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Chapter Text

It had been a pleasant autumn, Friday morning when Gavin Troy had sat down to his cup of coffee and apple spice pastry. His breakfast guest, Robert Strickland, had made a certain effort to ruin the enjoyment of the pastry with his discussion of pumpkin spice fads. But by this point in their relationship, Robert should have known that nothing could ruin food for Gavin.

"I picked up something for you when I was in Causton yesterday," Robert said as a waitress came around to offer them refills.

Gavin politely accepted the refill amid his attempt to keep from choking on the pastry roll. He held up a single finger to Robert and took a long drink of his coffee before asking, "Oh? Was it something from the adult section?"

His colleague smiled as he produced a few newspapers from his briefcase.

"I don't quite think we need to go back to that time of our life, Gavin. It's a few of the local rags."

"That's quite thoughtful of you, Robert."

"I thought you might like to see how many murders are still going on in those crazy villages."

"As if we don't have enough murders in London to worry about."

"Well, you know what I mean. I don't know how you managed to survive living there."

"My old boss told me that I was a bit of a lucky charm."

Robert didn't seem to notice the lucky charm comment. He continued to monologue about the murder record in Midsomer, saying, "Just the absolute creativity of some of those killers. Didn't it ever make you wonder?"

"Sometimes, but I have other things to wonder about now."

"Like what?"

"Like why I agreed to have breakfast with a man who makes fun of me for enjoying autumn themed pastries."

The remark shut up his breakfast guest. They both resumed their coffee drinking, chatting idly about the current caseload. Those cold murders wouldn't be going anywhere, but it seemed murder was the only thing that they could manage to talk about these days.

Gavin flipped open one of the papers, reading through the different society sections. He was looking for names of people that he might have known or to see some signs of the murder of the week. With a bit more casual flipping, the obituary section fell open.

To his shock, at the top of the page, was a name who knew very well. 

Tom Barnaby.

It had been over twenty years since he had left Causton CID. In that time, he had spent awhile bouncing through different squads, all the while with his sights on climbing the ladder. His current position in the Unsolved Crimes unit would have never have been possible without Barnaby.

A man who he had rarely seen since moving on to less green pastures.

Twenty years? Surely it hasn't been twenty since I was a DS.

The Detective Superintendent didn't realize just what he was feeling until his eyes glanced back over the obituary notice. His confusion over the number of years it had been was likely a sign of guilt. He had seen it often enough in the faces of relatives of violent crime victims. 

He looked across to the other side of the café table, trying to determine if Robert could tell if something was wrong. His colleague looked up at him from his own newspaper. The expression spreading across his face was quickly followed by an inquiry.

"Has something happened, Gavin?"

"Well, yes. Something has happened."

"What sort of something, my d-Gavin?"

They both felt the tension of the mistake, but Gavin was too focused on the current issue. He took another long drink of his coffee before saying, "My old governor has died. The newspaper you brought me has his obituary in it."

"I-I'm sorry. I guess I've hurt you again," Robert said quietly. He paused for just a moment and asked, "When's the funeral?"

"It's tomorrow morning - Saturday. Which means I had better finish off my coffee and get packing," Gavin explained as he put a few coins down on his side of the table.

Robert reached across for him, trying to grab onto his hand, but found his gesture refused. Still, he asked, "Do you want me to come with you?"

"I wouldn't think you would want to go anywhere with me."

"The past is the past, Gavin, but you've just had a great shock from your past," Robert explained, placing his hand on top of Gavin's. He let his hand rest there for a few moments before Gavin jerked his away again.

"I wouldn't mind the company for the drive."

Robert set down his part of the bill on the other side of the table.

"Then let's go back to our flats and pack."

"And then what?"

"And then you can tell me everything there is to know about Tom Barnaby."

Chapter Text

On the same Friday in the same autumn, not too far from Gavin Troy's favorite coffee spot, another Midsomer copper was going through the grief of losing Tom Barnaby. Only this one had been there when the old man had passed on. Had held the hand of the illustrious Mr. Barnaby as he had slipped from this world. But Ben Jones had also been there for all of the good moments and writing down of the recollections. (The final draft of which sat back in his cottage. With its contents still entirely unknown to Cully or any of the others in the Barnaby clan.)

A year ago, DCI Ben Jones had finally felt like the pieces of his life were coming together. When DCI John Barnaby took early retirement to take up a teaching position, Ben sprung to the chance to take over the squad in Causton CID. His superiors briefly questioned his reasoning for returning to the beginning of his career. After a few weeks of convincing though, the manilla envelope of transfer orders sat on his desk next to a box of pre-packed belongings.

His grandmother's passing a few years previous meant that he already had a furnished cottage. Along with it came his reputation in the county and a desire to return to his roots. While there was certainly enough crime in the bigger cities, Ben had always yearned to finish out his career in the Causton CID. Of course, that wasn't quite how he had worded it when talking to the Assistant Commissioner.

When he had returned to Midsomer, and to the old man, he made sure to make all of the Barnabys part of his social calendar. Writing the book with Tom had just been one of his many distractions from the state of less multiple murders and more organized crime. During his struggle with the shifting criminal climate in Causton, Tom had often told him of his earlier adventures on Jersey that involved the classic British criminal type.

Cully, and her rather expanded family, was one of the guiding lights for Ben on his return. Suddenly he went from being perceived as a distant relative to a staple in multiple households descended from the Barnaby line. It was wonderful to finally have a proper family after spending so much of his career alone.

All until the main support of that family came crashing down. It was bound to have happened eventually, with old age and all, but that didn't mean he hadn't hoped for some more time with his old boss.

Now, he stood in Cully's kitchen, rocking one of her grandchildren to sleep as she talked on the phone with funeral directors. One of the other little gremlins ran around His first (happy) year back in Midsomer had been brought to a halt with Tom's passing. Ben certainly was a full member of the family now that he was trying to become a supporting beam.

"Ben?" Cully called, beckoning him over to the table. In addition to his own grey hairs, it distressed him further to see her expressions of grief.

"Do you need me to talk to them for you?" he asked, fully prepared to defend the Barnaby honor.

"No, just take Danny out of the room for me, please."

"Do you mind if I leave the baby here with you? I just have a hard time keeping track of two Barnaby men at one time."

Ben loved seeing the light in her eyes as he made his joke. She covered the voice piece of the receiver as she laughed, then nodded to the basinet as the people on the phone requested her attention again. He carefully laid the baby down in his basinet and turned on the switch on the little mobile.

