by Marilyn (Ranger Hunters) and Kevan
uploaded by Alfonsinsa.d
Note ... it's been a long couple of weeks ... hoping all are still well. This is almost to a close of what was originally written as a lark and collaboration between two of my favorite people ... there will be at least two outtakes ... possibly more ... all my best, Alf for Kevan
Usual disclaimers apply ... and we haven't broken a MM yet.
2nd Encounter (Lester)Morelli unlocked the handcuffs from my wrists and tossed them across the room, not bothering to watch where they fell.
"You know one of the things I enjoy most about sex with you is that I don't have to hold back. Don't have to hear some woman whining about romance or me being too rough or wanting me to give a shit about how her day went or pay attention and make sure she gets off first."
I had to laugh. "Having had sex with a fair number of women and men over the years, I tend to agree with you. In general, women and men want different things from sex; they have different expectations. That's not to say that women don't appreciate wild, no-holds-barred sex. They do. Just a lot less often and usually not to the same extreme. And there are men who are romance-sluts, who want the whole flowers and candlelight thing. I avoid them. Which, in my position, is not hard to do."
"I can't picture you taking a woman on a date," Morelli said.
"Why not? You know I like sex with women too."
"Sure, but a date? In a restaurant, in public?"
"I'll have you know that I can clean up pretty damn good when I want to. I even use the silverware when I eat. I know a salad fork from a desert fork, and what to do with a napkin, and how to properly eat soup. I've stocked ski chalets buried in snow and over-water bungalows in the South Pacific with champagne, chocolate, and roses for long weekends. And I've been known to appreciate a good bottle of wine as well as the chance to lick chocolate syrup off a woman's ass in front of a romantic fire."
It was Morelli's turn to laugh. "That I'd like to see."
"Me cleaned up, using the correct fork, or licking a woman's ass?" I teased.
"Any of them. All."
"Huh. Well, not likely to happen. I'm in a 'male only' phase right now. I haven't had any interest in a woman in a while. Happens every so often. I lose interest, then it comes back."
Morelli finished his beer. "Ever lose interest in men for a while?"
"Nope. Not once since I discovered I liked having sex with them." I sat up and turned to face him. "Speaking of sex with other men, me and someone I hook up with have a place out at the beach this weekend. If you're not working or on call, I think you'd enjoy it."
I could see him turning it over in his mind. Sex with two guys. It was the natural next step, but it was a big one. Some people never took it. I hoped he would because I really did think he would enjoy it and Mal was the perfect choice for a first-time ménage à trois participant like Morelli. Like myself, Mal was dominant enough to take control at times but laid-back enough to enjoy letting someone else take control too. When we were together, it was a pretty even division between us. We would have to tone down some of our more extreme play, at least for now, but I was betting Mal would find the chance to have sex with Morelli more than adequate compensation.
"You're overthinking it," I told Morelli when his silence went on too long.
"It's not the idea of two men. I'm on board with wanting to try that." He hesitated. "It's who the other guy is. I trust you and Ranger not to talk, because if you talk then you take the hit also, but you know my position. If it ever gets out, I'm done—personally and professionally."
Good. That fear I can fix. If he'd been reticent about adding another cock into the mix, that would be more challenging to overcome.
"Not a problem. It's another one of the team. He has the same outlook and issues that Ranger and I do, and he's no more likely to talk."
Morelli nodded. "I get that, and thanks for telling me. It's just difficult for me to understand that more people knowing is okay."
"Can't stay in the closet forever but that doesn't mean you have to make a formal announcement either. Just make damn sure you don't initiate anything with somebody you don't know is safe or who hasn't been vouched for by someone you trust. And make sure that whoever you do get involved with there's something that assures mutual destruction if word gets out."
"You make it sound like a battle plan."
"Battle plans are easy. Keeping your sex life need-to-know is more challenging."
x0x0x0
Summons (Morelli)Lester was the picture of dejection, shoulders slumped, expression mournful. His whole body seemed to droop. Even his hair managed to look dull and lifeless. He was staring at a piece of white paper in his right hand. A man looking at confirmation of his death sentence might look the same.
"Trouble?" I asked.
It took a minute before he replied. "Trouble? No. A freaking disaster. Tsunamis and earthquakes are nothing, but this," he shook the paper in his hand, "this is a shitstorm of epic proportions."
"Well?" I prompted when he didn't say anymore, just continued to stare at the paper. "What's so bad?"
He handed me the paper, crossed the room, and flopped sideways into a chair. Taking a set of handcuffs from a dutybelt lying on the floor, he started twirling them by one finger as his expression shifted to unadulterated petulance.
Hmmm. Heavy white paper. Smallish, about 4x6 inches. An embossed crest. Expensive. Unfolding it revealed flowing black script. It was in Spanish but I picked out enough words to get that it was an invitation.
