The Agency

by D. J. Manly

  Ciel glanced at the man standing in front of him, the man who was backing him into a corner, ripping at his towel. “I’m … looking for someone.”

  “I was too. I think I just found him,” he said, holding the towel Ciel had around his waist in his hand.

  “Ah.” Ciel smiled. “No.”

  A hand was on his cock. His eyes almost closed. He had to find Scott. With all the willpower he could muster, he grabbed his towel and pushed the guy off him. “I can’t,” he said. “I’m looking for someone.”

  He continued down the hall, then he heard someone say, “You’re not much good to me like this.”

  He moved forward, looked around the corner into a room right at the end, and there was Scott. He was lying on the bed naked, two men leaning over him. One was rubbing Scott’s cock, the other trailed his own dick over Scott’s lips. “Suck it, baby, come on,” he said.

  Ciel took two steps into the room, grabbing the guy who knelt between Scott’s legs, pulling him back. The other guy looked up, surprised. “Hey, this is a private party. Unless…” He got a clearer look at Ciel. “…you want to join in. You’re hot.”

  Ciel gave the other guy another shove. “Get lost,” he said.

  The first man put up his hands and walked out. The other one wasn’t going to be as accommodating. “Who in fuck do you think you are?”

  Ciel looked down at Scott. He was drunk, right out of it. “He’s God almighty,” Scott slurred, laughing, his eyes half-closed. “My Ciel, my angel from heaven. Did you know Ciel means heaven in French? He has come to rescue me.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what his frog name means. I was here first.”

  Ciel sighed. Shit. He walked around the single bed and looked the guy in the eye. He was big, as tall as Ciel was, and beefy. “Look, I’m asking you one more time. Please leave. I’m taking this guy home. He’s drunk.”

  “You’re not taking him anywhere,” the guy said.

  Ciel looked down at Scott. He had passed out completely. He reached down to pull him up off the bed, and the big beef swung at him.

  * * * *

  Amanda knew she would have to talk to Hunter. He was not a piece of meat, and she wasn’t going to allow some right-wing senator to hurt Hunter because he regarded him as his dirty little secret.

  Hunter was sleeping when she went into his room. She switched on the lamp and gave him a tender look when he sat up and rubbed his sleepy eyes. She brushed his hair back from his face, feeling a sudden rush of tenderness for him. “What’s wrong, Amanda? Did Scott come home?”

  “No. Ciel will find him. Why didn’t you tell me about your father?”

  His eyes widened. “Do you know my father?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “What has he done now?”

  “He wants you out of the country.” There was no point in beating around the bush.

  He laughed harshly. “Out of the fucking country now?”

  “I’m sorry.” Amanda shook her head.

  He shrugged. “I’ve given up on him, really.”

  “But it still hurts.”

  He nodded, and looked away.

  “He’ll make trouble for Jacques if you don’t go, but Jacques can’t make you. I’ll keep you here with me if you agree.”

  Hunter’s eyes opened. “You’d do that? He could make trouble for you, Amanda. My father is a powerful man.”

  She lifted her chin. “You just let me worry about that.”

  He nodded. “Thank you for the offer.” He shook his head. ”But you know, the idea of going to one of the European houses appeals to me.”

  “Why?” She narrowed her eyes.

  “I have my reasons.”

  From the look on his face, it was clear that he didn’t intend to share those reasons with her. “What about going home to your mother?”

  He shook his head sadly. “I don’t fit in there.” He swallowed. “I’m never going home again.”

  To be without home … without family. She could hardly stand the thought of it. She stood up, reaching out to touch his shoulder for a second. “You go back to sleep now, love. This isn’t over by a long shot.” She’d never been one to let any man bully her, and she wasn’t going to start now.

  * * * *

  Ciel sat at the kitchen counter, nursing his second cup of black coffee. He had popped a couple of strong aspirin a while ago but it hadn’t done much for the pain. And as for the pain in his heart, well, there was nothing that would ease that. He stared out the window, the coffee getting cold in his cup. There was a light sprinkle of rain falling outside the window, but the sun was still shining. He’d always found that strange, the sun shining through rain. The phone rang a few times; he let the answering machine get it. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He was preparing for what he would say to Scott when he woke up.

