---

Every muscle in Nate's body went taut. "That's bullshit, Mike. Brandon has already said he won't touch my money."

Mike rolled his eyes. "God, you are so naive. He's got to tell you that to gain your trust. How else would he get you living here, full time? He didn't waste any time moving you in after your accident, now did he?"

"That just proves my point. Why would Brandon engineer that accident and try to kill me? If I'd died that night, he wouldn't have gotten a dime."

"I don't think he meant to kill you. I talked to the mechanic who examined your car. He said your brake lines were frayed, not cut. I believe Nash's intention was to drain enough fluid to scare you, not make you crash. Did you know he restored that Camaro of his from the frame-up and did almost all the work himself? A man who knows as much about cars as he does could fray those brake lines in his sleep. Now he's come up with this cock-and-bull story about a homicidal maniac who's burning down gay businesses just to get to you? I'm telling you, Nash is behind all of it. He'll gain your trust, and the minute he has your power of attorney, this so-called stalker will close in and you'll meet with an unfortunate accident."

Nate's rage was festering just below his skin, begging to come to the surface. "Get out, Mike. When you're through talking crazy, you and I are going to have a serious discussion about what I will and won't tolerate."

"Crazy? You're calling me crazy?" His laugh was grating, bitter. "That's an ironic statement considering your choice of lovers. Maybe it's time I told you a few things about the man you're sleeping with."

Keith said, "That's enough, damn it. Nate asked you to leave. Now get out."

"Not until Nate listens to me."

Keith started to say something else, but Nate stopped him. "Fine. Say what you've got to say. I'm sure you aren't going to tell me anything I don't already know, anyway."

"Oh, really? How about the fact that three years ago, your boyfriend flipped out over a case he was working on and had to be institutionalized. Did you know he had a complete break with reality, that he was loonier than a toon for almost four months? Did you know one of the victims was his lover, and that for a while Nash was the chief suspect in his murder?"

Megan said, "That's a filthy rotten lie. My brother was sick, not crazy."

"Honey, your brother was fucking nuts."

Nate edged around Keith. "Don't talk to her that way, asshole. The correct term for the condition is post traumatic stress disorder. The case he was working on involved a killer who mutilated his victims and then delivered the remains back to the families. Brandon was the chief investigator. Yes, he was a suspect for a brief period when it was discovered that he was friends with the victim, Kyle Washburn. He and Kyle were friends, not lovers. The reason Brandon 'went nuts' as you so eloquently put it, is because the killer left what little remained of Kyle's body on Brandon's doorstep. Bran was cleared when the real killer was caught in the act of leaving another body on another doorstep. He spent three months in a private hospital-not an institution-to which he checked himself in voluntarily, I might add. He's fine now, and that's all that matters to me."

Mike's cocky smirk made Nate feel like slugging him, broken arm and all. "Who told you all that? Nash? You can't possibly think he'd tell you the truth."

"Brandon didn't tell me anything. Seth had him investigated. When I refused to read the report, he read it to me. I'll tell you the same thing I told my brother. I don't care about Brandon's past, except that I'm sorry for what he had to go through. The only thing I care about is the future, the one we'll make together. I'm not going to let you come into our home and hurl this trash around. For your information, if and when I die, everything in my trust fund will go to Amy. As far as that goes, Grandmother Morris left just as much to Amy as she did to me and Seth. I didn't accuse you of marrying Amy for her money, did I? I gave you the benefit of the doubt even though we didn't exactly see eye to eye when you and she first started dating. Why can't you extend the same courtesy to Brandon?"

"Nobody was trying to kill Amy when she and I were dating, either. You're family to me, Nathan, to us. I don't want to see you get hurt by some psycho who's hard pressed for cash."

Gale crossed her arms over her chest. "My son has plenty of money, you little creep. Even if he were dirt poor, which he isn't, he has far too much integrity to ever marry for money."

"Sure he does, lady. I don't suppose you have any proof of his financial status, do you?"

