fufaraw

Jared stood in his kitchen after his run, sweaty and drinking water from the tap as he stared out at the back yard through the glass doors.

"Lookin' good, JT." Raul stood a few feet away. Jared felt the urge to sweep him up in his arms, but something kept him rooted in place while Raul glanced around the kitchen, and out at the backyard view. "Nice place. It's good to see you settling in, putting down roots."

"Without you." Jared's voice was low and rusty, raspy after his run, and with choking back the tears and emotion he somehow knew would send Raul away.

"Yeah, well," Raul's features twisted in a wry half-smile. "It is what it is, baby. Up to you to make it what you want."

The tears spilled, and Jared took a step towards his lover. "What I want is you--"

Raul started to fade, fast. The last of him before he was gone was the terribly sad expression on his face.

Jared blinked, awake now, staring up at the ceiling. He hated the pills. And if he went back on them, he'd have to tell Jeff, because they could compromise Jared's judgment and ability. Riding a desk because he couldn't handle last year's tragedy wasn't something he wanted to admit to. Jared rolled to plant his face in his pillow. But seeing Raul like this, randomly and unexpected, wasn't something he was thrilled about, either. Not when he couldn't touch, not when he always woke up with empty arms and an empty heart.

* * *

"Jason, you and Jared canvass Mr. Ardell's neighbors," Jeff directed. "Adrian, you and Danay take a trip up to Northbrook and talk to the police. See if they've had anything like this going on up there. Somebody somewhere has to have seen this guy, or know something about him. We can't just sit here and wait for the next case. I'm really worried he's not going to stick with livestock." His gaze swept the deputies, who shared his concern. "He's escalating. His next victim will likely be human, and probably sooner, rather than later. We can't let that happen."

* * *

They agreed that Jason would drop Jared off at the Matthews ranch and go on to the Thomas place to ask questions. Jared would question Pilar Matthews, and Jason would swing by and pick Jared up when he was done at the Thomases'.

Pilar Matthews, 35, was divorced, and ran the ranch herself. She owned a few head of stock, but she leased her grazing land to a couple of ranchers whose herds were too large for their own land. The income from that, plus her online job as some sort of analyst, kept her and her two kids in food and clothes, and paid the mortgage.

The kids were Alex, ten, and Alicia, seven. From all reports, both were bright and did well in school, and didn't seem inclined to get into trouble. Jared took a look around as he walked up the dusty drive toward the ranch house. There weren't any kids that lived close. The Matthews kids must be each other's closest friends as well as playmates.

Jared had a foot on the bottom porch step when he heard a cry behind him, and turned around. An attractive, dark-haired woman was running toward him, yelling. "Oh, thank God you're here! Help me! Please, help me find my kids!"

The sky to the east was still blue, studded with puffy white clouds, and the early afternoon sunshine gilded everything it touched. He almost expected to hear cartoon bluebirds, the day looked so perfect. But there was a wind at his back, and when he turned to face Pilar Matthews, the sky was an ugly dark blue, churning with black-grey clouds that were moving eastward surprisingly quickly. As he watched, a transparent veil descended from the cloudbank, probably about five or six miles away. Rain.

The kids' mom plucked at Jared's jacket sleeve, tugging him toward rough ground, in the direction of the oncoming storm.

"Come on!" she pleaded. I've told them till I'm blue in the face, but I bet you anything they've gone down to the wash to play."

Jared followed her as she hurried ahead of him, feet barely touching the ground. She avoided rocks that rolled underfoot, ankle breakers, missteps that would put a man on the ground in a heap of limbs and embarrassment. He paid attention to his footing and scrambled after her.

Threading down between some boulders that grew into hillsides, and then into small cliffs, Jared saw Pilar heading unwaveringly toward a gouge in the ground, a deep ditch--wider, a gulch. He scrambled down to the floor beside her, looking up the wash, and, while it didn't quite qualify as a true arroyo, it was steep-sided, and the farther up he and Pilar went, the higher the sides got. They were above his head, already.

"Alex!" Pilar called. "Leecy!" There was an edge of terror in her voice, and she choked for a second, before opening her clenched fists, smoothing them down her sides, and taking a deep breath.

"Alex!" Her call had a deep note in it now, one Jared had often heard in his own parents' tone, one that brooked no disobedience. "You kids answer me. Right now!"

Thunder rumbled, and Jared glanced up. His view was straight across the ground at eye level, and as lightning flashed in the roiling cloud, the curtain of rain was incredibly closer, and traveling fast--right towards them.

"Alex!" he added his voice to the call for the kids. "Leecy! Kids, we need you to answer us. Where are you?"

Thunder growled again, and through the echo of it, he thought he heard something. He put out a hand to Pilar. "Listen!"

"...ooomm!" a panicked cry reached them, and it galvanized Pilar.

