Fishy Riot, page 25
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just bruises.”
The glare Chloe gave Sietta could have stripped the skin from an elephant. “Is that a shackle on your foot?” She pointed deliberately to it so that everyone in the hospital room ended up turning to stare.
“Ah, yeah….” Sietta looked for help.
“Sorry, I haven’t figured out a way to get it off yet without a blowtorch or something.” Brayden scratched his head, unperturbed by the annoyed look Taylor gave him.
“Seriously, you had one job!” Taylor crouched down to get a better look at it. The rust was bad, and the keyhole had had something poured into it, so even if they’d had the key, they wouldn’t have got it open. He had to admit, a blowtorch would work, but the metal was brittle and he thought he might be able to cut it with some large bolt cutters.
“I think I’ve got something at the office that’ll work. I’ll ask someone to bring it over.” He sent off a quick text to Jones, trusting him to get it sorted. Mendel had been in a foul mood when Taylor left, still stuck doing reports. They were going to be doing paperwork for weeks. Months. Hell, it could take years.
“So, it’s a shackle.” Chloe sounded incredibly unimpressed with all of them. Her gaze turned back up to Taylor, and the anger was back. “You let that boy get kidnapped again?”
Was it even worth arguing? She needed a target, and he had to admit he was a pretty big one. “I did.”
Her mouth was moving, but no words were coming out.
“Her mouth is moving, but no words are coming out,” Sietta observed, copying his thoughts exactly. Taylor nodded in agreement and carefully extricated them from the room. Brayden followed them out, closing the door behind him and taking a deep breath.
“Clay really is gonna be fine. The bullet didn’t do much damage, his ribs will heal fine.” Taylor sighed in relief. It wasn’t actually his fault he hadn’t been able to get to Frey in time, and he was glad no permanent damage had been done. He was also pleased the injuries would at least keep Clay behind a desk for the foreseeable future. Not that they all weren’t going to be desk-ridden until the paperwork was finished.
“Hey.” Jones came jogging up the hall, bolt cutters in hand. “I was still here with the guy we shot, figured they’d have a pair of these in the shed downstairs, and what do you know?”
“Thanks.” Taylor went to grab them, and Jones shook his head.
“You look about ready to drop. I got this. Sit down, Salisbury.” He pushed Sietta over to a bench against the wall and knelt down, carefully looking the shackle over for its weakest point and sliding the cutters in underneath it. It took four tries, but the metal gave and fell away.
“Ta-da!”
“Thank you,” Sietta smiled brightly, carefully rolling his ankle and then lifting it to rub at the abraded skin.
“Anytime. I’m off shift, so I’ll return these and be on my way. Get some sleep, Jameson, you look like shit.”
Taylor’s gaze didn’t leave Sietta, focussed on how ridiculously pleased he looked to be free of the unwanted jewellery.
Brayden knelt down and checked the ankle over, frowning before he looked seriously at Sietta. “I want to bandage this. The skin’s quite damaged, but it’s swollen and you’re favouring the leg?”
“I think they might have fractured it again,” Sietta agreed. “I was hoping it was just a bruise, but….”
“Are you shitting me?” Taylor snapped at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I wasn’t sure, and because I wanted to go home not to the hospital!” Sietta snapped back immediately, startling Taylor, who understood the desire all too well. He looked to Brayden for help, not sure what to say.
“We’ll go do a quick X-ray to check, and take care of it.” Brayden got up and wrapped an arm around Sietta’s waist to help him down the hallway. “You stay here, we’ll be back in about an hour, I think.”
Taylor watched them go, left in the hallway feeling suddenly cold and deserted. His boyfriend was in the hospital. His brother was in the hospital. He hadn’t kept them safe. Worse.
He’d killed a man, yet felt no remorse.
EVENTUALLY HE’D sat down. He had no idea when, but he must have because he was sitting down, staring at the white wall opposite him when the white morphed into a small familiar face, and Emma crawled up into his lap, wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, and hugged him. His arms came up on reflex, wrapping around her and cradling her tight against his chest as the tears finally came. He was too tired to fight them any longer.
