I suppose, if it came right down to it, Mr. Wallace was the cause of it. He was the man who ran the Washington Bureau of Intelligence and Security, and he told me, "Meet Mr. Vincent at the DC morgue," so that's what I did. He didn't tell me to follow him to GW Hospital. But I did it anyway. It was dumb on my part, and maybe a bit egotistical as well. Who the hell was I to think that Mark Vincent needed anyone to look out for him? But in the morgue he'd looked… I couldn't pinpoint it, but it seemed to be a combination of disillusionment, frustration, and sheer pissed off-ness. And I'd also seen the look in his eyes when he'd thanked me for not giving up on him. Oh, those weren't his exact words, but that was what he meant. He really hadn't expected anyone to do that for him. I couldn't see doing anything less, any more than I could have walked away when Mr. Adams told me what I'd have to do on occasion. It was the way I was raised… But I guess you could also say that Mr. Vincent had a hand in it as well. When he turned into the hospital's parking garage, I killed my headlights and let the car inch forward into it as well. Mr. Vincent's taillights were about twenty feet ahead of me. Truthfully, I was proud of myself for having come this far without him spotting me. He really must have been distressed. But when a van started backing out of its spot and he zipped around it, I realized I'd been made. The van stalled, and I lost precious minutes waiting for the driver to regain his composure and drive off. Okay, I had two choices. I could try to track down my boss, or I could get the fuck out of Dodge. I swore under my breath. No, there was no choice. I had to find Mr. Vincent and make sure he was all right. Only then could I drive home with a clear conscience. My friend Michael would have called me a goody two-shoes, and there would have been an unpleasant edge to the words. Not that that had stopped him from relying on 'goody two-shoes' to haul his ass out of hot water, which I'd done more than once. I sighed. Thinking of Michael always saddened me. So much distance between us. How much longer would we have remained friends if he hadn't died? Someone rapped on the driver's side window. I shouldn't have let myself become distracted. I jammed on the brakes, which screeched a bit, even though I wasn't going more than five mph. How the hell- "Shit." I should have known. It was Mr. Vincent. I lowered the window. "Lost, Matheson?" "No, sir." My foot was cramping up from the force I was placing on the brake, and I shifted into neutral. "Care to tell me what you're doing here, then?" "Sorry, sir. I know it isn't my place, but I wanted to make sure you were okay." "I'm okay." Of course he was. He was Mark Vincent. I sat there trying to look unconcerned, all the while wracking my brains for a graceful way to get out of this cluster fuck. Abruptly he said, "All right, I'm right over there. Take the next spot." He was going to clock me. Well, there was no getting around it. I'd overstepped the bounds, and he had every right to discipline me as he saw fit. I parked my car and got out, waiting for him to punch me in the face. I just hoped he wouldn't break my nose. It was my best feature. He looked me over, then shook his head and turned to walk away. "Don't just stand there, Matheson. I have to take care of this, and then you can explain why you felt the need to baby-sit me." "Yes, sir." I breathed out a sigh of relief. Maybe I hadn't totally screwed this up. I hurried after him, through the doors that opened into the emergency department. I wasn't familiar with it. The few times I'd been injured in the line of duty, I'd seen doctors who worked out of the WBIS. Mr. Vincent, however, knew where he was going. He crossed to a cubicle and yanked the curtains aside. "Haven't they found a bed for him yet?" He looked furious, and I was grateful that glare was not directed at me. On the bed were two figures, one with disheveled white hair who was sleeping with his thumb in his mouth. The other, obviously the patient, was drowsily stroking the spiky platinum strands. He had been severely beaten. "Keep your voice down, wouldja, Vince?" Slouched in a chair was a good-looking man with reddish curly hair. His voice was a warm baritone, and the sound of it was like silk caressing my cock. "Spike's finally asleep." I couldn't take my eyes off him. I'd always had a weakness for redheads, but those redheads had always been girls. This wasn't a cute guy who could just as well have been a cute girl. This guy was all male. He was wearing stonewashed jeans, and the way his foot was propped on the lowered railing of the bed drew them tight across his crotch. Was he even wearing anything under them? I dragged my eyes up and found myself staring at his mouth. His lips were made for kissing - and why had I even thought of that? I'd never kissed a guy. Michael had turned his head away the only time I'd tried to initiate a kiss, and other than