"Alex! I'm coming, baby. Hang on!"

Jared ran with her as they climbed and scrambled further into the wash. The way took a sharp curve, and then they saw him, both hands pushing at an old dry log that had evidently rolled when he tried to scramble over it. His foot was pinned.

"Wait, buddy," Jared said, stopping the boy's futile pushing and trying to wiggle his foot free.

"Alex, sweetie, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Mom. Just--Leecy went further up the gully and I was going to get her, and the log rolled. I can't get free."

"You just be still," Jared told the boy. Alex blinked tears from his dark brown eyes and waited to be told what to do. "I'm going to lift this log, and you," he nodded at Pilar, "grab him under the arms and pull him free."

Pilar stood behind her son, leaning forward to loop her arms under his and clasp her hands together across his chest. Jared nodded again, and looked Alex in the eye. "When you feel the weight come off, you scoot back on your butt, okay?"

Alex nodded, his lips folded in and bitten tight, a pallor of fear under his light brown skin.

"Okay now," Jared bent and laid hold of the log. "Pull!" he said, as he used all his strength to raise it. Alex scooted and Pilar pulled hard enough to fall backwards onto her own rear end, and seeing Alex's foot was clear, Jared lowered the log back down, and dusted off his hands. "Let's look at that foot," he began, but Pilar had an expression of intense listening on her face.

"No time," she sent a panicky look Jared's way. Jared heard it, too. Water.

He decided in a second that Alex had a chance with his mom to help. "Get him out! Both of you, up the bank!" he told Pilar, as he ran toward the sound of rushing water.

He took his own advice and scrambled up a slope that was more slant than vertical. Flash floods were dangerous, and nothing to take chances with. He wasn't afraid to admit he was scared for the seven-year-old--so little, against the force of the flood. "Leecy!" he called, and called again. He kept calling as he traveled further and further up the gully, eyes scanning the brush and strewn rock and parts of trees from previous floods, looking for a flash of fabric, his ears straining for the sound of a child's voice.

There. He hadn't registered it for an instant--it sounded more like a whistle--like a train, a high, piercing, single note of panic. The bottom of the gully was wet--there was a trickle in the bottom of the stream bed, growing wider every second.

"Leecy! Where are you?" he bellowed.

"Here!" came the high voice, and he saw her. She was trying to climb out, but every time she made it upward a few feet, the sandy soil gave way and she slid back to the bottom. "Help!"

There was a horrible rushing rumble, and Jared sprinted toward where the little girl frantically scrambled for purchase. Before he could reach her, the first wave pushed down the wash, and he threw himself down on the rim of the gully, slid headfirst over the edge, digging in with his knees and his toes and his free hand, and thanking god for his height as he stretched one long arm and managed to reach barely far enough to grab her by one arm just as the wave rushed past, churning tree limbs and random debris. She clung to his forearm with the grip of a baby monkey, with both hands, as he inched his way backward up to the rim, finally able to roll over and pull her up against his chest.

Dripping wet and shivering with cold and terror and reaction, she burrowed into the crook of his neck, teeth chattering, sobbing, both hands clamped around fistfuls of his shirt and jacket.

The rain overtook them before Jared made it back to where he'd left Pilar and Alex. He wrapped Leecy as tight as he could in his uniform jacket, her head tucked under his chin to shelter her as much as possible. They weren't there, and he walked on toward the house, firmly believing Pilar had been able to get Alex up out of the wash, and carry him, if he wasn't able to walk back to the house. Halfway there, Jared saw dimly through the downpour, a man with Alex on his back, Pilar walking beside him. Jared lengthened his stride, and realized the man was Jason. When Pilar saw him with Leecy, she dropped back and put a hand on his arm, squeezing hard to convey her thanks. They didn't try to speak, just trudged through the deluge until they reached the house, and climbed up on the porch. Rain pounding on the tin roof didn't offer any better chance of hearing each other talk, but Pilar went inside and brought out a stack of towels, and took her daughter from Jared. She sat on the rough settee made of bent branches and gathered both children to her. The three of them cuddled in quiet, and she gestured to empty chairs. Jason and Jared sat to wait out the storm.

Pilar had heard or seen nothing, but she promised to keep an eye out. She thanked them profusely for rescuing her kids, and if Jared interpreted her expression correctly, she would be keeping them close by her until the butcher was caught.

Jason wanted details of how he had found Alicia, but Jared was exhausted. He leaned against the window on the passenger's side of the truck, uncomfortable in his soaked-through clothes, and managed to doze off before they got back to the department.

* * *

Jared didn't even bother turning on lights, once he got home. He had changed clothes and showered at the department, and now all he wanted was a beer, and his bed. He should eat, he realized. But the thought of chewing was exhausting. In fact, he didn't even really want the beer. He poured it down the kitchen drain and put the bottle in recycling before heading to bed.

