Killer Thoughts

Chapter Nine

Owen woke to a warm body pressed against his. He shifted and stifled a curse. Damn. His leg hurt. But seeing thick lashes drawn in sleep, feeling the warmth of Ian pressed close to his side, made the pain worth it.

He stared down at the boyishly mischievous face, even in sleep, and smiled. The fear that DeSanta was still somehow with him faded as he studied Ian. From what he knew of his thief’s past—which wasn’t much—Ian Ryder was thirty-one years old. Born a Scorpio, with natural blue eyes and black hair, no discernible birthmarks, scars, or tattoos, and he had no surviving relatives. His mother had passed away a few years after his birth, and he’d never known his father.

The Social Security number he’d fed the government over a decade ago matched a boy of that description, but Owen knew better than to think Ian Ryder was actually Ian Ryder.

His little thief had over a dozen aliases, some he still used. He’d been a huge asset to the PowerUp! team since joining Jack’s group a year ago, but he’d never had his talents manipulated by the PWP. He’d been born with his gifts and had left the program with them intact. His supposed crimes had been manufactured by some unscrupulous people no longer in Washington—or alive—to verify their claims. But if there was one thing Owen knew about Ian, for all his shifty ways, he could be counted on to do the right thing. All those he’d allegedly stolen from had been dark, with pasts more criminal than anything Ian had ever done. Ian had a Robin Hood complex for sure.

Which made it vital that Owen get Ian to see him as more than his rich employer, but as a man, as his lover. A boyfriend, he thought with amusement. Their first month together, truly together, had been spent with Owen enduring Ian’s snipes and challenges, meeting the man each time. Now that their relationship had turned into something more meaningful—and yes, sexual—Owen was determined to make Ian see how wonderful life could be together. And not just as someone to buy him things, but because they complemented one another.

Ian was type A, always busy. Owen could relax. Ian needed attention, Owen had plenty to give. He was a one-man lover, and he liked that Ian was the same. Sure, Ian kept him on his toes. Trying to keep the thief out of trouble would be a full-time job, but Owen wanted it, badly. With Heather under Jack’s protection, Owen knew an emptiness, now that she no longer belonged at his side but by her fiancé’s. But with Ian, he didn’t feel so alone. With Ian he’d found someone he could love, who needed him more than he knew.

Ian blinked up at him on a yawn. Those eyes hazy with sleep brightened considerably when he saw Owen watching him.

“You look better.”

He felt better. Owen smiled. “So, have you been as big a pain as I’ve heard? Do I have to bribe Tim to stay on?”

Ian smirked, and Owen’s heart thumped painfully hard. He loved that look on his lover’s face, that smug innocence that shouldn’t have worked on him but did. Ian was a scammer, but such a handsome one. His bangs fell over one eye, and Owen pushed them back, absorbed with Ian’s silky skin.

“Tim is all mine now. You’ll notice he carried you at my order.”

Owen pretended sadness. “Then I guess I’ll have to let him go. If I can’t trust him, I—” Ian’s alarm nearly made him laugh out loud.

“No, no,” Ian refuted. “I was just kidding. Tim’s yours, seriously. He only does what he thinks is best for you. And since I’m your boyfriend—you know, the one taking care of you—he thought you’d be best with me. Here, resting in bed.”

“Resting, hmm? I don’t feel well rested.” Actually, he had to use the bathroom, but if he got out of bed and crumbled, he’d look less than imposing.

Ian glanced past him to the clock. “It’s nearly midnight. I guess we missed dinner.”

“You hungry?”

“No. You?”

Owen shook his head. Not hungry for food.

Ian decided for him. “You should eat. Come on, I’ll help you.” He leaned closer, then stopped. “First, a shower.”

“I, ah. I can wait.” Owen’s bladder needed to be seen to. Now. “You go on ahead and get us something from the kitchen. I’m sure Bev saved us leftovers. I’ll clean up.”

Ian snorted. “Yeah, right. You probably have to piss, and you look as weak as a baby. Come on, studly.”

Owen frowned. “What did I tell you about who’s in charge in bed?”

“I forget, lover.” Ian rolled out of bed and stood with his arms akimbo, smirking at him. “Why don’t you come remind me?”

