Tracer

9: Touché, Dammit

Desmon shook his head. "This is yours. Jylke kept family business in the family."

"Myron is nothing if not family to Jylke."

"OK, maybe," Desmon conceded that point," but I'm sure –besides Myron- he wouldn't tell anyone else. This isn't public information, and Yarla wouldn't know how to go about getting to it, anyway."

Jymke sighed. "It is too much to process now."

Desmon gathered everything up and rolled the scrolls up tightly. He warmed the wax seal with his breath then pressed it hard until it held. With Jymke's eyes on him, he returned it to the pack and put it back in the wardrobe.

"When you're ready," he said softly, leaning on his lap again, "we'll go through it slowly, a bit at a time. Now will you let me cut your hair?"

Jymke smiled and the grief faded from his eyes. He brushed his fingertips across Desmon's lips. "As you will."

They adjourned to the bathroom, and after gentle urging, Jymke shed his robe. Desmon retrieved the set Colleen gave him and laid out what he needed. He even found a Duster-skin cape folded under the tools.

"I think it'll go easier if it's wet."

Jymke arched a brow as Desmon leaned into a massive marble tub and started the water.

"Why do I feel like your ultimate goal is to get me naked?"

"That's part of the plan, of course," the Packer agreed cheerfully.

"Ah, Desmon," Jymke chuckled as he watched him shed his clothes. "What will I do with you?"

Uninhibited, Desmon arched a brow at the other man. "Whatever you want, I hope. If you can't think of anything, I've got a list. Into the tub with you."

Lips still twitching with humor, Jymke complied, sighing as the steaming water covered him to the waist. Desmon moved the tools to the side of the tub and slid behind him, to sit with his feet on either side of the Tracer, dangling in the water. He combed his fingers through the haphazardly shorn locks and shook his head.

"If I ever run across Yarla, I'll shave his pubes with a wooden spoon for this," he vowed.

Jymke laughed and turned the water off with his feet. "You paint a vivid picture."

"Trust me, I'm serious," Desmon mumbled. "This is criminal."

Desmon picked up a carved ladle, dipped it in the water and tipped Jymke's head back to empty it over his hair. Once he was satisfied, he combed it out and started cutting.

"Those lessons on Duster grooming were well spent, I see," Jymke teased.

"Ha, you're a riot."

"So, I'm told."

"Stop squirming," Desmon scolded, chuckling at Jymke slipping away from him.

"I'm not squirming," Jymke protested mildly. "I'm slipping."

Desmon sat back while Jymke adjusted himself in the water. Once he was comfortable, Desmon went back to work. Soon snips of bright red hair floated in the water. Desmon noticed the purple markings on his body pulsed slowly and smiled. He should be purring any minute now. Sure enough, Jymke drew a deep breath and his throat throbbed with a purr of satisfaction.

"Don't go to sleep on me," Desmon warned, shifting around to get a better angle.

"Why ever not?"

"I can't ravish a sleeping Tracer," Desmon explained. "It's rude."