A knock at the door stopped his progress, though. He leaned against it. Maybe he could pretend not to be home, and whoever it was would just go away.

"Jared?" Another knock. "Jared, it's Jensen. I know you're in there. Open up."

Jared's hand twisted the lock and then the knob, and the door swung open a bit. Jensen stood there on his front stoop, a couple of white bags from Kane's in his hands.

"Jensen," Jared acknowledged. "Now's really not the time, man."

Jensen nodded, and then shouldered his way past Jared and into the house. "I know. Jason told me what happened. I won't stay long. But I figured you'd be too tired to feed yourself, and you gotta eat. Come on." He held both bags in one hand and took Jared's arm with the free hand, propelling him toward the kitchen. He pushed him toward one of the bar stools and waited till Jared seated himself, and then fetched plates and flatware from the cupboard and drawer, and started laying out a meal. It smelled really good, but Jared couldn't even figure out what it was, until Jensen climbed on the stool next to him, put one of the plates in front of him and took the other himself.

He raised his fork, but before he started eating, he asked, "Did you want to eat outside?" Jared just shook his head. "Okay, then eat, man. It's good. Kane sent it, special."

It took some determination, but Jared did manage a few forkfuls. Flavors burst on his tongue, and he began to chew more thoughtfully, starting to enjoy the food. He reached for his glass. Jensen had poured them wine. He hadn't even noticed. By the time his plate was clean, Jared had begun to feel a lot more like himself. He turned to Jensen to say so. "Thank you so much. I didn't even realize how tired I was. This really helped."

"Glad to do it," Jensen grinned. "There's enough for seconds. You want more?"

Jared shook his head no. "Let me stick the leftovers in the fridge, then. Go stretch out on the couch while I clean up."

Jared wanted to protest, but Jensen just spun him in the right direction and gave him a push, and he followed the path of least resistance. He turned the lamp in the corner on low, because it was full night out, now, and he didn't favor smashing into things in the dark. His couch was wonderfully soft and comfy, he thought, snuggling down into the cushions. Beth was a wonderful decorator, to find him such a good couch. He drifted in a pleasant, well-fed haze, until the cushion beside him dipped, and a kiss pressed on his lips. "Mmm." That was nice. He opened to the pressure, and a clever tongue slipped inside, to stroke against his own, a slightly wine-flavored kiss. He managed to move his arms, wrapping them around his kisser, and pulling him down on top of him. Jensen came willingly, wriggling so he could settle with his back to the sofa back, and most of his weight on Jared, stretched full length. The most important thing, though, he managed to do it all without breaking the awesome kiss.

Jensen felt so good in his arms, smelled so good. He made little contented sounds as they kissed, and he was a good kisser--really, an amazing kisser. Jared knew this wasn't leading to bed, and he was sorry about that, he had to admit it. But this right here, this much that Jensen was willing, was able to give him? This was pretty damn good. He'd take it.

He might jerk off in the bathroom as soon as Jensen left. Or he might wait until he was relaxed in his bed, with Jensen's scent still on his skin, and take his time stroking his cock and fondling his balls, making it as good for himself as solitary intimacies could be, recalling how Jensen felt in his arms, the pressure of hard muscles and rough stubble against Jared's own, indulging in the pleasures of several senses until he reached completion and came over his own hand, spilling onto his belly and tangling in the curls above his cock.

But right here, right now, he was storing up these sense-memories, of the little sounds Jensen made, the taste of him, the prickle against his palm of the cropped hair at Jensen's nape, and the scrape against Jared's cheek of Jensen's late-night beard shadow. Jensen's fingers spread through Jared's hair and kneaded at his scalp, nails scratching gently. Those fingers traced over his cheekbones and jaw, his lips, down his neck, and along his collarbones. He was listening, perfectly attuned to the happy note of Jensen's voice as his tongue probed at Jared's teeth and sucked at Jared's tongue. He was aware, alive, and letting go of regret that he couldn't lay Jensen down, naked on his bed, with limbs flung wide, and ravish him all over with kisses.

Jensen writhed against him, a new note in the little sounds he was making. He pushed and pulled at Jared, shifting him into a different position. Jared just went with it, allowed himself to be manhandled, and Jensen settled back down against him, even closer than before. He felt hot breath on his spit-slicked lips before Jensen dove back in, tongue probing, licking, tasting. Jensen's hands gripped Jared's shoulders, harder, more intense than he remembered them ever being before. And--what--? Jensen was writhing, grinding against Jared's hip.

Jared's conscious mind wasn't right on top of things right now, but--but--wasn't this something that Jensen didn't want? What-- Should he say something? Or stop it? Or, just let this continue until--

Well, until what? Did he really think Jensen was going to rut against him to completion? It would be great if he did--it would be fantastic! But, what if Jensen didn't want that? It might ruin what they had. And he didn't want to lose that, he couldn't lose Jensen, even whatever part of him that he had. What should he do?

