As I exit the bathroom, I am once again struck by the most beautiful sight I have ever seen; the man I love sprawled, naked, in my bed.

Tim is lying on his stomach, one arm out-flung with his hand dangling over the edge, the other curled under his pillow, one knee bent. The sheet has fallen to reveal the curve of one lovely ass cheek. He is so very perfect. How did I get lucky enough to have this gorgeous creature fall in love with me?

Just a few weeks ago, I didn't think he'd ever be here again. I got angry because I didn't think he could give me what I need and so I pushed him away. We tried to work together for a few weeks, and then I couldn't stand it anymore. I forced him to go on vacation. Only he decided to make it permanent. By quitting.



It was after a case in which a porn star was killed by a frat boy because he couldn't get it up with his girlfriend anymore that I saw Tim talking to the victim's friend and got jealous. She was young and passably pretty. Just the kind of girl he usually went for. Only the idea of him with someone else, anyone else, made me nauseous. I couldn't think, couldn't hear, couldn't do anything except howl my rage and frustration at his flirtation at him.

"Speedle!" I bellowed at him as soon as the elevator doors closed on the little slut. "My office, now!" My tone left no room for argument and I turned on my heel, fully expecting him to follow.

"What is it Horatio?" he asked as he entered my glass cell moments after I did.

I was no longer 'H' to him. Every time he had to say my name, it was 'Horatio' and it was killing me.

"What the hell were you just doing, talking to a potential witness? You do realize you could have jeopardized the whole case?" I demanded as I spun around to confront him face to face. I couldn't seem to keep from talking to him like he was two, instead of over 30 and a level III CSI.

"Yeah, Horatio. I know. I was…" he started to explain.

"If I find out that you've gone out with her, I'll have your badge," I talked over him. He still belonged to me. The idea of anyone else touching him, loving him, the way I had was driving me insane. I knew it was hypocritical of me, but I just couldn't seem to care. I couldn't have him and therefore no one else could either. "If you can't keep it in your pants, then maybe you should take a vacation. I was recently informed you haven't taken one since you've been here. You have six weeks. Starting tomorrow. That's an order." I stepped in close, only to have him back up. Out of my personal space.

That hurt. He used to crave the close contact. It was the only way we could touch without others finding out about us. I tend to stand well within the personal space of the people I'm talking to, so no one ever questioned it. But not at that moment. Right then he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with me. And it was destroying me to know that I'd hurt him that much. If I could have, just for a minute, seen past the green haze clouding my eyes...

"You want my badge that badly, you son of a bitch? Here. Here it is," the soft voice was worse than if he was yelling.

As he turned to walk out, something hit me in the chest. I caught it instinctively and knew as soon as it landed in my hand that it was his badge. I couldn't believe he had just quit. My knees went weak as I realized I had just driven him away. I had to stop him...make him understand... something I can barely explain to myself, even now.

"Tim!" I called after him as I hurried to catch up, but he was too fast for me. I hit the parking lot just as he kick-started his Ducati. I barely had time to get into the Hummer before he was out of sight. I followed him until I lost him in the late afternoon rush hour traffic.

"Damnit!" I yelled as I hit the steering wheel with the palm of my hand and turned around to head back to the PD. I needed to reevaluate this. What exactly did I need from him? And what was I willing to give him in return?

The following day was even harder than I thought it would be. Everywhere I turned there was someone asking about Tim. 'Where is he', 'when will he return', 'is he okay'.

'I don't know' was my response to all inquires. I had to fight myself to keep from sending out uniforms to find him. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't stop replaying that last fight over and over in my head. If I had just let him explain, would he still be here? Would I have been able to convince him that I need him? Just him. In or out of my bed. I need him in my life.

I ignored the mountain of case files on my desk in favor of staring down into his empty lab. I have always loved the placement of this office. Right over the trace lab. Tim's trace lab. Before and after I first took him to my bed, I would stand here for hours and just watch him work.

He is like poetry in motion. Every move purposeful. No wasted energy. He brings that same intensity to bed. Every touch has a reason. Every word uttered. Every look. I have never known someone to confound me the way he does. Taking him as he offers himself, wholly, in his entirety, is one of the most intense sexual experiences I have ever had. His pleasure fuels mine. It is part of why I am having a difficult time asking for what I need from him. I need him to put me in that role. The role of making sure the other is pleasured first. I need to submit to him as he has to me, but how do I ask someone as gentle as Tim is to dominate me?

The ringing of my desk phone broke though my musings.

"Horatio," I growled.

"Lieutenant Caine?" the receptionist asked a little timidly. "There is a woman on the line for Detective Speedle. Says she's his mother."

"Why are you calling me with this?" I could not keep the irritation out of my voice.

"She says he's not answering his phone. Either at home or his cell."

"Okay. Put her through." What I was going to say to this woman, I had no clue.

"Timothy! Oh, thank God I found you. If you ever do this again..." she started to scold.

"Ma'am? I'm Lieutenant Caine. Is there something I can do for you?" I interrupted.

"Lieutenant Caine? Where's Tim?" There was worry in her voice.

"He's not hurt. No need to worry about that. At the moment, I have no clue where he is. He stormed out of here after his shift last night and no one has heard from him since," I said a little too sharply. What must this woman think of me? Telling her this about her son.

"Did he do something wrong, Lieutenant? Is that why you don't seem worried that my son is nowhere to be found?" There was now anger on top of the maternal worry. Have you ever noticed that anyone's mother can make you feel like you're a kid again? "Tell me what you're doing to find him."

"He is a grown man, Mrs. Speedle. He's also a cop. He knows how to take care of himself." He didn't want me to find him. I was the one he ran from in the first place, after all was said and done.

"Lieutenant, do you know anything about my son's past?" I could tell by how hesitant her voice was that this was not something that the Speedles talked about very often.

"No. He tends to keep to himself." And I was not sure I wanted to know about it, either.

