Up From the Morgue

One

He was in pain. I could see it very clearly. In his eyes and his breathing and the way his body shook while the muscles and tendons all stretched almost to their breaking point. The sweat beading on his forehead and the way his teeth were bared as he struggled with all of his might against the pain wracking his body.

The big man was no stranger to pain. A close inspection of his body would show many many scars from trauma he had suffered in his life. The scars which didn't show ran even deeper. Things he had done and seen and experienced in the past left their indelible mark on his mind and his heart and even his soul.

He was in pain. I could see it very clearly.

I hated it.

I wanted nothing more than to ease him and make him feel better. If it were in my power I would take him miles and miles and miles away from the pain and the heartbreak and the sadness and never let them touch him ever again.

That was my job, after all. To take away the pain. I'd spend many long sleepless nights for years studying hard so I could learn to ease the pain from others. Becoming the best at my chosen profession.

Then there was him.

I spent so much of my time trying to ease his pain. In any way I could. It was a long slow process, tiptoeing my way inside his defenses. Learning where he hurt and touching each place. Cushioning and comforting. Laving each injury with a soothing balm then moving on. Making him happy at piece at a time.

I did my best.

He was in pain. I could see it very clearly.

There was nothing I could do about it.

Not until he was done.

"Push, Alex. One more. Push." An inarticulate growl leaked from between his clenched teeth. I could hear his joints creaking under the strain. My hands went further down beneath the load he struggled against, steadying but not lifting.

I couldn't help him. His mind and his pride wouldn't allow it, no matter how much it hurt him.

His torso was tight. Solid as a rock under the strain. I could see every single muscle between his waist and his head as they stood out in stark relief. The cords under the skin of his chest flexed once more as he let out a guttural growl and pressed further.

With a metallic clank, the bar set down in the metal rack of the weight bench and Alex relaxed, his arms falling limply to his sides as he panted in relief.

"Jesus, Andrew...." He gasped. "I think you are really trying to kill me." Stepping back around the bench where he lay inclined under the bar, I straddled his wide hips and settled down in his lap. My palms soothed his sweaty chest as I shook my head.

"Far from it, lover." I chuckled. "I am wanting to keep you alive forever. Alive and healthy and in my life and my arms and my bed." He shook his head in mock disbelief and closed his eyes.

Good god, the man was beautiful.

I know everybody didn't see Alex Cable the way I did. Sure, he was a decade older than I was. In my eyes it just made him more beautiful. Alex had lived and learned and seen so many things in his life. The difference in our ages just made him seem wise to me. Experienced.

I'd always dreamed of a wiser older man who would love me. Teach me. Learn from me in turn and lead me into the rest of my life. Someone strong to protect me when I needed it and soft enough to lay my head against in comfort.

Alex was all of those things to me.

One fingertip traced an old scar across his ribs. That one he had gotten while still on foot patrol with the City police force. Thirty five stitches after a scuffle with a junkie holding a knife. I knew it well. Along with the bullet in his shoulder and the wounds in his back and hip and knees.

By god the man had steel in him. And not just the surgically implanted kind, either.

My palm could feel his heart hammering around inside his ribs, slowing gradually as he relaxed from our workout. That big warm heart of his was one of my greatest treasures.

Well, his heart and the other thing I happened to be sitting on at the moment.

Under other circumstances I wouldn't just be sitting still. If nothing else I would be shivering in delight. I looked down at his face, remembering the first time I managed to get him in my... our bed. We ended up in a position much like this with me sitting astride those wide hips of his, that big beautiful prick making me very happy.

Even though I had needed to stretch wide to have him in that position... in several different ways, believe me... I enjoyed the ache which came along with it. Alex was bigger than I am in almost all ways. Taller. Broader. Stouter.

Ahem...

Longer and thicker, too.

I don't begrudge him a single inch of any of it anywhere.

We were both keenly aware of how people looked at us when together out in public. Aside from just the looks afforded a gay couple, that is. Even the other gays look at us funny.

Many people assume Alex is either my father (which he really hates) or else he is having a mid-life crisis with an obviously much younger boyfriend. What they can't or choose not to see is how deeply and completely in love with each other we are.