"Jared,"

"Hmfh?"

"You're thinking too loud." Jensen ground a particularly slow and heavy arc against Jared's hip--and Jared could feel it now. Could feel Jensen's cock through his pants, through Jensen's pants. Jensen was hard!

He reached down, laying a hand gingerly along Jensen's hip, still kissing him, still breathing the same air. "Jensen?"

"Mmm."

"Wan' me to help?"

"Uh-uh," Jensen gasped into his mouth, ground hard against Jared's hip again, and shuddered. His hips moved a few more times, and then stilled, Jensen's lips still touching Jared's, their breath still mingling.

Jared's hand came up to stroke Jensen's face, palm his hair. He smiled down at this beautiful man, who blinked back up at him.

"You good?" he asked, quietly.

Jensen leaned into his hand like a cat, rubbing, smiling a little. He nodded, humming, and settled even closer against Jared, fitting himself in, like coming home. "Sleep," he said. Jared was good with that.

He willed his own erection to subside, and it did, a little, after a while. He moved carefully, settling himself more comfortably, making a little more room on the couch for Jensen, though he seemed quite satisfied to sprawl mostly on top of Jared, if his quiet purring snores were any gauge. He'd wait before waking Jensen, a nap together would be nice. He wanted to enjoy this while he had it. Warm, relaxed and content, Jared's eyes slipped closed.

* * *

Diffuse morning light was spilling in the windows when Jared woke with a warm body pressed close against--and on top of--him.

Jensen stirred, waking, and then stopped, realizing where he was. He groaned a little, and couldn't help rubbing body parts against Jared, trying to sit up. "Eughh," he said, and Jared smothered his grin. He knew what waking up with come dried cold in his underwear felt like, tacky and flaking on skin. He lay still while Jensen climbed awkwardly to his feet. Then he sat up, stretched, and yawned, turning the stretch into a wave toward the bathroom.

"G'morning. Shower's yours, if you want it."

"Ugh. Please. Morning." Jensen stretched his back out, head back, neck curved backward, fists pushing against his lower back, before heading to the bathroom.

"I'll find you some clothes," Jared offered.

"Great," Jensen agreed. "Thanks."

* * *

Jared heard the water cut off, and poured a mug of coffee, setting it on the breakfast bar as Jensen approached. He wore the sweats, socks, t-shirt, and hoodie Jared had left for him, and was rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. Everything fit, Jared noted, except for the sweatpants that puddled adorably around his ankles, like harem pants. Jared grinned to himself at an image he wasn't sure Jensen would appreciate. Jensen slung the towel around his neck and reached for the mug, inhaling avidly before his first sip. He smiled his, "Mmm" of appreciation.

"I was going to ask how you take it," Jared snickered, his question answered by Jensen's expression as he sipped his coffee. "It's ready," he waved at the breakfast bar, flatware and glasses for two, a pitcher of orange juice, a stack of buttered toast and a plate of bacon. "Have a seat." He munched on a strip of bacon, turning back to the stove to scoop eggs scrambled with cheese from the pan onto two plates, and set one in front of Jensen, the other at his own place.

"We've got," he checked the labels on the jars. "Honey, jam, and jelly for the toast." He scooped all the jars together in both hands and set them on the bar in easy reach, adding spoons for each before grabbing his coffee mug and sliding onto his own stool.

Jensen poured a glass of OJ for Jared and then one for himself. "Impressive," he looked over the meal.

Jared sipped his juice and grinned. "Nah, you just caught me on a day when there were actual groceries."

They ate in companionable silence. Jensen got up to pour them more coffee, and when the last slice of toast and the final strip of bacon were gone, Jared rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. They took their coffee to the living room to finish, sitting at opposite ends of the sofa. Jared let the silence go on a bit before he asked, "So, are we okay?"

Jensen concentrated on his coffee and shrugged. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Well, last night." After he'd started, Jared second-guessed himself, wondering if maybe he shouldn't say anything, just leave it alone and see what happened. But he was afraid what had happened would upset Jensen somehow, make him back off, distance himself, and shut Jared out. He didn't want that to happen. "I just--was that okay?"

Green eyes glittered, and laugh lines crinkled at their corners. "Yeah," the fucker smirked. He flicked a glance up at Jared, and smiled, a real smile, blinding and happy. Jared's heart turned over in his chest, that smile was so good. "It was fine. I wasn't expecting it," his glance fell, his expression faintly embarrassed. "It never happened before."

Jared's heart thumped heavy for a beat or two. "Really?"

Jensen nodded. "Yeah."