Brandon stepped out of the mud-room. "No, she doesn't, Vaughn, but I do." He walked over to one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "Nate's always after me to store my records somewhere other than the kitchen. Guess you never thought it would come in handy, did you, baby?" He handed the papers to Nate. "Everything you ever wanted to know about the monetary dealings of Brandon Nash is in these papers, Nate. All you have to do is look. I certainly don't have a high dollar trust fund, but I'm comfortable. I've made some good investments, have a couple of CD's. Everything I have is yours, regardless of the amount."

Nate could only guess at how much Brandon had heard. He looked into those deep blue eyes and saw something he never thought he'd see in the ever confident sheriff. Fear. Brandon Nash was afraid of loosing him, afraid Mike's paranoid delusions would come between them.

Nate shook his head and refused the offered documents. "I don't need to see those."

Mike came up and snatched the statements from Brandon's hand. "Maybe he doesn't, but I do." He examined the records like a tax auditor. Nate was surprised he didn't ask to see Brandon's pay stubs, too. Finally, Mike looked up and said, "So you've got about two-hundred thousand in savings. What does that prove? Just because you've got a little doesn't mean you don't want more?"

Brandon didn't say anything, but Nate had reached his limit. "Alright, Mike, you've said what you came to say. Now it's time for you to go."

Amy stood up, her face pale and her eyes bleary. "Nate, I'm so sorry about all of this. You know how Mike is when he gets a notion in his head."

Mike whirled on his wife, his eyes narrowed. "Don't defend me. I know what I'm talking about. Why is it whenever there's a line drawn between me and Nate, you always seem to be on his side of the line?"

Amy put her hand on his arm. "You know that's not true, Mike. You're my husband. I married you, not Nate."

"Only because he wouldn't have you. Don't think I don't know how you feel about your so-called best friend. You've been lusting after him for years. Hell, I'm surprised you didn't have a sex change just to satisfy him. I'm sure he'd have been on you in a second if you'd had a dick and some balls." He was in Amy's face, yelling so that the sound bounced around the room.

Nate got in between them, Amy against his back. "Whatever half-baked theory you've got going about me and Amy, I will not have you yelling at her like that. Make of it what you will, but that's the way it's gonna be."

Mike didn't back up so much as a step. "What's with you, Nate? Are you so desperate to get laid that you'll throw away your friends and possibly even your life? Damn, if Nash is that good in bed, maybe I should start taking it up the ass, too. Beats sticking it to a frigid bitch who's pining for a fucking queer night after night."

Brandon tried to stop him, but it was too late. Nate made a dive for Mike and sent them both tumbling to the floor, the financial papers flying through the air and littering the linoleum. He smashed his left fist into Mike's jaw, obscenely pleased at the feel of bone crunching bone. Mike shifted his weight, throwing Nate off and coming down on top of him. Nate's cast made an ominous thump on the hard floor as it fell uselessly aside. Physically, Nate was stronger, but lingering weakness from the accident gave Mike the advantage. He drew his arm back and was about to hit Nate in the head when Keith and Brandon pulled them apart.

Keith had his arms underneath Mike's armpits, pinning him against his chest. Brandon held a struggling Nate around the waist, trying desperately not to put pressure on the still healing bruises dotting his chest and stomach. He was also doing his best not to get winged by Nate's heavy cast.

"You'll pay for that, Nathan. I'll press charges and sue your ass for assault." Mike made a grab for freedom, but Keith held firm.

"Go right ahead. It'll be worth it to have the whole world know that the great Michael Vaughn got his ass kicked by a fag, not once, but twice. I'll be sure to wear a dress and high-heels into the courtroom to make it look that much better."

Amy came to stand between the men and their captors with an air of command and said, "Nobody's pressing charges, unless there's a law against making an ass out of yourself, which I'd say you've both done rather nicely. Now, when I count to three, Brandon and Keith are going to let you go. If you so much as snarl at each other, I'll make sure Brandon locks you both up." She looked at Brandon. "Alright by you?"