I know what I look like. I can't help it. I'm a pretty boy. Always have been. I was rewarded by the genetic roulette wheel with a slim muscular body, a pretty face, really good teeth and... if I must say myself... seriously awesome hair. I work out regularly and eat right and take care of myself.

I'm also pretty good at playing dumb when I need to.

But don't judge me by my sexual orientation or my public persona or my looks.

I also have dual Master's degrees in Physical Therapy and Sports Medicine. Along with a Private Detective's License, a concealed carry permit and a locksmiths license from the state board.

Just don't call me "Doctor Jones" all right? Alex is the one who wears the fedora in this relationship.

I patted his chest fondly. My big bear of a lover was coming back around again. Ducking his head to get out from under the bar, he sat up and wrapped me in those brawny arms. Mine went around his neck and I kissed him, promising him anything he wanted with my lips. He'd just finished a pretty grueling workout and deserved a suitable reward.

It wasn't always easy. Just getting him back to a place where he was able to exercise again was a long difficult process. In the hospital after his accident where we had first met, the doctors weren't all that sure he was ever going to walk again, let alone anything more strenuous. There had been multiple surgeries and a long recovery period.

Recovery. That's where I came in.

Andrew Jones, Physical Therapist.

I will admit openly I was smitten by this big wounded bear of a man on sight. Even before I knew anything about his... orientation. He fit my fantasies so well I almost wondered if I was really asleep and having one of those dreams.

Add to the fact he was injured and needed my help and was a challenge. The way he growled and snarled intimidated most people and he had managed to scare away most of the other therapists on staff.

I stepped up to the plate, took him head on and succeeded. Alex managed to walk out of the hospital on his own two legs without much help at all, except for his cane.

Yes, I had ulterior motives. I wanted him back in shape for my own selfish reasons as well as for his own good.

I'd fallen in love with Alex Cable and wanted him in my life and in my bed for the rest of my life, if he would have me.

But listen to me ramble. My big teddy bear studmuffin detective needed a shower and dinner and the reward he had worked so hard for.

He also needed a new case.

Two

If Alex had been telling this tale he would have started out with something like "It was raining in the City, but I didn't mind. The rain and the darkness were my element. The rain and the darkness were when the evil in the City crept from the overflowing gutters and wormed their wicked way into the warmth and comfort of the helpless and innocent. This was my job."

The way he spoke always made it sound like he was Batman, crouching on the rooftops. Or Sam Spade sitting in a sleazy dive waiting to catch a clue or a break.

I loved it.

Alex was my private superhero.

Even though it wasn't raining, I watched the water crawl it's way down his skin. The water in the shower was extra hot to help relieve his sore muscles and help loosen him up after our workout. In the steamy confines of the glassed in shower I took charge as if he were still my patient instead of my partner and lover and friend. Armed with a washcloth and a bottle of liquid soap, I proceeded to scrub every inch of that beautiful body, surreptitiously adding in some stretching and a rub down, touching on the places where I knew he hurt. We took little breaks in between for long kisses under the spray.

I saved my favorite part for last, of course. And I was rewarded for all my hard work with feeling and watching his long thick cock grow hard in my hands as I soaped him up and got him clean. I just absolutely loved getting Alex hard, no matter how it happened. His body's ultimate salute to my skills. My fingers played up and down his tool, reveling in the feel of him, tracing the prominent veins and feeling his pulse in my palm.

It was my reward.

Now it was time for his.

After making sure I had rinsed off every last bit of soap, I put a palm against his chest and pushed him gently back against the wall under the shower head. With the water cascading down my back and my eyes gazing up into his I slowly went to my knees, never once losing my grip on his member.

It always gave me a little thrill inside when my fingers could not reach all the way around that big pretty cock. My grip pulled back the foreskin, exposing the purple head and I placed a kiss right on the tip. One large gentle hand laid on my shoulder and the other went to the back of my head as he sighed happily.

"Mmmm....." He rumbled deep in his chest. "Love you, Andrew Jones."

