Jesse unbuttoned his pants and slid his zipper down enough for Mason to see the start of his dark brown pubic hair as he sucked passionately on Mason’s neck.
“Oh damn.” Mason canted his hips. “And you’re not wearing underwear.”
Jesse’s body took on a sultry rhythm all of its own. “Touch me, Ellis.”
Mason bit his bottom lip to keep from cursing filthily as he molded his hands over Jesse’s smooth globes. He loved he wasn’t as hairy as him, and he loved the way his gun-roughened hands felt gliding over Jesse’s velvety skin. His cock was hard and making a damp spot in his gray sweats from Jesse’s treatment. He panted heavily in Mason’s ear, his long, nimble fingers fumbling with the drawstring of his sweats when a loud bang sounded on his front door. Mason had just enough time to yank Jesse behind him before his door was shoved open.
“Knock, knock. Don’t shoot!” Clark yelled his usual greeting while peeking his big head inside of his home. When his partner’s eyes landed on him, his smile fell and a perfect o formed on his lips before he put his hand up in apology. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know you had comp—”
Jesse was righting his clothes when his sergeant squinted at his face and recognition seemed to dawn on him. Mason put his hand up in an effort to hold him off, but it didn’t work.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Clark came the rest of the way inside and slammed Mason’s door hard enough to break one of the glass panes at the top.
Jesse flinched at Clark’s gesture, and Mason put his hand on his cheek to get his attention. “Jesse. Can you give me and my partner a second?”
“Yeah, sure, of course.” Jesse nodded and hurried past Clark’s menacing scowl. “Sorry, excuse me.”
Mason hated how unsure Jesse looked when he turned the corner, like Mason was about to tell him he’d made a mistake and he had to go, when that couldn’t have been any further from the truth. Jesse wasn’t going anywhere. Not until Mason got him to God safely and out of this messed-up circumstance.
“Why’d you send him away? What? You don’t want him to hear the truth?” Clark set the six-pack of beer he’d brought with him on the breakfast bar and spun on Mason, but he was already there in his face. “You can’t be shacked up with a homeless kid you randomly plucked off the street. Are you insane?”
“First of all, I sent Jesse away because he’s only seen one side of me.” Mason closed the few inches between them. His jaw clenched and his teeth bared. “And I don’t want him to see me lay your ass out if you don’t calm down and lower your motherfuckin’ voice in my house.”
Clark narrowed his eyes, but his tone was a lot calmer. “What. Are. You. Doing?”
“Second of all. Jesse is a grown man… not a kid. We’re both consenting adults. And being with a man—regardless of his living situation or social status—will not violate the integrity of my badge. And I suggest you don’t imply it again.” Mason walked around Clark and took one of the beers out of the bag and twisted the cap off. He handed it to his partner, who seemed to take forever before he accepted it… but he did.
Clark sat down heavily on one of the stools. “Of all the men in Atlanta, Mase… why that ki—”
Mason glared.
“Why that guy?” Clark asked. “I mean, I know you’ve been a little hard up to get some action, but this is a bit extreme even—”
“Are you trying to get decked?” Mason barked a shocked laugh.
Clark put his hands up in defense. “I’ve just never seen you act so reckless or throw caution to the wind.”
“That’s true,” Mason agreed. “I usually see something I want, and I sit back and overanalyze and question it for so long that ends up slipping through my fingers.” He clapped Clark on his broad shoulder. “Not anymore, man. I told you this year was going to be different.”
“So, you’re a couple living together now?” Clark took a long swallow of his beer. “After knowing him for five minutes.”
“He’s staying here until he gets on his feet.” Mason squeezed his eyes shut, getting frustrated. “And no, we’re not a couple, but I like him, Clark. And I want to get to know him.”
“How old is he?” Clark hissed like it was a dirty little secret.
“He’s almost twenty-five,” Mason said boldly.
“For fuck’s sake. He’s almost ten years younger than you.”
“And tall.” Mason smirked slyly—that was the part he really liked—and Clark almost spit his beer across the countertop. And just like they had for the last four years of being partners, they quickly squashed their disagreement and had each other’s backs.