"I'll be back in a few to check on you," Ben said quietly as Danny began to guide him out of the kitchen.

He took a moment to lay his hand on her shoulder before picking up a bucket of toys from the kitchen floor and following the smaller Barnaby. They first walked into the small living room, but Ben decided to take Danny into the front garden when Cully started to raise her voice to the man on the other end of the phone line. 

"Let's sit down here, Danny. We should be able to enjoy a bit of the sunshine before the rain sets in."

Even though the young lad was at the age of talking, he was nothing like the talkative man who was named for. Ben wondered if Dan Scott would find a way to make it to the funeral. Dan had made different reappearances and disappearances in the life of the Barnaby clan. Once returning in the nick of time to save Cully's pregnant daughter-in-law from an automobile accident. The event that earned the continuation of his heroic name.

Ben sort of hoped that all of the Barnaby sergeants might come to pay respects to the man who revolutionized the methods of solving multiple murders. Then again, that might be too much hot air all in one room. He toyed around with some of the cars in the bucket while his thoughts went to a thousand places.

"Uncle Ben, is Grandma alright?"

"Yes, she's alright."

"But I keep hear her crying."

"It's just a hard time for us all right now. It'll all be alright, you-"

Ben's words of comfort were interrupted by the ringing of his mobile. He lifted the device out of his jacket pocket, saw it was an unknown number, silenced the call, and returned his phone to the same pocket. If it were someone that would really want to get ahold of him, then they should be polite enough to leave a voicemail.

"Anyways, Danny, it will be alright. You might not know it yet, but Barnaby men are very tough."

"Am I a Barnaby man even if my name isn't Barnaby?"

"Yes, and it's a very lucky title to have."

His mobile started to ring again in his pocket.

"I think I have to take this. I'll be right here if you need something."

Ben sat down the toy car next to Danny, standing up from his own relaxed pose in the front garden. To his annoy, it was another restricted number making the second call. Either two unknowns wanted to call him on the same day of grief or someone really wanted to talk to him. He accepted the call and answered with a gruff, "Ben Jones."

"Is this DCI Ben Jones?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"I'm simply a friend of Mr. Barnaby's who would not want any details to be overlooked."

"What do you me-"

"I think you should look closer at Mr. Barnaby's sudden illness."

The line clicked dead and Ben was left standing in the front garden with his world crumbling around him.

Chapter Text

Troy slumped against the passenger window of Robert's car, closing his eyes in a mock state of sleep so he wouldn't have to deal with the other's concerned glances. One might hope that the driver of an automobile could manage to keep their eyes on the road, but he knew what his friend would be most worried about.

His friend.

It took everything in Troy's ability to not laugh at thinking of Robert as a friend. They had had a good friendship, years and years before. And then they had both ruined that friendship with heated kisses in water closets. Followed by rolling in tight, satiny sheets. Then finally concluding in a bruised jaw after five years of jealously had built up for his partner.

All because Troy had let it slip that he was still mourning for someone else. That was over a year ago, but it could have just as easily been last week.

"I know you won't tell me what's on your mind."

He should have known it was foolish to fake sleep around another detective. Robert was a lot sharper investigator than much of the Met had given him credit for during his stint in admin. In that way, that was one reason why Troy had been so drawn to him. He had seen the way that people had looked at Tom and had said, "Still a DCI with over twenty-five years? Who did he piss off?"

Now that Troy was still a detective superintendent with over twenty five years, he couldn't begin to list all of the people he had pissed off. He straightened up in his seat and begin to pull himself out of the mock sleep pose. Soon, a question would follow up Robert's statement.

He didn't even turn to look at the other man as he plainly said, "You're right, Robert. I don't give up my mind easily."

"Will you answer me if I ask you a direct question?"

And there came the usual question. The one that had been asked many times before as they lay in bed. Usually with Robert's sweat soaked head laying on his chest. The question always came when Robert could no longer be satisfied with forehead kisses as a response to complicated queries.

Troy couldn't even bring himself to look the man in the eye now. Much less stay with him in a car or an overnight hotel or introduce him to the few friends he had left in Causton. Their lives had never intertwined much socially, but this visit had different expectations. Ones that Troy would not be able to fulfill.

"Maybe. I think it'll depend on the question and if you keep looking at me with those sad eyes."

His self appointed minder turned his eyes back to the road. Robert kept his eyes far away from Troy's gaze as he asked, "Why haven't you been back to Midsomer for so long?"

Robert hadn't asked him anything like that since that last fight. That was the question that had made Troy slam the door of his own flat, run down the stairs, and had accidentally thrown himself in front of a convertible in the midst of his frustration. That was the night when Robert had rushed down the same stairs to find Troy laying in a bloody mess on the sidewalk. The night he had spent watching him lie bruised and broken, tightly holding onto his unbandaged hand. Giving him the same forehead kisses that he knew Robert preferred to receive.

"I don't know how to answer that," Troy finally said, looking out the window, still lost in his pain.

"Surely you do, Gavin. Even a man of your intellectual strengths can string a few words together."

He couldn't help but laugh at the statement. It sounded like something Barnaby would have said to him. Perhaps all detectives became aware of their own wit once they reached the boundaries of Midsomer County. Troy reached across the gear shift, linking his hand with Robert's dangling fingers, bringing them to touch his lips gently. He still held onto them as he said, "I'll answer all the questions you ask of me in the thirty minutes we have left in this trip."

"I can ask you anything I like until we reach my cousin's cottage?"

"Yes, Robert, anything you like."

The man shifted in his seat, looking up at the stoplight and then down at Troy's fingers interlaced with his own. Then he gave Troy a slight smile as he asked, "So Superintendent Troy, am I the first boss that you've ever slept with?"

"I think so, Robert. But you weren't my boss for very long before I became your boss," Troy paused as the other man stifled his laughter. "Was that the question you really wanted to ask me or were you just working your way up to something serious?"

The problem with their conversations had always been that they knew each other too well. That they had worked together for too long as investigative partners to ever resemble proper romantic partners. 

"Alright. You've found me out, but I'll still start with something simple. The man that you miss..."

"Yes?"

The image of the man he missed appeared in his mind. An image specifically of a man half out of his suit and Troy's kneeling form pressed firmly against a wall.

Robert continued right as Troy's memory began to affect the zipper of his trousers.

"The one that you're in love with. The one that kept you away from Causton..."

His friend gave him another nervous glance as he trailed off and went back to navigating the village traffic.