"He got mixed up with a very rough crowd after his best friend was injured in an accident," she paused and seemed to gather her courage. "I know that by telling you this, I'm breaking my son's trust and could potentially cost him his job. But I feel that you, of all people, should know this."

"His job is not in jeopardy, Mrs. Speedle. He quit last night. He and I argued about a... case... and he resigned," I sighed. Whatever she had to say would likely never go beyond this conversation.

"He what? I don't believe that. He worked so hard to become a CSI."

"Never the less, Mrs. Speedle. I'm looking at his gun and badge as we speak." I reached out and ran my fingers over his name on the badge that I couldn't seem to make myself turn in.

"His badge... I can't believe he would just give up this way, Lieutenant. It means more to him than you can possibly know." She paused again, and I had the horrible feeling I was about to be told something I would have been much better off never knowing. "When he... his friend was injured, he blamed himself..." Another pause, this time longer, that made my belly twist into knots.

"He...he became addicted to methamphetamine. It's how he got the nickname, Speed," she finally continued.

This time the silence between us was of my doing. All I could think of was Tim's furious face as he stormed out of my office the day before. And perhaps back into the arms of a drug that could very well be the death of him. I had to wait a few more moments before I could trust my voice not to betray me. I sat down in my desk chair. Hard.

"I...I always assumed it was derived from his last name. And a problem with the local speed limits." I truly had no idea there was a far more sinister reason for that pet name. The one I cry out as I reach orgasm deep in his body. The name I murmur in his ear as he falls asleep in my arms, afterwards.

"Yeah, that's my son, for ya. He has always lived life on the edge," she said with a strangled laugh. "But I'm afraid he'll go back, Lieutenant. The lure can be very strong. Especially for someone like Tim. He has trouble staying out of trouble."

Don't I know it. If ever anyone was trouble on two legs, it was Tim Speedle. "Tell me what you know. Mainly where he is most likely to go at a time like this," I urged her. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. This was likely to be bad. Very bad.

"His dealer's name was Marcus. That's really all I know. Oh, and Marcus has a sister that Tim was involved with for a while." She sounded as if this were not the first time she'd relayed this information. But then I guess she'd had to have gone through this before.

"Thank you, Mrs. Speedle. I will pass this information along and keep you informed as to his whereabouts." I said as I started to hang up.

"Wait, Lieutenant!" She stopped me. "Please don't let him know I said anything. He's not proud of what he did after Adam..." She cleared her throat several times before she continued. "But you should know what he went through to get clean."

"I doubt it's that important, Mrs. Speedle. All I really need to know is that he got clean once and stayed that way for several years, which means that he can get clean again and stay clean with my help."

"Never the less, Lieutenant. I can tell by the way you talk about him that you care a great deal about Tim."

"I care about all my CSIs, Mrs. Speedle. Not just Tim. Now, I'm sorry, but I really must go." and with that I hung up on her.

After the conversation with Tim's mother I was driven to do... something. I really had no clue that he had been involved with drugs. You cannot be a CSI and have had a problem with drugs in your past. So either he was very lucky to never have been arrested, or someone cleared his record, keeping it from IAB. I was placing my money on the latter.

I picked up my phone and called the one person I could think of who might have had a hand in keeping Tim's past a secret.

"Vice. This is Detective Bowen." Joe Bowen. He owned me a favor. A big one. One I planned on calling in, finally.

"Joe, Horatio. We need to talk."

"Where?"

"The usual place." Joe had helped when Ray went undercover. He kept Ray's partner, John Hagan, out of the investigation and kept me informed as to his progress.

"Ten minutes?"

"Make it five. This is important." I was desperate to find Tim. When I finally got my hands on him…

"Inpatient, much, Horatio? I need ten to clear my desk," he chuckled.

"It's not going to take that long, Joe. I just need some information."

"Alright. I'm on my way." And we hung up.

I found Joe without any effort.

"Horatio. What's up?" he asked as I approached him, slouched on the same park bench I'd met him at the first months Ray was under.

"I need information on a dealer." I replied as I sat down next to him.

"What dealer?" he wanted to know. His tone was flat, noncommittal, professional façade in place.

"All I know is 'Marcus'," I answered, knowing I was batting a long shot. But I knew I'd hit one out of the park, unexpectedly, when he went still and quiet, the bobbing toothpick pausing in its travels along his lower lip. It was a long few helpless seconds before he responded.

"I can't do that, H. I have men inside."

"So do I." I sighed. Now was not the time to prevaricate. "One of my CSIs has gone missing."

"Tim Speedle," Joe replied.

"Yeah. How'd you know?" I asked, surprised. Straightening up from where I was resting my forearms on my knees to frown at him.

"I told you. I have men inside." he shrugged.

"Joe. One of them is mine." It's a confession I didn't want to make, because I knew Joe wasn't stupid. He could very easily connect the dots.

It was almost a minute before he answered. "You're not the only one who feels some responsibility, Horatio."

That might be as close as I was going to get to a confirmation that he was involved in keeping Tim's name out of whatever reports were filed at the time. It gave me hope that he'd chalk my own worry up to that of a supervisor for an employee.

"You know I can't let you go in there, H. Marcus is not a nice guy. He'd just as soon shoot ya as look at ya. My guys will not be able to protect you if you insist on going in there."

"I don't want to go in, Joe. I just want to be sure that Speed gets his head out of his ass and walks away before it's too late."

"Okay. That I can do. I'll contact my guys and let them know to keep you in the loop. I promise you, I didn't pull him outta that place once to let him walk back in and stay."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Joe, thanks."

Silence fell between us for a moment. I didn't know if it was companionable, or if he was busy wondering what my interest in Tim was. But there were things I needed to know. "So...how'd you keep Speed's drug problem off his record?" I asked.

Joe chuckled. "It wasn't easy, let me tell you." he left it there, which told me he was of the opinion this was none of my business.

"He's at Marcus' house right now?" I asked.