him, there had been no one else. It felt as if something large had wedged in my throat, but I couldn't chance clearing it and drawing attention to myself. I was relieved my overcoat concealed the sudden interest my body was taking in him. It also concealed the ordinary brown suit I wore. In my early days at the WBIS, I'd been taught not to draw attention to myself, to always dress inconspicuously. It had never bothered me before. Why, now, did I wish I was wearing tight black leather? I used to laugh when Jill, my stepmom, would fuss about having just the right outfit to wear for my Dad. When had I become her? I raised my eyes higher. He was watching me, an eyebrow raised, a slight smirk on those lips, as if he knew I wanted to get naked with him. Oh. I felt my interest begin to lag. I'd met people like him before, mostly women, but some men, who thought because of the way I dressed and looked that I'd be grateful for any attention they paid to me. Schooling my expression to disinterest, I met his eyes. They weren't just tired. In the light brown depths, I read worry and lingering fear. I could understand why he looked so tired. I knew what it was like sitting around in a hospital, waiting, although those times had been when Jill was giving birth, to my brother and then my sister, and that was pretty much a guaranteed happy ending. If there had been a possibility of any other outcome, I'd have been just as worried, just as afraid. I forced my attention back to the other occupants of the cubicle. "You've been down here for hours," my boss snarled. "I'm not leaving until I get you settled!" The injured man closed his eyes with a sigh. "You always make such a big thing out of everything, baby," he murmured. He shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "Vince's so protective of Pretty Boy, you know." The red-haired man stood and extended his hand. He was a couple of inches taller than me. "I'm Sweetcheeks and that's Spike. I run this menagerie, as much as these two will allow." I returned his grip. His palm was cool, dry, smooth, and he didn't try to break my fingers in a half-assed macho display. And then his middle finger stroked across my palm. In spite of myself, I shivered as if I'd grasped a live wire, and then his words seeped into my muddled brain. That was right. He was a… They were… I swallowed and freed my hand. "And when are you going to give it up? This life is getting downright dangerous. This is Matheson," Mr. Vincent added negligently as he pulled out his cell phone. "He's with me." Sweetcheeks seemed intrigued by that, and I wondered why. Of course, Mr. Vincent noticed. Nothing escaped him. He arched an eyebrow, and I could feel a tide of red start at my collar and flow to my hairline. I drew in a breath to explain, although I had no clue what I would be explaining, when someone paused by the opening in the curtains. "I'm sorry, sir, use of cell phones…" The little man with the clipboard gazed at my trainer with horror. "Oh no! Not you again!" His eyes darted to the security guard who was at the far end of the room, chatting with some DC police, but I moved before he could summon him. "Hi." I slung my arm over the little man's shoulder, glanced at his name tag, and urged him away from the bed. "Edgar?" I made my voice friendly. "Why don't you point me in the direction of the cafeteria, and I'll buy you a cup of coffee?" "The cafeteria is closed this time of night!" "Then we'll just go for a little walk." "Well… I… That is… I…" I strolled with the little man out into the corridor. I kept him close to my side and leaned down to murmur confidentially, "The gentleman in there has friends in very high places. If he's worried with inconsequential matters, people lose their… jobs. You like your… job, don't you, Edgar?" "Are you threatening me?" "I wouldn't dream of it." I smiled at him, and he turned pale. "But a wise man knows when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. What do you think you should do?" "Fold 'em?" he squeaked. "Wise man." He swallowed repeatedly. "If… if you'll excuse me? I'm not feeling very well," he stated plaintively. His gait was unsteady as he made his way down the corridor. I sauntered back to the bay where Mr. Vincent's friend was, my hands in my trouser pockets, whistling through my teeth. The phone conversation had been completed, and Mr. Vincent and Sweetcheeks turned to look at me. "Some men just shouldn't work around sick people," I announced, shaking my head sadly. "Edgar was feeling a little queasy; he's decided to go home early." Mr. Vincent eyed me steadily. I was embarrassed. I could hardly admit I was showing off. But then he nodded in approval. "Nice work, Matheson." He shook Spike awake. "They've found a bed for Pretty Boy. Go wait out in the lobby until they've transferred him." Sweetcheeks stared at my mouth, and I licked my lips and stared back a challenge at him. I felt like little Nell from Hicksville, and I'd be damned if I