Embracing His Syn, page 5
“You don’t want none of this, man. Stay out of it.” Preppy looked around Syn, obviously wanting some more of Furious.
“Maybe I do.” Syn looked bored and then thought for a second. If he broke this kid’s jaw, that could be his damn promotion. Just when the kid looked like he wanted to start something, Syn pulled his badge. “Maybe a night in lock-up will get you to shut the fuck up.”
Syn heard the guy he punched groaning and looked at him, not wanting to find himself attacked from behind too. What he was surprised to not find was Furious. Syn pulled out his cell and called 911, he gave his name and badge number and told dispatch he had a few drunk and disorderlies that needed clearing out.
Syn desperately wanted to find Furious. He knew the man was alright. Surely he was able to take a gut punch, but he wanted to talk to him. Syn knew he may have already fucked up. Without thinking, he’d pushed Furi behind him like he couldn’t defend himself. But when Syn saw the pain of that punch flash over the man’s beautiful face, his protective instincts rose with a vengeance and he’d acted. He looked back and forth from the bar, to the door, to the college assholes, wanting to run and find Furi, but he couldn’t leave his perps unattended until the uniforms got there.
“Um, Officer. I’m sorry okay. Can you get that guy so I can apologize to him and then I promise we’ll leave and never come back,” Preppy damn near whined his request. He wasn’t so confident anymore. Didn’t want daddy to have to come bail him out of jail.
Syn heard the sirens and knew the officers would be in soon. He turned to preppy and a deep frown contorted his face. “Fuck no. And I better never see you guys in here again.”
Collective ‘Yes sirs’ came from the kids that had sobered quickly at the thought of going to lock-up, even if it was just for one night. As the police led the guys out and into squad cars Syn hurried back to the bar, but there was no Furious.
Syn didn’t even think twice. He made his way to the end of the bar and lifted the top, coming behind the bar. The two girl bartenders looked at him in shock and Syn flashed his badge again. “Where’s Furious?” he asked, using his authoritative cop tone.
“He left,” they said in unison, still looking at him strangely.
“Damnit,” Syn hissed and raced out of the pub.
He looked anxiously up and down the sidewalk and saw Furious sitting on the bench, head hanging low, waiting on the bus. Even though he had a hoodie pulled up and hanging low over his forehead ... Syn knew it was his ma– He’s not my damn man, he’s just a friend.
Syn approached his new friend with all the confidence in the world but wasn’t prepared for the angry, haunted eyes that looked up at him when he slowly removed Furious’ hood. Syn sucked in a hard breath and blew it out slowly before finally deciding to speak. “Furious. Are you okay?”
No answer.
“Are you hurt?” Syn was really concerned. Furious looked detached, closed in on himself.
“Bab–” Shit. “Furi,” Syn quickly corrected. “Please answer me. Look my place is right there.” Syn pointed in the direction of his building. “If you want you can come up and talk. I can take you home later.”
It was a few long and very intense minutes that Furious didn’t move or say anything.
“We’ll just talk, okay?” Syn tried again.
Thanks a lot MARTA. Perfect timing. Just Syn’s luck that the bus pulled up to the curb and the air doors swung open.
“Furious, I just want to talk.”
“No thanks, Detective.” Furious' voice was so deep and angry, it’d felt like Furi had struck him. Syn swallowed a hard gulp.
That was the second time in a matter of minutes that his title had been used nastily against him. Syn didn’t give a fuck about his stoner neighbor showing his distaste ... but coming from Furious, it stung. Syn’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he worked to think of something, anything, but Furious was already half-way to the back of the bus. He watched him plop down into his seat and throw his hood back over his head. The bus driver looked at Syn a split second before closing the doors and merging back into traffic.
Syn wanted to punch the bus bench, the light pole, any damn thing. What was really pissing him off was that he didn’t know what this was with Furious and how the man got under his skin. Yeah, he knew Furious was gay, he’d all but said it, but it was very clear he wasn’t interested in Syn. He needed to let it go. He’d find another bar.