Oh, this was good, wasn't it? This was huge. Jared's mouth was dry, and he swallowed before he could speak again. "So--so we're good?"

"Yeah, Jared. We're definitely good."

* * *

"Boss?" Jake's voice was thin with stress. "I think it's him."

Jeff walked out to the bullpen, looked to see that everyone was paying attention before he lifted the receiver and pushed the button. "You're on speaker," he told Jake. It might save time, having everybody hear this at once. "Go ahead."

"Uh. Same wounds, same pattern." There was an audible gulp. "But--this one's human."

Jeff took Caroline with him to the location where the body had been found, along some back road miles out of town that hardly anybody ever used. The butcher hadn't buried the body, hadn't tried to cover it at all. It hadn't been there long enough for animals to get at it, and Jeff wanted to question the off-road bikers who had found it.

It was obvious the man had been killed elsewhere, and dumped here. There was no blood around, none soaked into the ground as it had been with the animals. The wounds, though, from what they could tell, were the same. Caroline took her photos; Dr. McNally performed a thorough on scene exam, and promised them more information once he'd had some time to process the body.

The off-roaders were a complete wash. They were just out for the day, looking for a rough route to set up a race for their club, and had happened on the body completely by accident. Jeff thanked them and let them go. Dr. McNally called the next morning. Jared and Adrian were in the office, and Jeff took them along with him to the ME's office.

"I haven't been able to determine his ID yet," McNally told them. "County is running his prints. Interestingly enough, I was able to lift some prints I'm pretty sure are the killer's, and I sent those in, too, and we're running those, as well. You'll know as soon as I do when we get any results."

Jeff nodded his thanks.

McNally stepped to the side of the table where the nude corpse lay, and touched one of the wounds with his gloved hand, fingers spreading the edges of the gash wider. "There's cloth embedded in a lot of these wounds," he said, using bent tweezers to pluck a small cluster of fibers from the cut. He tucked the bit of cloth into an evidence bag, sealed it, and wrote on the bag. "He didn't strip him before he killed him, and we got lucky." McNally moved to another table, where the corpse's clothing was laid out, and carefully labeled. He added the new bag to the display.

"He opened the man's shirt and pants before he cut, but he didn't take them all the way off. There was a perfect thumbprint on the button of the jeans," he pointed to the jeans, and then to the belt, which lay full-length on the table. "And I lifted a couple of partials off the shirt buttons, and the belt." McNally shook his head. "This was not an easy way to go."

"Pretty obvious," Jeff agreed.

The ME met Jeff's gaze before he said, "I mean, aside from the wounds, which, yes, are pretty horrific, I'm talking about before he died." He moved back to the cadaver table. "This man was kept prisoner, for days, possibly weeks, before he was killed. Look here at the ligature marks." McNally pointed to the dark bruises circling the body's wrists. "And here, on the ankles." More bruises there, too. "And here," he pointed to what looked like a stretched grin of bruised tissue stretching from either side of the mouth. "He was gagged. And from the muscle tone, he'd apparently been kept confined for quite a while. There's evidence of early-stage malnutrition, and, here," he used a telescoping pointer. "Under the cuts, there's bruising. It's probable that he was beaten."

"So, he was kept tied up, a prisoner--but why?" Morgan wondered aloud. "Did he do something to piss our guy off? Or is he just the next step up in this butcher's killing spree?"

"But--" Adrian hesitated, but at a nod from Morgan, he continued. "Why would he keep him alive? It seems like a lot of trouble, not to mention more of a risk of being caught. And why didn't he take his prisoner's belt? Remove the shoes and belt, that's pretty standard, right?"

Jared nodded his agreement. "I don't understand why he didn't just kill him right away, like he did the animals."

"Maybe he wanted him to know what was coming," McNally suggested.

That thought was chilling, worse than anything else they knew so far about this killer.

* * *

The state office called that afternoon. "We've got a hit on the fingerprints."

Jeff hit speaker, and his voice sharpened. "The dead man's fingerprints?"

"No, the fingerprints found on the body, on the clothing. It's a positive match. Edgar Lewis, 38, born in Everett, Washington. He's got a record a mile long, in several states, mostly for theft, assault. He did a ten-year stretch for armed robbery. Apparently he minded his manners and impressed the parole board in Utah earlier this year. They released him, and then he disappeared. There's not been any record of him anywhere, since."

"Looks like we got lucky," Jeff growled into the phone. "He popped up here, and with a nifty new hobby."

"Yeah," the officer responded.

"You got a picture of this Edgar Lewis?"

"Yeah. I'm sending it now."

"Okay, thanks. Still no news on who our body might be?"

"Nothing yet. We're still running the prints, though. I'll get back to you as soon as something turns up."

"Thanks," Jeff said, and disconnected. After a minute he raised his gaze and looked at everybody in the room. They all shared the same thought.

