Diagnosis Murder Ch. 03

Diagnosis Murder 3 Behind the Façade

Pelaam: May 2007.

*

Two men moved as one as they strove to give and receive pleasure. The bigger man was buried deep in the slighter, writhing blond. His thrusts were hard and deep, ensuring his mate's sweet spot was constantly stimulated. He smiled as small hands caressed his face, across his shoulders to his chest where they teased and tweaked gently at his prominent nipples. His smiled widened at the mewl of pleasure as he took his lover's hard damp flesh in a large hand and began to pump, steadily increasing his movements as his thrusting became harder, faster and more erratic. The younger man's head pressed into the pillow as he wailed his mate's name and his climax fountained over the still pumping hand and between their bodies. With a bellow of his own, the older man came hard, pulses of his hot seed filling the slender, clenching channel. As his lover sagged bonelessly into the mattress, the bigger man allowed some of his weight to settle over the lissom form.

"Love you, Steve," the smaller man said as he caressed the ruggedly handsome face above him.

"Love you, too, Jess," Steve smiled as he nuzzled at the younger man before tenderly stroking sweat-damp hair from the angelic visage. He then leant down to capture kiss-swollen lips. As they parted with a sigh, Steve's tongue swept inside the warm, wet cavern beyond to leisurely entwine with Jesse's own slick muscle.

"Everything quiet in work?" Jesse panted as they finally broke apart to breathe.

"All quiet, babe," Steve confirmed then gave a low growl as Jesse squeezed the half hard shaft still inside him with talented muscles.

"I wish you weren't still on lates, this is the first time we've been able to enjoy each other properly. You're usually so tired." Steve began a slow undulation in slick, velvet heat. As it had been the first time in several days they had been able to make love, the bigger man fully intended to enjoy every moment he could. The ebullient young blond he was privileged to call his husband having made time in a hectic schedule to be with him.

"Another couple of days and I'll be all yours...to play with," Jesse added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper and his internal muscles squeezing tightly and rhythmically. He grinned mischievously at Steve's groan.

"Imp," Steve growled with a mock-glare.

"Yeah, but I'm your imp," Jesse replied. "Oh yeah, just there," he panted as Steve once again began to rub erotically over his hidden jewel.

"Love you, Jess, love to make love with you," Steve said. He grinned savagely at the low moan as his fingers tweaked an innocent pink bud and then the moist heat of his mouth soothed the slight hurt. His hand slid between their bodies and encouraged the refilling rod to full hardness. Positioning himself so that Jesse's erection was sandwiched between their undulating bodies, Steve began to piston his hips and drove into his young lover with abandon to a wail of pleasure from the smaller man.

"Oh, yeah, do it, Steve. Make me come, make me yours, come in me."

"Mine, baby," Steve's voice was low, dark and possessive. "Only ever mine."

"Love you, want you, need you," Jesse panted.

"Come for me, baby," Steve encouraged. "Want you to cream when I'm buried inside you. Come, Jesse, come now."

Jesse screamed as he obeyed his dominant mate's command. He thrashed as an intense orgasm crashed through his body.

His body's convulsions, the tight tunnel that clenched brutally around his own need and the sight of Jesse lost in the throes of passion fractured Steve's control. With a flurry of hard and fast thrusts, the bigger man finally froze, buried as deep as he could be and roared his completion. His seed erupted into the still spasming channel. Steve's hips pumped desultorily as the last of his semen emptied into his satiated lover. Rolling them to have the smaller body drape over him, both men gave into post-coital lassitude. Tender kisses became erratic and softer as both men began to drift into sleep.

****

Steve smiled at the photograph on his desk. It showed him, Jesse and his father, Mark Sloan. He stood behind Jesse, bending over out of sight of the camera, to lay his head on Jesse's right shoulder and his hand was on Jesse's left. Behind them Mark stood with one hand covering Steve's and the other on Steve's shoulder. They all wore matching tuxedos and the same joyous smiles. It could have been a picture of any formal occasion the three had attended; however it was in fact the post-ceremony picture of his marriage to Jesse. They had been married for almost eight months and the big detective had never been as happy in his life. His eyes moved at the knock on his door.

"Come in," he called.

One of the female detectives of his team ushered a woman inside.