Syn trudged back across the street and took the elevator to his floor. As soon as he walked into his apartment he felt a prickle of something unfamiliar slither down his neck. His entire place was dark, so he didn’t flick on the lights just in case he had an intruder. If it’s you Stoner, you picked the wrong fucking night. Then a smell hit him. Coffee. Syn let out an annoyed grunt, running his hand across his beard.
“Is this what I have to look forward to Lieutenant? You and Day breaking into my place any time you feel like it?” Syn said hitting the lights.
Day was sitting in his small kitchenette, leisurely drinking his usual jumbo cup of coffee while God stood next to him leaning casually against the wall, his massive arms crossed over an even more massive chest. His long chestnut hair was pulled back into a ponytail. God’s leather coat was draped over the back of the chair Day sat in. With no coat on, God’s guns looked like something you’d see in a drug kingpin movie. Silver Desert Eagles with gold appointments. Sexy, rolling, script etched into the long metal barrels ‘In God We Trust’. The black grips had large lions' heads etched into them. Syn had never seen anything like them. No doubt, they were gifts from his lover. Those cannons were attached to his sides, secured in his black leather shoulder holster. Very few people got to see the twelve-inch, military-style, serrated blade that he kept sheathed and tucked under his left arm. Syn had heard stories of that blade’s handiwork. God’s gold badge hung suspended around his neck by a long silver chain and rested it the middle of his chest. The black lettering ‘Lieutenant’ etched into the gold.
Syn watched Day look around at his lack of furniture ... or pictures ... or art ... or decorations ... or any other amenities that made a house a home. “Oh good. It looks like we didn’t miss the housewarming party. Are you registered?”
“Fuck off, Day,” Syn grunted and jerked open his refrigerator for a Corona since he never got to finish his at the pub.
“Put that back. We got a dead body. Let’s go.” God grabbed his coat.
“Dead body.” Syn frowned. “We doing homicide now?”
“We do whatever the fuck I say. Let’s go.” God’s voice was definitive.
Syn put the beer back quickly and went to his room to get his own shoulder holster and his other Glock. He harnessed them both and went out the door behind his bosses.
They walked down the hall, neither man concerned with making his footsteps light. Wouldn’t you know – it must be Syn’s shit day because stoner-neighbor was coming off the elevator with another pizza and about five more guys in tow.
“Hey, it’s the mob squad.” Stoner laughed, high fiving one of his friends who looked as high as he was. Stoner turned and looked at them. “I’m just saying you guys look ... well ya know ... you look weird.” Stoner giggled.
“Dude, you think we look weird, and you’re the one wearing a goddamn Members Only jacket,” Day scoffed, grinning.
“Who the hell wears those things anymore?” Syn asked in disbelief.
“The last fucking member.” Day laughed.
Syn’s laugh burst from him before he could stop it, even God let out a husky laugh. Syn had to admit, Day was one funny motherfucker. God’s hulking figure moved through the crowd. None of stoner’s friends wanting to accidently bump into him. As they got onto the elevator they could still hear Stoner’s friends ribbing him about his old-school jacket.
‘Birds of a Feather Flock Together’
Furi shoved his apartment key into the lock with way more force than was needed and shouldered the door open, making it bang loudly against the wall behind it.
“A cop, he’s a fucking cop!” Furi yelled at his empty apartment. He pulled out a cigarette from a crumpled pack and lit it while he dialed the only person he trusted.
Furi listened to the annoying rap song that was programmed as the ring on Doug’s phone while he waited for him to pick up. He answered on the third ring.
“What up, Furi?”
Furi sighed at the sound of his best friend’s voice. “Hey man, are you busy? I need to talk to you right now. I’m fucking freaking out.”
“Say no more. I’m on my way. Are you at home or at the pub?” Doug asked.
“I’m home.” Furi ran his left hand through his hair and pulled on the length. It was a nervous habit.
“Be there in twenty.”
“Thanks babe.”