Nate couldn't see Brandon, but he could hear the amusement in his voice. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. One. . .two. . .three." Brandon and Keith let go at the same time. Nate and Mike stared each other down over Amy's head, but neither said anything. Amy gave them both a quick once over, then focused all her attention on Mike. "You and I are going home. You can call me frigid all you want, but I promise you haven't seen anything close to the bitch I can be if you cross me." She turned around and gave Nate a sad smile. "I'm sorry about this, Nate. He may be a perfect bastard sometimes, but he's my bastard and I love him. If it's any consolation, he'll start feeling guilty in a couple of hours and want to make it up to you. My advice is to make it as hard on him as possible." She whirled on her heel and made an exit worthy of a queen. Mike followed without saying another word.

When they were gone, Gale said, "Thank God that's over with. I wasn't sure how much longer we were going to have to listen that nonsense."

Brandon maneuvered Nate to the chair that Amy had vacated and said, "Sit down and take your shirt off."

The tone of his voice was so stern, Nate couldn't resist. "Now honey, I know I'm sexy and damned irresistible to boot, but do you really think we should be doing this in front of your family?"

"You're not funny, Nathan. I want Keith to check you out to make sure you haven't done any damage with your prize-fighter routine. If I have to take you back to the hospital to have that arm re-set, I'm going to ask the doctor to put you in a full body cast. That's about the only way I can keep you out of trouble." He grabbed the hem of Nate's t-shirt and tugged it over his head, working it over his broken arm.

"You aren't really mad at me, are you?" His voice was muffled through the fabric of his shirt. "I couldn't just stand there and let him insult you and Amy like that. He had it coming."

Brandon laid the t-shirt on the table and moved back so Keith could begin the examination. "He may have had it coming, but you didn't have to be the one to give it to him. I've spent all afternoon trying to figure out ways to keep you safe. I'm not about to let you undo all that by tearing out your stitches and bleeding to death."

Gale and Megan took chairs at the table and looked on in amusement. Gale said, "I hope Nate didn't hurt himself, but I have to admit, I enjoyed seeing that little punk get what was coming to him."

Megan grinned. "My favorite part was when Mike tried to tell Nate all about Brandon's past and Nate beat him to it. I still can't believe Seth hired a private investigator."

Brandon snorted. "I can. He and I didn't exactly get off to the best start." His face softened when he looked at Nate. "I'm just grateful I've got a loving man who doesn't hold my past against me."

It was Nate's turn to snort. "There's nothing to hold against you. You were sick, Brandon. Most people wouldn't have fared as well as you did. Kyle was your friend. Loosing him the way you did must have been a nightmare."

"How did you know Kyle and I were just friends? Was that on the report, too?"

Nate wanted desperately to erase the uncertainty he saw on Brandon's face. "It wasn't on the report, but I didn't need it to be. You told me about all of your serious relationships. If you and Kyle had been anything more than friends, you would have told me. I trust you, Bran."

Keith bent down to examine Nate's ribs. "Do you really have four million dollars? Cause I've got tell you, Nate, I'd consider spreading my legs to you for that much cash."

Gale was horrified. "Keith Edward! What a horrible thing to say to your own brother's fiancé."

Nate and Brandon shared a smile. "I'm flattered, Keith, but you aren't my type."

Keith paused. "What do you mean I'm not your type? You think I'm not man enough for you?"

Brandon moved to put his hand on Nate's shoulder. "I've seen you naked, Keith. Trust me when I tell you, you definitely aren't."

They all laughed, but Gale broke the mood. "What did you mean when you said you've spent all day trying to find ways to keep Nathan safe, Brandon?"

Nate listened as Bran told them about his meeting with Howard and gave them the details on Wilson. When Brandon was done, he said, "Why would a professional hit-man be after me? I don't have any ties to organized crime."

Keith pronounced him sound and handed him his shirt. While he was dressing, Brandon said, "I need you to think long and hard, Nate. Who would benefit from your death?"

"You mean financially?"

"I mean for any reason."

"The only person who stands to gain anything financially is Amy, and if she hasn't already killed me after some of the things I did to her growing up, I think it's safe to say she isn't going to."