"So, you've been invited to what, some kind of formal thing? The prospect of wearing a suit for a couple of hours that bad?"
He snorted. "That," he managed to invest the single word with untold disgust, "is not an invitation. I don't care what it looks like or sounds like, when it comes from Abuela Rosa it is not an invitation. It is a command; one you better obey even if you only have a single brain cell left. Not showing up is not an option."
Abuela Rosa. I searched my memory. Oh yeah, Lester's grandmother—and Ranger's. "She's still alive?" I was surprised. I hadn't really thought about it but I suppose subconsciously I had assumed she was long dead.
Lester snorted again. "Abuela Rosa is indestructible. Nothing and no one is brave enough—or stupid enough—to suggest otherwise. She has never been sick a day in her life. She has more energy than a nuclear power plant and the Energizer Bunny put together. She can't die; heaven and hell are both afraid she'd show up and take over. Diseases fear her. Weeds do not dare grow in her lawn. Politicians, power brokers, and CEOs dive for cover when they see her coming. She orders wooden spoons by the gross." That final observation was uttered mournfully.
Sure I must have misheard, I asked, "Wooden spoons?" What the heck could wooden spoons have to do with what sounded like a formidable family matriarch?
"Yeah, it's her favorite weapon. She tends to break them when she smacks the crap out of you."
"Well, when you're a kid—".
"No," Lester shook his head. "Everybody. Abuela Rosa wields her spoons equally, unreservedly, and without regard to age. No one is immune. No one."
"Surely, you and Ranger—".
"No one is immune," he insisted.
I burst out laughing at a mental vision of Les and Ranger cowed by an old lady wielding a wooden spoon.
"Yeah, you laugh." Lester slung the unoffending handcuffs across the room andshot the invitation a venomous look. "You don't have to go face Abuela Rosa and her spoons."
xoxoxox
Eyes Open (Steph)It was well after midnight, actually closer to daylight, when I let myself into Ranger's apartment, trying to avoid making noise and waking him up if he was asleep. Maybe, I thought again, this wasn't the best idea. Maybe I should have called first, but I'd been so freaked out when I heard someone on the fire escape outside my bedroom widow, trying to pry the lock open that I just ran. I wanted to feel safe and Ranger represented safety.
The door was unlocked, a very un-Ranger-like thing, and my spidey-sense started tingling. The entry and kitchen were dim, lit only by small nightlights discretely placed so as to give just enough illumination to allow me to navigate without walking into furniture. The door to the office was closed, as usual when Ranger wasn't in there. Slowly, I padded across the living room toward the bedroom door which stood open. I could hear quiet noises from within but couldn't make out what they were. Was Ranger dreaming, restless, tossing and murmuring in his sleep? A peek through the door revealed moonlight spilling in through open curtains and a soft radiance coming from a bedside lamp illuminating most of the bed.
Ranger was there. In bed. He had his back to me, his hips and legs covered by a sheet. But he wasn't asleep. Not by a long shot.
Problem was Ranger wasn't alone in his bed. Someone was in it with him and they were pressed together from shoulder to hips, kissing passionately. At first, I thought it was a woman tangled in that carnal embrace but no, the hand that stroked over Ranger's bare back, pushing the sheet down and exploring his taut ass, was strong and masculine.
It was a sight I'd never in my wildest fantasy—or nightmare—imagined. I clapped a hand over my mouth to prevent any inadvertent noise that might draw attention and stood frozen, unable to look away from the sinfully erotic tableau on those sheets. Unaware of my presence, Ranger and—whoever—continued to kiss and stroke and fondle each other, muscles bunching and relaxing, hips thrusting against each other. The interplay of Ranger's mocha latte skin against the other's light bronze skin was mesmerizing. As were the hands that were roaming freely.
The stranger leaned forward, pushing Ranger partly onto his back. Dark hair spilled over their shoulders and, for a moment I thought it was Rav but Rav's hair is much longer. The moans and small sounds of encouragement they made were making me feel like a voyeur, but I couldn't look away. The stranger ran a hand down Ranger's hip and stroked his ass, kneading the muscle. Ranger responded by throwing a leg across the stranger's thigh and flexing his muscles, grinding their groins against each other, and grasping the back of the stranger's neck, fingers tangling in his hair.
"Dios! I've missed this. Missed you," Ranger groaned. "Nobody else comes close."
His words snapped the spell holding me immobile and unthinking. Ranger was in bed with a guy—someone he'd obviously been with many times before. In his own bed, not the bed in the playroom, not playing sex games. No handcuffs or floggers or other toys or restraints. No, this was serious sex. Sex that, by his own words, he wanted more than he wanted sex with anyone else. No wonder he said he didn't do relationships; he already had one. I had wondered about other women, envisioning Ranger having a stable of beautiful bodies whenever he wanted them. I'd just assumed those bodies were female. I'd certainly never imagined he was involved with anyone on an ongoing basis, much less that the someone was a guy.