Furi went to the bathroom and pulled off his bar shirt and noticed the bruise from the punch. Fucking bastard, college prick. As he leaned against the wall waiting for the water to get warm, he thought about Syn’s reactions. The man had jumped into the fight like super-save-a-gay-man and taken out one of the guys before Furi knew what was happening. Then he was being pushed behind him while Syn flipped out his badge.
Furi got under the spray and washed as quickly as he could. He tried not to think about Syn’s scent, his voice, or his strength. Men like that were nothing but trouble. Powerful men. Men who thought they controlled everything. Furi’s dick was hard and aching to be touched as he replayed Syn’s actions repeatedly. He was pissed off; he didn’t want to want him. He’d actually been entertaining the thought until he saw the badge.
Furi had just stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself when he heard pounding on his door.
Furi yanked it open. “Geez Doug. Wake up Ms. Jones why don’tcha?” Furi moved aside and let his friend in. Doug had obviously just come from work. His jeans had grease stains and his work shirt was opened revealing a tight, smudged, white wife-beater. His black steel-toe work boots had plenty of wear-and-tear on them. Doug was the hottest fucking mechanic Furi had ever seen. “What’s that?” he asked, looking at the brown crumpled bag in Doug’s hand.
“A little something for your nerves.” Doug pulled out a bottle of Don Julio tequila and grinned at him.
“Damn man, sparing no expense huh?” Furi said, walking over to his dresser and grabbing some boxers and a pair of track pants.
“Well it sounded like you could use it.” Doug went into the tiny kitchen, pulled out two mismatched glasses, and grabbed an ice tray out the freezer, making his way back to Furi’s thrift store couch. “Is this still about Mack pressing you to scene with a chick?”
“No. I haven’t heard anything else about that. Hopefully I never will. This is about a guy.” Furi slid on his pants and plopped down by Doug, quickly taking the offered glass. He gulped it and relished the premium liquor sliding smoothly down his throat.
“Fuck that’s good.” Furi held out the glass for more, and Doug laughed, pouring him another two fingers. After two more refills, Furi slouched down and rested his head on the back of the couch, happy to have a nice buzz starting.
“So tell me about him.” Doug sipped his drink.
Furi let out an exasperated breath. “Where the fuck do I began?”
“At the beginning.”
“Right. Well, I guess there’s not much to tell.”
“Okay,” Doug drew out the word. “Tell me the little bit there is.”
“Alright.” Furi sipped and told Doug about the attraction between him and Syn. How the man gave him crazy vibes. He told him about Syn going to the bus stop and offering to take him home. How Syn wanted to hear his name on his lips. Furi closed his eyes when he described Syn to his best friend. The man’s growly voice, his perfect lips framed by a delicious goatee. He told him all about the fight and the power he oozed from every pore. Then he told him that he was a cop. Not just a cop ... a damn Detective.
“Okay. This guy came to the bar and flirted with you, then he pummels some guy for hitting you.” Doug counts off each attribute on his fingers. “Then he chases after you to make sure you’re okay. But you blow him off because he’s a cop.” Doug shook his head. “I’m sorry, but what exactly is the problem?”
Furi’s head was spinning at his screwed-up emotions. “I told you how Patrick started hitting me after I gave him what he asked for in bed. Whenever we’d fuck a certain way, he’d love it, but would always freak out later. I can see the same shit in Syn. As soon as men like that fuck, they lose their shit and immediately feel like they have to reclaim their lost manhood, on my face. Mark my words. Syn would snap just like Pat did.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Call it my gay man’s intuition.”
Doug laughed and refilled their glasses. “I think you’re making an unfair generalization. Every man is not a psycho asshole like your husband and his brother. There are plenty of good guys out there. This cop seems like he’s more of a protector than an abuser, babe.”
“I guarantee he’s closeted and will go crazy on me the second I let my guard down and hook up with him.” Furi let his head fall to the side as he stared at his friend. “There’s no way that a goddamn Detective is going to be all out and proud. You think he’ll take me to the policeman’s ball? Hell no, he’d make me be his dirty secret, and eventually his punching bag.”