"Yes. But according to my men, he's so fucked in the head, he doesn't care about anything except gettin' high. They said he came riding up into the yard like the Devil himself was on his tail." Joe chuckled at that. "He never did like goin' slow. Always said that life was too short to follow certain rules like the speed limit."

"Yeah." There was nothing else I could say. At least not without giving myself away.

"Yeah," he repeated with an ironic grin. "You need to know anything else?" Joe asked, looking at his watch.

"No that's it. Thanks, Joe." I stood up and shook his hand.

"Sure H. Just remember that he did get clean before. He has it in him to get clean again."

I gave him a little half smile. "That's what I'm counting on."

"Hm. Never thought he'd be your type, H." Joe tilted his head to the side, squinting at me in the late afternoon sunlight, shrewdly.

I looked back at him impassively. My feelings for Tim were sure as hell none of his business, and I refused to defend myself. I had nothing to be ashamed of. But I wanted both Tim and I to be able to walk away from this fiasco with our lives intact. And our careers, if possible.

The next several days were pure torture, thinking about another person I love throwing their life away for a few moments of chemical bliss.

I was once again ignoring the mounds of paperwork on my desk in favor of staring down into the empty lab. Tim's lab.

Only this time, I knew where he was. I knew that I had driven him back into his, and my, worst nightmare. I'm not sure I've ever felt more responsible for anything in my life. It forced me to question everything, including Raymond's addiction. One that was only supposed to be for show but turned real. What did I miss? How could I have let Ray descend into that hell alone? How did I miss his pain? His… whatever it was that drove him to use? Is it because I was too busy trying to live up to my role as his big brother? The one who set an example? Did I somehow set an impossible example? Is that what this is all about? Did I set the same impossible example for Tim?

"Horatio." The ironic laughter in the voice told me that the speaker had been calling my name for some time. "You know, I don't know why Speed always got nervous with you watching him from up here."

Eric. I finally recognized the voice. My spine stiffened, and I drew a breath, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

"Any CSI worth their salt would be able to tell you're crazy about him." he continued with a chuckle.

I turned around and gave him my best 'don't even go there' glare.

"Calleigh is taking bets on when you two will finally get together." His smile said it all. He really didn't know anything. He was fishing. Trying to trip me up.

"You're wrong, Eric." I replied. "So very wrong." I whispered as I turned back to watch the empty lab. Wishing with all my heart I could turn back the clock and bring Tim home again.

"I am, huh?"

I closed my eyes and prayed that Eric would turn away and leave me alone to contemplate the full magnitude of my crimes in the wretched peace that passed for my office.

"I don't think so, H."

"You have something to say, Eric?" I saw no choice but to face the juggernaut head-on.

"You're not the only one, Horatio," he said, the humor gone from his voice.

"The only one... what?" I asked shortly, my eyes narrowed in annoyance on his face. Couldn't he see that I just wanted to be left alone?

"The only one who's crazy about him." he sighed.

I stiffened. I couldn't help it. I knew I'd telegraphed my reaction by the soft sound of mingled amusement and resignation from Delko.

"Yeah. Like I said. Calleigh is taking bets."

"I'd suggest she keep her odds-making to herself, if she knows what's good for her," I said, half choked with the realization that my team had seen what I had so carefully tried to hide even from myself: I am in love with Timothy Speedle. And apparently, they were far less easily fooled than I am.

"It's a little late for that, H," Eric said softly. "Like I said. You're not the only one." He went silent for a long moment, then continued. The implicit meaning in his words wasn't lost on me. "You want him."

"I want him." The words were dragged from me against my will, betraying my most private desires, my fantasies, my lust, my most ignominious of secrets: I love Timothy Speedle. A young CSI I was bound to protect, obligated to supervise, and whose body I should never have allowed myself to become addicted to. And I had failed.

Failed in every way that meant anything. Tim was adrift in a Meth-house, using, doing his best to drown out the agony I'd put him through in the last weeks. God. What had I done? How could I have destroyed the trust Tim had in me? Thrown away the utter devotion he'd claimed to feel for me?

And how could I have made the same mistakes with Tim that I'd made with Raymond?

Stupidity is never easy to confront in one's self.

I finally received the call that I had been waiting for about a week after I talked to Joe.

"Detective Speedle left the house two days ago, Lieutenant Caine," I was told when I answered my phone.

"Why the hell did you wait so long to call me?" I snarled.

"Lieutenant, please calm down," the vice detective said, trying to get me to listen to reason. "Something came up with another case and Detective Bowen just now requested that I call you."

"Any idea where he is now?" I really wanted to rip someone's throat out. If Tim's hurt...

"We believe he went home to New York," was the reply.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because we were monitoring his cell calls and he told his mother that he was on his way north."

"Thank you. I'll take it from here."

"Yes, we thought you might," the detective chuckled. "Don't worry about his career, Lieutenant. Detective Bowen told everyone that Detective Speedle has not been anywhere near Marcus' house in the last ten years."

"Right. Again thanks. Tell Joe I owe him one this time."

"I will. Goodbye Lieutenant." I heard right before the line went dead.

So he flew home to his parents, huh? Made sense. They helped him before so why not again?

I had taken to sleeping at the office, my empty bed just too distracting, but if I was going on a field trip, I'd need more than a change of underwear and a clean shirt, which was pretty much all I had at the lab. I returned to my house to find half eaten toast on the kitchen counter, damp towels on the bathroom floor and the covers on the bed rumpled and still slightly wet.

Tim had been here. While I was hiding in my office, Tim came here to...find me? Confront me? I should have been here.

At the very least, I owed it to him to be there for him now, even if it meant following him back to his parent's home. I placed his gun on the top shelf of my closet and began to pack a bag. I was going to bring him back to Miami, where he belonged, whether he still wanted me or not.