Keith took a mug down from the cabinet and poured himself a cup of coffee. "What about Mike? Wouldn't he get his fair share if you died? What's Amy's is his and vice versa, right?"

Nate was adamant. "No way. I know the guy can be a pain, but he loves me somewhere deep inside. Very deep inside. Besides, why go to all the trouble of moving me up here and helping cement the partnership with Amy? I made Amy the beneficiary of my trust the day after my parents dumped me. If Mike wanted to off me for my money, he's literally had years to do it."

"Did you really kick his ass once before, Nate?"

"I sure did, Megan."

"What happened?"

Nate sighed. "Basically the same thing that happened tonight. Amy and I have been friends since grade-school. All through high-school and the first year of college, it was just the two of us. She rarely dated, and I didn't date at all. She met Mike right at the end of our sophomore year. They hit it off, but Mike wasn't too crazy about his girlfriend having a guy for a best friend. One night, they got into an argument about the amount of time she spent with me, and Mike told her she had to choose between us. She dumped him and called me. When I got to her apartment, she was a mess. I cleaned her up, took out a couple of quarts of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, and let her cry on my shoulder. At one point, she crawled into my lap so I could hold her while she cried. That was when Mike walked in and saw her curled up in my arms."

All the Nash's in the kitchen said, "Ouch."

"He certainly wasn't pleased. He started hurling wild accusations like he did tonight. He even said the whole gay thing was just a cover to get into Amy's pants. It was when he called her a slut that I knocked two of his teeth out." Nate went to the cabinet and grabbed some aspirin. "I'd have knocked out a couple tonight, too, if I hadn't been fighting handicapped." He filled a glass of water from the tap and downed the pills. "That still doesn't prove anything. After that night, Mike and I actually became friends. He and I have a friendship separate from mine and Amy's, too. Lots of times we have 'guys' night out' with just the two of us. If he wanted me out of the picture, he's hand ample opportunity. Why now?"

Brandon nodded. "What you just said makes perfect sense, but we aren't ruling out anybody, no matter how good the logic."

Gale said, "What about Calder? I know he's your father, sweetie, but I have to tell you, I don't give two hoots in hell for that old snake."

"He certainly wouldn't put on sackcloth and ashes if I bought it tomorrow, but I just don't believe he's behind all this. See, everything with my father is a matter of honor. His honor was insulted when I decided not to go into the family business. His dignity was impugned when I announced to the world that I was gay. His sense of righteousness took a beating when I refused to crawl back to him and beg forgiveness for being born unworthy of the Morris name. My father would be more likely to challenge me to a duel on the courthouse lawn than to put out a contact on my life."

"I thought you said Mr. Morris was cleared. You let him go, after all."

"There's a being difference between being cleared and being let go for lack of evidence, Megan. By no means is Calder off my list of suspects."

Keith took a healthy swig of coffee. "Not to be a jackass, but shouldn't Seth be on that list? Does it seem strange to anyone else that he showed up at the exact same time that all this started happening, or is it just me?"

Brandon said, "Normally, I would say it's just you, but I'm not taking any chances with Nate's safety."

Nate was shocked. "You suspect Seth? I thought you said you trusted him."

Brandon walked over to the counter where Nate was leaning and caged him with his arms, his body pressed tight against him. Nate could feel the heat through his clothes and did his best not to get hard with his in-laws looking-on. Brand leaned down until his forehead was touching Nate's and said, "I trust him as far as I'm going to. For what it's worth, I don't think he's the one, but I'll be damned before I get sloppy and make a mistake that might cost me my life."

Nate's voice came out a harsh whisper. "Don't you mean, a mistake that might cost my life?"

"No. Your life and my life are the same now. There is no me without you."

Gale took Megan by one hand and Keith by the other. "I think it's time for us to leave." She dragged them to the door. "Take care, boys." Neither responded, too wrapped up in each other to hear the door open and close. Sasha came in as Gale and the others left, but gave up trying to get her masters' attention and lumbered off to bed. Nate wasn't sure how long they stood there just holding each other, but it was Brandon who finally broke the silence.