"This lady asked to see you personally, Lieutenant," she explained. She backed out at Steve's nod. He indicated the seat in front of his desk. The lady in question was tall and broadset. She wore a long black skirt and an old, shapeless brown jumper. Her mousy-brown hair was pulled into a severe bun and her face, which seemed almost carved into an emotionless mask, was devoid of make-up. She gave a nervous smile and Steve knew he recognised her.

"Lieutenant Sloan," she said in a low, even voice. "It's Jenny Walters."

"Jenny," Steve said, the memory of their first meeting replayed in his mind. "Good to see you." He stood and reached over his desk to shake her hand before sitting again. He'd met her about six months earlier. He'd been convinced she was contemplating throwing herself off a bridge onto a road below. He'd chatted to her and listened to a sad tale of domestic abuse. He'd hoped he'd talked her into reconsidering her life. She had hailed from a small town outside of the city and Steve had wondered if she'd taken any of his advice.

"I came to look you up as I don't have a husband any more. He's gone now. I'm free."

"That's good to hear," said Steve encouragingly.

"I just wanted to see you, thank you," Jenny said hesitantly. "I have a couple of rooms here for a while. I wondered if I might cook you dinner or take you out?"

"That's very kind of you," Steve said, "but not necessary. I did my job, that's all." Another knock to his door had Steve striding from his desk to mutter quietly just outside. As such he didn't see Jenny study the photograph he'd looked at minutes before. Nor did he see the deep frown that transformed the placid features, before the mask of neutrality was back in place.

"I'm sorry, Jenny, but something's come up," Steve lied evenly. "If you're free of your old life I'm really pleased for you and I hope things work out for you."

"So do I," Jenny murmured. "Bye, Steve, see you around."

Steve frowned at the farewell and then promptly dismissed Jenny from his mind.

****

Steve was unaware of the car that trailed him to Community General or of the figure that followed him like a silent shadow. He made his way rapidly to his objective, barely noticing anything of his surroundings.

"Hey, big guy," the effervescent blond bounded over to him as Steve gave a wide smile of genuine pleasure. Glancing quickly around, Steve swung Jesse into his embrace, kissing him. Neither man was aware of the hate-filled eyes that watched the tableau.

"C'mon, babe," Steve enthused. "Let's see if dad has time to join us for lunch."

****

Jesse was mentally and physically exhausted as he arrived home. He smiled tiredly at the light still on in the home he shared with his husband. Steve may fall asleep in the big armchair, but he never went to bed until Jesse was back. His shift had overrun due to an emergency, but he hadn't lost a patient so he was tired but happy. Jesse reached to let himself in, ignorant of avid eyes that followed his every move. The watcher waited for several moments. A grunt of anger accompanied the lights in the beach-house switching off and the realisation that the young doctor was clearly staying the night

****

Steve frowned at the paperwork he had to complete. It was one of his least favourite parts of the job but he knew he had to keep it under control or it would overwhelm him. He picked up a sheet of paper dated two days before and his frown deepened as he noticed Jenny Walters standing outside his door. This time her skirt was shorter, showing stocky legs. Her top was low-cut at the front, displaying cleavage Steve would rather had remained covered. She had also applied make-up, but had selected a garish blue that made her eyes appear washed out, her blusher was far too dark and her lipstick a bright scarlet. Steve was surprised his jaw hadn't dropped to the floor.

"Hi, Steve," Jenny said smiling.

Steve groaned inwardly as he noticed the flacks of lipstick adorning the uneven teeth.

"What are you doing back here, Jenny?" he asked, shock temporarily robbing him of his normal tact and diplomacy.

"Yesterday... well about yesterday...." Jenny stuttered. "I don't think I quite explained..."

Steve had a sinking feeling in his gut. He had hoped the woman's feelings of gratitude weren't becoming anything more serious. However, this looked serious...very, very serious and had to be stopped here and now.

"Jenny, please. All I did was my job as any good cop would have done. I would have done it for anyone."

"But, Steve," Jenny stepped closer, beginning to lean over Steve's desk. "We had so much more. We spoke so easily."

The big man surged to his feet and moved swiftly to his door, hand on the handle, ready to pull it open.

"Jenny stop," he said sharply.

"But I love you," she said her eyes wide, unshed tears beginning to pool.

"No you don't," Steve said adamantly. "You feel grateful for my stopping and talking to you and it's a common reaction. We don't know each other and we don't love each other."

"You don't have a wife or girlfriend," Jenny persisted. It was a statement and not a question.