Reality crashed in. I was such a fool. I should have believed all the things he told me about not getting involved and not being relationship material. He'd just been amusing himself with me—and others?—when this guy wasn't available.
I managed to back away slowly, leave the apartment without making any noise, and slip into the stairwell. I didn't remember walking down the stairs; my mind was in total denial, incapable of thought.
"Steph?"
Fingers snapped in front of my eyes.
"Steph!"
Huh? I snapped back to reality, realizing I was standing in the garage beneath the RangeMan building, beside my car, staring at nothing.
"Steph, what's wrong? You look like you're seen a ghost."
What? Ghost? No, no ghost. Just sinful temptation—or damnation. Oh, and some crushed hopes. And throw in the shattering of everything I thought I knew about Ranger.
"Steph," Tank asked again. "what happened?"
I swallowed hard, trying to dispel the lump in my throat. How to explain it? The more I thought about it the more unreal it seemed. "Upstairs. Ranger. He and— they were—" I had no idea how to continue. Fortunately, Tank pulled out his cell phone and dialed someone. He asked a few questions I didn't pay attention to, listened to the replies, and then cursed quietly.
Hands gently touched mine and extracted the car keys I had been clutching.
"Come on," he propelled me around my car and had me buckled in the passenger seat before I realized his intent.
Tank settled me on a sofa, disappeared for a moment and returned with a glass of water that he handed to me.
"Thanks," I managed after taking a swallow. "Uhm, where are we?" I really hadn't paid any attention as Tank drove, lost in my whirling, conflicting thoughts about Ranger, what I'd seen, and how I felt about both.
The big man actually chuckled. "My house. I figured you needed to get away from the RangeMan building, didn't need to be in public, and didn't need to go back to your apartment where you'd be too easy to track down. So, temporary sanctuary."
An orange tabby-cat wandered in, blinked, then jumped up and settled in my lap, purring. I absently stroked the soft fur.
Tank smiled. "Fuzz therapy. Best thing there is to calm you down and get you back on an even keel. They always know when you're upset or sick."
I looked down at the purring cat, its eyes closed and paws flexing in contentment. "I never had a cat, or a dog, and Rex isn't exactly the cuddly type. Maybe I missed something, but I'm barely able to take care of Rex so maybe it's not a good idea. This is really nice though. It is therapy. Maybe it's an idea after all." I took a deep breath to stop myself from rambling further. "Won't Ranger— I mean uhm, as great as this is, won't any of the guys be able to find me here? I mean my car does have a tracker on it, right?"
He shrugged. "It does, but they won't bother you here. They know better—even Ranger."
Time passed. I alternated between stroking the cat and staring at nothing. My brain, meanwhile, was running on its private gerbil wheel so fast the axle was smoking. And the wheel was branching out into multiple dimensions of what-ifs and should-have-knowns.
Tank, awesome person that he is, just sat, offering silent support, waiting for me to be ready to say or do something.
"I wasn't ready. Not for—" I swallowed hard. "Not that I think I would ever be ready to see—" A huge sigh shuddered out of me and my mouth refused to form any more words.
"I take it you walked in on something?"
I nodded.
"Damn." Tank swore softly but with great creativity and feeling for several minutes.
For a reason I couldn't quite define, it pleased me that he would be upset on my behalf. I mean, Ranger was his boss and his friend. They'd known each other for years and gone through a lot together. Yet here he was, rescuing me, and apparently not too happy with Ranger.
"Steph, the guy you saw… He and Ric, they hook up sometimes. It's…" he lifted his hands and let them drop again. "It's something Ric does sometimes."
I nodded again. "Well, guess now I know why Ranger says he isn't relationship material. He's already in one."
"I can't answer that. I don't pry into Ric's private life—never have. We don't have the same interests. What I can tell you is that whatever is between them isn't a relationship like you're talking about. They hook up. When they're together—which isn't often, at least that I know of, the other guy doesn't live anywhere near here—they have sex. They're not a couple. They don't care who the other one takes to bed when they're not around."
I processed that information. "But they've been doing this for a while and they keep going back to each other."
Tank nodded. "Yeah."
"For years," I said.
"Yeah."
"A lot longer than I've known Ranger."
"Yeah."
A knife twisted in my heart. This was not something Ranger was going to quit, not someone he was going to give up. Not for me. If he'd been going to do that, he wouldn't have been in that bed. "What's his name?" I didn't want to know but couldn't stop myself from asking.
"Does it matter?"
Tank's phone rang. He looked at it, grunted, and walked out of the room. I could hear the rumble of his voice but couldn't make out the words. I was too tired to be curious. I just sat, thoughts tumbling over each other.