"You don't know what it did to me, hearing you defend me like that. If I wasn't nuts about you before, I would be now."

"You would never hurt me, Bran." Nate kissed a spot just below his jaw. "Of all the people in my life, you're the one I know I can always count on. Maybe we haven't said the vows yet, but in my heart, we're already married."

Brandon nuzzled his ear. "I feel the same way. You don't know how scared I was that you would rip your stitches when you jumped Mike. As it is, you're damn lucky you didn't crack that cast open."

Nate cleared his throat. It was now or never. "I agree with you about the cast, but you're wrong about the stitches. Actually, I don't have any stitches. I didn't tell you about my appointment today because I wasn't scheduled to go in until tomorrow. Dr. Rinehart had a cancellation this afternoon and called to see if I wanted to come on in. he said my cast can come off in about four more weeks, and then he took out all my sutures. See, even the ones in my head are gone."

Brandon bent down for closer examination. "How come I didn't notice that when I took your shirt off? You had at least ten from the surgical incision alone."

"Eight, to be precise. Dr. Lincoln may be a dick, but he's a damn good surgeon. The incision was so small and neat, I doubt I'll even have a scar. Dr. Rinehart said all my wounds were practically healed. I can even go back to work the first of next week, albeit one handed. I guess you didn't notice the stitches were gone because you were too busy threatening to arrest me."

Brandon smiled. "I have had this prison fantasy lately. Wonder how you'd look in one of those orange jumpsuits?"

"I don't know about the prison fantasy, but Dr. Rinehart said I was well enough to indulge in some of your other fantasies."

"You mean-"

"Yes."

"I thought he said we had to wait two weeks. It hasn't been two full weeks yet."

"Consider it time off for good behavior. According to Dr. Rinehart, I'm on the mend and can resume all normal activities."

"Meaning?"

Nate gently bit Brandon's lower lip, tugging with his teeth. "Whatever you want it to mean."

"Oh God, baby, you have no idea what I want." He framed Nate's face with his hands. "Are you sure, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Brandon. Please, make love to me."

* * *

Brandon wasn't sure why he was so nervous. It wasn't like this was his first time. But when he thought about it, it really was. This was his first time with someone he actually loved.

He left Nate to go upstairs and shower while he ran to the store. Having been celibate for almost four years, he wasn't exactly prepared. He decided to go to one of the chain drugstores rather than Simpson's, the one he normally used. Mr. and Mrs. Simpson were old family friends who wouldn't hesitate to tell the entire Nash clan that their second oldest son was about to get laid.

He pulled into the parking lot of Savings Central Drugs and got out, scanning for anyone he might know. He knew he was being ridiculous. The entire town already thought he and Nate were sleeping together, anyway. For some reason, though, he wanted to keep tonight private. Some things were just too special to share.

Since condoms weren't necessary, Brandon headed straight for the lubricants. He probably could have made do with the lotion he had at home, but he didn't want just anything coming in contact with Nate's tender skin. Nate might be sore tomorrow, but Brandon wanted to make sure it was a good soreness, if there was such a thing.

Brandon stared at the bottles and tubes in mute wonder. Who would have thought there were so many different kinds? He picked up bottle after bottle and tube after tube, trying to read them without being conspicuous. He knew his efforts to blend in had failed when he felt someone come up behind him.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

Brandon turned around and came face to face with Dillon, Megan's would-be boyfriend. He started to speak and then realized he was holding a bottle of something called Slick and Slippery Intimate Moisturizer in his hand. He put it back, but it was too late.

Shit. Megan told him the kid worked here, but damned if he hadn't forgotten. "Uh, hi Dillon. I think I've got it covered, thanks."

"Hi, Sheriff. I didn't recognize you from the back. Sure I can't help you with anything?"

Brandon took a moment to look at the guy his sister was interested in. Dillon was tall, almost six feet, and probably still growing. His shaggy brown hair was cut in that permanently messy style that kids seemed to like, and his green eyes were flashing with amusement over Brandon's discomfort. He decided to turn the tables.

"No. I can manage on my own, but while you're here, I'd like to talk to you about your intentions towards my baby sister."