let him toy with me any more. And then the corner of his mouth curled up in a grin. "Vince, I'm going down to get some coffee. Mind if I bring your boy along with me?" He ran his fingers up my arm, closed them over my biceps. I'd never been anyone's boy, but somehow I didn't mind him calling me that. There was a sexy ring to it. And he wanted to have coffee with me? I'd sneaked a glance or two at him, and my mouth had flooded with saliva. The way the material of his jeans seemed to mold over his package - I'd wanted to drop to my knees, unbutton the jeans he was wearing, and suck his brains out through his cock. I didn't have any objection to sucking a little cock. It had been a while, but I figured it was like riding a bike - you never forgot how. My cock gave a twitch. Okay, I was a professional; I could have coffee with an attractive man without having a major meltdown. I could. I glanced at Mr. Vincent. If he needed me here, then I'd stay here, as much as I wanted to see what having coffee with Sweetcheeks would be like. "Go ahead, but I expect him back in one piece, Sweetcheeks." "Sure thing, Vince. I won't even dent the suit," he laughed. Of course he wouldn't. I had no intention of allowing it. But then I wound up outside the darkened cafeteria of GW Hospital with a rentboy known as Sweetcheeks, drinking god-awful coffee. We bantered a bit, chitchatted a bit, flirted a bit. Theo. His name was Theo. He seemed surprised to have told me, but then his expression became teasing. "So, you gonna tell me your name?" "You know my name. Matheson." Theo took the cup from my hand and threw it along with his into a trash pail a few feet away. When he returned, it was to stand in front of me. My gaze swept the corridor, making sure it was empty. He threaded his fingers through my hair, and the feel of his fingertips on my scalp was so erotic I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch. "I don't intend to call you by your last name when I kiss you." His voice was husky, and my eyes flew open. He wanted to kiss me? Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice that sounded remarkably like Michael's was saying, 'This isn't for you. This is for any man who has the price.' Determinedly I ignored the voice. No one had ever wanted to… Oh, sure, the girls did, but that was when I was in high school, when we both knew that was all they would do. The women I'd slept with had been so worldly I'd wondered afterwards why they'd agreed to have sex with me. I was Mr. Matheson's little boy, William. Granted I'd taken care of them and made sure they had the best orgasm possible, but they didn't know I would beforehand. And the hell with that! Why wasn't Theo kissing me, if he really wanted to? He stood there patiently. Right. He was waiting for me to tell him my name. "William." "William? Billy?" He reached into my overcoat, unbuttoned my jacket and rubbed his palms over my torso. "Wills? Open your mouth," he whispered against my lips, his tongue lightly tracing first the top lip, then the bottom one, and finally the seam, not demanding entrance, but asking. His lips were nothing like the lips I had kissed previously - girls' lips, women's lips - so yielding they needed to be caressed gently. And kissing him was like nothing I'd ever done before. His lips brushed from one side of my mouth to the other, nibbling and nipping until I opened with a gasp. I expected him to thrust his tongue past my teeth and try to determine if I still had my tonsils, which I did, but his kiss was almost delicate, almost tender. I shivered and let myself sink into the kiss, so lost in the sensations that I'd have let him take me right there in that corridor. He pressed me back against the wall, and I didn't even feel my Glock dig into my back, not with Theo's fingers flexing in my hair, massaging my scalp. His hips rocked lazily against me, his cock nudging the bulge of mine. I was so hard I thought I was about to explode. He pulled his mouth off mine long enough to nip the tendon in my throat. Meanwhile, his hands were busy elsewhere. They'd slid into my trousers, and one was rhythmically squeezing my butt cheeks and tracing the crevice between them, and the other stroked my dick through my shorts. Oh, god, I'd never felt anything that good before, not from the women I'd had in my bed, and definitely not from those infrequent encounters with Michael. I didn't have time to worry if he should reach up and realize I was packing; I just knew I needed more of what he was doing to me. I took Theo's face between my palms and brought it up, then ran my tongue over his lips, teasing them into opening. He was a little taller than me, but not so much so that I couldn't comfortably rest my forearms on his shoulders. This was wonderful. This was the best. This was- "Holy shit!" Dammit! I'd been so wrapped up in kissing Theo that my attention had only been on him, which could get us both killed. I had Theo's hands out of my pants, had him