God backed out of the driveway, his head pounding like someone was hammering him in the head. He made a beeline for the drug store and picked up a couple bottles of NyQuil and drove twenty miles per hour the rest of the way home.
Where’s God?
Day was working on a model kit of a nineteen thirty-four Ford Street Rod, listening to music. He picked up one of the micro-parts with the tweezers, applied an ultra-thin strip of glue, and carefully placed it on the car’s frame. He tried not to think about God not calling him. They’d had a date. God had agreed to dinner… then all of sudden, he just changed his mind. Day couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. He was dead set on proving that he wanted God.
How about a little Blind-Eye Willie’s saxophone? That was Day’s favorite when he was upset. Day cautiously picked up the vinyl album and placed it on the player. He paced back and forth wondering if he should call God. He flopped down on his bed and looked at his alarm clock. Four in the morning… great. I’ve got to sleep.
Day tossed and turned on his bed. He was restless. He couldn’t get God’s lustful eyes out his mind. Yes, something major had definitely changed between them. Day had always thought God was strikingly gorgeous. In an I’m a-bad boy-and-don’t-give-a-fuck kind of way. But seeing God break down in front of him, all needing and wanting, made Day yearn to fulfill those wants and take care of all his needs.
Day dragged his hand down his chest. His legs moved back and forth on the silk sheets as he imagined grabbing God’s goatee and pulling his mouth down to meet his. Day wrapped his hand around his hard cock and arched his back off the bed at the first brush of contact. Cashel. Day grunted and jerked when another large bead of precome formed on his head. He used it to make his grip slide easier up and down his throbbing shaft.
“Fuck, God. I need you so bad,” Day whispered, his orgasm building quickly at the sound of God’s name on his lips. He wanted God on top of him. His weight crushing him into the mattress while he pounded his ass.
“Uuugh… fuuuck,” Day groaned.
His head was thrown back, his throat pulsing, wishing it was being ravaged by God’s mouth as his orgasm barreled through him. His body spasmed and he moaned deep in his throat when he dragged his tight fist up, slowly milking the last of his come out.
Day hadn’t come that hard in a long time. He shot so hard that he had come on his neck and some on his pillow. Fuck. God, you’re going to be the death of me. After Day got cleaned up, he had no problem falling asleep.
Day was fixing his coffee in the precinct’s kitchen and of course, his mind kept wandering to God. It was almost ten and he hadn’t seen him yet. Usually, God picked him up for work at eight so Day didn’t have to ride his bike. God would automatically drive to Starbucks and then they’d talk shit the rest of the way to work.
By eight forty-five God still hadn’t showed. After several unanswered calls, Day got on his bike and rode to the station, figuring God was still handling whatever shit he had to do. Day handled their normal morning duties. He knew his partner would be there for the ten-o’clock strategy meeting they had scheduled with several of the department heads, including SWAT, to plan how they were going after the kingpin.
Day looked at his watch and saw that he had five minutes until to the meeting. He finished his cup, fixed another for the meeting, and headed for the door. He stopped, turned back, and picked up a blueberry muffin before heading to the main conference room. Yeah, I got it bad.
When Day walked in, several of the officers began clapping and patting him on the back for getting the kingpin’s information. He made jokes with a few of the officers and noticed that God was still MIA.
“Day. Where’s God?” Vikki asked, looking around.
Day took his seat. “He’ll be here,” he said in a clipped tone.
She didn’t need to worry about where the fuck God was.
“Maybe he got sick of you trying to fuck him.” Ronowski shrugged nonchalantly.
Day glared at him and leaned across the table. His teeth were clenched so hard they ached. “You don’t know how on edge I am, Ronowski. So if you have even an ounce of self-preservation, you’ll shut your fucking mouth and not say another word to me for the rest of the day.”
Day saw Vikki whisper something to Ronowski. The man sat back hard in his chair and didn’t say anything else. Day wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a flash of sorrow cross Ronowski’s handsome face. He quickly thought better of it.