The Prodigal

Disclaimer- They still don't belong to me.


CHAPTER TWO

“Thanks.” The soft gentle feel of his fingers tracing the planes of Peter’s face, testing the three-day beard growth, belied the sarcasm in Garret’s voice. “When did you get back? What are you doing back? Why didn’t you call me? I’d have met your plane.”

“An hour ago; because I just knew you needed me; I didn’t stop long enough to; you couldn’t have driven in your condition.” Peter supplied the answers in the same manner as the questions. “Garret, what the hell is going on? The workday starts in less than four hours and you’re drunk practically off your ass.”

“I don’t work there anymore. I don’t work anywhere.” Garret held him close as he closed the door and led him into the apartment they had shared far too briefly before Peter had left to go into rehab.

“What happened?” Peter was stunned by the revelation.

“Do you recall me telling you about the Sylvia Moreau case?”

Peter instantly remembered Garret’s story of the one case that still haunted him almost twenty years after it was closed. “The suicide your boss wouldn’t let you look into further?”

“That’s the one, only it turned out to be murder and the evidence I suppressed could have convicted the man responsible.” Peter sat down on the couch pulling Garret with him, settling the older man between his legs, enjoying just holding him. Garret leaned back against Peter’s chest and continued. “Jack Slokum and the governor’s crime commission found a witness who saw someone leaving the scene that night and they suspended me, pending an investigation. After we solved the case, I turned over the evidence and they fired me.”

“No wonder you look like hell. When did this all happen? Why didn’t you call me?” Peter suddenly knew why he’d felt drawn back to Boston. Garret needed him to lean on until he found his feet again, the way Peter had needed Garret to be his strength until he found his own.

“Eight weeks ago.”

“Garret, you should have called. Did you think I wouldn’t come?” Peter held him tighter, remembering the agonizing first few days of withdrawal after he’d screwed up and started using again, ending eight months of hard won sobriety.

Garret had been there for him, held him as alternating chills and fever had racked his body and the craving for just one more taste had driven him to claw his skin and vomit up anything he tried to eat. Garret had cleaned him, fed him and listened to his screams and pleas. Never once had he made Peter feel judged or worthless, had vehemently denied Peter’s insistence that he was just a useless junkie, and should be allowed to die.

The older man had held Peter and cried when Peter begged him to let him kill himself and the sight of those tears had made Peter realize that he was hurting the one person left in this world that knew him inside and out and loved him anyway. The knowledge of that love had given Peter the courage to go back into rehab, even though it meant leaving Boston. There were several good programs here he could have gone through, but knew he needed a complete break from anything that might remind him of his ex-wife and their mutual descent into madness.

“You had your own problems to deal with. You didn’t need mine too.” Garret relaxed back onto Peter’s chest.

“Gar, I’m going to be dealing with my addiction the rest of my life, that doesn’t preclude me being here for you.” Peter rested his head on Garret’s shoulder.

“Is it still bad?” Garret asked.

“I only want to use every day, but I put my head between my legs and the feeling passes.” Peter joked, glad to be home even if he was saddened by the reason he’d felt drawn here. “Kind of like missing you. It never went away.”

He remembered the goodbye at the airport. For once, he and Garret had both let the public masks slip and simply held each other, allowing the sea of travelers to ebb and flow around them as they committed the feel of each other to memory. He’d looked into Garret’s eyes and knew that somehow, he’d find his way back and Garret would be waiting. What Peter had found with him was something he’d thought only existed in fairy tales and cheap romance novels. He’d found the other half of himself, the missing piece of his soul.

God, Garret would laugh to hear Peter refer to him as a soul mate, a sentiment the older man had scoffed at when put forth by Lily in a conversation one evening. At the thought of Lily, he smiled. She’d been the only one who knew about Peter and Garret’s relationship and had wholeheartedly approved, seeing in them each others salvation from their personal demons.

He sat for a time holding Garret close, breathing in his scent as though it were oxygen he’d been denied for too long.

“So what are you going to do now?” Peter finally asked. “How are you going to fight it?”