spun behind me, and had my gun out before he realized I was moving. Spike, the youngest rentboy, stood at the end of the corridor, his mouth gaping like a hooked fish as he stared at the Glock that was cocked, aimed, and ready to be fired at his head. "Don't shoot me! Don't shoot me!" he shrilled. The man at my back gave a snort of laughter, and leaned forward and stuck his tongue in my ear. "Don't shoot him, Wills." I hunched my shoulder and shivered again when his warm breath tickled the sensitive shell of my ear. I scowled at the kid and tucked my Glock back into its holster. Fuck it, what was the matter with me, pulling a gun on a civilian? How was I supposed to explain this to Theo? How the fuck was I supposed to explain this to Mr. Vincent? "Uh… some of the neighborhoods I work in are really dangerous," I mumbled, cringing. In the back of my mind I could hear Mr. Vincent saying in that cold, flat tone of his, 'Never explain.' "Uh huh." Spike's eyes were enormous. He appeared fascinated with a spot below my waist. Oh shit, had I leaked precome through my shorts? But no, a quick, surreptitious glance down just revealed my shirttail was out of my pants. I was tempted to pull my overcoat closed, and the only reason I didn't was because I thought that would be too obvious. "You down here for a reason?" I snarled. I'd never been so into a kiss, and I resented like hell that Theo and I had been disturbed. "Vince sent me to get you guys. He said Pretty Boy's being transferred up to room 412, and he wants you there." That brought me down with a thud. I'd completely forgotten my boss was in the house. "Okay." Time to pull myself together. "Thanks." I headed for the stairs, tucking my shirt in. "Hey, wait a second! The elevator's over here!" I gave him a look over my shoulder. "I'm taking the stairs." "So am I." I'd been fumbling with the buttons of my jacket, but my head whipped up at that. I'd been kind of worried that Theo was playing with the straight - well, kind of straight - boy, but even though he was grinning, there was an expression in his eyes... My erection, which had vanished at the first sign of perceived danger, was back with a vengeance. Theo grinned at me, and I knew - I just knew - that once we were in the stairwell he would have his hands all over me. I liked that idea. I liked it a lot, and I was pretty sure my smile told him that. Spike chewed irresolutely on his lower lip, then rushed across the space between us. He threw himself at Sweetcheeks. "What if he… what if he dies?" His voice was thick with tears. "He isn't going to die." They both looked at me in surprise. I shrugged. "Mr. Vincent won't allow it. Let's get going, all right? I don't want to hang around a hospital basement all night." Not that we were in the basement. I just didn't want to tell them that while Mr. Vincent was their friend, he was my boss, and he'd have my ass if I didn't ask how high when he said to jump. I opened the door and began to jog up the stairs. I could feel Theo right behind me, although he didn't touch me, dammit. Had he been toying with me? And then I realized why he was keeping his hands to himself. Right behind him was Spike, griping unhappily every step of the way. * * * Spike told on us. "They were making out!" he stated indignantly, and if it was to anyone other than my boss, I'd have laughed. "Tattle tale!" Theo accused, but he was snickering. Mr. Vincent looked me over, the corner of his mouth quirking in a grin, and I swallowed hard. It was known throughout the WBIS that if Mark Vincent smiled, it wasn't a good sign. But he just turned those laser eyes on Theo and crooked an eyebrow. Theo didn't seem fazed in the least, and I had to wonder if he was very brave or very stupid. Or maybe he was just confident in his friendship with Mark Vincent. "I only dented his suit a little, Vince." Theo's nimble fingers worked over the front of my suit jacket, and I realized with embarrassment that I'd buttoned it wrong. Was that what Mr. Vincent had found amusing? I didn't think I wanted to know. "Oh, my god, there's more of them!" What the- ? I'd noticed the old man in the bed by the door, but he seemed to be minding his own business, so I'd dismissed him. Apparently I'd been too quick in dismissing him. "Sir?" I had my jacket open and my hand on the butt of my gun. Mr. Vincent looked annoyed but shook his head. I took my hand off my gun but didn't relax. "Nurse! Nurse! Mama!" The man was becoming panic-stricken. A nurse came in with a wheelchair. "Let's go for a ride, Mr. Barnes." She blew out a breath that ruffled her bangs and sent Mr. Vincent an apologetic glance. "I won't stay in that room! Do you have any idea who I am? My senator will hear about this! I won't be… " She murmured soothingly to him, and what he 'wouldn't be' was lost as she got him out of the room and I closed the door on them. "Homophobic shit!" Mr. Vincent dismissed him and turned back to us. "Okay, pay attention. I've got to