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The White Bridge Crime Series Book 3 - Witness - LGBT

Novel By: lorby1000
Gay and lesbian

Tom Harwood and Freddie Glover are in a relationship.
When an argument is blown out of proportion one night, Tom disappears. Distraught over the fight, Freddie falls into depression, unaware that Tom is missing until a few days later. With help from Detectives Dom Marafioti and Rex Barnett, Freddie searches for Tom, unknowingly moving closer towards a past that haunts him.
Because Freddie was witness to something that altered who he was forever, and Tom has no idea that his boyfriend isn't really his boyfriend after all. View table of contents...


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Submitted:Apr 12, 2013    Reads: 24    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

"Tommy!" Freddie called through from the bar to the manager's office.


"Can you add a bottle of vodka to this week's stock order, please?"

"Yep." Tom Harwood made a note on a post-it and threw his pen down onto the desk. He rubbed his eyes wearily, before shutting down his computer and locking up the office. He went out into the restaurant, and saw Freddie Glover, his partner of seven years, crouched behind the bar, running his finger down a long list of beverages and checking off the number of bottles he had left. "About ready to go?" Tom asked, walking over and ruffling Fred's hair affectionately.

"I think so. I just have to cash up."

"I'll do that." Tom went across to the till on the bar and started quickly counting the cash. He added up piles of notes and coins, kept two hundred pounds in various denominations inside the till for the next night's float, and put the night's bar takings into a little plastic bag, along with a cash-receipt and a note with the date on it. He shoved the bag into a little plastic box and put the box down the tube that led to the underground safe.

By the time he'd finished, Freddie had finished taking stock of the bar, and was cleaning the curved marble bar-top. Tom quickly pushed all of the bar stools under, and fished his key ring from his pocket.

"Alright, I'm done." Freddie said finally, wiping his hands on a towel.

Tom smiled at him. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," Fred said, looking around for anything he'd missed.

"What about there?" Tom asked innocently. "You missed a spot on the bar."

"I did?" Fred leant over to inspect the bar.

Grinning triumphantly, Tom slipped up behind Fred, sliding his hands down to cup Fred's hips. "Here," he whispered, licking Freddie's neck gently.

"Tom," Fred wriggled.


"Adrian told us to stop having sex in the restaurant. It's a violation of the health codes."

"No, he told us to stop having sex in the restaurant while there were clients. We're the only ones here now." Tom let his tongue caress the helix of Freddie's ear.

Fred moaned softly. "Tommy," Fred twisted in Tom's arms, so that they were face-to-face.

"What?" Tom whispered, stealing Freddie's next breath with a deep kiss.

"I forgot," Fred admitted, his fingers busily working on the buttons of Tom's shirt.

"Good." Tom yanked Fred's shirt over his head and pulled him close. Tom let his fingertips trail over Freddie's back, lightly digging into Fred's spine. "I love you," he murmured softly.

"I know." Fred kissed Tom tenderly. Freddie looped his arms around Tom's neck, and lifted his legs to wrap around Tom's waist. Tom lifted Freddie easily and set him upon the bar-top. Fred moaned softly as Tom's hips ground gently against his own. Tom fumbled with Fred's zip for a moment, before he lifted Freddie off the counter and slid away his jeans and underwear. Freddie lay back against the cold marble bar-top, wriggling his hips a little in anticipation.

Tom kissed his way down Freddie's chest, spending a few moments to tease his nipples unmercifully, before he slid down to Freddie's hips. He blew lightly over Fred's tip, causing his lover to groan lustfully, before taking the tip into his mouth. Fred's fingers twisted into Tom's dark hair, guiding his movements. Tom obediently sped up, as Fred's hand demanded. He started moving further down as Freddie's hips started to move with his mouth.

Finally, Tom drew back with a soft moan, licking his lips lewdly. Fred's dark eyes were hooded with lust. Pushing Freddie's legs up and open, Tom leant down and drove his tongue deep into Fred.

Fred growled, his hands once more clamping around Tom's head, pulling him closer. "Christ," Fred grunted. "More, Tommy."

Tom drew back and lightly nipped Freddie's thigh. Tom pushed down his trousers and boxers; Freddie sat up and ran a loving hand over Tommy's length. He leant over and kissed Tom's chest, nibbled his neck, caressed his back. Tom stood for a moment, humming with enjoyment at Fred's actions, before he pulled his lover off the bar-top, span him around, and pushed him back onto the bar. Freddie groaned loudly when Tom pushed inside him.

"God, you're so tight," Tom murmured. He dug his fingers into Fred's hips, making him wriggle and moan. "So good, Freddie." Tommy reached up and threaded his fingers into Freddie's hair, pulling his head back so that Tom could kiss him. Fred grunted as Tom thrust deeply into him. Tom started moving slowly, taking his time to build Freddie's pleasure.

When Freddie was trembling with his need for release, crying out with every thrust, and clawing at the bar in desperation, Tom finally allowed himself to move harder and faster, his fingers clutching Freddie's hips so that he couldn't escape.

"Tommy!" Freddie squealed suddenly. "Tom, I can't-" His exclamation was cut short by his scream of pleasure as he orgasmed violently.