  Last night he had half-carried Scott out of the baths, after trying to convince the owner not to call the cops. He’d had a hell of a good fight with that big guy; the only thing that had saved his ass was all the anger and frustration he’d been feeling lately. He pummelled it out on that big guy’s face. In spite of the fact that his lip was cut and swollen, his left eye was turning purple, and his stomach was sore as hell, the other guy, hard to believe as it was, looked far worse.

  Ciel had asked for Scott’s clothes, and had hastily put on Scott’s pants and then his own before the taxi arrived. What a nightmare, and all the time the owner kept saying that he should have called the police and blah, blah, blah. Scott hadn’t opened his eyes when the taxi driver had helped Ciel put him in the back seat. He’d only stirred a bit when the driver had helped him dump Scott on the bed.

  Ciel put his head in his hands. He had sat there beside him for a long time last night, watching him twist and turn in his sleep. He’d touched his hair, kissed his cheek, and finally placed his face on his chest and slept for awhile. When he awoke, it was early dawn and he was in pain.

  He cleaned the wounds on his face the best he could, and went to lie on the sofa, but he couldn’t sleep for long there, either. His stomach hurt; his back ached. And he couldn’t stop wondering where in hell he and Scott would end up. Was it really over? If it was, how would he go on without him?

  Amanda had offered to pay for therapy. It was expensive. Unless he suddenly became a best-selling author, they wouldn’t be able to afford it. First, he wasn’t even sure Scott would go for it. Scott had a hard time talking about his past, even with him. Secondly, how much did he want Amanda involved in their problems? Amanda was a good person in her own way. He knew she didn’t want anything in return, but she was very attached to Scott, and Scott to her. Their codependence in the past could very easily re-establish itself. After all, who had Scott gone running to as soon as he left him? Amanda.

  Ciel got up and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. He turned when he heard a noise. Scott stood there, a blanket wrapped around him. He gazed at Ciel across the kitchen, his eyes looking blurry, bloodshot. “What am I doing here?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  Scott shook his head. He came and sat down at the table. Ciel poured him some coffee and went to get milk out of the fridge. He poured a drop of milk in the cup, just like Scott took it, and then put the milk back.

  Ciel watched as Scott took a swallow of the coffee. “Ah,” he said, “I’ve forgotten how good your coffee is.”

  Ciel nodded, then came and sat opposite him at the table.

  Scott’s eyes widened suddenly. “Jesus Christ,” he gasped, making a move to stand up and touch his face. “What in the hell … who hurt you?”

  “It’s not important.” Ciel waved a hand at him to sit down.

  Scott sat back down slowly. His eyes moved over his face. “Tell me … it wasn’t me, was it? Because if I did that, I’ll…”

  “It wasn’t you,” Ciel said, shaking his head. “It was some big idiot at the Melrose baths. Don’t you remember going there?”

  Scott nodded. “I was pretty
drunk before I got there, and I spent some time at the bar. After that, I…”

  Ciel put up a hand. “I took you out of there. You were out of it.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  Ciel nodded, while Scott took another sip of the coffee. “I’ll drink this and then…”

  “Scott,” Ciel said, reaching across and taking his hand. He didn’t pull it away.

  “Ciel, don’t.” He squeezed his hand, then took it back, hiding it under the table.

  “I love you. I don’t want to live without you, but I can’t go on like this.” He shook his head. “Amanda has offered to pay for … well, for us to see someone about…”

  “I’m not nuts,” Scott snapped, getting up, practically taking the table with him. “I don’t need a fucking shrink.”

  “I said ‘us,’ didn’t you hear me? I’m willing to go too. Counseling so that we can learn to…”

  “To talk about my past, touchy feely holding hand bullshit? No way,” he said, “no fucking way!”

  Ciel sighed as he watched him turn on his heel and head back to the bedroom, dragging the blanket after him. Ciel took a deep breath and stood up. He coughed, the pain in his gut making him feel a little dizzy. He pushed it away and followed Scott to the bedroom. “Round Two,” he muttered.