go- " I reminded him he'd agreed I could attend the autopsy, and he reminded me that if I threw up during the autopsy he'd see I was docked for conduct unbecoming. I didn't care. Theo had kissed me. And when Mr. Vincent left, Theo's eyes dropped down to my mouth, and I had the feeling he was thinking about kissing me again. I felt almost giddy. No one had ever made it so obvious he… or she… wanted to kiss me. I ran my tongue over my lips and started to lean toward him, then forced myself to stop. Pretty Boy had lapsed into a drug-induced doze, but was the other rentboy watching? I straightened, tugged my jacket into place, and asked casually, "Are you ready to go?" Spike leaned over and kissed the sleeping figure gently on the mouth. "I love you, Pretty Boy," he said quietly. "I'll be back tomorrow as soon as visiting hours start." Then he turned to me and nodded. "We can go now." We went down to the parking pavilion, and I studied the dimly lit expanse, keeping my hands loose. No matter how safe an area might be, there was always the possibility of some druggie nutzoid jumping out with the intention of scoring cash for his next hit. There was no one around, but I stayed alert as I unlocked my care with the remote. "Shotgun!" Theo sang out, and I shook my head, grinning. I didn't have to worry about coming across as besotted. My expression was hidden by the darkness of the garage. I got behind the wheel, and Theo slid in beside me, his hand splayed out on the seat, almost inviting me to touch. I didn't, of course. My Dad had taught me to always keep both hands on the wheel. And there was Spike in the back seat. Through the rearview mirror I could see him fussing with his seatbelt, adjusting and readjusting it, glancing out the window, and finally staring pointedly back into the mirror. "Are we going?" "Yeah." I turned on the ignition and put the Dodge in gear. * * * Theo gave me the directions, and within twenty minutes we were in front of what looked like an antebellum mansion. If I'd passed it in the normal course of the day, I'd have taken it for a museum. "This is where you live?" I blinked at what I could make out of it. The street lights didn't reveal much, beyond the fact that it was big. "Yeah. Oh, not the whole house. We're up on three." Spike made a noise that sounded like a snort, and Theo reached over the seat and swatted him, then smiled at me. He made no effort to get out. Did I invite myself in? Did I wait for him to invite me in? The stalemate was finally broken by Spike. "I'm going to bed," he mumbled. "You two can do what you want." He slammed the car door behind him and climbed the steps to the outer door. "Do you want to come up?" Theo finally asked me. My mouth went dry. Okay, crunch time. "I'd like that. But… " I had that autopsy in the morning, and never did I regret more having something work-related come between what I wanted to do and what I had to do. "I can't. I can't stay." "I can set the alarm. I'll even make you breakfast." Was it wishful thinking on my part, or did he really seem to be clutching at straws to get me to spend the night? I turned off the engine. I didn't have much cash on me, and I wondered how much this was going to cost me. Did he take Visa or MasterCard? I wasn't going to let anything stop me, though; I'd wash dishes if I had to. He laced his fingers through mine and tugged me along after him, and I followed him like Mary's lamb. The apartment was gorgeous - not that I had the chance to study it. We went straight through to his bedroom. He began stripping, and believe me, I studied that. His pecs, his nipples erect and each sporting a tiny barbell, the smooth expanse of his upper torso, his nicely defined abs. I swallowed to keep from drooling. "You're… you're wearing shorts. Your jeans were so tight… I wondered… " I was babbling, but I couldn't seem to stop. I licked my lips and reached for my tie. I didn't want him to be the only naked - well, near-naked - person in the room. "I don't usually go commando unless I'm working." He slid his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and eased them down over his hips, then sauntered over to me, so close I could breathe in the warm scent of him. In spite of my arousal, I was careful removing my weapon. I wrapped it in its holster and set it aside. Theo didn't ask about it, to my everlasting relief. I still wasn't sure how I could explain it. I began unbuttoning my shirt, fumbling as I tried to get buttons through buttonholes. When had I become so butter-fingered? A slow smile curled Theo's lips. It wasn't cruel or triumphant, the way Michael's could sometimes be. It was like he was pleased. "Let me," he whispered, and brushed my hands away. The buttons came free like magic, my shirt and undershirt were gone, and his nimble fingers began working on my fly. Somehow, before I knew it, we were both naked. The shyness gene I hadn't known I had kicked in, and I started to cover myself. He looked so good, and