Shit.

* * *

Jared knew Jensen had made plans that evening with Chris, so he didn't even call. Jared would probably be rotten company, anyway. He nuked a frozen dinner and ate out on the deck, some sort of easy listening music on the radio keeping the silence at bay. He surfed television for a half hour without finding anything remotely interesting to watch, and took his laptop to bed early. He checked his email, answered ones from his sister and his mom. He needed to ask them to visit, soon. They'd like the house. Without any real expectation, he typed "Edgar Lewis" into a search, and lay back to see what the internet came up with.

There were the usual mentions of arrest, and prison release. But there was also an article on Edgar's high school graduating class, at Renaulds High School, somewhere in Washington State. Jared looked up the high school, and after a few dismal reports of losing sports teams and a lackluster fundraiser held by the Civics club in Eason County, he searched on the county, and a link appeared that had Jared sitting up straight and clicking.

"Grisly maulings in Eason County." There were blurry newspaper pictures of a bunch of men standing around a cow carcass, with a description of the wounds, "made by Satan worshippers." The article referred to incidents of smaller animals found earlier with the same marks. Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuck. This was not a first-time deal, Edgar Lewis had done this before, elsewhere. Jared bookmarked the sites, and searched for a map of the state, making note of the names of towns and counties surrounding Eason. Then he searched on those place names, and was a little relieved to come up empty, until a small article caught his attention. A three-year-old boy had wandered away from a family picnic in a public park. It was only when his family missed him and started calling, that he had stumbled out of the woods, crying, and babbling about a monster. The little boy's shirt was unbuttoned, and there were shallow cuts on his torso, dismissed as scratches he'd gotten walking through the brush. But the article did say it was odd that the cuts matched on each side.

Crap. Jared's blood ran cold. There wasn't any proof of connection, nothing in those articles that pointed definitively at Lewis being responsible for any of those things. But the coincidence was enough to convince Jared. He thought about it, but decided not to call and get Jeff out of bed in the middle of the night. This could keep until morning.

Jared poured himself a generous glass of whiskey from the bottle that lived in the bottom kitchen cupboard. He wasn't a whiskey drinker, and most of his friends stuck to beer and wine. He kept this on hand for occasions that called for something stronger. This was one of those.

Jared left the glass on his bedside chest and took a long, hot shower, letting go as much as he could of the new information he'd found. He got into bed, and tossed down the rest of the whiskey before turning off the light and pulling up the covers, and thinking really hard about maybe buying an aquarium. It would be nice to stretch out and watch the fish swim. He wondered if Jensen liked aquariums. Jensen and he could stretch out together on Jared's comfy sofa and watch the pretty, bright colored fish swim. That would be nice.

* * *

The bus lurched as Kelly took a corner really hard, folding Jared forward over the stretcher and throwing Travis against the side panel. He righted himself quickly, still trying to get the IV in, and Jared wanted to shout at Kelly to slow down, be more careful. But a glance at Raul had him wanting to yell, go faster! Gun it!

Despite the straps that secured Jared's husband to it, the stretcher itself lurched, and Raul's head rolled. Blood trickled from his slack lips to trail down his cheek and collect in the cup of his ear. Another lurch and his head rolled again, and the little pool of blood spilled down his earlobe to drip onto the white sheet. The stain spread, fast, till it colored the whole sheet under Raul's head and dripped onto the floor of the speeding ambulance, into a puddle that widened around Jared's feet. "JT," Raul whispered, drawing Jared's gaze back to his face. Raul rasped in a breath to speak, but the air met resistance, and bubbled out again in the blood on his lips as he formed words Jared couldn't understand.

* * *

I wasn't checking police records, or prison records," Jared said. "This was just local gossip. They never caught the person in Eason County, and there's no way to prove it was Edgar Lewis. But I think the coincidence is high enough to be suspicious."

"I'll say," Jeff growled. "I still think it's pretty incompetent that this didn't make it into any file on Lewis."

"Well, we know now that he's been doing this kind of thing for a lot longer than we thought," Danay said.

The entire force was out canvassing, showing copies of the mug shot State had sent. It wasn't triggering any recognition. Nobody remembered having seen the man in the picture, but at least people in town knew to be aware, now. Most of them already knew about the animal mutilations, but Jeff had only released a terse statement to the press regarding the murder, with no description of the wounds, and only a general description of the dead man's height, approximate weight, hair and eye color. The face was too disfigured to photograph. A police artist from Northbrook was on her way to MiddIebrook. Jeff hoped she would have enough imagination to draw their victim's face close to what it was in life.