At least, that was my goal. If I could somehow make him see why I'd behaved as I did, perhaps there would be a way for him to forgive me. My only fear was that I'd done irreparable damage to what we'd had. But only actually talking to him face to face would tell me if there was any hope, any love, left.

When I arrived in Syracuse I rented a car and discovered that David Speedle had sold all but one of his restaurants several years before. I also discovered that both David and Irene Speedle could be found at the one they still owned any time it was open. Even their younger son, Joshua, could be found there when he wasn't in school.

I found a motel just up the road from the restaurant, which was named, originally enough, Speedle's Place, and checked in.

I went to my room and forced myself to wait until morning before going to the restaurant to look for Tim.

I tried to watch TV, but found I couldn't keep my mind from wandering to Tim. Wondering what he was doing... Where he was... If he had arrived home yet...

As I lay there contemplating what in the hell I thought I was doing, chasing this young man, I found myself becoming helplessly aroused by the thoughts of Tim that chased themselves through my head. I slowly stroked my hand down my chest, stopping to play with my nipples. I moaned low in my throat as I imagined it was Tim's hand, Tim's fingers...

My dick had started to harden at the first thought of Tim and now was pushing urgently against the material of my boxers. I slid my hand farther down my chest. Still pretending it was Tim...

When I finally got to my stomach I was so far into my fantasy that I doubt I would have noticed if the real Tim walked in the door and finished me off.

I slipped my hand under the waistband of my boxers and took hold of my hard cock. Gently stroking from root to tip, I pulled the foreskin up and over, playing with it like Tim does. Twisting and pinching... Slipping my fingertip down inside the piss slit...

I reached my other hand down between my legs and fondled my balls, rolling them in their sacks, squeezing ever so slightly.

Frustrated by the restrictive fabric, I pulled my shorts off and threw my head back as I raised my knees, planting my feet on the mattress, and reached a little bit farther between my legs to tease my hole with one finger, slipping it inside to the first knuckle. I somehow managed to shove it in far enough to brush against my prostate. My hips jerked in response.

I stroked my dick harder and faster as I slipped another finger inside and started to fuck myself with my fingers. Faster, harder...in-out-in-out...up and down and around the head, still playing with the foreskin...When I finally came all over my chest and hand, it was with Tim's name on my lips.

The following morning was nice enough that I decided to walk up the road to the restaurant.

The area was very suburban. Several nice looking neighborhoods surrounded by shopping centers.

I wasn't the only person walking to Speedle's Place that morning. It was obviously a very popular place to eat.

The building was a bit of a surprise. It looked like one of those old diner cars with a whole 50's retro thing on the outside. But the inside had a real nice Mom-and-Pop feel to it. There were pictures of the family on the walls. Well, pictures of Tim and another boy that I guessed was his brother, Joshua.

"Good morning! Welcome to Speedle's Place!" An attractive middle aged woman, not much older than myself greeted me. She was a pretty brunette. A bit on the short side and slightly plump, but you hardly noticed it, she had such a presence about her. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn't figure out who right away.

"'Morning," I responded with a smile that I didn't quite feel. I was hesitant about meeting Tim's family. But not nearly as hesitant as I was about seeing Tim again. Would he ever be able to forgive me for the things I'd said and done?

She smiled at me. With Tim's smile.

So this was his mother. He looked just like her. Same warm brown eyes. Same round face. He even stood like her.

"Table for one?" she asked as she came out from behind the counter.

"No, I think I'll sit at the counter. If that's alright?" I responded as I approached where she was standing.

"Of course." she turned and retraced her steps. "Just let me know when you're ready." she told me as I took a seat along the Formica and picked up a menu. "My name's Irene."

"Irene." I replied. "Pretty name."

She blushed. "Thanks. I've always hated it. My husband is always trying to tell me that it fits me, but I never quite believe him." she finished with a shrug.

"Well, I guess that's because you feel that since he's your husband, he has to say that." I told her with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess." she blushed again. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, please." I couldn't help but smile again at her blush. She really did look like Tim when she blushed. At least I now knew where he got his dark good looks from.

Once she had poured me a cup, I placed my order for eggs, sunnyside up, some toast and bacon.

As I waited for my order, I looked around and noticed that everyone seemed to be on a first name basis with Irene. She stopped at every table and had something personal to say to everyone.

Most of the kids called her Mama Rene. Made me wonder if she was the kind of woman that started demanding grandchildren as soon as her kids were old enough to marry and reproduce. I started to get nervous thinking about that. I mean, there was no way Tim and I could have children. I wondered just how upset she was going to be when she found out that her oldest son would not be carrying on the family name.

"Order up!" the cook shouted as he rang the bell.

I stared at him, wondering if this was Tim's father. I saw nothing of Tim in this man. He was blonde, with a fair complexion and a square face. He did however look a bit like the other boy in the pictures. Interesting. One son looked like the mother; the other like the father.

"Will there be anything else?" she asked as she set my plate down on the counter in front of me.

It was a reflection of the rest of the restaurant: generous helpings of eggs, perfectly cooked, glistening with a little grease from the crisp bacon heaped alongside, and 3 slices of golden brown toast liberally smeared with butter. It looked like a meal any mother would put in front of her kids. All of which corresponded to the rest of the homey feel of the place. But the little sprig of parsley perched on the eggs was enough to make my stomach tense up. A tiny hint that appearances were important to this woman and her husband.

The anxiety that had started to build as I eavesdropped on the conversations around me intensified, and I broke one yolk open with my fork, watching the brilliant yellow flow over the warm whites and pool against the bacon. Suddenly unsure of the reception the food would find in my roiling guts, I settled for tearing a slice of toast into bite-sized chunks and sopping up the egg yolk, eating each bite slowly as I pondered my dilemma.

How to ask about Tim without alerting her to who I am? I didn't want her to warn him that I was in town before I had a chance to see and talk to him.

After I finished eating, and while I waited for Irene to add up my bill, I wandered over to the 'photo gallery'. The wall between the bathrooms was literally covered with framed photographs of Tim and a cute blonde boy.