I… I was just me. "No" He stopped me. "Let me see." His eyes were fastened on the area below my waist, and I held my breath. I made my hands stay at my side, but when he reached for my cock, "No." I forgot everything but the fact that I had to stop him. "Problem, tough guy?" He scowled at me. "If you… " I felt like an idiot, and I clenched my fingers into fists to keep from reaching for him. "… if you touch me, I don't think I'll be able to hold on." "No?" For some reason he looked as if I'd given him a great present. Well, I guessed it would make any guy feel good to know a single touch would cause his partner to blow his wad. "All right." He tugged gently at my earlobe. "We can go exploring later." Later? I was a realist; Theo was a professional who could have anyone he wanted. I wouldn't let myself think of all the partners he'd brought pleasure to with his educated fingers, but… there was going to be a later? I kept myself from doing a fist pump, but just barely. Jesus, how old was I? I gave him my best rakish grin instead. Right now he wanted me, and I was going to take that and run with it. He grinned back at me and found a condom. "Hold still and I'll just roll this on you." My cock twitched. This was a chance for me to have something it was unlikely I'd ever have again. "Will you… Will you fuck me?" My request seemed to surprise him. "You don't want to fuck me?" "Well, yes, I'd like to try that too." And hopefully I wouldn't screw that up too badly. I'd made love to a few girls, and it was okay, but something had always seemed to be missing with penetration. Oral sex, on the other hand, had been better. Maybe it would be better if I went down on him instead. I just didn't want to blow it with him. "But right now, I want this." "You trust me not to hurt you?" The expression on his face - Hadn't anyone ever asked for that from him before? "Of the two of us, I think you're the one who knows the most about the mechanics of this thing."
"I didn't say that." "Have you ever been fucked up the ass?" Jesus, could he be any more blunt? "No." I'd never been touched there, other than by my doctor for a prostate exam, which I'd first had a few years ago, and I didn't think that counted. Come to think of it, I was due soon. And why was I thinking of something so stupid? "Then you're a virgin, Wills!" "Look, if this is a problem… if you'd rather not… " Michael had always said that having a virgin was not only a lot of work - you had to teach them what you liked - but it was like making some kind of commitment, that the chick would then assume he actually cared about her and saw a future with her. Was Theo worried that I would react that way? I was mortified. "Shit, this was not a good idea. Where're my clothes?" "Oh, no, tough guy! I've been fantasizing about having sex with you since you walked into the emergency room behind Vince… " He had? Really? I'd always been the one who'd taken the lead, who said the pretty words, and I shivered and grew harder. "… and you in my ass is only slightly better than me in your ass. Get on the bed, baby. We're gonna rock and roll!" Yes! I'd done some reading, and I knew being on my hands and knees would be the most comfortable position this first time. I didn't care so much about me… No, of course I did, but what I really wanted was to make sure Theo liked it so much he'd want to do me again. It was only as I settled on Theo's bed that I remembered the scars that covered my body. The one on my ass wasn't too bad, and I didn't think he'd notice the one on my calf - his eyes should be further up my body - but the one on my back… I didn't want him to see my back. My family didn't care about the long scar that curved from my shoulder blade to above my kidney, but it had skeeved more than one potential sex partner. It would have been nice if Michael had fingered the one on my butt - I'd discovered by accident that it almost seemed to be hotwired to my cock - but since we'd mostly fooled around after we'd had a few too many, I just couldn't remember. I held myself tight, waiting for Theo to gasp, to gag, to draw back in horror. For what seemed like the longest time, he didn't do anything. "Theo?" "I'm here, baby." Baby. No guy had ever called me that. I… liked it. But his 'being here' and his actually doing something were two different things. When was he going to- His fingertips traced the line of the long scar, and his lips followed it. "You don't have to- " Unlike the scar on my butt, the nerve-endings here seemed to have been destroyed. I could feel the light pressure, but beyond that… "Shhh." He nipped the scar on my ass, and my cock became even harder. I braced my weight on one hand and shoved the heel of my other hand into my mouth to stifle a groan. And then he stroked his lubed finger across my hole, and the groan escaped, a sound like nothing I'd ever uttered before. Shit ! Michael always hated when I made any kind of sound, and in spite of myself I tensed up. Theo