When Owen just glared at him, unmoving, Ian shook his head. “See?” He crossed to help Owen up, and Owen swore because he needed Ian’s help.

“Just get me to the bathroom.”

Ian helped him into the bathroom and left him by the toilet.

“Get out.” Embarrassing.

“Oh fine. Don’t throw a hissy.” Ian held up his hands. “I’ll be out here. Yell when you’re done, or I’ll get Tim to help.” His eyes narrowed. “I mean it.”

Owen muttered under his breath about bossy subordinates, but inside he was ecstatic to know Ian wanted to help him. He might bluster and play about being in charge, but the concern in his gaze had been impossible to miss. After taking care of his most pressing need, Owen limped to the shower and turned it on. He’d grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste when Ian barged in once more.

“Didn’t I tell you to call me?” Ian huffed. He took off his clothes in a rush and stunned Owen into staring. “What?”

“Nothing.” Owen couldn’t look away. “I love the way you look. Especially your mouth.” He too easily envisioned it wrapped around his cock.

“Back at ya.” Ian leered. “Now finish brushing your teeth so I can clean you up.”

Owen turned to the sink and scrubbed, wanting all of him clean of DeSanta before he loved Ian again. Once finished, he turned and stood dumbly while Ian fussed over him. With deliberate slowness, Ian eased Owen’s clothing off, working around the bandage on his leg. Caleb had cut the material away so that half of his trouser leg hung by threads, while the upper portion of his pants had to be lowered carefully so as not to pull.

Just getting his pants off took energy, and Owen was sweating before they’d divested him of all his clothing. Tapping DeSanta had drained him much more than he’d expected.

“Into the shower and sit.”

Ian helped him into the stall and sat him on the cold stone bench. Then he turned the nozzle away from Owen and adjusted the water temperature.

“We shouldn’t get it wet, but screw it. I want to see it, and we’ll put a new one on after.” He carefully unwrapped Owen’s bandages, then turned the nozzle back, allowing the water to wash over him while the spray avoided direct contact with his injury.

“Ugly, but you’re healing already.”

“I’ve always been a fast healer. Heather could mend it in seconds, but I don’t want to call her here unless it’s an emergency.”

“Right.”

They just watched each other, and Owen wanted to think Ian’s caution stemmed from new loving affection he didn’t know how to handle. Because sure as shit, that’s how he felt about Ian.

He leaned his head back but kept an eye on Ian’s perfect form. Such a tight ass, long legs, and that swinging cock that got thicker as he stared. “You’re a beautiful man, you know that?”

“Of course.”

The offhand acceptance made Owen laugh. “Do you look like your parents?”

Ian blinked. “Um, my mom’s eyes, my dad for the rest of me. Why?”

“Just curious. I’m told I take after my grandfather, the spitting image. I’m like my dad in temperament, though. Heather’s like Mom. They died a long time ago, but I still miss them.”

Ian just stared, and Owen thought maybe he’d shared too much. But then Ian said, “I don’t remember my mom at all. But my dad was a prankster. He worked way too hard in life, but he had a great sense of humor about it all.”

“Must be where you get it,” Owen said quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Ian paused a moment, then smiled, and his grin was so sweet and innocent it speared Owen through the heart.

Fuck. I’m a goner. And if he finds out, I’m really gone. This is not a man to let get the advantage. Ever.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, do you think you could use that humor and help your poor, wounded boyfriend?”

“What’s wrong?”

“This.” Owen pointed to his dick, which, like always, had grown hard around Ian.

Ian bit his lip as if thinking about it. “I would, but you’re not clean.”

“So clean me.” With your mouth and tongue.

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Owen leered.

“Pathetic.” Ian brought the soap and a washcloth closer. “Oh hell. Just sit there while I do all the work.”

“That’s what I normally do.” Owen wiggled his brows.

Ian snorted and took the showerhead from the wall to spray over him. He was careful to skirt Owen’s leg, getting it wet around the wound, not right over it, which should have kept his pain minimal.

Or so he’d thought until the water trickled down his leg past the bullet’s entry. “Fuck.”

“Don’t be such a baby.”

Ian was more careful to keep the spray away after that, though. He wet Owen thoroughly, then soaped him all over. After rinsing him off, he grabbed the shampoo and massaged it into Owen’s hair.