"Just spit it out, Robert. For the love of god. I've never known you to take this long to finish," Troy said with a staple smirk, trying to illicit the same facial expression in Robert. The man's eyes stayed glued to the hazards of the road this time. They had stopped again on the country road. This time for a herd of sheep whose shepherd did not mind causing a traffic jam.

Robert managed to finish then, quietly asking, "Was it Tom Barnaby?"

Troy managed to grab some of his gaze with a laugh as an answer to that question. They both looked at each other - Robert extremely puzzled and Troy giddy with a laughter he hadn't felt in a long time. If only Barnaby had been there in that moment to hear the question.

"No, love. No it's someone who is very much still alive."

He looked back at Troy, obviously relieved that his former lover hadn't been in love with his former boss. However, another frown of confusion crossed his face.

"If it's someone from your past, is it another policeman?"

"He is a policeman. In fact, he's a very good one, a detective chief inspector nowadays."

Troy leaned back on the window as they played their game of twenty questions.

"Oh. Is it someone I know?" His driver asked, giving him another careful glance.

"Yes, Robert, but you don't know him very well. In fact, I hadn't seen him for years until very recently."

"When did I meet him then?"

"It wasn't until we worked that cold case with Causton CID a few months back. The one with the escaped convict that I had been on back in the day."

He watched the gears turn in Robert's head as he put all of the pieces together. Robert closed his eyes, sighing again as he asked, "Ben Jones? That's who it is?"

"You seem surprised, love. Do you think I'm not enough for him or that he's not enough for me?"

"He just doesn't the seem the type. He seemed rather-"

"Straight? Easy mistake to make seeing as he's a card carrying bisexual," Troy explained. To tease Robert, he quickly added, "Just like you, love."

"Should I be ashamed for not recognizing one of my own kind?"

Robert's fingers had found their way back to Troy's as they came closer to their destination. He must have known that his time for questions was running out.

"I wouldn't be ashamed of not recognizing it. When I first met him years ago, he was even more protective of it and had pushed himself very far back into the closet."

"So not even you could coax that out of him?"

The car pulled into the cottage drive as the last question landed between them. Troy laughed a bit with Robert over the last question with no intention of answering it. He pulled his hand away from his friend's and begin to gather up the bits of debris in the car. They both stayed silent as they exited the car, gathering their bags, and readjusting their moods to deal with Robert's family.

As they walked up the path though Troy turned to Robert and said, "I think I would have preferred if you had brought me back something adult from Causton."

"Why's that?"

"Because I really don't know if I'm ready to come back here."

Chapter Text

"Ben? Are you okay?"

Suddenly the world began to come back into focus for DCI Ben Jones as Cully called for him. After his mysterious phone call had ended, the man had kept just enough attention on the present to observe his young charge. Danny hadn't seemed to have noticed that his uncle wasn't paying much attention to him.

"Oh, Cully. I'm just sitting here thinking while Danny explains his car collection to me."

The young man had been focused on moving around his toy cars in the short grass of Cully's lawn. Ben's own thoughts had gone beyond the current events to drift down different avenues of investigation. All he had found so far was his own image getting more and more lost in the city of his mind.

"What's on your mind then, Ben? Is it about Dad?"

"Yes and no. Tom is certainly part of my thoughts, but it's all of my cases too," Ben explained, pushing his fingers back through his messy hair. "At some point, I need to get back to at least pretending to focus on my work."

Cully laid a gentle hand on his tense shoulder. He should have been the one comforting her in this situation - not the other way around. Her attention - her concern - was equally split between Ben Jones and little Danny playing in the lawn.

The inspector barely noticed her telling him to go home or the traffic in between Cully's house and his own cottage. His thoughts continued to bounce between current cases and past cases. One of the problems of his long and successful career was the high number of possible enemies. Both for himself and for his mentor.

Occasionally, mainly at crossings along the road, his mind would touch on memories of talking to Tom about some of those cases. Each momentary thought of even just the book would send a shooting pain through his head. The grief that he had been pushing away was now trying to force itself to the surface.

All of his thoughts remained on those words of suspicion from the brief phone call. It hadn't been much. Just enough to set him off down the route of investigation.

Now he sat in his own driveway, looking at his partner's car, thinking, "What's he doing back here?"

Ben had watched him leave in the morning, coffee in hand as he headed towards his office. There had been no doubt about it that the man had a long work day ahead of him. But yet, somehow, he had made it back to the cottage before Ben.

"He's probably waiting in there with some surprise. Something to try and cheer you up with."

The inspector attempted to push his bad mood out of the way. His key slipped into the lock and he walked through the darkened cottage. Ben could see only one light on in the distance - likely the bedside lamp in his bedroom. That door opened easily too, leaving Ben with the sight of his partner sleeping in the nude, plug in place, and a bottle of lube laying beside his resting form.

It was enough of an invitation for Ben as he sat down his briefcase and began to undo his tie. Still in his suit, he sat down on the bed beside the sleeping man, making his best attempt not to wake him. If it were up to Ben, he might try to catch a few hours of sleep for himself before Jamie woke up.

But then, the universe hadn't been working in his favor as of late. The moment his head hit the pillow, the man beside him rolled over, propping himself up on one elbow to ask, "I'm sure you're wondering what your one-night stand is still doing here, aren't you, sir?"

"You don't need to call me 'sir' outside of working hours. Especially not when we work in different departments."

He made sure to smile as he made his joke. Ben knew that Jamie didn't always understand his humor and he wouldn't want his partner to get mad before he could give him any satisfaction.

"Maybe I enjoy calling you 'sir' when we're not at work. Did you ever think of that?"

Jamie smiled back at him, stealing another series of kisses, grabbing at his tie, but only pulling the knot tighter. He put his hands over his partner's, humming softly as they worked together to get his tie off. Ben pulled Jamie into his chest for a moment to hold him before saying, "I've been a bit too busy to think about how kinky you may or may not be. And you know, Jamie, I think it stops being a one-night stand after the fifth or sixth month of steady dating."

With a mock frown, the younger man pulled away from the strong hold. He rolled his hips until he was straddled over Ben's still clothed hips. The plug was starting to slip out of Jamie and the lube was coming with it, running down his thighs. Ben gathered up just enough of the trickle to provide a slick hand for his partner to thrust into.

Jamie's voice was shaking, legs trembling with each further touch, as he jokingly asked, "Has it been six months already? I swear it feels more like a decade since the first time we slept together."