"My boys are so very handsome, are they not?" Irene asked from behind me causing me to startle a little at the unexpectedness of her voice.

"Yes, they are, Mrs. Speedle." I replied.

"Have we met before?" she asked with a frown. Tim even had her frown.

It was just a little bit unsettling to look into eyes that were the exact same color as Tim's and not see the love, the desire that was always shining in them whenever he looked at me.

"No, ma'am. I would remember if we had." I smiled my most charming smile.

"Huh." she grunted. "I have an ear for voices and accents and yours is familiar. Almost as if..." she shook her head as if to clear it. "Never mind me. I must be getting senile in my old age." she chuckled at her own joke.

I smiled in return. "You're not old, Mrs. Speedle." I informed her.

"Oh, p'shaw." she made a shooing motion with her hands. "I happen to know just how old I am and love every wrinkle that comes with it." her eyes twinkled with mirth.

I was beginning to fall in love with Tim's mother and her unpretentious acceptance of the passage of time: most especially her appreciation for that passage. She'd make a great mother-in-law.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked as she turned to head back to the cash register.

"No, ma'am. I'm ready for the check." I answered as I pulled my wallet out of my pants pocket.

"That'll be $4.50." she said as I handed her my credit card. "Horatio Caine..." she read my name slowly off the front of the card. "Lieutenant Caine?" The look she gave me was the same look I've seen in countless other mothers' faces. She was begging me to be wrong. To be lying. 'Not my child.' her eyes said. Tears had started to gather in the corners of her eyes.

"Please, Mrs. Speedle. I'm not here to hurt Speed. I just need to talk to him."

"Police officers eat free." she told me as she handed me back my card. "Your card, Lieutenant." she said a little harshly when I made no move to take it from her.

"I can't not pay," I responded.

"Police officers eat for free," she said again.

"Do you do this for all officers?" I asked as I finally took my card from her trembling fingers. "Because of Speed?"

She just nodded. "God, he still goes by that stupid nickname?" she demanded on a sob.

"I'm sorry. It's what I've always called him. It's the name he prefers." I replied.

"He's not here." her chin went up a notch. She was starting to get her backbone back.

"Would you tell me even if he was?" I put my wallet back in my pocket and settled my hands on my hips, trying for a soothing expression. If I was going to bring Tim back to Miami where he belonged, I was going to need this woman on my side.

"If Tim has been suspended, or is on vacation, then where he is, is none of your business, Lieutenant." she snapped, her brows lowered in a frown. "I don't think it would be in his best interests to see you. Not until he's had some time to recover, emotionally."

"He hasn't been suspended, Mrs. Speedle. He quit." I tried to placate her. "I just need to talk to him. Please. It's important."

"Then you can tell me and I'll pass along the message." If her chin got any higher she would be looking at the ceiling and not me.

"It's personal." I shifted from foot to foot, fiddling with my sunglasses.

She titled her head to the side, looking just like Tim when he's examining evidence.

"Come into the office then. If I like what you have to say, I might tell you where he is." she huffed as she turned on her heel and flounced away.

I had no choice but to follow.

"Here now, no customers allowed in the kitchen." the cook informed me as I pushed through the door on Irene's heels.

"David, leave him be. He's with me." Irene said over her shoulder, on her way to the minuscule office to my right.

"Who is he?" David Speedle asked his wife, his eyes never leaving my face.

"Tim's Lieutenant." she spat the word as if it was an epithet.

"Huh. The great Horatio Caine." David gave me the once over and apparently found me lacking. "Not what I expected." he sucked on his teeth before turning back to the grill.

"In here, Lieutenant." Irene commanded, every inch the furious mother about to dress down a schoolyard bully who'd dared hurt her child. I was starting to wish I had brought Calleigh or Alexx with me as backup.

"If you'll let me explain..." I started as she closed the door behind me.

"No, Lieutenant, I'll do the talking." she walked stiff legged to sit behind the desk. "Have a seat." she indicated the chair in front of the desk.

As I sat down I could see the wheels turning in her head. I wasn't sure if she was putting two and two together or just trying to figure out what to say, but either way, it didn't bode well for me.

"First let me say that Tim's heart has been broken. I know that's not any excuse for whatever it is he did wrong, but he's always been a sensitive boy..."

"He didn't do anything wrong," I interrupted, suddenly aware that she knew Tim's recent troubles had been precipitated by our break-up... or at least some kind of heartbreak.

"Please let me finish." she snapped, just like my own mother used to. I immediately shut my mouth, swallowing my next words, and waited for her to finish.

"Now, I know Tim tends to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he tries to not let it interfere with his work. If he let the trollop who broke his heart get in the way of his job, it wasn't deliberate, and I would have thought you, as his supervisor, would have been more supportive of him." she took a deep breath. "That said, since he has turned in his badge, which I still don't believe he did-"

At the disbelief in her tone, I pulled his badge out of my other pocket and laid it gently on the cluttered desk, glancing at Tim's mother as I did. I'd hoped to return it to Tim personally, but it looked like Irene was going to do her damnedest to prevent me from seeing him.

She looked down at the gleaming metal that symbolized her oldest child's dreams, anger flashing across her features again. "I don't know why you're here. He is no longer your concern," she went on as if I hadn't just laid her son's future on the desk before her. But as she picked up Tim's badge, her hand visibly shook.

"I'm here because I care about him." I had no idea how I could convince her of that fact without revealing that the mythical woman she blamed for Tim's emotional collapse didn't exist. That the responsibility for all he'd gone through in the last months lay squarely on my shoulders.

"Where was that concern when he was getting his heart ripped out by some slut?" she hissed. "Do you know who she is? Because I'd love to give her a piece of my mind."