  * * * *

  Amanda told her driver to wait as he pulled up outside the home of Senator Frank Delany. She walked up the sweeping driveway and paused before the barred iron gates. She pressed the intercom and waited. “Yes?” said a voice.

  “Amanda Martindale to see Senator Delany.” Whenever she wanted access to the inner circles here in California, she used her husband’s name. It carried weight. In New York, where her father had been a very important man, she would have used Nash. It was all a macabre game of name-dropping.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Martindale, is the Senator expecting you?”

  “No, actually he isn’t. Just tell him I’d like to talk to him about a matter concerning a mutual business associate, a Mr. Hunter Reese. And if Mr. Delany is not available to talk to me about it, I’d be happy to discuss it with Mrs. Delany.”

  “Just a moment,” the voice replied.

  Amanda waited. A few minutes later, she heard a buzzing sound. The gates opened, and she heard the voice announce, “Mr. Delany will see you right away, Ms. Martindale. Please come to the side entrance.”

  Amanda smiled and walked through the gate. The house was pale stucco with climbing ivy for adornment. There was a huge round sculptured garden where the lawn would ordinarily have been, and people playing tennis out back. She could see just the edge of the tennis court from where she stood. As she walked around to the side entrance, she breathed in the strong scent of roses. They were everywhere, wild ones, yellow, pink, and red. Quite lovely.

  A dark-haired man dressed in a short-sleeved white polo shirt and matching shorts met her at the door. He had a tennis racket in his hand. He was in his early forties and handsome. In fact, she could see Hunter in those features. “Senator Delany,” she said, holding out her hand.

  He didn’t take it. “Come in,” he said hastily, looking around him.

  “I really don’t appreciate being led through the servant’s entrance,” she said, following him as he marched through the kitchen and into a small office down the hallway. When she walked in, he shut the door behind them. “Nice place you got here.”

  “Who are you, and what do you want?” he asked, meeting her eyes. He spoke through clenched teeth.

  “I’m Amanda Martindale. My late husband is probably part of the reason you live in this house.”

  “Your late … you are the Mrs. Martindale?”

  “I guess you could say that,” she replied, raising her head.

  “Now I recognize you. Were you at the fundraiser for…”

  “Yes, yes. Probably,” she said. “I attend many of those boring things. But I didn’t come here to talk about that.” She walked over to the window. She saw a woman and two children playing on the tennis court. “Nice little family you got there.”

  “What do you want, Mrs. Martindale?”

  She turned around. “Call me Amanda. No need for formalities, Frank, especially since I know so much about you.” She took her time walking around the room, looking at this and that. “A lot of pictures with important people. Isn’t that one of you and the President?”

  “Yes,” he said tightly.

  “None of you and Hunter, I see.”

  “If he’s caused any problems for you, Mrs… Amanda, I’ll pay for it.” He walked over to his desk and pulled out a drawer. He took out his checkbook. “How much?”

  “If only it were that easy, Frank.” She shook her head. “Put it away.”

  He looked up at her, squinting.

  “You apparently are uneasy about Hunter being here in L.A. Are you worried that your pretty young wife is going to find out? What about your nice little white boys? Are they never to learn they have a brother?”

  “What do you want?”

  “You keep asking me that, Frank.” She moved her face closer. “You really disgust me.”

  “You don’t understand.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I have things to…”

  “Oh, but I do, Frank. I understand more than you think. You don’t have to worry about Hunter. He won’t need anything from you. I’ll take care of that. It’s me you have to worry about, Frank darling. The Mrs. Martindale. You threatened a friend of mine, and you think you can force Hunter to go away, but he’s only going to go away if he wants, not if you want. If he doesn’t feel like going to Europe, he’s going to stay with me. And if Hunter agrees, I’m going to make sure he takes his place in society, a place which is rightfully his, a place you deny him.”

  “I won’t allow it. I won’t…” He shook his finger in the air.

  Amanda laughed in his face. “Now, if you want to make trouble for me, go ahead and try, Senator, but I promise you”—she brought her face close to his again and smiled…”I’ll bury you. And that happy ignorant little family of yours out there, and your cushy overpaid senator position, well, you can kiss them goodbye. It’s money that counts in life, money is power, and when it comes down to it, you are no match for me. Ask around. I have interests in anything worth having interests in, and I can make your life extremely difficult.”