“Don’t cry, Uncle Tay. Uncle Clay’s gonna be fine, Daddy said so. It’s just bruises.”
He hiccupped and clenched his eyes shut for a minute before nodding in agreement and pulling back to smile at her.
“Yeah, princess, he’s gonna be fine.” He looked up at Kelly standing there with Jay at her side, his small hand held tight in hers. She looked uncertain, shocked to see him such a mess. She’d never seen him outside of the cocky, arrogant, and often rude attitude-ridden mess he was around the family. He didn’t care, and neither did she, leaning forward to kiss his cheek and smile reassuringly.
“You need sleep, Taylor.”
“I need my boyfriend, but your husband took him.”
Her eyes went wide, and then her smile went wider and she tried to cover it with her hand too late. “Your boyfriend?”
He glared at her, daring her to say any different.
“Wait.” Emma frowned at him, squirming in his lap. “Is Sietta your boyfriend now?”
“Yeah, babycake.”
“That makes him my uncle, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Awesome! More Christmas presents!” she exclaimed excitedly to Jay, who agreed with her immediately. She hopped off his lap but leaned in to give him a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek.
“I love you, Uncle Tay.”
“Love you too, sweet pea.”
“But you look like shit. You should get some sleep.”
“Emma!” Kelly snapped, horrified. “Language! Gosh, I don’t know where she keeps getting this stuff from!”
Taylor arched a brow at her, and she sighed. They both knew exactly where she was getting it from: Saturday barbeques and phones on speaker. Actually, probably more the phones, since people tended to at least attempt to watch their mouths in person.
“Sorry. Least it’ll make parent-teacher interviews super interesting!”
“Oh, don’t remind me. I had to go to Jay’s last week. The teacher was telling me all about how the class was asked to draw a picture of what they did on the weekend, and she was very concerned that Jay drew Emma in the refrigerator.”
“Ah….”
“I lied and said he had an overactive imagination. Then she reminded both of us about it being bad to tell lies….”
“I let Mum’s fib slide,” Jay put in proudly, and Taylor gave him an obligatory fist bump. He was a smart kid. A little too smart, perhaps.
“It’s bad to lie, Mum.” Emma grabbed Kelly’s free hand and tugged. They all sighed.
“Let’s go in and see Uncle Clay, okay?”
“Yay!” they said in unison, and Kelly opened the door quickly and disappeared. Emma came running back out and gave him a final hug before running in again, the door closing behind her. It wasn’t thick enough to muffle her indignant bellow.
“Uncle Clay, what sort of crap cop gets shot?”
Taylor covered his mouth, startled by the loud laugh that erupted in front of him. He looked up at Sietta and Brayden, then stood and replaced Brayden’s arm around Sietta’s waist with his own. There was a thick, heavy plastic-padded boot from Sietta’s knee to his ankle.
“Broken,” Sietta acknowledged, but he was still chuckling. “God, Emma’s my hero.”
“Try living with her,” Brayden muttered. “She lectured me about margarine this morning. Apparently it’s made from plastic and it’s not allowed in the house anymore.”
He left them in the hallway, bracing himself before he went into Clay’s room and disappeared.
“Home?” Sietta asked hopefully.
“Home,” Taylor agreed, shifting his arm and leaning down to loop his other under Sietta’s knees. He swung him up and hugged him close to his chest, kissing his forehead. Sietta cried out in surprise and hurriedly wrapped his arms around Taylor’s neck to keep from falling, chuckling softly when he settled in his arms.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He didn’t care what anyone thought. He wasn’t letting Sietta out of his arms.
“Could be an awkward drive,” Sietta mused, but he appeared to be enjoying the ride and that was all that mattered.
“You can steer.”
His laughter still did the strangest things to him.
TAYLOR HAD no idea what time it was. The sun was up, bleeding through under the blinds of his bedroom window, and gentle fingers were tracing the lines of his chest.
“Hey,” he mumbled, tilting his head to find he was lying against Sietta, head on his shoulder, Sietta’s broken leg propped up on a pillow in front of him while Sietta’s hands wandered.