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. But it was obvious that I would have to confess the full extent of my guilt if I was going to have any hope of enlisting her as an ally, rather than as a hurdle between Tim and myself. "Mrs. Speedle, do you remember when you asked me if I knew anything about Sp...Tim's past?" I waited for her nod before continuing. "Well, what do you know about his present?"

"His present?" she asked her brows again lowered in a frown.

"Yes. Do you know anything about who he tends to spend time with?"

"No." she tilted her head to the side in confusion. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Tim's last lover was not a woman." I took a deep breath and jumped in with both feet. "I was Tim's last lover." I had lowered my head as I said the last part: now I peeked up at her from under my lashes.

Irene Speedle had gone quiet and pale. Her mouth was hanging open in a little 'oh' of surprise. Then all of a sudden she shook her head to clear it and meet my gaze dead on.

"Well, now. That is not what I expected at all. But I don't know why it surprises me. He's been in love with you from the moment he met you." I could see the speculation creeping into her expression.

"What do you mean?" It was my turn to be confused.

"He was always talking about you. Just like a little kid would talk about their hero. Every conversation it was 'H, this' and 'H, that.'" she chuckled. "I even teased him once about having a crush on you. He denied it, of course." The humor faded from her expression as she pinned me once more with her maternal glare. "So why'd my baby's heart get broken?" she was instantly back to being the protective mother bear.

"Because I was stupid."

"Oh, you're going to have to do better than that, Lieutenant." she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Please call me Horatio or H." I requested.

"Fine. Now explain why you pushed my son back into Marcus' arms." she demanded one brow raised in accusation.

"Because I let my lack of faith in myself and his ability to give me what I need override my..." Here I paused. The next words had never been spoken by me about Tim. I wasn't sure I should say them to her now. Maybe I should wait until I could say them to him.

"Yes?" she prompted. "Your...what?"

I cleared my throat. These words needed to be said. Even if they were to his mother and not him. "My love for him. I love your son, Mrs. Speedle." I finished with a slight nod for emphasis.

"Really?" she asked as if she already knew the answer. "Then why haven't you told him? It's in your eyes. I'm sure he knows, but he needs to hear it. Tim...Tim didn't have what most children take for granted, growing up."

"Mrs. Speedle..." I tried to stop her, not wanting to hear whatever this was.

"Please call me Irene." she admonished me. Regardless of her faint smile, I still felt like an elementary school kid in front of the principal

"Irene, I really don't need to know..."

"But you do." she interrupted firmly. "Tim's father and I were so very young when we had him and he is so very bright. We were, and to some extent still are, a little intimidated by him. I'm afraid we - I - didn't tell him that he was loved often enough. He went through something that no one should ever have to go through after Adam..." she faltered. Tears starting to flow down her face she again looked me in the eyes. "Has he told you about any of that?"

"No, ma'am." I responded, cringing internally.

She nodded. "Well, that's his story to tell. But I can, and I will, tell you this: I walked through hell to get my son to where he was a few months ago. And I will be damned if I'm going to let you put him right back there."

I was starting to fear for my personal safety.

"Irene..."

"If you don't intend to treat him right, just leave now and I'll never tell him that you were here." There was no room for compromise in her voice, or in her expression.

"I'll love him for the rest of my life." I stated simply.

She considered this for a long moment, then nodded to herself. "Alright then. Tim should be here sometime tomorrow. You'll stay with us."

"I couldn't." I objected.

"Nonsense." Irene scoffed. "Family never stays in a motel."

"If you insist," I replied, dizzied by my transition from enemy to family in the space of a heartbeat. The idea of staying under her roof, of being scrutinized by her as her son's lover, left me in a cold sweat. And what Tim's reaction would be to my revealing our relationship I could only guess.

"Of course I insist," she answered, refusing to take 'no' for an answer.

"Very well then." I gave in with deep reluctance. "I'll just go check out of the motel."

"Horatio." Irene called as I got up to leave the office.

"Yes?"

"If you ever do something this stupid again..." she left the rest of that sentence unsaid, but I heard her loud and clear anyway.

I mentally guarded my private parts as I turned and walked out.



"H?" The sleepy inquiry pulls me from my musings of the past couple of weeks.

"Hm?" I respond, settling more comfortably against the doorframe to watch his ribs rise and fall with his gentle breathing.

"Come back to bed. 'M cold," he whines.

"Well, maybe you should cover up, then," I tell him with a chuckle. This earns me a huff and a lazy hand flipping me off.

"Don' wanna move," he mumbles as he burrows deeper into his pillow.

"Well, then..." I reply as I stalk him where he's lying in my bed. "Maybe I can help warm you up, hm?"

I stop just out of his reach. "H!" he complains as the fingers of his right hand stretch out to try and touch my thigh. "I need you..."

"You are such a slut," I chuckle.

His eye pops open at that and he tries to glare at me. "Yeah? Well... only for you, H. Only for you," he breathes as a blush creeps over the skin of his back and up to his face.

"Really?" I ask as I climb onto the bed and straddle his hips.

"Yeah...only...you...H..." his breath catches in his throat as I run my hands over the sleep-warmed skin of his shoulder blades.

"Show me how much of a slut you are Speed," I whisper against his back.

His response is to roll completely onto his stomach and raise himself up on his forearms, dropping his head onto his clasped hands and offering his neck to me.

It's not his neck I'm interested in, though. What I want... is the heart of him. The center of his being, seasoned with my own presence there, earlier in the day. But it's as good a place as any to begin. And I know it will relax him, and heat his blood, so that is where I start.

I trail my tongue down his spine, drawing lazy patterns on his flesh, following it with fleeting, quick kisses, and an occasional nip that barely scrapes the sensitive skin. He sighs his contentment, barely controlling the tiny shivers that rock his body at the feel of my teeth. I smile against his shoulder, but it isn't contentment I'm looking for in his responses.