* * *

Jared was expected for dinner at Jensen's, and he took some time in the shower to take the edge off, beforehand. He couldn't help imagining Jensen's features, those gorgeous eyes, the freckles, that incredible mouth. He knew he'd be tasting that mouth pretty soon, and he allowed himself to remember the taste of Jensen, the pressure, the eager tongue seeking his, the gasps and murmurs and the hardness of teeth, while he tugged and rolled his balls with one hand, and stroked his dick with the other. Long, slow slide of his hand at first, slicked by soap and water, before his breath started to hitch and the strokes got faster, harder, until he tensed, on the edge for seconds, before he was spilling into the water streaming over him, his release swirling with the soap foam, down the drain. He leaned against the shower wall for a minute, getting his breath back, heartbeat slowing, wondering if this release, by his own hand, could be enough for him. He could admit to himself that he wanted Jensen, for sex, yes, but for more than just sex. He enjoyed his company, they shared a lot of interests, Jared felt good when he was with Jensen, and from what he could tell, Jensen felt the same way. He wanted to be with him. But if they were together, stayed together, for however long, would this kind of sex be enough?

He rinsed off the last of the soap, and shut off the water.

* * *

"But these idiots who think they can cheat the IRS and get away with it," Jensen waved his fork, indignation swirling around him like a hero's cape. "Then they bring this mouse nest of paper to me in a shoebox, in a bag from Joe's Sports, or Elena's Lingerie, and expect me to magically sort it all out for them--and find them a hefty refund, on top of it!"

Jared nodded, stifling the smile that wanted to break out. He hadn't seen Jensen indignant and passionate about his work before. It was kind of adorable, but he was sure Jensen wouldn't appreciate him saying so. And honestly, he told himself, mocking the man's profession was not a nice thing to do.

"You should charge extra," he suggested, between forkfuls of pot roast made to Jensen's mom's recipe. "This is great," he added. "My compliments to your mom on her recipe. And my compliments to her son on his cooking." His voice dropped in tone, and he waggled his eyebrows. "As well as a few other things," he smirked. "Like his kissing. And the amazing shape of his ass in those jeans."

Jensen's fork stopped halfway to his mouth, which was partway open. He dropped his gaze, ate the forkful, swallowed, and said, "Thanks." Then the green eyes flashed again. "And I do charge extra. I even tell them I'm charging them extra. I could probably charge them as much extra as they're expecting in a refund, and they'd still do it."

Jared just smiled and nodded, and ate wine-cooked carrot and potato.

"Children," Jensen snorted.

They finished the meal with Jared still poking gently at Jensen's trials with his clients, and Jensen's sneaking appreciation of the humor in the situation. He was in fine spirits by the time the last bite was swallowed, and Jared helped clear. The round Danish modern table and matching chairs fit perfectly into the corner nearest the kitchen. The rest of the room was furnished with the mid-century modern sofa and chairs, one of them an Eames knock-off, complete with the pedestal ottoman.

"I recognize Beth's touch." Jared slowly walked the length of the room, interested in the framed blueprints, architectural elevations, and drawings hung at varying heights. There was only one wall available, since the windows took up the street-facing wall, and the bookshelves climbed the wall common with the bedroom. A cluster of photographs and carvings hung on the kitchen wall. Each piece was interesting in itself, and somehow it all came together in a whole that felt very much like Jensen himself--different moods, textures, points of view--and still managed to blend into a pleasant living space.

Jensen emerged from the kitchen, two coffee mugs in hand. "Yeah, she really helped me pull it together." He handed off a mug to Jared, and made himself comfortable on the couch. "I had these chairs from my grandparents' house. And I picked up the surfboard coffee table at a thrift shop, years ago. I had a lot of the art in a folder, just because I liked it. Beth found frames for the pieces, and she found the couch, and the dining set. She thought the floors needed rugs." He indicated the heavily textured wool rugs floating on the polished concrete floor. "And she picked out the fabric to recover the couch."

Jared smiled. The fabric was what his mom called a "television print," squiggly square outlines of turquoise and black, overlapping on a grey background. It definitely suited the lines of the couch. Jensen settled comfortably against the slope of the sofa back. "She's pretty amazing at putting things together."

Jared nodded. He felt the same way about his house. Beth had found pieces that seemed to fit, to belong, as if they'd always been there. But she had incorporated Jared's art, and taken his preferences into account. "It feels like home," he said, and Jensen's smile matched his own. Jared was drawn by that smile. He set his mug on the coffee table and joined Jensen on the sofa, setting Jensen's coffee out of harm's way, too.

"Hi," he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Jensen's lips.

Jensen breathed a coffee-flavored, "Hi, back," and then he was kissing Jared enthusiastically. Jared kicked off his shoes, and laid Jensen down, stretching out beside and on top of him. Jensen toed off his own shoes, and his hands pulled insistently at Jared's shirt, trying to loosen it from his belt. Once he had it untucked, his hands were on Jared's skin, skating up and down his back, pulling him in even closer.