The process was nearly orgasmic. Hard yet at the same time so relaxed he wanted to melt, Owen sat under Ian’s ministrations, moaning his content.

“You know, you have the sexiest moan. And you’re fucking hot when wet.” Ian grinned at him.

He rinsed Owen’s hair with the spray, then set it back against the holder on the wall. When he dropped to his knees between Owen’s legs, Owen wanted to weep with gratitude.

“I had a much different reception planned,” Ian admitted as he stroked Owen’s cock.

“Fuck. Yeah, me too.”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve, but right now they’d probably hurt your leg. I figure you can tell me what happened after.”

“Yeah, little thief. After. Whatever you want. Please, baby. Kiss me.” But before Ian could drop his lips to Owen’s cock, Owen pulled him closer, angling his lover’s face up to meet his kiss, mouth-to-mouth. “I was thinking about you. I missed you, Ian.”

Ian stared into his eyes before closing his own. “You’re too bossy.”

He kissed Owen, a whisper of contact.

“Too rich.”

Another kiss, this one a promise of pleasure to come.

“Too handsome.”

Ian kissed him with a firm touch and slid his tongue inside, stroking and licking until Owen feared he’d come from the kiss alone.

“And for the life of me, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Owen groaned. “Come closer. Wait, stand on the bench with me and straddle my face.”

Ian’s breath came faster, and he did as Owen bade without speaking. The taste of Ian was amazing, just what Owen needed to feel complete. He sucked and licked, needing to taste his lover’s essence, to take Ian into his body and never let go.

“Fuck. Owen, yes. Oh yeah, baby. That’s so good.”

Ian palmed his hair, the water running all around them. Heat and scent mixed until Owen knew nothing outside of Ian’s body.

He sucked harder and fondled Ian’s balls. And then he pushed for more, running his hands around Ian’s ass to part his cheeks. “Turn around.”

Ian moaned but moved when Owen pushed him, his ass positioned by Owen’s mouth. Owen licked him, amused at the thought of Ian bragging about him kissing his ass at some point in their future. Then he pried Ian’s cheeks apart and rimmed him.

“Fuck. Owen, oh yeah. I’m so close to coming.” Ian hitched a breath.

Owen shoved his tongue deeper, wishing his wound wasn’t so high up his leg that fucking Ian wouldn’t be a problem. Instead he continued to kiss and caress.

Ian yanked himself away and turned back around, holding his dick like an offering as he crouched over Owen. “Swallow me, Owen. Please.”

Seeing his lover on the brink and delighted to have brought him there, Owen took Ian to the back of his throat and accepted his due when his lover shouted and came, shaking hard.

He swallowed every drop and looked up, watching the water sluice down Ian’s amazing body. So lean and taut, showcasing the whipcord strength of a man not to be underestimated.

“Now it’s your turn,” Ian panted. “Damn, Owen. You destroyed me.”

And you, me. Owen let Ian push him back. He went easily, his back against the stone tile, his legs spread wide.

“You’re so big, baby.”

When Ian turned those bright blue eyes on him, looking coyly through his lashes as he sat on his knees, Owen could do nothing but moan his name.

“That’s right, Master. Your boy is going to suck that big cock until it explodes. Do you want me to? Want to feel something full inside you while I lick you to heaven?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Owen ignored the throbbing in his thigh and let Ian spread his legs a bit wider. “Give it to me, little thief. I’ve been wanting you for days.”

“Just me?” Ian asked in a whisper as he nibbled his way up Owen’s uninjured inner thigh.

“Oh shit.” If it were possible, he grew harder. His dick was like a lance as it bobbed near Ian’s cheek. “Come on, boy. Take me between your lips. Yeah.” He moaned when Ian did just that. Except his thief continued to steal his breath. Ian inched his hands up his thighs to cup his balls. He rolled them with exquisite firmness while he sucked Owen’s cock. And damn if he didn’t keep watching Owen watching him.

He hollowed his cheeks and slid his hands under Owen to his asshole. There, he pushed a finger inside, breaching that tight, hot space that hadn’t seen action in years.