Ben straightened up in his own position to help Jamie better reach the buttons on his shirt. He couldn't help but notice that his partner's hands, still shaking, had skipped down the zipper on his trousers. Those long, lovely fingers were quickly slipping inside the waistband of his boxers

"Notice how I said 'steady'. As in regularly seeing each other and fucking in places that aren't broom closets."

"But I so enjoyed having to be secretive. Even though I rather think we're still in the closet now."

Mentions of the (looming) closet were something that always pushed Ben's anxieties to the front of his mind. He tried not to let his sudden disinterest in Jamie's carefully planned situation show. However, the fault in dating in a detective is that they know when something is wrong with another human.

Not wanting to have the anxieties dragged out him, Ben started, "About that..."

"What? Did you tell someone?"

A different kind of shock and concern struck Jamie's face after he asked this question. 

"No, but I was thinking that I might make a very dramatic move tomorrow," Ben replied, softly, taking one of Jamie's hand in his own clean hand.

"Such as?"

"Something like holding your hand in the pub after the funeral service is over. I know that it's incredibly daring, but for a man who has been in the closet for most of his life, it's the first big step."

Ben was smiling again as he made his slight of hand joke. With that, Jamie began laughing. He collapsed forward onto his partner, relaxing back into the strong grip. Even ignoring the sticky lube of the hand that was previously giving him so much pleasure. Soon those fingers would be back on him and likely to be deep inside him too.

Jamie rolled back up to his straddle position. He reached down for another kiss, taking much too long to pull away before asking, "Do you know something else, Ben Jones?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Chapter Text

Gavin fumbled with his top button for ten or more times before he found Robert’s hands stretching around his neck. The other man took little effort in securing his shirt. As Robert drew his hands away from his neck, he left one hand against Gavin’s throat. He moved to rest his cheek against his shoulder. Gavin listened intently to his slow breaths, hearing it go back and forth in Robert’s lungs. 

It took his friend only a second to get the button in the hole. Making him feel only worse and worse for how long it had taken him to admit his initial defeat. Robert’s hands drew away from his body and the two men were left standing in front of the mirror, looking at the reflections of each other.

Amid their silence, Robert asked, “Are you going to be okay, Gavin? Is there anything I can do for you?”

After their conversation in the car, he was finding it harder and harder to be around the man. It wasn’t guilt. No, it definitely was not the guilt that he felt this time. Not that insurmountable dread that had been present for his entire stay in hospital and rehab. Communication in so many situations would have made his life easier.

“I think I’m going to be fine. At least for now. You can make me a cup of tea though when you go into the kitchen.”

“With the usual?”

“Yes, just the usual.”

He remained in front of the mirror as he watched Robert leave the bedroom. In the next room, he could hear the sound of the man making far too much disturbance for just two cups of tea. They had never lived fully together, but it was still reminiscent of times when they shared domestic moments.

“What are you doing with yourself, Gavin? Why don’t you just make a choice?” 

He thought it to himself, not daring to say anything like that aloud. Now that Robert had fixed his top button, he was left to fuss with the ties that he had dumped into his suitcase with little thought. One of the ties had come from the bottom of the drawer. It was of a design that Barnaby had always hated and perhaps that’s why he had hung onto it for so long.

“Just make a decision.”

If only it was so easy to just make a decision. Whether it be about the tie or the person he wanted to be with. He didn’t love Robert, not in the way that someone was supposed to love someone, especially not when the other person deeply loved you.. Gavin was solid in his love for Ben Jones, but he couldn’t be sure that the love went the other way. Not like he was sure of the way Robert was still nursing an unrequited affection.

He lifted the hideous tie from his days of being a sergeant and began the slow process of tying it into a gentle knot. Gavin had found himself in the position of having many people who loved him and cared for him, more than most people could ever wish to have. Still, it seemed that all he wanted to do was slip away from the grasp of someone who cared about him. Wanted to risk running towards the arms of another man who might be promised to another. Just wanting to run…

As he passed the end of the tie back through the loop, he brushed away the thoughts of all conflicts. His emotional turmoil could save itself until after all of the respects had been paid.

Robert called him for tea in the moments after he straightened his suit jacket for the twentieth time. He was then politely escorted to the church that held the body of his mentor. Gavin showed the appropriate amount of emotion while giving Cully a hug and introducing her to his companion for the first time. When she asked why he hadn’t been back in so many years, he promised her a better answer at a later time with a gentle handshake.

Robert’s arm stayed over his shoulders as they found their way to a pew and became witnesses to the event of remembrance. The well respected Detective Chief Inspector Ben Jones was the chosen voice of the eulogy because of course he was. Gavin doubted he would have been able to say a single thing if he had even been offered a spot on the stage.

He found his companion’s fingers intertwined with his own when he looked down through some of his tears. Robert didn’t deserve to be here or be an onlooker to his theatrics. The man should be back in London in his apartment drinking some expensive wine and reading the newest edition of a forensic journal. Just like they used to do when spending time together.

It’s alright to be sad. Most people are sad when they attend the funerals of their loved ones.

The words of mourning for Barnaby didn’t last much longer after the self comforting thought passed through his mind. He sat silently as people began to make their way from the church out onto the parish lawn. Ben walked by him with a small child in his arms, his loving eyes piercing into Gavin’s nervous composure.

“I think it’s time for us to move along now, Gavin. I’ll buy you a pint if you’d like.”

His companion’s hand was on his arm again. Together, he and Robert stood from their pew and began to walk with the portion of the crowd that was pointed towards one of the locals. He could feel Ben’s eyes staring into his back, but he hadn’t yet found the courage to turn around. There would be more chances once he had managed to have a drink. Or two. Or however many it took for him to admit to the mistakes that he had made.

Robert found them a quiet little table in the back of the pub. Perhaps left behind from other crowd members because of its seclusion or the need for another paper coaster under the shaky leg. Quiet all the same though. Quiet enough to leave him alone with his thoughts while Robert fetched their drinks for them. All quiet until he realized that someone was talking to him.

“Is this seat taken?”

Gavin looked up to see Ben Jones looking down on him again. This time without the presence of a small child in his arms.

“There’s always a spot open for you,” Gavin managed to say, a smile crossing his face as he began thinking about how his day was improving.

Chapter Text

Ben Jones had never thought of himself as the first choice when it came to giving important speeches. His relative amounts of social anxiety and a tendency to trip over some words of concern were limitations to his speech making ability. It had never been something that he needed when he left school to walk the beat. The theatrics of case solving had always been left to one of the Barnabys. And now he, as a DCI investigating brutal homicides, could not find it in himself to conduct a stage play every time he found a murderer.