“I’m not.” Garret’s voice was rough with too much booze and too little sleep. “I’ve got nothing left to fight with Peter. It’s all gone to hell, there’s no point in fighting. Endings are inevitable”

“Bullshit.” Peter told him. “That is exactly the kind of crap I tried on you, it’s total shit and you know it, Garret. If you’ve lost the balls to fight, fine, but don’t try to feed me this inevitable endings shit. That is a philosophical copout. It’s a rationalization for sitting on your ass and doing nothing.” Peter leaned over and whispered. “That is not the man I fell in love with, the man I fell in love with came to chew bubble gum and kick ass and he was usually all out of bubble gum.”

“Once Peter, but I getting too old for that shit. There’s no fight left in me. I’m too tired to kick anyone’s ass now.”

Peter leaned in to kiss the back of Garret’s neck, smiling at the visible shiver the touch of his lips produced. “But you will. I know you, Garret. You may be ready to throw in the towel right now, but soon you’ll burst out guns blazing, Dirty Garry rides again.” He felt, more than heard the older man’s brief, bitter laugh.

“Not this time Peter, I’ve got nothing left to fight with or for. My professional reputation is shattered and I’m probably never going to find another job in forensics. I’ll end up working in some two-bit emergency clinic for peanuts.” Garret turned slightly to rest his head on Peter’s chest. “I’ve lost the respect of my staff and Jordan’s friendship.”

“Garret, you know Jordan. She’ll get over it.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever betrayed her. I’ve always been the one to prop her up when someone else disappointed her. Now I’m the cause of her disappointment.”

“Trust me Garret, Jordan can never stay mad at you, give her some time.” Peter could tell that Garret wasn’t going to listen to any more tonight and he was still too buzzed to be rational. Better to catch him sober in the morning. For tonight, Peter’s mind was more on how long it had been since they’d been together. He tightened his arms around Garret. “Now, why don’t you and I go to bed?” He murmured in Garret’s ear, his tone dropping to a low sensual rumble.

Garret turned to face him, pulling him in for another deep, slow, passionate kiss. “Who needs a bed?” He growled as he broke the kiss, reaching for Peter’s shirt, slowly unbuttoning it, his fingers teasing the smooth, nearly hairless skin of Peter’s chest beneath. Kissing his way across the exposed skin, Garret circled around first one nipple then the other as Peter closed his eyes and reveled in the sensation. He knew Garret liked to make the first move, to have Peter under him, allowing him to explore his skin at his leisure. Peter stayed still for as long as he could before reaching for the older man’s t-shirt and pulling it over his head, so that he could feel Garret’s skin under his hands.

It had been far too long since Peter had touched Garret and he actually felt more nervous than the first time, his hands trembling as he slid them along Garret’s back. At the first touch across the tight jeans Peter wore, he thrust up against the hand drawing down the zipper. Garret smiled at him and slowly finished undoing the fly, sliding the pants down Peter’s slim hips. As Peter raised his hips off the couch to help remove the confining denim, Garret leaned forward and blew gently on the exposed flesh. Peter couldn’t move for a brief moment as the sensation froze his muscles in place and seemed to stop his heart. He drew in a ragged breath and moaned. The grin Garret gave him at the sound was almost piratical.

Peter clenched his teeth and hissed at the first touch of Garret’s lips, caressing the smooth skin and sending a flush of white-hot sensation through him. He looked down as he felt warm lips slide over the head and Garret’s tongue teased the slit. Fighting the urge to bury himself in his lover’s talented mouth, Peter swallowed hard and ground his teeth together, feeling a distant ache in his clenched jaw muscles. Watching Garret's head move almost imperceptibly up and down on just the head was driving him higher and higher.

Just as he was certain he couldn’t stand another moment of the slow, delicious torture, he felt himself engulfed as Garret swallowed him down whole, soft lips wrapping around the hilt. Peter felt the head of his cock passing the upper most muscles in Garret’s throat as a questing hand worked its way down to his balls and a finger extended to put gentle but firm pressure on the sensitive bit of skin just behind them.

Peter knew he couldn’t take much more of the sensation flooding his body. He tried between gasps to warn Garret that he was on a hair trigger. The dark-eyed man responded by redoubling his efforts and just as Peter felt the familiar tightening of his balls, a single, long finger found it’s way past the tight ring of muscle and slid up inside of him, hitting the one spot that nearly made him scream, triggering an orgasm that seemed to last for hours. He felt the room slipping out of focus as wave after wave of sensation over stimulated his nervous system.