Jared bit at Jensen's jawbone, pressed a hot kiss behind his ear, breathing a gusty breath over the spit-wet spot, and feeling Jensen shudder. "This all right?" he murmured, between kisses, and Jensen nodded and suckled an earlobe, his hands sliding under Jared's belt in back, under the waistband of his boxers. Fingers pressed into the meat, where the dimples were on either side of his spine. And he gasped, searching for stolen breath as he ground his hips against Jensen's.

Without warning, Jensen's hands grabbed his shoulders, and he twisted, the sneaky fucker, putting Jared on his back, underneath him on the couch. Hands fumbled at this belt, the catch released and the belt was laid open. "Whatcha doin', Jensen?" he sucked in heat and the delicious scent of Jensen's skin. Jensen lowered his zipper, and his hand rubbed, and then cupped the damp bulk of Jared's cock where it pressed against the cotton.

Jensen stared into his eyes, but then his gaze fell to the opening of Jared's pants. "Let me?"

"God, yes." Jared nearly came, just at the thought, but he took a breath, his hand on Jensen's wrist. "You sure, man? You don't have to..."

Jensen pulled a fold of skin on Jared's neck between his teeth, sucking hard. "Want to," he gasped, and his fingers eased between elastic and skin. It felt like an electric shock, like a current, and Jared was going to spill any second, before Jensen actually got Jared's dick in his hand. But he held on, watching Jensen's face as the man closed his hand around Jared, squeezing lightly.

"This all right?" His eyes sought Jared's, and Jared managed a smile.

"Anything, man. I'm in your hands." Jensen grinned at the pun, and dropped his gaze back to Jared's dick, where the head had started to appear and recede in the circle of Jensen's fingers and thumb. Jared couldn't hold on anymore. His head went back, and he gasped, "Gonna--"

His hips pumped up, and he came, spilling over Jensen's hand, and over his own belly. He lay still for a minute, getting his breath back. When he opened his eyes, Jensen was staring hungrily at his face. "Was--was that all right?"

Jared surged up off his back and took Jensen in his arms, wrapping him tight, until he squeaked before Jared eased off a little.

"That," he kissed Jensen on the nose. "Was perfect." He reached for Jensen's belt, but he shifted, and shook his head a little. He glanced up to meet Jared's eyes, and quickly away again.

"Tonight was about you." His body tensed a little, as if he wanted to draw away.

Jared just held him there in his arms, not too tightly. He could move away if he wanted. "What about me, Jensen?"

"I-- I've never," he hesitated. "I wanted to see. If I could. If it was good--for you." His gaze darted up, to catch Jared's, and held there. "And for me."

Jared didn't tighten his grip. He didn't let go. He asked, quietly. "And what's the verdict?"

Jensen shifted, and Jared waited to see what he would do. Jensen looked up again. "I wanted to, because it was you." He smiled. "I liked it. I liked watching you. I like knowing I can make you come like that, like you aren't thinking about anything else, in that moment. It made me feel good."

Jared smirked into Jensen's hair. "It made me feel pretty damn good, too. Blew my brains out my dick."

Jensen snickered, and then he stirred. "Let me up, Sasquatch."

Jared's arms tightened. "Nuh-uh. You're mine, now."

"I'll be right back, dumbass. Let me up."

So Jared did, and Jensen brought him a warm washcloth and towel from the bathroom, and while Jared was cleaning up, there was the sound of a popping cork from the kitchen. "You bringing us champagne, shorty?"

"Not short, you damn yeti. And it's just a nice, ordinary red wine. Here." He handed off one glass and set the other down and went to dispose of the towels.

They found themselves snuggling while they finished the wine. Jared blinked. Wine was a bad idea, he reminded himself, a little late. He had to drive home.

"Stay," Jensen said, and Jared peered owlishly at him. Had he said that out loud? "It's late, and you don't want to drive this soon after the wine. Stay. The bed's big enough for two--even with your longass arms and legs."

* * *

There was a moment's disorientation the next morning, before Jared realized where he was. Jensen waved a mug of coffee at him and set it on the bedside table.

"Eggs and toast up in a minute," he promised. "You want to shower?"

Jared stifled a yawn and sat up, stretching. "Nah. Listen, don't bother with the eggs. I'm just going to run home and grab a shower and a uniform before I head to work."

He slid to the edge of the bed and reached for his jeans, pulling them on, getting them zipped, buttoned, and belted before finding and pulling on his socks and shoes. Jensen handed him his shirt and jacket, and reached up to kiss him. Jared grinned, wrapped an arm around Jensen and hugged him tight before sipping at his coffee. He handed off the mug, kissed Jensen and headed for the door, pulling on his shirt. "I'll call you," he promised.

* * *

Master Post | Chapter Three | Chapter Five