didn't push his finger in, but he didn't take it away either. "You okay?" he asked in a husky whisper as he kept rubbing around and over the muscle, gradually loosening it. "Ye-yeah." "It's okay." Theo ran his lips up and down the side of my neck, petting my torso with his free hand the whole while. "Relax." His finger slid into me. I was shaking so hard I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay on my hands and knees. He drew his finger out, then pushed it back in, and this time he hit my prostate. I liked how that felt, and I began thrusting back against him. "That's it." Somehow he'd gotten a second finger in me, and then a third, and I breathed through the burn. But it felt so good, being stretched, filled. What would it feel like when he replaced his fingers with his cock? "Okay, baby, here we go." As much as I liked him calling me 'baby,' I knew Michael used to do that whenever he couldn't be bothered remembering a girl's name. And Theo probably had had so many men, men who were more experienced than me. It made sense he'd use a generic pet name. But I didn't have to like it, and I didn't have to accept it. "Say my name." I tried to keep my voice firm. I didn't want him to know how close I was to begging him to let me know I was more to him than a random fuck, a… a one night stand. "What?" "I'm letting you fuck me. I know you'll be good; this is what you do for a living. But I need to know you know whose ass you're in." For a minute he didn't say anything, but before I could kick myself for ruining this - what guy wanted reality dragged into it when he was having sex? At least that was what Michael had always said when he explained when he was breaking up with another girl. "How could I not know?" Theo whispered. "Wills." He brushed the hair away from the back of my neck and dropped a kiss there. That distracted me for a second, but then I could feel the blunt head of his cock at my hole, and I shivered. Okay, this was it. I concentrated on staying relaxed. "Wills," he said again. He licked the side of my neck, and I this time I gave a full body shudder. He kept one hand on my hip while the other explored my torso. A fingertip dipped into my navel, and then he curled a hand around my cock. His thumb brushed back and forth over the crown, smearing it with precome. His fingers danced down the length of my shaft, brushed through the hair that covered my balls, and rubbed the spot where his cock was about to enter me. "Wills." I thought I'd go up in flames, and I couldn't wait. I backed onto him, and he slid in. His being inside me felt weird. No, not weird, just - I didn't know how to describe it. The full feeling was a little uncomfortable, a little disconcerting. And then he hit my prostate, and my world lit up. I saw stars and fireworks, and as corny as it might sound, I swear to god I heard the Halleluiah Chorus! * * * By the time Theo was done with me, I was completely wrung out. I could feel the slight stings from where he'd left love bites all over my back, shoulders, and neck and my ass felt well and truly taken. I was enjoying the afterglow when I remembered all the sounds I'd made. "Was I too… " God, Michael hated it when I did that! "… too noisy?" "Never, Wills!" I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. I'd have better control the next time. He dropped a kiss on the back of my neck and started to get up. I rolled over and reached for him. "Don't go!" "I'll be right back." I must have nodded off for a second, because the next thing I knew he was wiping me down with a damp washcloth. "Feels nice," I murmured. "Set the alarm for 6, will you? And come to bed. I've got to get some sleep."
"Goodnight, Wills." He spooned up behind me, the warmth of his body along every inch of my back. "Pleasant dreams." * * * Theo was in the kitchen, putting together some kind of breakfast for me, and I was in the bathroom, taking a quick shower. I didn't like the idea of putting on the clothes I'd worn the day before, but I didn't know Theo well enough to ask him to loan me a shirt. Oh well, I didn't have time to worry about it. I'd just use an extra dollop of his body wash and suck it up. I needed to leave soon - I had that autopsy at the District morgue to view. I'd seen some dead bodies, but I'd never seen one cut up, not professionally at least. I'd made my first kill a few months after that car accident I'd supposedly been in - car accident my ass. It had been a training exercise, Mr. Adams' idea. I'd ducked; I just hadn't ducked in time. I dried off and went into the kitchen. I didn't want to think of that now, not when Theo was standing there in sleep pants that hugged his hips and ass, not after having spent the most awesome night with him. He'd only fucked me once, because he'd said I'd be too sore in the morning. I'd always been the one who looked after my partner, and to have someone looking after me… And he didn't care a fuck how loud I was, even seemed to encourage me. The