Cut and Run 2 - Sticks and Stones

gesture as he turned away and bent to gather the clothing he’d shed. Well, maybe Zane did enjoy it a little.
    As Zane grabbed his shirt and used it for a quick clean before pulling his briefs on, Ty pulled his pants on haphazardly and headed for the bathroom to do a slightly better job of cleaning himself. When he returned, Zane was gathering up the extra covers and tossing them on the bed. Ty watched him with a smirk as he slid his T-shirt over his head. “Might want to flush that instead of tossing it in the trash,” he said with a nod at Zane and the condom he had yet to discard. “Ma’ll be wondering what we were doing when she empties the trashcans,” he joked quietly.
    “You think?” Zane muttered. He left the room quietly as Ty straightened out the sheets and blankets left askew from their fun.
    “Fucker,” Ty grumbled affectionately as he made up the bed. He knew he might never explain to himself the emotions Zane caused in him. He didn’t mind the mystery. It was another part of what made it fun. What he did mind was the uneasy feeling that Zane merely tolerated him rather than enjoyed him. Again, he told himself to worry about that later—much later—and he climbed into bed.
    When Zane returned, he slipped under the covers beside Ty and immediately wrapped around him, pulling Ty closer just as he would the pillows he liked to hold. With a sigh, Ty pondered over the question of whether his doubts were unfounded or if Zane was just a cuddler. They hadn’t had a lot of time to feel each other out. As partners, it seemed like they could read each other’s minds. But as lovers—or even friends—they barely knew each other at all.
    He sighed and scooted closer, twisting his body so he could brush an awkward kiss against Zane’s cheek. “Sleep well, Zane,” he offered quietly as he settled into the embrace. He closed his eyes and sighed again. Zane slept much better with Ty alongside him than he did when he was alone, and they both knew it.
    “I will,” Zane murmured, his breath warm against the back of Ty’s ear.

    B Y THE time Zane got down to the kitchen the next morning, breakfast was on the table, and Ty and Deuce were sitting together, drinking orange juice while their mother bustled around them and scolded them for stealing some of her apples.
    “Morning,” Ty greeted as he gestured to an empty chair.
    “Good morning, Zane dear, how did you sleep?” Mara asked as she came up to him and pressed a glass of orange juice into his hands.
    “Ah, okay,” Zane hedged, taking the glass out of self-defense. “I don’t do too well sleeping in strange places lately, but….”
    “Well, Ty’s bed is about as strange a place as you can get,” Deuce offered under his breath. He followed it with a muffled grunt as Ty kicked him under the table.
    “Don’t mind them, we dropped ’em both on their heads when they was little,” Mara assured Zane as she moved back to her stove, where two different skillets sizzled. She’d been cooking for some time already; the kitchen was warm from the heated oven, and it was the smell of crisp bacon and fresh biscuits that had beckoned Zane downstairs.
    Zane turned a look on the two brothers, his eyes narrowing slightly. Under the brown Western-style flannel shirt Ty wore, Zane was pleased to see that he was also wearing another one of his signature T-shirts. It was oddly reassuring to see it. It was brown with white writing on the front, two crossed paddles advertising “Schitt Creek Paddle Co.” Zane didn’t bother to hide his amused snort, but the others paid him no mind.
    “Where’s your daddy?” Mara asked them as she sat at the head of the table.
    “Wasn’t my morning to babysit him,” Ty answered as he poured himself more juice.
    “Well, you and your smart mouth go find him so we can eat,” Mara responded without blinking an eye. Ty stood immediately, snatching a sausage link as he went. “And track down your granddaddy too!” his mother called after him.
    Zane watched over the edge of his juice glass as Ty headed out of the kitchen, taking particular notice of the worn jeans that were molded to Ty’s ass as he moved around the corner.
    “Zane, tell me,” Mara said, drawing his attention, “how do you enjoy working for the FBI?”
    Surprised by the question out of left field, Zane hesitated as he pushed the visual of Ty away for later. “It’s like any job, I guess. I like it some days, others not so much. Ty makes it