He was rewarded by the flush that crept into Dillon's cheeks. "Yeah, uh, sure sheriff, but I really need to get back to work. Some other time, man." Before he knew it, Brandon was looking at his retreating back.

That was too easy. He went back to his shopping. Finally he decided on a tube of good old fashioned KY Jelly. When in doubt, go with what you know. The only problem now was, which size? He disregarded the smaller tube. Maybe he was being optimistic, but hey, might as well think positive. If he bought the economy size, Nate might be freaked out, afraid Brandon was planning on chaining him to the mattress for the next two months. Then again, if he bought the medium size, Nate might take that as hesitancy to begin the sexual side of their relationship. Fuck it. He picked up the jumbo size and headed to the counter.

The clerk was a sixteen year old skater-wanna-be with purple streaks in his hair, but enough sense not to comment on Brandon's purchase, thank God. He ran the tube over the UPC sensor, but it refused to scan. He tried it over and over with no success. On the fifth try, he gave up.

"Sorry, Sheriff. I'm going to have to run a price check on this." Before Bran could stop him, he reached for the loud speaker. "Price check on the large size of KY Jelly. Price check."

Alright. It was safe to say things couldn't get any worse. Then his father came up behind him carrying a tube of hemorrhoid cream.

"Well, hey there, Son. Didn't expect to see you here."

Understatement. "Me, either. I thought you always shopped at Simpson's."

"Usually, I do, but your Mom sent me after this. She needs it fast, and this place is closer." He held up the tube. "She always says having eight kids has left her with piles the size of kittens."

Too much information. "Yeah, well, I-"

The pharmacist came up. "Carl, did you need a price check?"

"Yes, sir. I need a price for this economy size tube of KY Lubricant."

"I didn't realize they made it that big. Live and learn, I guess." He thumbed through the book he was holding. "The manual has that listed at five dollars and sixty cents, not including tax. Oh, hi Sheriff. This yours?"

Brandon actually hoped someone would come in and rob the store. At least everyone wouldn't be staring at him , waiting for his answer. Then again, with his luck, the perp would want to know just what he planned to do with all that lube. Face flaming, he said, "Yeah. Uh, if you don't mind, I'm kind of in a hurry here."

The minute he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. The pharmacist and his dad exchanged grins. Dean said, "I imagine you are, Son, from the looks of it."

Brandon didn't say a word when the pharmacist added, "If you plan on using all that tonight, Sheriff, you might want to pick up some liniment and a bottle of ibuprofen. You and Doc will need it for all those sore muscles."

Carl snickered and rang up his purchase. He paid and was about to say good-bye to his dad when Carl, in all seriousness, said, "Hey, Sheriff? You might want to pick up some condoms, too. My sex-ed teacher says when you sleep with someone, you're really sleeping with every person that person has slept with. Can't be too careful."

Brandon gritted his teeth. "Thanks, Carl, but that won't be necessary."

The pharmacist and Dean were all but rolling on the floor in near hysteria. Finally Dean settled down enough to say, "Cheer up, son. At least Nate won't ever send you to the store in the middle of the night to buy him a box of tampons."

* * *

Nate heard the door open and the sound of the alarm being reactivated. Brandon came in carrying several bags of Chinese food. He greeted Nate with a smile.

"I thought you might be hungry. I hope Chinese is ok. It always amazes me that Reed has two full service Chinese restaurants, but you have to go thirty miles before you reach the nearest hospital." He gave Nate a quick once over. "Have a good bath?"

"Yeah, but I had a hard time wrapping my arm. I'll be glad to get rid of this damn cast. How was your trip to the store?"

"Humiliating, but we'll talk about that later. Why don't you set out the food while I grab a quick shower?"

Nate nodded and got out plates and utensils, including forks. He might be handy with a stethoscope and scalpel, but he was hopeless with a pair of chopsticks. Add to that the fact that he was still learning to use his left hand after twenty-eight years as a right-hander, and there was no way he was even going to attempt it. Brandon came back while Nate was transferring the food from cartons to platters, saw the forks, and laughed.