So, there Ben sat, attempting a draft at the eulogy. The very speech that he was expected to give in just a few hours at the front of the church. What could he possibly say about his old boss that the audience couldn’t say for themselves? Most of the people in the room would likely be policemen or villagers involved in murders or someone Tom put in prison once upon a time. 

Just a fine assortment of Englishmen who were well acquainted with the brilliance of Tom Barnaby.

“How’s it coming along, love?”

Perhaps his skills as an investigator were slipping if he hadn’t noticed Jamie being on the approach. The man could be elegant in his steps when he wanted to be, but Ben tended to be able to know where his lover was…at most times. Jamie’s fingertips spread carefully across his shoulders as he let the stress leave his body. Ben knew it wasn’t right to carry the whole weight of the world on his aging back. He knew those stresses would be too much to escape one day.

Still, with all that he knew, he just smiled up at his partner, taking one of the offered hands, and kissing it gently.

“It’s still in progress. I may not even attempt to write any more of it.”

“No? What would you do then? Improvise your bit while you stand at the pulpit and look out at all of those mourners?”

The thought of putting on a bit of an act had honestly crossed his mind. A touch of the theatrics might actually be the most appropriate sort of send off for a man like Tom. He was honestly the sort of person who would have implied in his will that he had been murdered. The touch of the actor right up until the moment the six feet of dirt covered him over for eternity.

“That’s likely what he would have done if it were my funeral that he was giving the speech for. I knew him for almost twenty years and he didn’t stop calling me ‘Jones’ until I reached DCI.”

Jamie moved to sit down beside him, his gaze clearly going to the few notes that he had managed to scribble down. Most of them concerned the first day that he met Barnaby and the last case they had recorded together before his passing. 

“This case, your first one together, wasn’t it about some sort of gruesome, haunted house?”

His partner tapped his pointer finger on the line about the case at that awful house in Midsomer Newton. That had been the once in a lifetime chance to pivot the trajectory of his career. And he had done it. He had become all that Barnaby wanted him to be, even with some of the distractions along the way.

“A gruesome haunted house? Now, now, Jamie. I think you’ve worked in Midsomer county long enough to know just how vague of a statement that is to make.”

His partner joined him in a few welcome laughs as Ben tried to remember the rest of the details of the case. As part of the process, he had to admit to Jamie that he had been a bit ruder when he first became a detective.

Not that you were a well developed gentleman detective when you met him, Jones thought to himself while his partner skimmed the notes. It had been entirely unprofessional. Not quite forcing himself onto Jamie, but still a question of conflict. When he had chosen to pursue a more junior, not quite far junior, colleague. Just because they had exchanged enough winks and glances over the pitch to mean something.

Their conversation, thankfully, never touched on the case that they met over. It went through some of his best hits with both of the Barnabys until it was time to leave for the church. Jamie gave him a few gentle touches as Ben straightened his tie in the cracked parish mirror.

“You’ll be just fine, love. The best that’ll ever be done in this church.”

“Until the next speech that is given there, Jamie. How do you know I’m going to do so well?”

“Because I know this will be a walk in the park compared to the speech you’ll have to make at our wedding about how we met.”

There was only enough time to look back at his partner with a glare before he was called to speak. Jamie found a seat next to Cully, taking her hand and shooting devious smiles in Ben’s direction.

How does he expect me to get anything accomplished by looking at me like that, Ben thought to himself, keeping open the internal dialogue of the good things that would be waiting for him at home.

The service went in the peaceful manner that one might expect from a service in any other county. Jones ran mostly on autopilot as he delivered his speech. Showing emotions at all of the right cues and doing his best to keep everything in line. When he had the occasion to attend funerals with Tom, there had always been a twist. Usually an extra body in a grave or someone upset about being buried too early. 

None of that here.

Ben had made very sure that Tom was very dead. Checking multiple times before letting the body go off to the morgue and had a long talk with the coroner about his paranoias. Assuring that the coroner was not on the take. So many of the things that normal people may not do, but certainly actions that more people in Midsomer should have taken.

Those thoughts continued as he finished his speech and offered the stage to anyone else. The immediate silence after his finish indicated that no one else needed the limelight. Ben stepped down from the pulpit, adjusting the expression on his face once more as he walked over to the family.

He surveyed their emotional conditions, holding out a hand to Cully, saying “Come along, love” without ever uttering a single word. They had been friends long enough to know how to communicate in other ways. It pained him to see the stained marks of tears on her cheeks. It still hurt him more to know that some of his paranoia about Tom’s death had been corroborated by the phone call.

Together, he and Jamie led the crowd of mourners through the church aisle and down to the path that led to the local pub. Just as he was exiting, Ben caught Gavin’s attention, giving him a friendly smile. With more than his usual luck, the other detective wound up joining the party going to the pub. Jamie took this presence as a time to remind him that he would have a chance to make an effort to catch up.

So now here he stood, pint in one hand, his other at the small of Jamie’s back, and his eyes observing every moment that Gavin Troy made. It took far too much urging from his partner and the convenient exit of Strickland for Ben to walk over to the table. To ask if there was a seat available, accept a polite invitation, and decide to let himself have some enjoyable moments.

Ben Jones sat his pint down on the table, slipped into the seat across from Gavin, and felt the moderate amount of anxiety lessening as he studied the other man’s smile.

Chapter Text

Gavin was loving every moment of his conversation with Ben, even if he hated the reason for being back in Midsomer. There was just something about him that grabbed every breath in Gavin’s chest and pulled it away from him. 

“I don’t believe I’ve ever had such a nice time at a funeral.”

“Perhaps it’s more about the company that you’re keeping.”

That’s right. They were at a funeral. Gavin had nearly forgotten where he was amidst the enjoyment of their exchange.

Suddenly though he remembered where he was once spotting Robert coming back over to their secluded table. He could see that the other man was gesturing and saying something to him, but he couldn’t make it out from this distance. Again, very suddenly, Gavin didn’t want to be where he was currently sitting.

There was only a little bit of guilt resting with him about leaving Robert alone in the pub. On the one hand, it was Robert who had secured the spot, but on the other, he was more than willing to let the man have it. Perhaps both of the thoughts were in the same hand while his other wanted to be linked with one belonging to Ben Jones.