"My private life is just that," Steve said decisively opening the door and standing outside, clearly indicating for the woman to leave. "I'm glad you're free of your husband, Jenny. Have a good life. Goodbye."

Tears sliding down her cheeks, Jenny slowly left. As she vanished from sight, Steve heaved a sigh of relief.

****

A hesitant tap to his door had Mark Sloan looking up as he called for his visitor to enter. He gazed, trying to disguise his surprise at the woman who came in wearing a skirt too short, a top too low and garish make-up. He racked his brain trying to think where he might know her from. He indicated a chair.

"Please sit," he said coming round his desk to sit next to her, hoping to put her more at ease. He could see she had been crying and he still couldn't place her.

"You don't know me, Dr Sloan," she said as if reading his thoughts. "It's your son that I know. My name is Jenny Walters."

"I'm always pleased to meet a friend of Steve's, Miss Walters" Mark said sincerely.

"Mrs," Jenny corrected him automatically. "Except I'm no longer married. Please call me 'Jenny.' I need your help and advice."

"If I can, Jenny," Mark said puzzled.

"Steve saved my life," Jenny said wistfully. "I knew the day I met him we were destined to be together. I just don't know how to make him see it."

Mark controlled his shock with practiced aplomb.

"Is this something you and Steve have already discussed?" he asked carefully wondering if he now knew the reason for the tear-tracks.

"I know he has no wife. I know he's good decent folk like us," Jenny said looking eagerly at Mark. "But he's a city man and I don't have experience with city men. I thought you could help me."

"Jenny," he said gently. "Steve is a grown man and makes his own decisions in life. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do for you."

"I love him," Jenny said, fresh tears beginning to fall. "I want to be his wife."

"Jenny," Mark said putting his arms around the shaking shoulders. "Steve isn't free to marry you."

At the sounds of muted sobbing, Mark realised he would need some tissues. Remembering he didn't have any, he left Jenny to seek some out. On his return to his office, it was empty. He frowned as he instantly knew something was wrong. His photograph was missing. He gasped as he found it smashed on the floor by his chair. It was the same photo as on Steve's desk. He carefully withdrew the actual picture; pleased to see it was undamaged and threw away the broken frame. Sitting back down, his face took on a thoughtful mien.

****

As a celebration of the end of the late shifts his young lover had been on, Steve decided to treat Jesse to a meal in their own restaurant, where they could sit and discreetly touch if they wanted. Steve tucked Jesse into their most secluded booth. Before the ribs, sticky with sauce arrived, Steve and Jesse enjoyed teasing each other with sly strokes and greedy gropes. Once the ribs were finished they each slowly sucked the sauce from the other's fingers. Finally they sat, sipping coffee, the touches tender and slowly adding to the simmering arousal between them. When Steve found himself palming the enticing bulge that tented Jesse's chinos, the older man knew it was time to move. They were halfway to Steve's truck when a call from the restaurant had Steve growling angrily.

"Take the keys, baby," he said. "This call better hadn't be anything to do with needing to go to work. There's only one place I want to be." As he spoke he squeezed the tight, pert buttocks to a squeak from his life-mate. With a feral grin Steve strode rapidly back to the restaurant where he took his call.

"Sloan," he barked into the receiver.

"Steve," came the disembodied voice. "It's Jenny. I thought I saw someone and that it might be my husband. Can you hold while I check my place is secure?"

"Jenny," Steve said gruffly, "if you think you're in danger you should call 911. But yes, I'll hold."

Jesse hummed softly as he went around the truck to get into the passenger seat. He was looking forward to the rest of the night with his big buff cop-husband. As he unlocked the door and began to open it, a heavily booted foot kicked brutally into his knee dropping the slender doctor instantly, lightening bolts of pain lancing through his injured leg. Another kick, this time to his side was followed by another and another. Jesse tried to curl into a ball to protect himself. Glancing upwards he took in the dizzying view of his attacker towering over him. He saw the big boots, heavy denim jeans and plaid shirt. He tried to see further, to his assailant's face, but it was hidden partly by the darkness and partly by a Stetson hat. The figure bent down, grasping roughly at the nape of Jesse's neck and slammed his face into the truck and then into unforgiving tarmac.

"Not so pretty now, boy" a sibilant voice hissed. "Stay away from Steve Sloan. We don't want your type corrupting decent folks."

With a final kick to Jesse's shaking body, the attacker strode away.

"Jenny, is everything ok?" Steve huffed impatiently into the phone."