The naughty pleasure stole Owen’s breath, and he fought not to come. Just looking at Ian set him off, but feeling that penetration had him thrusting into Ian’s mouth. Ian pushed more of his finger inside, and the pain contrasted sharply with the pleasure, enhancing everything.

Ian thrust his finger in and out in short jabs while increasing the suction on Owen’s cock. The building ecstasy became too strong to hold back, and Owen pumped harder and deeper between Ian’s lips despite the straining burn in his thigh.

“Fuck. Yes, yes, baby, I’m coming. Christ. So hard. So fucking hard,” he rasped as the pleasure obliterated him. He cried out as he came, the thief massaging his pleasure spot until Owen felt broken, sated, and amazingly at peace.

Ian withdrew his finger and gently helped Owen relax on the bench. “Easy,” Ian murmured. Once again he took the soapy cloth and rubbed it over Owen’s body. Owen shivered when Ian wrapped it around his cock, still sensitive and semihard, not sure he could fuck again, though his body seemed to think he could.

“Good, huh?” Ian asked with cheeky humor.

“Shut up. I can’t move.” Owen groaned.

Ian laughed and knelt by him once more. “You’re still hard, studly.”

“I know. I’m not sure how. You sucked the cum from my body like a vacuum. Shit, Ian. That mouth. You’re amazing.”

Ian preened, and the dancing laughter in his gaze grabbed Owen and didn’t let go. Uncaring about his leg, about pain or anything else determined to keep them apart, he lifted the man and settled him over his good leg.

“Owen!”

“You’re mine, little thief. All mine, only mine.” He nuzzled Ian’s cheek. “Move in with me.” Okay, so he hadn’t meant to let that slip just yet, but he needed an affirmation that Ian wouldn’t leave.

“Wh-what?”

“For now. Just until Kerr is dealt with.” Almost screwed up, badly. Idiot. Don’t scare him away. Seduce him into staying.

Ian frowned. “Oh, well, I am moved in. I mean, before you left, remember? Keegan brought my things.”

“About that.” Owen paused, cursing himself for moving too fast. “What exactly is in that little black bag on the nightstand?”

“My special toys.”

“Hell. Now I have to know what’s in there.”

“Hmm. Tell you what. I’ll show you what’s in the bag…after you tell me what really happened ‘outside CONUS,’” he ended mimicking Caleb’s deep voice.

Owen paused. “That’s classified.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s a lot of trust, Ian. You expect me to trust a thief out to rob me blind?”

“Hey, I might want to steal your stuff, but I wouldn’t share secrets. I have some standards. Well? Gonna tell me, boyfriend?” A dare.

“I might just do that. But not until I know your real name.”

Ian opened his mouth, no doubt to deny he hadn’t already been honest about his name, when something miraculous happened. “It’s Ian.” He swallowed hard, giving Owen an odd look. “Ian Burke.”

Owen didn’t need to ask to know Ian told the truth. The smaller man looked panicked. “Does anyone else know that?”

“Just you.” He sounded angry about the fact. “Happy now?”

“Yes.” A simple answer, and one that took the wind from Ian’s sails. “You can trust me, Ian. I won’t break a confidence. And I’m here for you.”

Ian swallowed. “Until this thing with Kerr is over, right?”

“Sure, baby.”

Ian huffed. “Not baby.”

“My little thief.” Owen hugged him closer and nuzzled his neck. “God, you smell good.”

“It’s the soap,” Ian croaked, no doubt aware of Owen’s cock sitting thick in his crack. “I smell like you, actually.”

“Even better,” Owen murmured. “Now how about we take this to bed, so you can show me that black bag. After I tell you about my trip, right?”

Ian blew out a breath. “Right.” Then they kissed again, and Owen knew nothing but that he’d come home.

Ian lay on his side, propped on his elbow, and stared at Owen, who lay the same way, watching him. Ian had refused to let Owen do much of anything until he’d rebandaged his wound with some supplies he grabbed from under the sink. Now he found it difficult to do more than gaze at the handsome man who had yet to blink. Imagine Owen Stallbridge being as captivated with Ian as Ian was with him.

God, I told him my name. He still couldn’t believe he’d done that. He’d never told anyone the truth about who he really was. A last-ditch effort at keeping some part of himself safe, so that no one could touch that young, innocent boy and taint him with the lies and greed Ian too often found himself rolling in.