“Whoa, dude chill. You’re jumping too far ahead. Give the guy a chance. Try to get to know him first. Then decide if he’s crazy. You know I got your back. I’d never let anyone fuck with you.” Doug looked at Furi through squinted eyes. “You want him bad don’t you?”
“Of course I want him. He’s hot as fuck. All alpha and growly and shit, wanting someone to take his control. But he’s not going to admit it.” Furi downed the last sip and put his hand up declining another refill.
“A fucking cop.”
“What do you have against cops, man? They protect and serve,” Doug argued.
“Yeah they serve and protect other people, not people like me.”
“What do you mean, people like you?”
Furi pushed his fists into his eyes and winced at the memories. “When I was first beaten by Patrick. He’d cracked two ribs, busted my lip and given me a black eye. I had other bruises on my legs and back from being kicked repeatedly. All because that motherfucker thought it would make him a man. After sex he had to do something to feel like he was in control. I got myself to the hospital and after I was released I took a cab to the police station. I was going to file a restraining order against Patrick. But the cops, they, they ...” Doug noticed Furi was shaking and scooted closer to put his arm around him.
“Shhh. It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.” Doug rubbed soothing circles on Furi’s shoulder.
Furi nuzzled in close to Doug and was immediately calmed by the contact with his friend. “It’s fine. The cops there wouldn’t help me. It was because I was gay, I know it was. They looked at me with disgust on their faces. Cops are fucking homophobic as hell. There I was, all banged up, begging for help but all they were concerned about was my sexual preference. The bruises meant nothing. Like they felt I deserved it.”
“Fuck them. But you can’t assume that ... what’s his name again?”
“Syn.”
“Yeah. You can’t say Syn is a homophobe too. I mean he was hitting on you in public, right? And protecting you.” Doug kissed the top of Furi’s head and squeezed him close.
Furi moaned and brought his hand up to rub little circles on Doug’s strong chest. Furi’s cock was responding to Doug’s touch, his deep timbre, his scent, oh man, that scent was absolutely delicious. He smelled like aftershave with a touch of motor oil. “God, it’s been so fucking long.”
Doug’s throaty laugh radiated through Furi’s haze and he had the urge to straddle his best friend.
“Hey, horny boy. Don’t get any ideas.” Doug ran his hands through Furi’s long hair and pulled so that Furi had to look at him. They touched foreheads. “You like this guy. Give him a chance. He might surprise you.”
Doug leaned in and rubbed his smooth jaw against Furi’s cheek. Furi couldn’t have stopped the moan if he’d wanted to. Doug was a sinfully pretty man compared to Syn’s ruggedly handsome face. Both were turn-ons for him.
“Hey?” Doug asked against Furi’s cheek.
“Yeah.”
“My brother said he called and told you the divorce papers were ready to be served last week, but you haven’t given him the go ahead. What’s up?”
He knew Doug could feel his body tense up because he moved his firm grip to the back of Furi's neck and began to massage the knots out. The thought of Patrick knowing where he was scared the shit out of him. If the papers were served, he’d surely come after Furi. Even though he wasn’t asking for anything from Patrick. Except his freedom. The man had made it painfully obvious that Furi did and always would belong to him.
“I just haven’t said okay yet.”
“Furious. Why not? Are you going to let Patrick control you forever?”
“If I have him served with those papers, he’s going to come after me.”
“Then let him come. I’ll be ready for his ass.”
Furi wouldn’t dare put his best friend up against Patrick and Brenden. No fucking way. This was his fight, win or lose. “I’m going call your brother first thing in the morning.”
Doug gave him a skeptical look.
“I promise. First thing.”
“You better.
“I will if you give me a little kiss.” Furi grinned. He was tipsy and horny now. Tequila does that to a man.
“Get the fuck outta here.” Doug laughed and pulled on Furi’s hair. “Just because you have long, soft hair and I’ve had a little to drink, doesn’t mean I’m gonna mistake you for a woman.”
“Don’t want you too. Come on. One little kiss,” Furi moaned.
“Fine. But only because I feel sorry for you. Make it quick.” Doug laughed.