"I have some chopsticks stashed in the silverware drawer. Didn't you see them?"

"We've had this conversation before, Nash. You know how I feel about eating with twigs. Besides," he nodded towards the cast, "I'm temporarily disadvantaged."

"Says the man who doesn't know how to use chopsticks when he's working with his good hand." He grabbed up a plate and started dishing large helpings of everything onto it.

"All the food will mix together like that."

Brandon slanted his brow. "It's Chinese food, Nate. It's already all mixed together." He grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the drawer, picked up the plate, and headed for the stairs. "Tuck that bottle of wine from the fridge under your arm and grab a couple of glasses, please."

"What about my fork?"

"Trust me. You won't need it."

* * *

Brandon held another bite of ginger chicken up to Nate's mouth. "Sure you don't want any more?"

Nate groaned. "No more. I think I've consumed at least half a chicken as it is."

Brandon looked at Nate's trim body clad only in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. They were sitting cross legged on the bed, facing each other. "You could use a little fattening up."

Nate smiled and took a sip of his wine. "Trying to change me already?"

Brandon set the plate on the bedside table. "You know better." He leaned in for a kiss. "My mother always says, 'Don't mess with perfection.'"

Nate put down his glass. "I wish I was perfect. Maybe then I wouldn't be so damn scared of messing this up."

Brandon pulled him down on the bed beside him. His voice came out raw, husky. "Do you love me?"

Nate swallowed hard. "More than I ever thought possible."

"Then it will be fine. You know, if you aren't ready for this, we can-" Nate tackled him and started kissing the breath out of him before he finished his sentence. Brandon chuckled. "Okay, so you're ready."

Nate shivered as Brandon tugged his ear with his teeth. "God, yes. I want you so bad I'm about to burst."

"Not yet, baby. This first time I want us to come together." He tugged Nate's shirt over his head and threw it on the floor.

"Show me what to do, Bran." He inhaled sharply as Brandon's mouth found one of his sensitive nipples. His boxers were soaked within seconds.

"I'd say you're doing just fine." Brandon kissed his way down to the waistband of Nate's boxers, then kissed his way back up to torture the other nipple. Nate moaned when Brandon took off his shirt and rubbed bare chest against bare chest. He lay full-length on top of Nate, the only thing separating them the thin cotton of the underwear they each wore.

Brandon was careful to balance most of his weight on his forearms in deference to Nate's still-tender abdomen. He glanced down at Nate's firm stomach and well-defined chest. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Nate sighed when Brandon returned to sucking on his neck. The sighs turned to gasps as Bran increased the suction on his neck.

"No fair. You've already seen me naked. I want to see all of you, angel. You're so perfect. I want to touch what's mine."

Brandon didn't have to be told twice. He stood up and pulled his boxers off, casting them on top of the pile of shirts. Nate reached for him, but he shook his head. "You're next. Come here and take those off."

Nate stood next to him and wriggled out of his shorts. Brandon pulled Nate tight against him and kissed him with savage ownership. His breathing was ragged, on the edge of control, his erection and Nate's locked together between them.

"You're mine, Nathan. I'm going to take you now."

Nate couldn't have protested if he'd wanted to, which he didn't. His mouth was dry and his body was on fire. In silent consent, he lay down on the bed, spread his legs, and offered himself.

Brandon grabbed the tube from the pharmacy and squeezed some onto his fingers. He said, "It'll be easier on your arm with you lying on your back like this. I'm going to get you ready now, love. If I hurt you, tell me and I'll stop."

"You could never hurt me. I want you, Brandon. Now. Please."

Brandon worked the gel with his fingers, warming it. Nate jumped when Brandon's index finger made contact with his virgin flesh, but he soon settled as Brandon began preparing his body for what was to come. He tensed slightly when Bran's finger gained entry. Brandon stopped, but Nate shook his head. "Don't stop. It feels good. Different, but good."

Brandon nodded. "If you like that, you'll love this." He touched a place deep inside and Nate was sure he'd been zapped with a dozen volts of electrical current. Brandon added another finger, increasing the pressure on that same spot. Nate's hips came off the bed, and he grunted in pleasure.