Owen leaned close and kissed him, a soft caress that brought those butterflies in Ian’s stomach back to life.

“I have to trust you with this.”

Ian nodded, solemn. He had a feeling Owen meant to share something not many knew. It scared him to think Owen might believe in him that much. And it humbled him, because for once, a man he actually respected was taking him seriously. It had been so long since he’d had that kind of trust and respect. Years ago, back before he’d learned what his government was really like, before his ideals had been stripped away, he’d had that same force of conviction.

“I…” Owen stared into his eyes. “Why did you tell me your name?”

Ian fidgeted but couldn’t break that stare. “Does it matter?”

“To me, yes.”

Ian felt the intensity of that answer like a punch to the stomach. He saw Owen, truly observed what he’d been hemming and hawing around. The patterns fit, the growing affection, the care, the teasing. That look… Holy shit. It was love. But Owen’s or Ian’s, Ian couldn’t yet say.

He swallowed hard. “I—you—it mattered. And I wanted you to know.”

“Thank you.” Owen grazed Ian’s lip with his finger.

Ian continued, needing to get the words out before he lost his nerve. “You don’t look at me like the others do. I’m not a fuck toy to you. And I’m not a joke.”

Owen frowned. “Who looks at you that way?”

“Please. I’m pretty. Everyone sees me as a fuck toy at some point,” Ian tried to tease, but Owen didn’t smile. “Well, I am pretty.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Said with conviction, the words meant more uttered by Owen than they’d ever meant by anyone else.

Ian blushed. “I am, but I’m a troublemaker, according to the guys at the gym. I like to have fun. Life is boring without a little risk. But they see me as a screwup. A joke they have to babysit.” And it had annoyed him after a while. At first, he’d liked being the one who kept the team on their toes. But they refused to see beyond the mask he wore. Owen didn’t. “You treat me like an equal.” Which still surprised him.

“You are. We’re the same in so many ways.” Owen stroked his cheek, his eyes soft.

Ian’s eyes burned, shocking him with the fierceness of his reaction. He blinked rapidly and coughed to cover his emotion, but he didn’t think he’d been successful, because Owen’s smile looked way too tender for comfort. Ian cleared his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s hard for me to see a rich guy who can have anyone he wants being my twin.”

Owen snorted. “Ian, let me ask you something. You stayed away from the government for years on end. If you wanted to vanish tomorrow, could you?”

“Yes.” Finally. Someone realized his potential.

“Another thing. If you wanted to sink me financially, you could throw some serious wrenches in my system. Moving money around, breaking into banks. Hacking DoD?”

With a modest huff, he nodded. Man, having Owen know what he was capable of was such a turn-on.

“Right. Like I thought.”

Now Owen looked smug. His light-colored hair swept over his forehead, masking those brilliant green eyes. Ian couldn’t look at a blade of grass without thinking about his lover.

Owen continued. “You’re smart. You make me laugh. And you could be as rich as you wanted if you worked hard for it. Illegally or legally, I’m saying.” Owen grinned. “But little thief, you’re here now, with me. And I hope you know I’ll never take you for granted.”

Not a declaration of love, but God, Ian’s throat was balled up with emotion. He nodded.

Owen blew out a breath. “I don’t want you to see me differently if you know… Only Heather and a few people, less than I can count on one hand, know what I really am.”

“Not Jack?”

“Not even Jack,” Owen said quietly.

“Owen, you can tell me. I kind of already know, actually.”

Owen frowned. “You do?”

“When Linda bought it, that heart attack out of nowhere, yeah, I put it together. Along with the other odd deaths loosely tied to your family, I think I know your superpower.”

Owen remained silent, his gaze watchful.

“You’re a psychic assassin, am I right?” Ian knew a moment’s fear at saying the words aloud, because holy crap, that was some scary shit. But when Owen remained mute, cautious, he saw his lover’s real worry. Not that Ian would tell anyone, but that Ian might reject that part of him integral to Owen’s being. Ian smiled. “I knew you were in on Linda’s death. Chloe owes me money.”

“You bet on that?” Owen blinked in astonishment.

“Honey, I bet on everything. Besides, it’s those ‘I told you so’ moments that make life worth living.”