What right did I have to be upset? Ranger and I weren't in a relationship. Sure, we'd been sort of dating, well we'd been having sex with each other and having the occasional dinner together, but we weren't in a not-seeing-anyone-else relationship. Yes, we had been growing closer, opening up to each other—at least I had been and I'd thought he had been too—but what he did when we weren't together wasn't any of my business, any more than what I did when we weren't together was any of his business. So, I really didn't have a right to get upset, but it hurt. A lot. It felt like betrayal. Like when I found out Joe was seeing another woman.
And there was no getting around the fact that Ranger's lover being a guy was seriously freaking me out. Okay, so Ranger had gotten me to broaden my horizons about sex quite a bit. And there had been that time with Lester. But that had been two men and me; they hadn't touched each other, not in a sexual way. What I'd just seen was something totally different and way beyond my experience to comprehend.
Ranger sure as hell wasn't gay. I could attest to that, but it appeared he was bisexual and really enjoyed sex with men, or at least with one man. How did I feel about that? Seeing the two of them making out, sleek muscular bodies tangled together, thrusting against each other, had been undeniably erotic.
"Oh hell," I muttered, "maybe I should have just climbed in bed with them. Gone for the double doomsday orgasm."
Tank's laugh was a low rumble in his chest. "Maybe you should have."
Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed him come back into the room and jumped at the sound of his voice. The cat hopped down from my lap, shot me a glare for disturbing its sleep, and padded out of the room.
"I've never heard of anyone that complained after being in bed with them," he continued.
I blushed furiously. Great. I was so not discussing my potential sexual fantasies with Tank.
"Steph, I have to get back to the office," he said, relieving me of figuring out what to say next. "One of the guys is on the way to pick me up in a few minutes." He set my car keys on the coffee table. "Stay as long as you want. Door will lock behind you so if you do leave and need to get back in, call me and I'll walk you through the security."
I nodded, a bit amazed that Tank would let me stay in his house, his private world, without him being there.
"If Zeus gets to be a pest, give him some of the treats in the blue canister on the kitchen counter."
Zeus? Treats? Oh, the cat. Fuzz therapy. I nodded.
Tank stood and walked to the door where he paused. He looked back at me, seeming to debate something with himself. "Steph, Ric's complicated. I don't know what's between you two or what you want from him. Just…" he paused, "don't expect too much. He is what he is and sometimes that's not a good person. He's an opportunist and he always looks after himself first. Be careful."
Wow! This from Ranger's friend? "Is that your idea of a reassuring pep talk?"
"No, that's my idea of honest."
And then he was gone.
Morning slipped into afternoon and then into evening. I was still sitting on Tank's couch, Zeus back in my lap. Tank was right. Fuzz therapy—warm, soft, purring, unconditional love and acceptance was the best. Some people paid lots of money for shrinks. This was better.
Throughout the day, I'd come up with a lot of ideas on what to do about what I'd walked in on that morning. Denial had been my first option, but I vetoed it. Denial Land was vastly appealing and I had lots of frequent visitor points, but it never solved anything. Being honest for once, I admitted to myself that it usually made things worse. I mean, putting off facing a bad situation was great but it meant when you did face it, the molehill was freaking Mount Everest. Well, at least a mountain of some sort.
I could confront Ranger, but to what end? We weren't a couple. He had never made any promises of exclusivity. Never led me to believe I was the only was he was seeing or sleeping with. And I'd never asked. In hindsight that was a major error on my part. Blame it on Denial Land.
Time for the big girl panties. Damn, I hate those! No fun squared. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a disaster, my inner adult suggested. Maybe this was opportunity. For me. An opportunity for me to grow up and get my shit together and figure out what direction I wanted my life to head in. I knew better than to think I was capable of setting an ultimate goal—it would be ridiculous when my head and emotions resembled something that had been in a blender. Stick one of those tacky paper umbrellas in me and I could be the daily drink special at a tiki bar.
I wasn't going to confront Ranger or talk to him. He wasn't going to change, and it would be a waste of time to discuss anything. If I couldn't accept him the way he was then I was as bad as Morelli had been with me. I love you but only if you change these things about yourself… Not going to be that person.
Time to see what sort of person I was. Time to grow up. Time to shed the training wheels and head out into the great unknown. Time to find out if I could make it on my own and discover what sort of person I would be left to my own devices rather than having others tell me what I should be. Even when I didn't listen to them and did the opposite, they were still the ones in control.
I pulled out my phone, scrolled through my phone list until I found the number I wanted. I took a deep breath. Looked down at the cat. "So Zeus, am I nuts or am I finally making the right decision?"
Zeus blinked at me, reached out with one paw and gently patted my wrist.
"Right." I hit send and listened to the rings. "I need help," I said to the person who answered. "I need to disappear."
x0x0x
I'm ducking for cover and hope you don't all hate us ... thanks for reading and reviewing.