"Please, Brandon. I'm ready. Make love to me."

Brand slicked himself with more of the gel and moved into position. Nate felt intense pressure but little pain as Brandon pressed the head inside. His blue eyes were smoky as he looked into Nate's brown irises. "Forever, Nathan. Say it."

Nate whispered, "Forever," and Brandon slid in all the way to the hilt.

All the air left Nate's lungs in a rush of pleasurable agony. Brandon lay above him and inside him, supported by his arms and making no movements. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow, but he remained rigidly still, allowing Nate time to adjust. Nathan reached up and stroked Bran's face, at the same time tilting his hips. The change in position brought Brandon in even deeper and caused an exquisite friction against Nate's prostate. When Nate whimpered, Brandon lost it and started to pump.

Nate met him thrust for thrust, until they were both covered with sweat and fighting for oxygen. Every outward motion caused Nate to tighten and every inward push caused Brandon to grunt. Nate felt himself nearing the edge and had just enough mind left to issue a warning.

"Oh, Jesus, Bran. I'm almost there."

Brandon made no reply, only stepped up the rhythm. Just as Nate's release started, he felt Brandon tense and heard him scream, "Oh, fuck," before filling Nate with his seed. Brandon collapsed against Nate's chest and whispered, "You aren't a virgin anymore, baby. You're mine, and damned if I'll ever let you go."

* * *

The great thing about the claw foot tub in the master bathroom was its capacity to hold two people. Bran sat against the back wall of the tub with Nate between his legs, his back leaning against Brandon's stomach. Nate's plastic-wrapped cast was propped against one side of the tub as Bran made lazy soap circles on Nate's chest.

"Sore?"

He closed his eyes as Brandon's fingers grazed his nipple. "Maybe a little, but not much. I like it. It's like I can still feel you inside me."

Brandon licked a drop of water from his neck. "Good. That way, you'll be thinking about me all day tomorrow."

"I do that already." He snuggled closer as Bran's arms came around him. "Oh, before I forget, Pastor Oakley called. He wants to meet with us after services Sunday to discuss our wedding plans and set up an appointment for premarital counseling. He sounded perfectly comfortable with the idea of two men getting married."

"I told you, you'll like our church. I warn you now, though, my whole family goes there, so be prepared for organized chaos."

Nate rinsed off the soap but didn't move out of Bran's embrace. "I'm beginning to like organized chaos. Brandon?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for making my first time so special."

Brandon kissed his temple. "Trust me, babe, the pleasure was all mine." He reached over to let the water out. "So, Rinehart released you to go back to work next week."

"Yeah, but if you think I shouldn't go, I won't."

Brandon pulled him up and helped him out of the tub, drying first Nate and then himself. "That's a switch. Since when have you become Mr. Agreeable?"

Nate unwrapped his cast. "I won't lie. It irks me to think of my whole life being turned upside down by this creep, but I don't want to do anything stupid that might put my life in danger. I have too much to lose now."

Brandon handed him a clean pair of boxers and then pulled on his own. "I'm not crazy about the idea of you going back out there until we catch that guy, but I know I can't keep you under lock and key." He pulled Nate into his arms and leered at him. "Of course, I have had a couple of lurid images of you handcuffed to my bedpost."

"For a sheriff, you have a criminal mind. You-" He broke off when Brandon pushed him behind his back. "What's wrong."

Brandon put his finger to his lips and mouthed. "Downstairs." He opened the bathroom door and slipped into the bedroom, grabbing his pistol from the bedside table. "Someone's in the house. Stay here."

"It could be your Mom, or Keith. They both have keys and the alarm code."

Brandon shook his head. "No. They would knock. I'm going to check it out."

"Bran, call for back-up. Don't-"

Brandon gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Call Sam if I'm not back in five minutes." Before Nate could protest, he was gone. Nate paced back and forth, watching the bedside clock. He picked up the phone after about two and a half minutes of waiting, and had just dialed the number when he heard the first shot.