  Delany stood there, stock still.

  Amanda gave him a brilliant smile. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you now, Senator. I hope to see you at the next fund raiser. Give my regards to your wife,” she said, heading to the door.

  He didn’t see her out. Amanda walked down the corridor in the opposite direction to which she’d entered, and walked right out the front door.

  * * * *

  “Where the hell are my clothes?” Scott bellowed.

  Ciel leaned against the doorjamb, trying to get a breath. It was painful to breathe. He wondered if maybe he had a busted rib. “In that bag on the chair,” he said.

  Tossing off the blanket, Scott tore the clothes out of the bag.

  Ciel let his gaze wander over him as he stood there naked, shaking out his pants. “You’re so beautiful,” he said softly. “Do you know how much I want to…” He stopped.

  Scott glanced over at him. “You didn’t touch me for weeks while I was here. Why now?”

  “I wanted to.”

  “You wanted to punish me.”

  “Not you; me.”

  “You?” Scott scoffed, putting his foot into one leg of his jeans.

  “What in hell gives you the right to imply that you love me more than I do you? Who in the fuck do you think you are?”

  Scott paused. “It’s true.”

  “According to who? You?”

  “Yes.” He hastily put on the other leg and drew the pants up over his hips and fastened them.

  “It’s a lie,” Ciel said. “I love you more. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. It’s not the case with you.”

  “What do you mean?” Scott dem
anded.

  “I’d go to see someone, I’d go to a counselor … a…”

  “Maybe it’s easy for you to go blah, blah, blah about your life. It’s not like me.” He bent down to pick up his shirt from the floor.

  “You don’t have a monopoly on childhood pain, you know,” Ciel growled. “Do you think it was easy when my father took me to France as a kid? A strange fucking country. I didn’t speak the language. And my father won’t speak to me anymore because I want to be a writer instead of doing what he wants me to do. You think that’s been easy, turning my back on my dad so that I can lead my own life?”

  Scott put on his shirt. “No, it’s not easy, but it doesn’t compare.”

  Ciel took a step towards him. “If you’d let me in,” he said softly, “I’d help you.” He touched his shoulder.

  Scott met his eyes. He reached over and touched his cheek. “My poor darling,” he said. “Your beautiful face and…” He shook his head and took his hand away. “I’m high-maintenance. Didn’t you tell me that once? Just look at your face, and you’ll know that I’m no good for…”

  Ciel reached for him. He shut off his mind, and did what he’d been aching to do since he’d walked into this room. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his gut, he pushed Scott backwards with all his strength.

  Taken off guard, Scott stumbled and his body slammed back against the wall. “Hey,” he began but Ciel didn’t give him time to speak.

  “Shut up,” Ciel said, his lips pressing against Scott’s throat. It hurt like hell, his mouth, but the pain was bittersweet. To touch him … that was all he wanted right now. He placed his hands on his chest, holding him there against that wall, then moving a hand down to his jeans when Scott ceased to struggle.

  Ciel could hear his own heartbeat. Scott’s chest was heaving with uncontrolled passion, and when Ciel undid Scott’s jeans and took out his cock, Scott moaned and rolled his head against the wall. “Fuck,” he hissed, grabbing Ciel’s wrist and, pulling down on it, urging him to his knees.

  Scott’s hands were in his hair as Ciel let his tongue move over the length of his cock, already hard as rock. When Ciel took it in his mouth, the tears stung his eyes. Pain. Physical pain and emotional pain merging to cause the tears to slide down his face. He took his cock deeper still; all the emptiness Scott’s leaving him had, for this moment, been filled. He pulled the open pants down with one hand, then placed both hands on Scott’s delightful ass, an ass he wanted suddenly to possess, even though he doubted he had the capacity right now. He continued to suck his cock, feeling the vibrations in Scott’s body, the movements of his hands in his hair, the air escaping from his mouth … the curses, then the thundering of release. He took as much of it as he could, Scott’s cum actually soothing the open wound on his lip.