Wanting to continue enjoying his time in the county, he asked, with a polite smile, “Ben, do you suppose that we could move to somewhere else? Perhaps someplace a bit more private…”

His companion followed his line of sight to the returning figure of the mostly honorable Robert Strickland. Gavin hoped that the man would take a cleaner understanding to the phrase than most of its intended uses. Ben wrapped a few fingers around Gavin’s hand that laid on the table and gently said, “Come along, duckie, let’s take a walk in the woods.”

Gavin welcomed the suggestion of taking a walk. Really, he had been looking for any sort of reason to put some distance between himself and Robert’s ministrations. Ben pulled him up from the table, gathering up their coats and making their way out of the pub. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Ben asked, reaching his hand out again to link fingers with him.

This was what he wanted. Gavin had to reassure himself of that as they began to walk down the path into the nearby wood. He wanted it enough to avoid laughing at Ben calling him ‘duckie’. Not enough though to stop himself from asking Ben about the remark.

“Duckie? What sort of name is that?”

“What do you mean, love?”

“Well, back in the pub you called me ‘duckie’. I want to know why,” Gavin explained, linking their arms together and leaning his head against Ben’s shoulder as they made their way into seclusion. His headrest hummed as Gavin smelled the subtle fragrance that marked Ben’s collar.

“For a moment, I suppose, I found myself the type of romantic that William Bodie might have been.”

He wouldn’t have thought that Ben would be one to choose a reference from the Professionals. Maybe Doctor Who or one of those other science fiction shows, but not quite anything as badly remembered as the vaguely homoerotic partnership between two spies. Maybe that relationship was why Ben had chosen to take on that sort of persona.

“I suppose that would make me Ray Doyle then?”

“I’m surprised that you knew that reference. And yes, I think you could do with a bit of leather, flowing silk shirts, and very, very tight jeans.”

It was at that moment that Ben Jones took him very suddenly, kissing him and attempting not to stumble over each other. There was no sign of resistance in Gavin Troy. Absolutely none at all as Ben strengthened the kiss by pushing him backwards, pinning him up against a tree. He felt the bark digging into his suit jacket and making marks in his skin, but he let himself continue to be taken. When Ben finally let up to catch his breath, he couldn’t find a single word to say that seemed appropriate.

Ben stepped in instead and asked, “Are you okay, lovely? Too much too soon?”

“No, no it’s fine. It was just…”

Gavin found himself wanting to wriggle away. Really to run away. But without any of the strength in his legs that would be necessary for such an action.

“Unexpected?” Ben asked, arms going out in support of the slipping form before him.

“Yes, entirely unexpected. Not unwelcome. More confusing than anything else.”

“May I ask you something else unexpected while we’re in the mindset for it then?”

He removed Ben’s hands from his hips as he steadied himself. Ben took it as the cue to continue his line of questioning with a very unexpected offer.

“You’re welcome to stay in my spare room, for a bit, if you’d like?”

The guilt was setting in now heavier than ever. Gavin was remembering all the dramatic details again. Like the fact that Ben was involved with something else and he was the other man. It bothered him immensely to know that the one he wanted was being unfaithful to someone else by their fit of passion in the woods.

Wondering about the exact state of Ben’s involvement, Gavin asked, “Won’t I be disrupting your live-in detective and house boy?”

Ben laughed a bit at the question. He raised his hand to a position above Gavin’s head, leaning down to kiss his neck before saying, “No, I think he’ll take quite nicely to the whole situation. He was the one who encouraged me to go after you, both after meeting you and when we were waiting around in the pub.”

He looked up at the man who was leaning over him. The kisses on the neck were quite generous and were helping to warm up his body. He struggled to find the words. Again. That was becoming a repeating problem whenever he was in the presence of Ben Jones.

“You have an understanding then?”

“Yes. We actually have an understanding that is specifically about you.”

“Oh? What sort of understanding might that be?”

The glint returned once more to Ben’s eyes as he stole another kiss. Gavin relaxed further into the posture. He was upset about not being able to get an answer out of the man, but he was also quite satisfied with the attention that he was receiving. 

When Ben let up again, he lightly kissed Gavin’s forehead and said, “Our understanding is that we both want a go at you.”

Chapter Text

In the months previous to the event in the woods, it was true that Ben Jones had discussed all aspects of his attraction to Gavin Troy with his partner. It had become part of their agreement when deciding to have a real relationship. Rather than the stolen kisses in broom cupboards or shared vacations in Brightons that had satisfied them in the past. It seemed only right, in accepting domesticity with one true love, that Ben admit to himself that he had more than one.

This love - this life - this time.

Nothing was going to be rushed in the way that it had been when he had so forcefully hidden himself into the closet. No, this time it was going to be what most people expect from a long term partnership. 

The living together. 

Sharing the shopping. 

Discussing pet ownership.

Driving each other up the walls with odd peculiarities that hadn’t been observed in the casual dating phase.

All of that and the understanding that they could both admire the traditionally aesthetic aspects of Gavin Troy. Each had a different point of reference for their attraction, but they could both agree on wanting him in their bed. No matter together or separately. Just definitely in the bed they had often shared together in Ben’s cottage.

It was UCOS’s reignition of a  Causton CID case that brought Gavin Troy back into Ben Jones’s sphere of existence. Someone in London had taken an inquiry into some decades old, brutal, and ritualistic murder. A case that had been pushed out of public interest for so long that it wasn’t even from Tom Barnaby’s era.

He knew because Tom had gone with him when the call had come down for a trip through the archives. They spent hours sifting through messes of case files that showed evidence that Midsomer had always been a rather violent county. It was incredible that anyone was still alive by the time he had come onto the investigative scene.

The murders in question, the Forsythe murders, had actually not been recognized as murders when the case was first recorded in the early sixties. For the first five corpse discoveries, the few detectives assigned to Midsomer County had been too consumed with a rash of bootlegging to notice a ritualistic pattern. A crime within itself that they decided to blame their lack of observation skills on a low budget. If Sherlock Holmes had refused to solve murders on the basis of a lack of fee, then he would have never accomplished solutions such as the one for the Red Headed League. 

When he had first uncovered the case file, Ben found it hard to believe that any of the mutilations of the corpses could have been interpreted as accidental nor coincidental. In the case of the first body, which had been discovered in a pond with a rod through its chest, one might have been able to explain this away as accidental. If it had been the case that someone had happened to bring sharpened rods to a fishing pond in the middle of a deserted forest. And had further just happened to leave those materials lying around on the dock in a manner that a person might accidentally fall onto one.