When I spoke my lips were brushing against the skin of his prick, holding him like a microphone.

"Love you, Alex Cable. Forever and always." With that I turned my head sideways and proceeded to kiss and lick my way up and down his shaft, covering every inch of that prick with my lips and tongue. There was a noise, just below the sound of the water splashing down on my back. I could feel the vibration of it through my lips. More than one noise. Alex was sighing and humming quietly at the feel of my tongue lashing up and down his shaft. There were also little growls and yips of pleasure coming from my own lips.

There was very little in this world I cared about more than making my favorite superhero happy.

With one last warm kiss on the tip I parted my lips and took the head of his prick into my mouth, tongue swirling around the glossy head. One hand slowly jacked up and down his shaft while the other softly held his balls and caressed them, just the way he liked. Alex groaned and his fingers wrapped in my hair. Not guiding or controlling, just letting me know he was there, as if I didn't know.

I'd been to bed with a few men in my life before I met him. Not as many as you might think, though. I was always rather picky about my partners. None of them... hands down none of them ever made me feel as warm or as loved or as appreciated as Alex did without even trying. His every sound and movement told me multiple times a day how much he adored me. I always tried my best to let him know the feeling was mutual.

None of them had ever been as big as he was, either. The first time I ever took him on my mouth I worried I might not be able to breathe and my jaws always ached a little with the effort not to scratch him with my teeth. Hell, Alex and his hefty prick made me ache in many ways no matter if it was in my hand or in my mouth and especially in my ass. It was a joyful pain I would always always always happily endure.

For him.

"Mmmm... god... Andy that feels so good..." His thick fingers caressed my shoulder, tips digging into the muscles there, massaging me idly. "Aaaahhh...." Amazingly enough, I was able to smile around that mouthful of meat. It was a smile of pride I was able to make my lover so happy so easily.

A little bit faster.

My grip a little bit harder.

Cheeks hollowed out a little bit more with suction.

Over the noise of the water was another sound, getting louder. The almost liquid slurping, swallowing, moaning noise which would let anyone close enough to hear it know a blowjob was in progress. To me it sounded like a symphony.

His fingers trembled and I could feel Alex fighting with himself not to grip me too hard and only partially succeeding. His hips were on the move, thrusting back and forth with my bobbing on his pole and I knew he was getting close.

Another happy smile went unnoticed by anyone but myself.

I didn't mind.

"Mmmm.... Andy... I.... Aaaahhh.... Mmmph... God..... Andy..." It pleased me no end I could reduce a man so fluent with his words to the point of incoherence. I gripped and stroked and sucked his cock harder and faster until with a shout of joy my lover began shooting his hot sticky come into my mouth over and over again. I had to swallow quickly to keep up with the flow but savored each and every drop as it passed over my tongue. Each time I swallowed around my mouth stuffed full of his prick Alex shivered and shook and spurted anew.

Sneaky bastard that I was, I always tried to sneak in one last bit of cardio there at the end of our workout. It always made him want to come back for more.

Three

I was in the office alone when she came in.

Alex was off seeing a client on another case we had pretty much wrapped up and hopefully picking up another check. It's not like we really needed the money. Our very first case netted us quite a sum and a certain young millionaire has paid us handsomely for finding his sister not long after that. But it made my partner secretly proud when he deposited another earned fee into our business account.

I was born into money so it never really became something I needed to justify myself. To me, money was a tool to get what I wanted. Something to be used, not something to live for.

Me, I'd already found the thing I wanted to live for.

That big wonderful thing just happened to be out of the office at the moment.

There was a noise as the outer office door opened and closed. A short hesitation then a knock on the frosted glass of the inner door.

"Yes? Come in!"

And she did.

Alex really should have been here for this one. The woman definitely belonged on his side of the office, not mine. My side of the office fit my world. White tile and formica and my array of computers and scientific equipment. I could do multiple searches on multiple sites and had access to almost any law enforcement data base you could think of.

My partners side of the office was all dark oak and brass and antiques. I'd done my research and designed it from descriptions of detective's offices from all the classic novels. Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe would have been right at home behind his desk. Even down to the bottle of scotch in the bottom drawer.

