Page 26 of His Worst Crime

“Can’t we just… go on like this… a while?”

Ramon stood up, his hard cock, wet and gleaming from David’s saliva, towered over his face like a missile about to be fired.

“You want more of this, come with me,” Ramon growled, his voice hoarse. “I want to fuck you, but I want to do it in my bed, and then we wake up and have breakfast together before I fuck you again.”

David looked up at Ramon, his eyes black and inscrutable, high up beyond that impressive dick.

“OK,” he murmured, “but I’ll need to get my stuff.”

“Good,” Ramon growled. “Now have another taste for the road.”

And he thrust his dick back toward David’s mouth, not asking but telling. And David opened his mouth, eager for another round of sucking cock, keen to please Ramon, knowing he was now about to do the absolute stupidest thing in his whole life, but wanting to do it anyway, wanting to be with Ramon and be good for him.

sixteen

Ramon sat tapping the steering wheel, his police permit on the dash in case any patrol car came by to ask why he was parked up on the pavement of La Rambla, blocking the passing tourists. Drunk and drugged clubbers, on their way to whichever nightspot they were headed, flowed past the four-wheel-drive pickup into the wide square of Plaça Reial, which opened up to the right.

Would Davey return? Ramon had been insistent, perhaps pressuring him too much. Davey had agreed, said he just needed to stop off at his hostel to get his pack, but maybe he’d just been saying that to get Ramon off his back. He didn’t think so. He’d return. Ramon knew he’d return. He had to. There was a connection between them that couldn’t be denied. If he didn’t return after everything they’d done… it didn’t bear thinking about. He’d already endured a week when he hadn’t seen Davey, didn’t know if he ever would. To find each other like that, in the dead of night in the stables… what were the odds? Ramon didn’t believe in predestiny, but this… it was like a sign, wasn’t it? They were so right together. They were meant to be together. He pushed all the other doubts from his mind. Whatever David was afraid of, they’d work it out. He preferred not to think too hard about what it meant to him as a cop if that was something illegal. They’d work it out. But David had to come back.

There was a thump on the passenger door and he started in shock. There was Davey at the window, his rucksack over one shoulder. He’d exchanged his dress shirt for a more casual navy-blue tee, and had on a thin pale-blue windbreaker, but was otherwise dressed the same, in jeans and runners. Ramon unlocked the door and Davey climbed in, slinging his pack on the back seat. Davey gave him one quick glance, full of worry and nerves, and then stared out the window as Ramon started the car and eased them out into the traffic crawling up the Rambla. Neither of them spoke as Ramon negotiated the traffic to get them out of the city. He took Pelayo Street and then Ronda Universitat and Ronda Sant Antoni, circumventing the Raval neighborhood that was pretty much closed to through traffic. Once they turned onto Sepúlveda, they went slightly faster, but at every stop light Ramon was scared Davey might jump from the car and disappear into the nighttime streets. From there they turned down Viladomat and onto Paral·lel. It was only once they entered the freeway on-ramp and Ramon was able to plant his foot to the floor that he breathed a sigh of relief. His original plan had he been alone was to sleep at home and then head down to the Delta at the crack of dawn. But this was better. Maybe it was the residual alcohol in his veins but he fancied a nighttime drive, and he wanted to take Davey to a place where they could be together, where he couldn’t run away from his fears. Was he being coercive? At this point he didn’t care. He’d never felt like this with anyone before. He wasn’t prepared to lose Davey before they’d given it a chance. And he knew that Davey was constantly on the point of cutting and running. Please, let him stay. Let this work out between them, he breathed.

Glancing over at his passenger, the guy was staring out of the window at the dark, the lights flashing by on the freeway reflecting on his face. God, he was beautiful. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and the fine stubble on his jaw suited him, his blond locks framing his profile like a classical statue. At some point they would have to talk. He sensed a huge conversation there they would have to have. But not yet. Neither of them was ready for it. Let them just have some time together before they got into those sort of conversations. Ramon had never been much of a talker anyway, and he sensed David wasn’t either. But they’d have to. Soon.

The drive down always relaxed Ramon. Once you got past Molins de Rei, you just sat on the A7 and kept your foot planted for a couple of hours. It was a modern, well-maintained freeway with long easy curves, and at this time of night almost free of traffic except for the articulated trucks that mainly stayed in the right-hand lane. He let himself drive at twenty or thirty above the speed limit, which was what everyone was doing. That would cut a quarter hour off their journey.

David sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window at the dark, and attempting to avoid meeting Ramon’s glances. They sat in silence for almost half an hour until Ramon had had enough.

“Tell me about where you’re from.”

“It’s just a small place, quite boring really.”

“What’s it called?” When David mumbled something unintelligible, he repeated, “What?”

“Close to Scarborough.”

“Doesn’t it have a name?”

“Yeah…” Then a long pause. “…Ravenscragg.”

Amazing, he had a name finally!

“What is it, a village or town?”

“Hardly even a village… just where we have our stud.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.”

“Is that where you learned to work with horses?”

“Yeah, grew up around them.”

“You’re brilliant with them, a natural.”

“Thanks. What made you start working with horses… and become a policeman?”

“The second part’s easy. I wanted to work with horses and when I was sixteen I worked out that if you aren’t rich, the only decent-paying job to be around horses is as a mounted policeman.” He laughed. “And I quite liked the uniform!”