“Hey. You look better.” Sietta smiled, leaning in to kiss him, slow and languid. He tasted like he’d brushed his teeth recently, but Taylor must have slept through it. He had no memory after coming home, showering, and literally falling into bed.
“You look… the same as always,” Taylor studied Sietta’s face. “I’ve never seen you sleep.”
“I don’t really sleep.” Sietta shrugged, as if that were an entirely reasonable explanation. Taylor struggled to sit up against the pillows until they were eye to eye and fixed a steely glare on him.
“You’re going to have to explain that to me.” Because that wasn’t possible, was it?
“I micronap. Apparently. That’s what Bray called it. Tiny little lapses through the day when your brain shuts down for a few seconds—”
“I know what a micronap is. That’s all you do? You don’t sleep at all?”
“Occasionally I get so tired that everything just turns off, but not for long and only every couple of days. Usually only if there’s no one around and I feel….”
Safe. It was something that had clearly developed over time. Over years, in captivity of being terrified someone would hurt him while he slept, or he’d miss something important. Taylor wanted to punch something. Instead he pulled Sietta into his arms and rolled him on top of him, careful of the cast on his leg.
“Brayden gave me some drugs he think will help, but he said it will take time. I’m not used to sleeping, so I have to train myself to do it.”
“You were sleeping when they took you,” Taylor realised. He and Clay had gone for their run, and with the house locked and quiet, an armed police escort outside, Sietta had actually slept.
“Yeah.” He’d let his guard down and been taken again. No wonder he’d been so freaked out when they reached him. First time he slept in years and he ends up right back where the problem started.
“You felt safe enough to sleep here?” He felt lighter suddenly.
“Well, yeah.” And Taylor started to realise what Sietta had been saying all day.
“You think of this as home.”
“Uh… yeah.”
“Good.” Taylor drew him in for more kisses, rewarding him for such good thinking. “That’s very good.”
“So….”
“This is home,” Taylor agreed. “Me, you, here. That’s what I want. Us.”
“Good.” Sietta relaxed and let his full weight fall on Taylor. “So… I was just part of a big plan, huh?”
“This time, yeah,” Taylor didn’t like that at all.
“And Viola’s still out there?”
“We have no proof she had anything to do with this, but I think you’re right and she’s behind it. And yeah, she’s still out there. We’ll have to wait and see if she shows for her hearing for the original accessory to crime charges from your kidnapping before we can question her.”
“Not likely.” Sietta stalled his touch over Taylor’s throat. If he was afraid, he didn’t show it, but Taylor didn’t think it was fear stilling his fingers. More like frustration that he could once again do nothing but wait and see what happened.
“Can I distract you?” Taylor pushed a hand to Sietta’s chest and stroked upward, over his Adam’s apple to his jaw and held him steady, feeling his breaths as he inhaled and exhaled, his eyes hooded and watching him. He licked his lips, and Taylor could feel his hardness pushing against his own.
“Good,” Taylor whispered, drawing Sietta down and kissing him, taking his time, letting his tongue explore inside his mouth. He stroked the roof of his mouth in an attempt to learn the pattern of bumps and valleys by heart. When Sietta pulled back to breathe, Taylor didn’t stop, moving along the smooth ridge of Sietta’s jaw and down his throat, finding the vein and nibbling on it, delighted by the way Sietta shivered and moaned in response.
He rolled them, pinning Sietta beneath him and kissing him again while his hands found the edge of the T-shirt Sietta was wearing and pulled it off, amused to see it was one of his with PORS written in big white letters across the front. He tossed it aside and ran a hand down Sietta’s side to grip his hip tight, then pushed him into the mattress to prevent him from moving away while he licked at his nipple until it was hard beneath his soft lips.
“Shit… oh, that feels good!” The stunned look on Sietta’s face was a harsh reminder of how innocent Sietta still was. It struck Taylor that this was Sietta’s first time, and he had to take a few deep breaths and remind himself to slow down. It wasn’t hard; he wanted to take his time, to explore and enjoy, and Sietta seemed happy with whatever he wanted to do.