only thing that would have made it better was if he'd let me blow him. He handed me a cup of coffee, distracting me. "Thanks." "And take these saltines with you. They should settle your stomach if it gets queasy." "And you'd know this how?" I hadn't expected anything like that. I thought it was… sweet that he'd be concerned. "Theo?" He'd been smiling, but for a second his expression froze. I took a step toward him, and he shook his head, his smile relaxed once more. "I just don't want you getting docked. I'm easy, but I'm not cheap!" That brought me down to earth, with a thud, and I lost my appetite. "Speaking of which, how much do I owe you?" I finished the coffee, crossed to the sink and put the cup on the drain. "Well, now, you see, I don't rightly see how I can charge you, when I was the one who fucked you." I felt myself turn red. "Just out of curiosity, what do you usually get?" "Three grand a night. I don't do hourly rates any more." "Three- " I felt as if a ton of bricks had been dropped on me. "Jesus!" I made a decent salary, but how was I going to afford that? "Don't worry about it. Last night was on me." "Well, thanks. But what about other nights?" "Excuse me?" "I'd like to see you again- " "Oh, yes?" His eyes were wide, and he looked more like the seventeen-year old I'd mistaken him for the night before. "I mean… " He cleared his throat. "Uh… sure. That would be nice. Here." "What's this?" I stared at the paper he shoved at me. "Directions to the morgue from here." "Thanks." I didn't tell him the Dodge came with GPS. I pretended to scan the paper, then something caught my eye. At the bottom was a string of numbers. His phone number? I could have found it for myself with very little trouble, but how cool was that? He really did want to see me again. I memorized it and set the paper down on the table. "Look. I've got to go." I shrugged into my overcoat, put the saltines in my pocket, and fished for my car keys. "We'll set something up. Dinner, maybe." "Are you sure you don't want to stay?" He rubbed the back of my neck, hummed against my lips, and I groaned. If it was anyone but Mr. Vincent… "I'll call you!" A glance at my watch showed me that if I didn't get a move on like now, I'd need the god who looked after agents making sure I hit every single green light from here to the morgue. I kissed Theo once more, then wanted to kiss him again, but I knew if I did I'd never make it to the morgue on time. I ran down the stairs and out to my car. * * * The autopsy wasn't bad. At least I didn't disgrace myself by throwing up. Not that I'd expected to. This was nothing compared to shooting a man in the face at point blank range and watching his skull disintegrate as his face come out of the back of his head. Mr. Vincent called it short when he received a message from headquarters. He spoke to Mr. Wallace, spoke to his secretary, Ms. Parker, then turned to speak to me. "Matheson, I have a job for you." "Yes, sir." "Let's go take a ride." We went out to the parking lot and got in his car, the same make and model as mine but a newer year. Once we were on the road, he started talking. "If I recall correctly, you lived in Cambridge for a time, so you're familiar with the Boston area." "Yes, sir." "Someone in Huntingdon's Boston HQ is screwing with the computer programs, most especially for accounting. That one was supposed to contain a simple debugging program, but instead of running a scan and making any corrections automatically, it's exponentially increasing the errors." "Not good." And whether the guy doing the screwing was a freelance or from one of the many alphabet agencies that littered DC made no difference. A good portion of our funding came to us through Huntingdon. Huntingdon was the front for the WBIS, and as such we couldn't let anyone or anything take advantage of it. "No. It's actually increasing the problems to the point the entire office is pretty much at a standstill." "What do you want me to do, sir?" "Fix it. Whithers is your contact; you'll meet him on the concourse. He'll have the identification papers you need to claim your ticket and get you onboard with the pistol he'll give you." Shit. I hated this kind of job. When he'd first mentioned computers I'd thought- Never mind. This was my job. The pistol would be cold; with all its serial numbers filed off, it would be untraceable. "I know the building, Mr. Vincent, and it shouldn't take me long to get there from Logan. How far do you want me to go?" "I want him taken out with extreme prejudice." "Yes, sir. Do you want any messages left on the body, sir?" "I believe I'll leave that up to you." I reached for the door handle. "Just one thing, Matheson. Don't get caught." "No, sir." I expected him to drive off, but he didn't. Was this some kind of test? Well, whether it was or not, I had a job to do. I went into the terminal and began looking for a man who'd look like the last thing the average person would expect to see as an agent. |