"All done," Jenny's voice returned. "Thank you, Steve, I knew I could rely on you."

"If you're afraid of him, Jenny, then report him. Do it now."

"Thanks, Steve." The connection cut, Steve shook his head and replaced the receiver. He rushed from the restaurant, eager to be with his lover. An apology on his lips, Steve frowned when he saw the truck's cab was empty. Racing round the vehicle he gave a cry of pain and denial. Jesse lay still, curled into a ball on the ground. Steve pulled out his cellphone calling for an ambulance and back up. As he dropped to his knees he called his father, who was Jesse's personal doctor.

Recognising his husband's gentle touches, Jesse whimpered as he tried to burrow into the safety of warm, strong arms. Tears mixed with blood from his injured face and Steve groaned with grief at the beaten, battered and beloved visage.

"I'm sorry, baby. Sorry I wasn't here to protect you," Steve mourned as Jesse crawled into his lap for comfort.

"Hold me, Steve," Jesse whispered. Steve wrapped his arms around the hurting young man. For long minutes, Steve held Jesse, rocking him gently, trying to give as much comfort as he could.

He only released Jesse at the insistence of the persistent paramedics the older man had barely registered had finally arrived. Steve refused to be parted from his lover, grasping tightly to a slender hand during the ride to Community General. As he barrelled inside, he was finally halted by Mark Sloan who indicated the seating.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll report back as soon as possible," the older man commanded. Visibly deflating, Steve moved to drop numbly into a small plastic chair and to anxiously await his father's diagnosis on Jesse's condition.

****

Mark wasn't gone as long as Steve feared and the more relaxed look on his father's face eased some of the blond's anxieties.

"How is he, dad?" Steve asked without preamble.

"Bruised, but not seriously hurt. He took a couple of nasty kicks to his kidneys so we need to keep an eye on him for that. I'm keeping him in overnight, but expect to be able to discharge him in the morning. He took a bad blow to his knee so he won't be very mobile. Other than that and some spectacular bruises he's ok."

"Was it a mugging, has he said anything?" Steve asked, wondering why his lover had been targeted.

"He's suffering from shock and the effects of painkillers, so he's a little confused. He said something about staying away from you."

"I want to spend the night here," Steve said decisively. "I'm not leaving him."

"I've already warned the staff you'd be staying," Mark smiled.

The two men walked together to Jesse's room. Steve winced at the pale, still body and then at the bruises and scrapes that marred the angelic face.

"Oh, baby," Steve said mournfully.

"He's going to be fine," Mark assured. "It looks worse than it is and Jesse's stronger than many give him credit for."

Nodding absently, Steve settled himself at his mate's side, clasping tightly once again to a small hand.

"Thanks, dad," Steve whispered, his eyes never leaving his lover's face.

"I'll be back early," Mark promised. I know Jesse won't want to stay in here."

****

When Mark next returned, Jesse was already awake and that had Steve looking better than when Mark had last seen him.

"Hey, Jess," Mark smiled as he kissed the young medic's forehead. "You're looking much better."

"'M fine," Jesse replied tiredly.

"Do you remember what happened?" Mark prompted.

"Warned to stay away from Steve," Jesse said his eyes seeking out his mate's for reassurance. Something about keeping away from nice people," Jesse added a small frown creasing his brow as he tried to remember the words his attacker had used and failing.

"What did they look like, Jess?" Steve asked.

"Bigger and broader than me. Wore jeans, plaid shirt and Stetson. Sorry, Steve, you're not going to catch them with a description like that."

"But they specifically named Steve," Marked mused thoughtfully.

"Then they know me," Steve said.

"Yeah, they definitely said 'Steve Sloan'," Jesse affirmed. "They didn't use my name at all."

"Sounds like they know about us," Steve said pensively. I don't broadcast it, but I don't hide it either," he said.

"They want to get Jesse to leave you."

"Makes no sense," Steve growled.

"I don't want you hurt," Jesse said worriedly.

"They didn't go after me, sweetheart," Steve cooed softly. "They went after you. Can I take Jesse home, dad?" Steve asked turning to his father, the big blond needing to reconnect with his lover in a more intimate setting.

"I'll get things sorted," Mark smiled.

Jesse sat in Steve's truck sandwiched between Mark and Steve, sleeping off a cocktail of painkillers and muscle relaxants. His head was on Mark's shoulder and the older man smiled gently at the soft snores.