It was a good thing Clay wasn’t home, as the more of Sietta’s body that Taylor touched his tongue to, the louder and more confident Sietta’s small outcries became.
“There! Oh, Tay… there!”
He’d found a small spot below Sietta’s hip bone that made Sietta thrust his hips up at his face, demanding more, and made Taylor chuckle and happily give in to kissing it again, sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth until it bruised, leaving a dark red mark that contrasted against the actual bruises against Sietta’s skin.
Drawing Sietta’s underwear off and tossing it aside was more exciting than Taylor could ever remember it being. He took in a deep breath and stared at the beautiful man spread beneath him, cast and all. Taylor wondered suddenly what he’d ever done to deserve so much as looking at him. But he didn’t question it, stroking sure hands up the inside of Sietta’s thighs and smiling when Sietta dropped them open in invitation.
Taylor slid down his body and deliberately licked at the head of Sietta’s hard cock, chuckling when Sietta’s hips bucked and he clutched at the sheet to keep from grabbing anything inappropriate. As if Taylor would mind him grabbing him as hard as he wanted.
He took the full length into his mouth and sucked hard, loving the strained groan he won from Sietta. He wasn’t particularly fond of sucking cock, preferring hand jobs or sex, but he suspected that had a lot to do with the fact he’d never been big on foreplay. It had always seemed such a waste of time, but it was different. With Sietta, he was different. He enjoyed it. He felt a small thrill every time Sietta gasped or moaned, and his own cock hardened with each stuttered plea for more.
“Stop. Oh… God, stop!” Sietta finally reached down and pulled hard on his hair, winning a laugh from Taylor as he pulled away and blew on Sietta’s dick instead, making him laugh as well. “Stop! I don’t wanna come yet!”
“Fine, fine,” Taylor was still chuckling as he reached over and grabbed a condom and some lube from the bedside. Sietta stopped him, looking at the supplies and meeting his eyes.
“I’ve never….”
“I know.” But Sietta didn’t seem nervous about it, at all.
“No, I mean. I trust you, and I’m clean so….” He grabbed the condom and tossed it aside, thoroughly startling Taylor, who watched its small journey through the sky like a shooting star, until it smacked into the wall and dropped like a stone. He stared at it on the floor until Sietta’s long fingers grabbed his jaw and turned his head to look at him. “Okay?”
“Yeeeeah….” He had one final glance at the condom, and then Sietta had all of his attention once more. He couldn’t believe Sietta trusted him like that. He almost wanted to say no, that they would use it, that Sietta couldn’t possibly know what he was doing, but that was insulting to both of them. It wasn’t hard to trust Sietta, and he had to trust that Sietta felt the same about him. This was Sietta’s way of telling him in no uncertain terms how completely he was in this. In Us.
His hands moved on autopilot, spreading lube on his fingers and teasing, stroking the small hole he found between Sietta’s cheeks. He slipped inside so slowly it almost felt like one of those moments, and they just breathed. Sietta’s wide blue eyes locked on his own until Taylor momentarily forgot where he was, drowning.
“I love you.”
“I know,” Sietta gasped. “I love you, too, but so help me if you don’t hurry up and fuck me, I am going to murder you!”
Stunned, Taylor froze, then laughed, slipping a second finger in and stroking until he found Sietta’s prostate, deliberately stroking it while Sietta moaned until he almost cried and demanded he hurry up.
“Now, now, now!”
“So spoilt,” Taylor muttered, sliding a third finger in, wondering if Sietta had stopped to consider that he was not a small man and things were definitely in proportion, and Taylor was just trying to be a nice guy and not hurt the love of his life.
Oh shit, was he the love of his life? Taylor froze again, stuck in another moment. Sietta was the only thing he’d loved as much as his brother. Shit.
“Taylor….”
He silenced Sietta and his own mind by sealing his mouth over Sietta’s, sucking the air from both of their lungs, then pushed one of those deliciously long legs up, hooking it over his elbow while he lined his cock up with Sietta’s hole. He didn’t give Sietta a chance to think or breathe, sliding in as gently as he could, aware of Sietta biting his lip but not feeling the pain.