In Ben’s opinion, it must have been quite the trick for the man to impale himself on an iron rod. The next trick came when he then managed to, while dying, roll himself off the dock and into the middle of the body of water. Details were light in the report, but he assumed it must have been an almost miracle that the man had also managed to tie his own dead body to a set of cement blocks.

From the very beginning of the reinvestigation, the case had held a certain smell. One that led to an unsurprising police cover up and a former detective chief inspector with a taste for blood. In both a literal and figurative sense. It had been quite the gory case by the time all of the bits and pieces had been collected. Again, both literally and figuratively after certain discoveries made in certain basements and attics of persons involved.

While the case itself had been gripping and filled with action, it was the presence of Gavin Troy that kept so much of Ben’s attention. Before the UCOS attention arose, he was aware that Gavin had advanced to the rank of superintendent, but he had no idea where the man was working. It was one of his many regrets that he hadn’t kept a better track of the important people in his life. 

His exit from Midsomer, involvement in undercover investigations, and eventual return to Midsomer had left many years unaccounted for. At least socially. It had been hard enough for Ben to keep track of Jamie, the man that he was most actively involved with during the period. With the level of secrecy involved for much of his work, it would have been another matter entirely to attempt to keep Gavin informed of his movements. And there could have also been the question of wondering how much Gavin actually wanted to know.

All of that doubt, all of that wondering, was now gone as he leaned, panting over Gavin Troy in a Midsomer Wood. He had imagined a different reunification. As most romantics hope, he had dreamed of a slow seduction in a private space.

Randomly throwing a former lover up against a tree and implying a desire to take them roughly was almost the complete opposite of his intention. It was effective, but it wasn’t where he had started.

He had just explained his partner’s understanding of his desires and now he was forced to wait patiently for an answer he had been waiting on for over a decade.

“Are you sure that there’s room for me, Ben?’

Ben smiled, taking another kiss, and then answering a question with a question.

“Well, are you asking about room in the entire house or room in my bed?”

Chapter Text

Jamie stood off to the side of the bar, nursing his pint as he watched Ben’s rather casual seduction of Gavin Troy. it had been his idea after all for Ben to admit to his interests. Particularly in the case of the coworker that he had never managed to meet, but had once accidentally been called when someone was pounding at his prostate. That was not something that he could let go without a proper explanation. No matter how leg shaking that orgasm had been when Jamie collapsed onto the bed into his own semen.

In the time since they decided to become more seriously involved, they had experimented with the process of picking up a third. Though Jamie usually didn’t care to be on the top, being with Ben often inspired him to do things that he usually would not do. Like watching Ben’s load disappear down someone else’s throat. Barely touching himself, but still getting as hot under the collar as if the person were swallowing him down instead. He knew that he must be one of those rare few men who enjoyed the thought of his partner pursuing someone else. 

Different from some - most - of the cases that they had investigated involving complex personal involvement. While they did sometimes run across mutually agreed cuckoldism in their line of work, it was certainly not the norm for most of their cases. And usually more common among the upper class than the middle class and lower class. Those aristocrats weren’t the only ones allowed to get off from their partner fucking another, but they seemed to require it for their family planning procedures.

Jamie gave a last glance to Ben. He was watching his partner watch him. Ben was likely looking for, in him, the same signs of enjoyment that he had looked for in Ben. It took only one more nod for Ben to gather up his belongings, now including Gavin, and begin his exit.

After watching Gavin and Ben leave the barroom in an almost salacious manner, Jamie turned his attention to watching the very confused Robert Strickland. The man started by standing in the middle of the barroom. He turned about a few times on his little point, looking for a companion that was no longer there. Then he caught sight of Jamie’s corner hiding place and came at him like a hound of the moors. The voice that followed with a question though did not match the expression on the man’s face.

“You’re…um…Jamie Winter, right? The one who came up to London with DCI Jones a few months ago to solve one of Gavin’s cases?”

The man stuck out his free hand and Jamie reluctantly grabbed onto it. They shook for just the appropriate moment, releasing without either of them feeling the need to wipe their hands on another surface. Jamie settled himself on a somewhat obtuse answer, saying, “Yes, Ben did invite me to come up to London. We don’t ever work together, different departments and all, but it would have been hard for him to leave me alone for the weekend. Not with case files like that laying around his house.”

It was almost enjoyable to watch the reactions on the face of the other man. As they were all detectives, it would never cease to amaze Jamie how an individual might put the pieces together. Strickland’s expression was slowly changing as he obviously thought about all that Jamie had said. At this moment, he suspected that the other man was running through the phrase ‘alone for the weekend’ and ‘his house’. Maybe it would have been more direct to say ‘our house’, but then that might have been too scandalous even for a Londoner homosexual.

On the night that he first got together with Ben, during that cricket case all of those years ago, the man had been almost shocked to find out that Jamie was queer. As if a well groomed man in an extremely tight suit was not enough reason to suspect someone of being on the rainbow spectrum. What sort of detective was Ben being when Jamie was busy commenting on how fit the man was for his age? The oblivious answer during that interview was almost a turnoff for him.

All of the pieces must have finally matched up for Strickland because he asked, again nervously, “Do you usually spend your weekends together then? You and Ben?”

“When we first started being steady, it was just the weekends, yeah. After I gave up my lease though he was forced to let me stay in his cottage full time.”

That wasn’t quite the truth. Even when Jamie still had his lease, he was spending at least four night a week in the home of Mr. Ben Jones. Often with his face being shoved into the couch cushions or Ben’s fingernails making marks on his back. He went through a great deal of moisturizing to make sure that none of the marks were of the permanent nature.

“I don’t suppose that you would have any idea where he has taken Gavin off to in the woods? We’re staying with a cousin of mine and I wouldn’t want to abandon him outside of this pub.”

Jamie sat his pint down on the ledge beside him, turning over his wrist to see the time on his watch. Knowing the time would not help him in answering the question, but it may allow him enough time to think of a suitable answer. 

If he knew anything about Ben Jones, then he could guess that the man was currently offering Gavin a place to sleep. Likely in their own bed, between the two of them, and divested of his own clothing. It was hard to keep that delicious image away from his consciousness as he tried to keep a somber mood. After all, he was still attending a wake.

“I think you can trust Ben to get Gavin home safely. I’ve never known him to be anything but a gentleman in all of his interactions with men like us.”

Chapter Text

Ben Jones felt much better about his life (in some respects) as they completed the loop of the forest path and headed back towards the public house. He was allowed to be walking freely, hand in hand with someone he had wanted for a long time, and there was very little the universe could do to stop it.