Most people stepping into our office for the first time tended to get a little disoriented, as if they had stepped halfway into a time machine and wondering where they were going to land.

She didn't even blink, and that lack of reaction threw me just a little bit.

The woman was just on the short side of tall and quite well built. Interesting curves in all the right places. Starting at the bottom: Black medium heel pumps with a little bow on the side. Slim legs encased in nylons. Snug little skirt just above her knees accented her thighs and derriere, closed at the waist with a wide black patent leather belt. And equally snug blue sweater encased the rest of her body. It dipped down fairly deep in the front, making sure your eyes saw her cleavage. A "C" cup at least, pushed up high with lots of definition. Cute soft looking lips in red lipstick which matched her fingernail polish. Smoky bluish-gray eyes with long lashes and dark well tended eyebrows. Shoulder length honey blond hair with big waves fell to her shoulders. A little blue hat which matched her sweater was pinned to the top of her head. It had a fringe of black lace around it which I never understood.

The girl looked like she would have been right at home in Sam Spade's office. Or kissing a sailor in Times Square on V-J Day.

If you knew me at all, you knew I wasn't into girls. They just weren't my flavor of choice.

That didn't mean I didn't appreciate them, though. This one looked good. If I weren't happily and contentedly who I am I might entertain a short fantasy or two.

I'm sure if my partner was here he would have drooled, even if just slightly.

One hand waved to the clients chair closest to my desk.

"I'm Andrew Jones, miss. And you are??"

"Vicky Summers."

She gave me a smile as she sat, her eyes also giving me the once-over appreciatively. When her bottom contacted the seat she arched her back just slightly, pulling her shoulders back and thrusting her.... impressive... breasts subtly in my direction.

Inwardly, I chuckled. "Nice try, sweetheart. But it isn't going to work on me."

"I need your help finding something. Something which was stolen. The police have been no help whatsoever."

"Well we are certainly willing to help in any way we can, of course. What is it we are looking for?" Laying her little purse in her lap, she held her hands about a foot apart.

"A statue of a bird. Painted black. About this tall."

My mouth came open and I blinked several times in rapid succession.

Seriously?

"Seriously?" She nodded, those delightful eyes never leaving mine once.

This has got to be a joke. Either that or the strangest coincidence ever. The blond continued as if she didn't notice my consternation.

"It's a lead cast of the original bird. Not the one with the bent feather, but the other one. Made in the 60's. We also had one of Chandler's notebooks, two signed first editions and a leather briefcase he carried in the 40's. They were in a locked cabinet in my husband's restaurant, behind the bar. The showcase piece and his pride and joy. Two days ago the place was broken into and those items stolen. Nothing else. Just those five things. They knew exactly what they were looking for."

I'll admit I was still a little stunned by the whole thing. Her smoky eyes widened and she reached out a hand towards me.

"Please Mister Jones. My husband is devastated. We will pay... almost anything to get them back." As she spoke she gave an almost imperceptible little wiggle and pulled her shoulders back even more, letting me know exactly how much she was willing to pay to make her husband happy again.

I didn't want to disappoint her. I actually preferred to work for money.

Didn't mean I was at least viscerally tempted, though.

"I will see what we can do, miss." I handed her a clipboard for her information and gave her one of our cards.

Twenty minutes later when my partner walked through the door he did a double take at my expression.

"Alex, you aren't going to believe this..."

Four

At least check, there were almost a hundred licensed private detective agencies listed in the City. With all of that competition agencies tended to either be diverse, handling anything which came their way or specialize, trying to be the best at what they do in their field. After a bit of discussion and practice, my partner and I decided to specialize. We didn't really want to touch domestic or divorce cases as they tended to be messy and a bit depressing.

Peeping in windows wasn't really our thing, anyway.

Quite a bit of our choice stemmed from our location in the City. Situated as we were on Bookseller's Row on the lower older end of Hawthorne Street near 3rd it made a ready source of information right at our fingertips for both high end books and antiques. There were always folks seeking to own or sell certain items of antiquity and they tended to change hands more often than you would think.