When Peter’s senses returned to normal he found himself cradled in Garret’s arms as gentle kisses were laid across his eyes and mouth. He raised his lips to meet Garret’s and reached for the zipper of Garret’s jeans with a wicked smile. Garret teased Peter’s lips with the tip of his tongue as though requesting entry. Peter complied, meeting it with his own in a sensual duel that left both men breathless and trembling with desire. The taste of himself on Garret's tongue inflamed Peter even more.

After disposing of the other man’s last piece of clothing, Peter lay on top of him, thrusting slightly against him, rubbing against the sensitive flesh, getting more and more aroused with each bit of gentle friction. They lay like this for several minutes, honing the tension in their bodies to a razor fine edge. Peter began to kiss and nip at Garret’s neck causing the man to shift and move under him and Peter gasped at the feeling.

Peter kissed his way down Garret’s chest, pausing to tease the flat hard nipples with his teeth and tongue as Garret growled his name. He continued to kiss and nip his way down the path delineated by the soft graying hair that liberally covered Garret’s chest and pointed a clear path to the pulsing erection rising from the curls at its base.

Peter kissed his way across the tops of Garret’s thighs and around the curls; avoiding the one place he knew Garret wanted his mouth. As his lover shifted trying to encourage Peter to give him what he needed, Peter drew a slow path down to his balls and around them with the tip of a finger. Cupping the heavy sac in his hand he placed his mouth just over the head and flicked his tongue around the ridge, drawing a moan from Garret that was answered by a wave of heat flashing through Peter and settling in his groin.

He slid his mouth over the soft skin, drawing Garret deep into his mouth, swirling his tongue around in a way he knew would drive his lover almost to the edge. As he felt the head pass into his throat, he swallowed, working the muscles to stroke the shaft. Garret’s hands tangled in his hair and began to guide Peter’s movements, never pushing past the point of comfort. Peter could imagine what they looked like from the outside as he heard Garret begin to moan. The mental image brought Peter back to full hardness and he reached to stroke his aching flesh as he worked to give his lover the same release he’d had minutes before.

His other hand released Garret’s balls and moved back to tease the tight circle of muscles around the opening. The moans from the other man increased as he slid first one then two fingers through the ring and inside the warm tight passage. Thrusting them gently back and forth he worked them far enough back to finally reach the slight hard swelling covered by a thin membrane of tissue.

His fingers stroked once, twice and on the third circling motion, Garret grabbed the back of Peter’s head and held him in place as the warm, salty, sweet fluid bathed the inside of Peter’s throat in quick hard spurts. He could hear Garret’s groans and feel the clenching and throbbing of his muscles around his fingers. As the pulsing of the muscles surrounding his fingers subsided, Peter withdrew from Garret’s body and released him from his mouth with a final kiss on the underside of his penis.

He stretched out on top of Garret and stroked the defined contours of his chest, lightly tracing the muscles that had surprised him the first time he’d undressed him. Garret’s usual clothing choice for work was slacks and dress shirts worn loose and comfortable, so the first time Peter had seen him in jeans and a T-shirt he’d been amazed at the finely carved frame of the shorter man. Every muscle on Garret’s body was easily seen and Garret’s ass was truly a sight to behold, even at 50 it was hard enough to bounce a quarter off of. Something Peter had once tried to do, but Garret had stopped him by the simple expedient of pulling him down on the bed and giving him an incredible blow job.

Peter felt his eyelids beginning to droop and raised his head to meet Garret’s eyes. “I think we need to take this to the bedroom. While you make an interesting pillow, I don’t think you’ll appreciate the experience in the morning.” He smiled at the drowsy nod of agreement he received and the two men rose from the couch and made their way to the bed they’d shared before Peter left.

After settling in and pulling up the blanket, Garret pulled Peter to him and placed Peter’s head on his shoulder. Peter reached up sleepily and kissed him on the lips. “I missed you, old man.” He teased.

“Shut up and go to sleep, asshole.” Came the reply, punctuated by a yawn and Peter smiled as sleep overtook him.