Page 58 of Manner of Death
But he also wasn’t surprised by it. In fact, he recognized it as the same heat that had driven him and a friend into bed an hour after they’d left another friend’s funeral. And that same need that’d had him on Grindr almost every night in the week leading up to finals.
Was it the most appropriate thing for the situation? Probably not. Was it healthy? Eh, it was better than some of the alternatives. Sometimes there was nothing to be done except get close to someone, shut out the rest of the world, and don’t come up for air until they’d wrung out every last drop of grief, stress, and everything in between.
Either way, Bashir knew exactly what Sawyer meant when he shakily whispered, “I want to turn off my phone. Lock the fucking door. And not think anymore tonight.”
Nodding, Bashir reached for him, and Sawyer didn’t resist being pulled in. He sure as hell didn’t resist being kissed. In fact, he seemed to melt, whimpering softly as he slid his hands over Bashir’s waist.
No, this wasn’t the time or place, but Bashir understood. And at least this was something he could actually give Sawyer when he was powerless to give him the things he truly needed.
He couldn’t provide any answers right now. He couldn’t bring him any peace about his partner or the recent string of murders. He couldn’t do a damn thing to fix everything that had driven Sawyer to this.
But give him a few hours of downtime and distraction?
That he could do.
If any of Sawyer’s bumps or bruises were giving him grief, he didn’t let on about it. Not while they were making out in Bashir’s living room. Not while they were pulling clothes off all the way down the hall. Definitely not when he dragged Bashir down onto the bed.
There was a small part of Bashir’s brain that warned him they might regret this later—cathartic sex was fine and good, but perhaps not the best thing for the first time with a new partner in a fledgling relationship?
That, like everything they’d locked outside, was tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, even while Bashir’s body tried to remind him he was exhausted, he was determined to make sure Sawyer couldn’t think about anything but him. Sawyer’s phone was turned off and his captain had ordered him to take the night off, forbidding him from showing his face at any crime scene or at the precinct for the next twenty-four hours minimum.
Bashir? Well, there was only so unavailable the medical examiner could be on a moment’s notice. Boyce was on call (which Bashir would absolutely hear about later), and he was qualified to handle most situations that could arise. If Bashir’s phone rang, it rang, but he just prayed like hell it waited until he’d well and truly had his way with Sawyer.
For the moment, the phone was blessedly silent, and Bashir took full advantage, kissing Sawyer hungrily as they rutted their naked bodies together. God, this man felt amazing against him. Bashir was pretty sure he hadn’t even liked him all that much until recently; tangling up with him now, he had to admit he was glad Sawyer had been persistent. Not pushy, not annoying or creepy—Bashir had no doubt that a firm no would’ve made him back down immediately—but just bold enough to pique Bashir’s interest.
So glad I stopped being stubborn.
He broke the kiss and started down Sawyer’s neck. “Tell me what you want.”
“Exactly what I’m getting,” Sawyer slurred, dragging his fingers up Bashir’s back. “Jesus…”
Bashir kissed under his jaw. “Let me rephrase—how do you want me to get you off?”
The moan thrumming against his lips was the sexiest thing he’d ever felt. “Can’t… Oh God, I can’t decide if I want your dick or your mouth.”
“Oh, so you bottom?”
“I do anything. And right now…” Sawyer’s fingers dug into Bashir’s shoulders. “Ungh. Yeah, I feel like bottoming tonight.”
Bashir was the one to moan this time, shivering at the anticipation of riding this beautiful man into oblivion. Like Sawyer, he was happy to go either way, and he hadn’t really thought much about whether he was in the mood to top or bottom. The second those words tumbled off Sawyer’s lips, though, Bashir was all top.
But he wasn’t about to rush this. While some part of his brain was aware they could be interrupted at any moment—and knowing his luck, they would be—he just couldn’t resist. Maybe their first time was cathartic distraction sex, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge in exploring and savoring this sexy, naked man in his bed.
He came up to kiss Sawyer’s mouth. “I’m gonna ride you into the mattress,” he purred.
Sawyer whimpered, arching under him. “Please?”
“I will.” He brushed his lips across Sawyer’s. “But not yet.”
The next whimper was a mix of protest and anticipation, and Sawyer swore as Bashir started back down again. This time, the kisses didn’t stop on his throat. He kept going down to Sawyer’s chest, teasing each nipple in turn with teeth and tongue.
He’d heard the rumors floating around the precinct about Sawyer’s Hollywood family, and how he’d apparently tried his hand at acting before fleeing California to become a cop in this godforsaken place. Bashir had no idea how much truth there was to any of that, and he’d also heard that asking about it would piss off Sawyer.
What he could say with certainty, though, was that Sawyer absolutely had the body for Hollywood. Not chiseled like a porn star or an underwear model, but still with perfect contours and angles in all the right places. Powerful arms and legs spoke of more than a passing familiarity with the inside of a gym. Smooth abs begged for fingertips and lips to trail over them. And what could Bashir say? The fading bruises from the other night’s altercation added some sexy ruggedness, like a battered action star.
Or maybe he was just losing his mind. Both because the whole world was off its axis, and because he was overwhelmed with how much he wanted Sawyer right then.
Especially when he got to his dick. Sawyer did say he switched, didn’t he? Because Bashir definitely wanted to be on the receiving end of what Sawyer was packing. He wasn’t huge—Bashir took him easily into his mouth—but he was exactly the right size to rock his world. Big enough to drive Bashir wild, not so long or thick that Bashir would get sore if they fucked for any length of time. Absolutely perfect.