Tom groaned as Freddie milked his length, gasping as he came. "Jesus," Tom panted, resting his forehead on the small of Fred's back.

"You're good at that," Freddie murmured.

"I know." Tom laughed softly. He kissed the back of Fred's neck gently, before hugging him tightly. "I love you."

"I love you too." Fred twisted around so that he could kiss Tom.

They drew slowly apart and dressed.

"Do you fancy going out tomorrow night?" Tom asked.

"What for?"

"Well, it's our anniversary next week, and we're both working that night. I thought we could celebrate tomorrow instead." He hesitated. "My friend Mark works at Chez Francois. He can get us a reservation, tomorrow at seven thirty."

Freddie shifted on his feet. "Chez Francois." He said. "That place is really expensive."

"I know," Tom said. "But… I've been saving some of my salary for the past couple of months. I thought I could treat you."

"Oh…" Freddie rubbed his ear awkwardly. "Can I… think about it?"

Tom stared at him. "It's not difficult, Fred." He said coolly. "Either you want to have dinner with me to celebrate our anniversary, or you don't. And, judging from your reaction to me telling you I can get us reservations at the most expensive restaurant in town without having to book seven months in advance, I'm guessing you don't want to."


"Never mind," Tom interrupted him coldly. "Let's lock up and go home."


"Leave it, Fred." Tom snapped.

After hesitating for a moment, Freddie stepped out of the darkened restaurant. Tom turned off the last of the lights and locked up, before joining Fred outside. They stood in an awkward silence for a moment, before turning and heading for home.

The pair lived six streets away from The Dinner Table, in an old Victorian terraced house. The house had originally been Tom's, and after two years of persuasion, Freddie had finally agreed to move in with him. The house had three storeys and a large cellar. After Freddie had moved in, they had converted the cellar into a home cinema, with racks of DVDs on neatly aligned wooden shelves, and a projector mounted onto the ceiling. A comfy black leather sofa sat against the back wall.

The bottom floor housed the kitchen, a utility room and a small downstairs bathroom. The second level was the living room and a small bedroom, which had been converted into an office for Tom. The third story housed the master bedroom and en-suite, the main bathroom and a small spare bedroom, and the attic had been converted into a bar room. A pool table stood in the middle of the room, and a wooden granite-topped bar curved along the back wall, fully stocked with drinks, glasses and mixing flasks. Six bar stools stood around the edge of the bar.

"I'm… going to have a shower, alright?" Freddie said tentatively after Tom closed and locked the front door and flicked the hallway lights on.

"Fine." Tom said, his voice monotone. He disappeared into the kitchen.

Fred followed him, a slight frown on his face. "Ar-Aren't you going to ask to join me?" He asked tentatively.

"No." Tom said coldly.


"What're you so upset about?" Tom asked. "You know you don't give it up more than once a night anyway."

Fred blinked, looking hurt. "Fine." He said, his voice trembling. "Good night." He turned for the door, when Tom's scathing voice stopped him.

"FYI, when your partner of almost eight years makes an effort to 'woo' you, you respond to said 'woo' with a yes. And a little bit of enthusiasm."


"You do this every year," Tom barked out suddenly, his control apparently snapping. "I plan something romantic for the pair of us every year, which most partners would be thrilled about, by the way, and you try to wriggle out of it, always."

"So why do you keep trying?" Freddie asked churlishly.

"Because I love you, for fucks sake!" Tom roared. "And that's what you do with someone you love; you spend time with them, and you do things that make each other happy."

"I let you fuck me in the restaurant." Freddie said.

"Are you equating sex to happiness?" Tom asked.

"Well… No, but…"

"'But' what?"

"Never mind," Freddie said tiredly. "I'll have dinner with you tomorrow."

"No, thanks. I've gone off the idea." Tom said, turning away. He yanked open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of milk. He poured a generous amount into a saucepan, turned the stove on, and put the saucepan onto the heat.

"Aren't you going to ask if I want some warm milk?" Freddie asked.

"No. I didn't realise you could even stand having a drink with me."

"Tommy, for Go-"

"Don't 'Tommy' me," Tom snapped.

"Fine," Freddie said. "Good night." He turned and was about to leave the kitchen, when Tom's voice stopped him again.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if you even like me."

"Of course I like you, Tommy." Freddie sighed. "I just… I'm not demonstrative like… well, everyone else we know."

"Having dinner isn't demonstrative. It's dinner."

"Look," Fred said. "We spend a lot of time with Dom and Aidy, and Rex and Eli. They're very… touchy-feely. I'm not comfortable with being so open around other people."

"You're not comfortable with anything," Tom snarled. "It took me two years to convince you to move in with me."

"Did it not occur to you that perhaps I didn't want to live with you?" Fred growled. He immediately regretted his statement when he saw the look of hurt on Tom's face. He ran a hand over his face tiredly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"It's fine." Tom said indifferently. "You're right. I should have seen that." Turning off the stove and tipping the milk down the sink, Tom snatched his keys off the side, shoved past Freddie, and stormed out of the front door.


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