Page 29 of Murder in Shades of Fire and Ash

“You’re still going back to Mam’s,” Eddy said.

“And this time, you stay there,” Charlie added. He could hope.

21

Monday evening

For the first time in days, Charlie wanted to go home to Tom. So, naturally, he had to stay at the police station writing his reports and returning phone calls. Mags and Eddy needed to know what they had learned about Jeff Burton, aka Britton, as well as updates on Dylan and Alex Unwin. Adding Mal Kent’s thoughts about Patsy took thought and care, especially as Patsy herself kept appearing in all the wrong places. But eventually, Charlie had read everything that he needed to and completed all the outstanding reports. He let himself out of the police station, locked up and strolled home, to find Tom had laid the table outside in the garden.

“Take a seat,” Tom said and disappeared into the house, returning with plates of smoked salmon with lemon, and a huge bowl of salad. He disappeared again, this time bringing a bottle of something fizzy and two champagne glasses. “Home grown strawberries, ice cream and cake to follow,” he said, and popped the cork from the bottle.

Charlie sighed with pleasure. “This is wonderful,” he said, and it was.

The house was too hot,and even with a well-insulated roof, it got hotter as they fell upstairs and into their bedroom. The only bed covering was a top sheet, still twisted from the morning. Charlie picked it up and threw it onto the floor. Ignoring the heat, Charlie pulled Tom towards himself, wrapping his arms around his husband, feeling the prick of tears behind his eyelids. He felt Tom’s arms come round him in return and they stood there together hugging as hard as they could. Charlie felt his emotions flow into Tom and drew strength in return. The world settled back onto its axis.

Charlie took a step backwards and unfastened his shirt buttons until he could slip the shirt over his head where it joined the sheet on the floor. Then his trousers went and his briefs and socks.

“Are you just going to stand there?” he asked Tom.

“No,” Tom said, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Charlie stepped forwards, and felt Tom’s hands on his arse, big hands, hard and strong, and then, Tom’s tongue on the tip of his half-hard cock. He swayed a little as all his blood headed in that direction. Without conscious thought, he grabbed Tom’s hair and thrust. Tom opened his mouth and … it was so, so good, and if it continued, he wasn’t going to last.

“Stop,” Charlie said.

Tom pulled away, but not without running his tongue around the tip of Charlie’s erection and making him shiver.

“My turn,” Charlie said, “Get naked.”

Tom smiled and ran his hands down the back of Charlie’s thighs, before sucking Charlie into his mouth again. Charlie felt the gentlest scrape of Tom’s teeth, and felt his orgasm begin to build.

“Stop,” he said again, realising that he was still gripping Tom’s hair.

“No,” Tom said. “I want you to come.” His voice was deep, with the authority of a man determined to get his own way. Charlie wanted to object, but Tom gave him no choice; wrapping his lips tightly around Charlie’s dick, his tongue pulling him deeper into the hot wetness, until it was too late, and Charlie had no choice but to let the pressure build and then release in glorious waves of bliss. Tom swallowed, and then lay back, dragging Charlie on top of him and kissing him roughly, so that Charlie tasted himself and Tom mixed together, until he was lightheaded and helpless.

“Now I’m going to fuck you,” Tom said. “If that’s OK.”

Charlie had enough strength to mutter, “Yes, please,” before Tom rolled him gently onto the bed and stood up to remove his own clothes. He had missed this so much that he felt the tears again. Not tears of unhappiness, simply an overflow of love.

It wasn’t fucking, though, it was making love. Slowly, slowly, with lots of kissing and words of love, until Charlie lost track of time. He wrapped his legs round Tom’s hips, and his arms around his broad shoulders, until he couldn’t tell where he ended, and Tom began. Tom’s beard was soft against Charlie’s face, and their skin was slick where it came together. It seemed for a long time, that there was no urgency, no rush to a conclusion, and then suddenly there was. Charlie felt the change in himself as much as in Tom, and they came together, crying out their pleasure. Tom rolled them onto their sides, still wrapped around each other, and Charlie saw that his husband’s eyes were shiny.

“I’ve missed you, so much,” Tom said. “I don’t care how late you finish or how early you have to leave, but please come home. I need you.”

Charlie snuggled himself even closer to Tom. “I need you too,” he said.

22

Tuesday morning, very early

By the time Charlie’s phone woke him from a deep and dreamless sleep, fire had destroyed most of the warehouse. The roof had been on the point of collapse when the fire brigade arrived, and nothing they could do would save it. Tom mumbled something incoherent as Charlie fell out of bed and into his clothes. It would have been hard to get off the couch of torture at the police station at this hour, but leaving a warm bed with Tom in it was all but impossible.

When Charlie arrived, there wasn’t much left of anything remotely flammable. The buildings on either side of the warehouse had burned in places, and smoke damage was visible on others. Charlie took in the devastation: the road running with water, lit mainly by the firefighters’ temporary floodlights reflecting off the wet ground, the stink of burned wood and the chemical smells of burned plastics and melted carpet. The firefighters were in full rig — heavy boots, big coats and yellow helmets – as they stood chatting, one eye always on the remains of the burned-out sheds. As before, the scene had attracted onlookers, though in far fewer numbers.

The warehouse fire was in a building on the out-of-town trading estate, home to a garden furniture company, a car parts firm, a plumbers’ merchant, and some people who packed organic vegetables. There were others, but Charlie couldn’t see much more than blurred signs through the drifting smoke and steam. These observers, in hastily donned clothes, faces still creased with sleep, looked as if they had skin in the game. There were a few houses close by and as he made his way towards the cluster of firefighters, a couple came out of one of them. Even in the poor light, Charlie could see the shock on their faces. All the householders would need to be interviewed, but first, he wanted to talk to the firefighters, and Eddy, who had managed to arrive before him.

Charlie recognised most of the firefighters; it was a small town after all. But Eddy knew them from school and was deep in conversation with a man as big as himself, who looked even bigger in his coat and helmet.

“This is my boss, DS Rees,” Eddy said to the big fireman. “Sarge, this is my old mate Kev Watchett, who’s also the senior officer on tonight.”

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