I don't want him sleepy, I don't want him relaxed. At least not when I get to where I plan on going. So I begin to work my way down his back, tongue and fingers and teeth and lips all in play along his soft flesh. It takes me several minutes to reach the sweet hollow at the base of his spine, the dimples above his buttocks a temptation I can't resist. I sweep my lips over the left, then the right, pressing my tongue into the miniature divots and swirling it over the flesh and following it up with a sharper nip, then a second soothing pass of my tongue and lips.

His sighs are beginning to shift along the spectrum towards arousal. Somehow, I think warmth is no longer an issue. God knows, I certainly feel the heat of him. Solid between my thighs, his legs are muscular and furred with dark hair that tangles with the hair on my own as I ease on down the length of them. "Tim..."

"Hm. Don't stop, H. Please... don't... stop..." His voice has lost that vaguely groggy tone it had a few minutes ago, and the energy in his body is growing.

"Stop? Why would I stop?" I murmur against his right ass cheek, then stroke my hands over both, fingertips settling in the crack and stroking the muscular glutes apart, then bending to dip my tongue into the canyon between them.

I taste him, I taste myself; sweat and semen and lust. The flavors have melded and blended, and like any great recipe, the whole is far greater than the sum of its parts.

He whimpers, a sound so soft it's nearly lost in the pillow he's buried his head in. "No, God, no..."

"Yes," I whisper against his tailbone, then swipe a lick downward. My own semen spices the mix, and I pull his ass cheeks apart more firmly so I can reach the delicate pucker of skin I'm seeking. He's trying to clench them closed against my sensual invasion.

I lave Tim's asshole with the flat of my tongue, relishing the salty bittersweetness of our recent mating, and the sexual musk fills my nose. My mate.

That's what it is. A mating. My heart belongs to this young dark-haired Adonis, as his body belongs to me. It is my devout hope that by pleasuring the flesh, I can lure his heart to follow mine into the abyss of love.

He gasps, twitching, stiffening under me, suddenly resisting. "God, H, no!" the plea is shamed, and I straighten, pressing him back into the mattress with a hand in the middle of his back as he tries to roll over, embarrassed by my tongue in so private a place.

"No," I warn him forcefully. He is new to this, after all, and the taboos are deeply ingrained into us all from childhood.

I do not love easily. But I may love too well. I know this about myself. But that doesn't mean I can change that basic character flaw. And here, with Timothy Speedle's body between my thighs, all I can think of is the tender, fragile flesh I've felt around my dick, and now want to sample with my other senses. All of them. Taste not the least of them.

"Tim. Speed. Trust me. It doesn't hurt."

"Not me," he whimpers. "You can't do this, Horatio, not you, dammit! The humiliation..."

"Is imaginary, Timothy," I tell him firmly. I think back to the first time we fucked, my kisses on his ass sending him into a fit of laughter. I'd assumed it was amusement, irony. But perhaps there was just a hint of embarrassment in it. His reaction now would seem to bear that out. "I know what I'm doing, Speed," I tell him gently. "And I know why. I'm not humiliated, there's no reason you should be."

He turns his head on the pillow and I can see the confusion and uncertainty in his expression. It's the last thing I want there. What I want is the same intense desire I feel right now. My balls, dangling as heavily as ripe fruit between his calves, are aching with my desire for him. For this. My cock is hardening, filling with blood and need. And I want his to do the same.

"Do you trust me?" I demand gently.

His eyes actually begin to tear up, and he nods. "With my life." he whispers.

"Then trust me now. Trust that I want this. That you will. I want you, Speed," I whisper. "All of you. I want to explore you with every sense I possess. And possess you with every sense."

He thinks about what I've just said. Then he gives a barely noticeable nod of his head before burying it in his pillow again.

I am encouraged by this and return to my exploration of his body. To tasting that most intimate part of him.

As I flick my tongue against his entrance, I feel the tiny shivers that tell me how hard it is for him to allow. He is still embarrassed that I want to do this.

To reassure him, I take my time. Tasting him. All of him. I run my tongue down to his balls, sucking first one then the other into my mouth. This is something he's used to. Something he can let me do. And I feel him relax even more as I lavish attention on this part of his body.

When his sighs turn once again towards arousal, I lick my way back up to his entrance. He stiffens for the barest of moments before relaxing and letting me do what I want. I am pleased that he can trust me enough to allow this.

Time seems to stand still as I tease his hole, flicking with the tip of my tongue before running the flat of it from behind his balls to the top of his crack.

"H..." he sighs. "Please..."

"Please...what?" I ask against the sweat-slick skin of his ass. "Do you really want me to stop?"

"N...no." he gasps.

"No. No... what?" I tease.

I run the tip of my tongue back down the valley between his ass checks until I am once again at that wonderful place. The place where he takes me into his body. I circle the tightly furled bud before dipping inside for the ultimate taste.

He stiffens at my invasion, but relaxes after just a moment, groaning when I pull back to gently blow air on the wet skin, watching as he 'winks' at me. I smile when this pulls a rough growl of need from him.

"I need more, you son of a bitch. Give me more..." he demands as he rocks back towards me. Offering himself to me. I chuckle before I dip my tongue once again into his hole. Tasting myself on his skin. Reveling in the mix of our flavors. In how we have become one. He starts to pant harder as I fuck him with my tongue. He's rocking back to meet my every thrust. Grinding his dick into the sheets, a steady stream of crude language, most of it unintelligible, pouring from his lips.

"Fuck, H!" he screams as his muscles tighten around my tongue with his orgasm. I can't believe I managed to make him come, without once touching his cock.

Several minutes pass before his breathing returns to normal. Several minutes in which I lie between his legs, my head pillowed on his ass, contemplating what just happened.

"H?" he shifts a little. "You awake back there?"

"Hm. Yeah. Just give me a second, okay?" I can't resist the urge to nip him, to mark him like he had marked me on that horrible night when I allowed my uncertainty to override my love for him.

He groans at the feel of my teeth and gives a tiny shiver. "I love you, H."

"Hm. I'm glad. You know I feel the same, right?"

