Oh god, Calix's sexy talk. It ratcheted up all Rhett's feelings. Which was okay. Calix was talking dirty again, so he had to know what effect this had and that he wanted it too. If he didn't, he'd keep his mouth shut.
"Do you like that, sweetheart? Oh, look at your blushing cheeks… You are a dirty boy. I knew it. You like it when I use you for my pleasure, don't you?"
Mutely, he nodded as best he could with his head pressed against the mattress. Words simply wouldn't form.
"God, I want to fuck you so bad… Want to fill you up, feel your body squeeze my cock… Fuck you till you're screaming with pleasure. Screaming my name."
Every word was like a touch, a stroke, cradling his balls and jerking his cock and making him sweat with how hard he was. He had nowhere to go but down, pressing himself into the pillow in an attempt to find friction for himself.
"I'm gonna teach you every position there is… Fuck you against the wall… Have you riding me… Take you in the shower. I'm gonna be your first, baby, and I'll make it so good for you. So good."
Rhett didn't doubt it. If this already made him approach the edge like a downhill roller coaster at full speed, what would it feel like to have Calix inside him?
Calix grunted as he sped up, snapping his hips and sliding his cock. "Gonna come all over you. Paint you with my cum. Make you as dirty on the outside as you are on the inside."
His balls pulled up, and Rhett moaned. Calix jolted up, and with a few hard and fast strokes, he brought himself to an orgasm.
"Ungh! Oh…. fuuuuck."
Jets of cum hit Rhett's back, and it was so dirty, so deliciously sexy he shoved his hips into the pillow and came as well, shuddering with his release. He whimpered with the unexpected force, the way it had snuck up on him, and then he lay there, panting as Calix's cum cooled on his skin and the wet spot on the pillow increased.
"Did you just…" Surprise colored Calix's voice.
"Yeah," Rhett whispered.
"Holy shit, that's the sexiest thing ever. Come here, sweetheart."
Calix stretched out and pulled Rhett close, and he went, wrapping his arm around Calix, burying his face against his neck. He felt strangely vulnerable, as if he'd shown him something precious and intimate.
"You are so fucking sexy, sweetheart…"
"I think I ruined your pillow," he mumbled.
Calix laughed. "I'll buy a hundred new pillows if necessary. Did it feel that good?"
Rhett nodded, still hiding his face. "I like it when you talk dirty to me."
"That makes me so happy because I do it automatically. I never can stop voicing the sexy thoughts in my head."
"It's… It's arousing, but I'm not entirely sure why. Somewhere deep inside, it feels a little wrong and shameful, even though I know it's not. It makes no sense."
"It does. We've been programmed to think sex is dirty and something to be ashamed of, including our sexual needs and desires. But when it's between consenting adults, who cares? You shouldn't be embarrassed about what turns you on."
He really had picked the best guy possible to help him in his journey of sexual discovery. Rhett snuggled closer to him, his body slowly coming down from its high. "Does this mean you won't give me a blow job?" he asked after a few minutes.
Calix laughed. "How about we save something for next time?"
Next time. Rhett couldn't wait.
29
"Good morning. I'm Special Agent Coulson. Could I have a few minutes of your time?"
Coulson flashed his FBI badge at the uniformed police officer whose pale baby face looked suitably impressed. The kid couldn't be older than twenty-three, if even that.
"Of course." Babyface swallowed, shooting a quick look at Milan, who stood silently next to Coulson. Wearing a suit, his face clean-shaven, the president's brother-in-law looked like an FBI agent, which was exactly the idea. Of course, neither of them was stupid enough to introduce him as one, since that would be a federal crime, but they couldn't help it if Babyface jumped to conclusions, right? And Coulson had wanted Milan's experience as a detective here.
"What can I do for you, Agent Coulson?" Babyface asked.
Ah, he was cooperative. That would make things a hell of a lot easier. A bit more respect for the kid and he'd be like putty in Coulson's experienced hands. "Can you tell me about how this impound lot operates, Officer Abramson?"
They'd discovered that the stolen car likely connected to the man watching them near Mrs. Markinson's house hadn't merely been stolen. It had been stolen from the police impound lot. And not just the car. The plates had come off a car that had been impounded after being abandoned. Now, wasn't that an awful coincidence, considering one of their main suspects worked for the Baltimore Police Department?
Babyface nodded, widening his stance, and if he had any questions why the FBI needed to know, he didn't ask them. "This is the official police impound lot, where we store vehicles that have been impounded for whatever reason, a DUI, illegally parking, or when the car was involved in a crime. If the car isn't needed for evidence and the owner is legally allowed to drive, they can pick it up with proof of ownership in the form of the car registration and a valid driver's license or passport. If we need the car for evidence or if the owner has multiple traffic offenses, we may hold it for a longer period."
"What happens if an owner doesn't pick it up?"
"In that case, the car goes to auction, usually after ninety days. Sometimes earlier, when we have confirmation the owner will not retain ownership of the vehicle."
"And you keep track of all the cars? I assume you have some kind of system?"
Coulson loved playing dumb. Of course he already knew how this worked, but in his experience, people were more likely to reveal unintended information once they were talking freely, and the best way was to pretend he didn't know anything.
"Yes, sir. Every car is logged into our computer system. We have administrative personnel who keep the system up to date."
"Does that system also keep track of details like why a car was impounded?"
Babyface nodded again, almost enthusiastically by now. "Absolutely. It shows us the owner, the reason it was impounded, the period we can legally hold it for, and, if necessary, details on the case it's related to. And when it's sold at an auction, we process that in the system and list the new owner. After the auction, ownership transfers from us to the new owner."
"Sounds like a pretty watertight system. Does a car ever fall through the cracks?"
Babyface looked confused. "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."
"Has it ever happened that you have a car on the lot that's not in the system? Or that somebody came to pick up a car that wasn't on the lot, even though the system said it was?"
"Not that I can recall. I mean, I've only worked here for a few months with a few shifts per week, so it's not like I have a lot of experience, but I've never heard of anything like that."
"Does anything ever get stolen?"
"From the impound lot? This is police property."