to see.

“Damn. I’m sorry.” He tenderly placed a kiss on the inside of both wrists.

“I’ll wear long sleeves today,” Chris said past the tightness in his throat. A kiss the next morning. That meant something, right?

Chris sipped the strong brew. Cream, no sugar. He’d remembered.

Vin flipped the last pancake out of the skillet and handed him the plate, along with a container of syrup. Chris’ spirits rose as he took it to the table and discovered an impressive array of breakfast food. Pancakes and syrup, sure, but sausage, scrambled eggs with onions, tomatoes, green peppers, along with butter, hash browns, and biscuits with sausage gravy, cut melon and fresh strawberries.

“I got carried away,” Vin said, shrugging. He took a seat and motioned for Chris to join him.

“You cook?” Chris asked, incredulously.

“Dad was a chef.”

Chris dropped into his seat. A blush warmed his cheeks. “You can cook and you ate re-warmed ramen, mac and cheese, and canned fruit cocktail?”

Amusement crinkled Vin’s eyes.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?” And why the fuck had he devoured every bite of it and thanked Chris like it had been appreciated?

“It was good.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Chris said.

Vin passed him the hash browns. A smile softened his lips. “You made it for me.”

He said it like it the answer should have been obvious. Chris would have got up from the table to kiss those lips if things had ended differently last night. Instead, he sat confused, humbled and shocked as all hell.

“Eat,” Vin admonished.

Chris loaded his plate. At first he settled in and ate, scarfing down the food, but the flavor slowed him to savoring appreciation. “Oh my God,” he said, his mouth full. “This is incredible.”

“Your girlfriends stopped by.”

“When?” Chris swallowed, his mouth already watering for the next bite.

“Nine.”

Chris should have been suited by then. “Fuck, why didn’t you wake me up?”

Vin quit chewing and shot him a look of disbelief.

“We’re on a job. I should have been up at seven.”