Why can't I tell him how I feel? What is so hard about saying those three little words? I had no problem saying them to his mom, so why does my tongue twist and stumble over them now?

"Yeah." I can hear the disappointment in his voice. He knows I love him, but he must be questioning just how much every time I refuse to say it back.

"Stay here. Don't move." I tell him as I roll off the bed.

"Wouldn't even if I could." he mumbles into his pillow.

I can't help but smile at the picture he makes. Sprawled on his stomach, the skin of his back red from my stubble, bruises starting to form on his ass checks from my fingers…

"My little slut." I murmur as I turn from the bed to walk to the closet.

A few days ago he told me what his favorite fantasy is. And I plan on acting it out for him now. I have taken the day off to be with him. We haven't had much time these past three days, I've had to work. But today…Today I will show him just how much I love him, since I can't seem to make my mouth form the words.

I reach up to the shelf where I placed his gun before I flew to New York last week. I carry it and the cleaning kit back to the bed.

Tim is like a big cat. He will search out any warmth and lie there basking in it. The sun is streaming in the window and it makes his skin look golden.

"H?" he turns his head his eyes still closed. "Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere, baby." I reply as I climb back into the bed. "Just needed to get something."

"Hm. I could sleep all day." he says with a yawn.

"But you won't." I tell him as I run my hand up his back from his butt to his shoulders and back down.

His eyes open at that statement and he again tries to glare at me. "Says who?" he demands.

I laugh. "Me. In case you haven't noticed I still haven't come."

His gaze burns as it travels down my torso to stop on my erect dick. "Hm. Maybe I can help with that." he murmurs as he pushes me over onto my back before settling on my hips. "Does this help?" he asks as he leans down to lick at my lips.

"Not quite." I breathe against his skin.

"So, what will?" he teases as his eyes darken with renewed passion. "I know!" he exclaims with a grin. He stands up on his knees and grips my dick in his hand.

I can't stop the whimper of need at the heat of his hand on my sensitive skin. "Tim..." I plead.

"Sh, baby. I know what you need now." he purrs as he slowly impales himself on my erect flesh. "Mm. So good, H. So very good..." he moans as his head drops back on his neck and he closes his eyes.

It is all I can do not to grab his hips and slam into him over and over until we're both screaming our release. But I must control the urge to take him. I want to fulfill his every fantasy starting with the one that he was having that wonderful day I discovered how he feels about me.

"Speed?" I call after allowing him to grind his hips into mine for a few minutes.

"Hm?" he responds, blissfully unaware of what I have planned.

"Look at me." I command.

He is slow to comply, but once he does I almost lose it. The love shining in his eyes will be my undoing one of these days, I just know it. "I need you to clean your gun." I state as I place his gun and the cleaning kit on my chest.

He frowns down at me. "Why? I cleaned it just before we argued two weeks ago."

"That was then, Tim. You know it needs to be cleaned every week." I reply as I pick up one of his hands and place his gun in it.

"If you insist." he sighs as he starts to get up.

"Uh-uh." I shake my head as I grab his thighs to keep him in place. "Right here." I inform him pointing a finger at my chest.

His jaw drops as he stares at me, his pupils widening with desire. "Here?" he asks on a shaky breath.

"Mmhm. You did say this was something you fantasized about, right?"

"Not exactly, but it works." he agrees with a smirk as he starts to dismantle his gun.

I try to lie still and allow him to take his time cleaning it, but the heat of him on my cock is too much and I shift every so often. Just enough to make him spill gun oil on my chest several times. "Sorry." he groans as I roll my hips again, causing my dick to rub against his prostate.

"That's okay." I reassure him. "You about done?"

"Almost. If you'd... just..." he falters as I shift again. He's hovering on the edge of orgasm. "There," he says in glee as he finishes putting his gun back together.

I take it from him and lay it on the bedside table. "Now, ride me." I whisper.

His eyes widen as he realizes that I want him to take control. He starts to move slowly at first, but soon he finds his rhythm and the sounds of our heavy breathing can be heard in the quiet of the room.

"Fuck, Speed." I grit out through my teeth as he keeps the pace just fast and hard enough to feel good, but not quite enough to make me come. "Give me more, you bastard." I order as I grip his hips, leaving bruises.

"Just wait." he pants as he grabs my hands, interlacing our fingers, before shifting his legs so that his feet are flat on the bed. He then slowly raises and lowers himself. "Oh, fuck..." I can tell it's just not enough for even him, so I shake my hands free and roll us over until I'm on top. "H?" he blinks up at me.

"Sh. I'll make it good. I promise." I murmur against the skin of his neck before sucking on it and leaving my mark.

His response is to plant his feet on the mattress and thrust up to meet me as I slam back into him. As I seek my pleasure in his body, his hands grip the muscles on either side of my spine. I have a feeling I'm going to have a few bruises of my own when this is over.

I bury my hands in his hair as he leans up and sinks his teeth into my shoulder. He seems to have this need to mark me when we fuck. The pain of his teeth breaking through my skin is enough to push me over the edge and I empty myself deep within him.

I pull his head back and claim his mouth with my own, tasting my blood on his tongue, as I ride him through my orgasm. "Now, Speed. Come for me." I pull back to whisper against his lips.

It's almost as if he was just waiting for my permission because as soon as I start to speak he comes long and hard, the contractions of his inner muscles almost enough to cause me to come again.

As we lay there waiting for the world to stop spinning, my phone begins to ring. "Ignore it, H." he pleads as I shift to answer it.

"It might be important." I tell him as I look at the number on the screen. "Damn. All hands on deck." I growl as I roll off him and stand up to walk to the bathroom.

Just as I start to close the door, his phone rings. "That had better be my mom." he snarls as he picks it up. "Fuck! I'm on vacation." he shouts.

"Not any more, you're not." I say. I'm back in 'boss' mode. "Now get that pretty little ass of yours out of bed and start getting ready."