Especially when the universe was being represented by a man like Robert Strickland. How a backbone lacking snake like that ever achieved such a high position in the constabulary...

Of course, he was still haunted by the phone call bearing the news of the possibility of an unfortunate accident. What would be waiting for him at the end of the line if he chose to investigate the details of Tom's death? Clearly the placer of the phone call would like for him to investigate, but wouldn't that mean that someone didn't want him to investigate? By the mere implication of a potential cover up.

The walk in silence allowed Ben to examine his thoughts. This was not something that he felt comfortable discussing with Jamie. It would be too much too soon to ask his partner to engage in this sort of subterfuge.

However, he had to feel a certain amount of guilt for not alerting Gavin to the mystery about his old governor. The other man was truly one of the finest investigative minds in all of Great Britain. And secrets like this one tended not to stay secrets for very long.

"You know, I've just had the most troubling thought."

Ben pushed his own troubles to the side to ask, "Penny for your troubles."

Gavin unlinked their hands and looked at him with a smile.

"I've had the troubling thought that Robert might have driven off to destroy all of my property. My suitcase is in his cousin's guest room."

He returned the smile that Gavin had offered him, grabbing him once more in his arms. Ben held Gavin at a bit of a distance and deadpanned as he said, "I have spare toothbrushes if you're worried about having a toothbrush."

"To be honest, Ben, I was a bit more concerned about having a clean pair of boxers."

Ben Jones found that he couldn't resist laughing at the thought about, once again, having a naked Gavin stumbling around his rooms. It had been a great deal of amusement to him on the last time that they had been together. However long ago that might have been.

"Well," Ben paused, searching for some serious words to address the somewhat serious concern of Robert's potential backlash. "Well, I suppose I can go defend your honor our good friend, Bob, and then ask him to hand over your silky negligees."

His remark was followed up with a solid punch to the arm. It stung for only a moment, but Ben stretched out his grimaces for a longer period of time. There was a comfortable sort of banner between them for the rest of the way back to the public house. Nothing too particularly witty or remarkable to repeat on the occasion of retelling the forest dalliance to interested parties. Just enough of something to rest between them as their worries floated back up to the atmosphere. 

"There you are!"

A sudden shout came from the front of the public house and it didn't take a detective to know that the figure in the distance must have been Strickland. Perhaps it had been a bit rude for Ben to steal Gavin away from the pub. Likely though it had been even ruder for him to dismiss Gavin all of those years ago. There was a lot of rudeness, from both sides of the aisle, to make up for tonight.

Ben watched calmly as Gavin slipped his hand from their tangled mess of fingers and went up the path to deal with Strickland. He could slightly hear murmurs of apologies. Just as he could just make out hands being placed in soothing places with gentle motions. Nothing indecent though. Nothing like what he had just been doing out in the forest.

He made his own way to a grinning Jamie, pint glass dangling from his fingertips as the man watched the scene unfolding. Knowing what he knew of his partner, Ben could guess that the younger man’s smile had something to do with mischief that he caused. Or if he had not directly caused it then it was mischief that he had simply observed without any intervention.

Still, ever feeling the need to be polite, Ben asked, “What are you smiling about my lovely?”

Jamie sat down his pint glass and turned his lips to meet his own in a tender kiss. His boyfriend placed a warm palm on his cheek, turning his head further so he could lean in and whisper, “I’m smiling because I know how much your arrangements our upsetting our Mr. Strickland.”

”Why should you feel so hostile towards another honorable member of her majesty’s constabulary?” Ben asked, adding on to their joke as he stole a sip from Jamie’s pint glass. It was far from the sweet cider that had been hoping to find and his partner, again, smiled at his grimace over the taste. Jamie’s next kiss took away some of the bitter taste. The action left him wanting more from multiple people.

”Because he’s an absolute ass and I’m growing rather fond of staring at Gavin’s ass.”

Just as Jamie made this feeling clear, Ben spotted Gavin coming back towards them and a rather concerned looking Strickland strutting back off to his car. It seemed that Gavin had decided a toothbrush was enough of a guarantee for staying the night.

Chapter Text

The three men couldn’t get back to the Jones residence any faster. As they were stripping out of their clothes, Gavin feared the possibility of showing his age. Until he did a few calculations in his head to remember that Ben wasn’t much younger than him. When Jamie knelt down to help him remove the belt from his trousers, he started wondering how Ben kept up with a lover who was as equally young as he was gorgeous.

The moment they pushed him back onto the bed was the moment he realized that he was the main course for the evening. That, just like him, these two must have been thinking about this scenario for quite a long time. 

How satisfying it would have been if they had just fucked him into oblivion on his desk in London when they had come for work. He would have gladly replaced his desk blotter if had meant being bred by the two finest country coppers he knew. 

His position on the bed jostled as Ben laid down beside him, kissing his neck, and whispering, “Now what is running through your pretty little head, huh? Worried about your boxers still?”

The gasp that slipped from his lips a moment later wasn’t so much from Ben’s cheekiness as Jamie’s mouth engulfing his cock. He went to place his hands on the young man’s head but Ben quickly grabbed them away. He pushed until Gavin’s wrists were firmly placed behind his head. Ben rolled into him, hard cock resting on his hip as he began to kiss down Gavin’s neck.

”Please, Ben, be careful.”

Ben chose that moment to sharply bite into his neck, surely sucking to make sure a mark would be left behind.

”I won’t hurt you, darling. Only when you ask for it - Jamie can attest to that.”

As if on cue the younger man rose up to display a pattern of bite marks covering his chest. None of them had been visible before this most intimate moment. Perhaps attesting to how good Ben was at hiding his handiwork.

”I just-I just don’t want to feel anything else today.”

Ben hummed slightly. He guessed in agreement. From there, he welcomed all of the affection the other men had to give him. What would Barnaby say if he was getting a leg over on the day of his mentor’s funeral? Realistically, he’d probably have indulged in the same way during his own career.

The thoughts slipped further and further away though as Jamie rocked against his cock and Ben got nearer and nearer to his ass. If he hadn’t of been so close, he would have turned over and begged for their cum.

”Please…please,” was all that Gavin could manage to beg for in between moans from the intense pleasure.

Gavin gave one last try to raise his hands as he felt his orgasm shooting forward, but was met again with resistance. Jamie had returned to sucking his cock just in time to receive the load.

And when Ben pulled his partner up to receive a sloppy kiss, he started to understand how his colleagues could keep up with each other.