by Kate Lowell
They met Harrow in the hallway. “What the hell happened?” he asked, frowning at the two of them.
Leo poked him in the chest, a gesture of disrespect that startled Julian. “You and I are going to talk,” he told their boss before tightening his grip on Julian’s shoulders and leading him down the hall to his room.
Once the door was firmly closed behind them, Leo went straight to the table at the far side of the room and picked up a tall bottle of clear liquid. He cracked it open and dumped a good shot of it in one of the cheap plastic glasses stacked on the counter that ran down the side of the room. “Sit.” He motioned Julian toward one of the chairs and handed him the cup. “Drink that, and let it work for a bit.”
Julian sniffed the cup. Alcohol. He tried to hand it back. “I can’t.” Then he paused. “Never mind. I forgot.” He put the cup to his mouth and took a cautious sip. Eww. “What is this?”
Leo gave him a startled look. “It’s rum. What do you mean, you forgot?”
“My birthday. What day of the week is it?”
Leo pulled a chair over and sat down in front of him, his expression baffled. “It’s Sunday.”
Julian laughed harshly. “I’ve been twenty-one for four whole days.” He raised the cup and wiggled it in salute, then upended it. The rum burned on its way down. He choked and tried some of it as a replacement for air, but it immediately threw streamers of heat through his body, so he forgave it for that. It didn’t taste any better, unfortunately. How do people get hooked on this? Then the knots in his shoulders began to uncurl, and he let out a sigh. Oh, that’s how. “Any more?”
Leo wore a strange expression, like Julian was saying that blue was orange and winter was when flowers grew. “What are you talking about?” He stared at Julian with a look of dawning comprehension and horror. Moving so fast Julian had no time to react, he snatched the cup away and threw it toward the other side of the room. “You’re a civilian.”
“You didn’t know?” Well, fucking Harrow. Julian started to laugh. There was more than a hint of hysteria in the sound, but mostly he was laughing at himself. It wasn’t just him that Harrow was keeping stuff back from. He forced himself to stop, worried he sounded more crazy than he hoped he was.
“Hell no, I didn’t. I would never have agreed to this if I had.” Leo fell to his knees in front of Julian like he’d been shot, and something about that hooked Julian, breaking him in the process. God, that this man, with hands capable of mayhem, could be so careful with him. So gentle, taking Julian’s hands like they were glass, his eyes both angry and horrified on Julian’s behalf. “What can I do?”
Julian looked down at their hands, their fingers intertwined. It seemed important, somehow, the two of them like this. “If I tell you about last night, will you listen? And not judge? I don’t mean the stuff you heard at the hospital, but the rest?”
“Of course.” Leo stood up and pulled Julian to his feet. “Would you like another drink while you do it? They don’t recommend it, but I think they’re full of shit.”
“I’ll take your word for it. But not rum. That was disgusting.”
“We can try something else. Come on.” Leo smiled and tugged him toward the minibar, as if they were on a date and not recovering from a frightening undercover operation.
The tiny flirtation lifted Julian’s heart. “Sure.” He let himself be pulled across the room to sit in front of the little fridge.
Leo opened it, then crouched behind him and wrapped his arms around Julian’s shoulders, holding him tight. Leo’s solidity both comforted and distracted him. Julian wished this was just a stolen weekend between two lovers, a few carefree days in the lap of luxury. He wondered if they could still be lovers after this. Would either of them even want the other afterward? He pushed the thought aside and bent his attention on choosing a drink. “Vodka has no taste, right? Maybe that.”
Leo reached past him and pulled the tiny bottle off the shelf. Without letting Julian go, he cracked open the cover and placed it in Julian’s hand. The slight jostling felt absurdly intimate. Leo let him take a drink, then tugged him back to his feet. “We can sit on the bed or in the chairs. Whatever you want.”
Julian stared around the room from within the circle of Leo’s arms. “Bed, I think.” The fatigue was hitting again, or maybe it was the rum. He wanted to lie down. Gravity wanted him to lie down too, right here on the floor.
“Yeah, you’re definitely not a heavy drinker.”
When they got to the bed, Julian sighed and sank facedown onto the comforter. The bed moved, and he felt the gentle heat of Leo’s body beside him. Julian pried his eyes open and looked into Leo’s.
Leo smiled. “You want a nap first?”
A nap sounded wonderful. But when he closed his eyes, all he could see was the anxious, intense face of Shiro staring back at him. “I’m fine.” He rolled over and sat up. The bottle lost its allure, and he set it on the table beside the bed before crawling up to put his back against the headboard. He looked at Leo at the other end of the bed, and the words leaped from his mouth before he knew he was going to say them. “Can you come up here?”
“Glad to.” Leo sat beside him and, without Julian having to ask, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in to lie against Leo’s chest. Julian let his head rest in the hollow of Leo’s shoulder and gave himself a moment to let Leo’s care bolster him. This was going to be hard to explain, because he wasn’t sure why he felt the way he did himself.
He hoped Leo could figure it out.
Confession
Julian let the steady thump of Leo’s heart drag his own into its calm, confident rhythm. Leo was quiet, his fingers lightly caressing the curve of Julian’s shoulder, but Julian had a sense that it wasn’t so much quiet, but listening intently.
“I don’t feel…I don’t know. Violated? I think. Maybe a little. I hated not being able to fight back. Not over anything, you know?” He tipped his head back, meeting Leo’s eyes. “Not like that. I wasn’t expecting everything that happened, but I had it all worked out in my head. I mean, I tried to be prepared, you know, in case you had to do…something. You know, like if you had to prove that I would fuck…” He let his head fall back down in that comfortable hollow.
“I know. You try to prepare for everything and hope it’s enough.”
“Yeah. I thought I did pretty good. But I wasn’t ready for the real victims in this.” He paused, choosing his words. “I see Ethan everywhere. I can’t sleep, wondering if he was scared before—” He couldn’t say it, just curled shivering into Leo’s side, like he could bury himself and all his memories in the man’s warmth.
“Yeah. I’m glad we put a stop to it before the other three got…” Leo’s voice trailed off too. Apparently the horror was too much for him as well. Wait…
“Other three?”
“I didn’t tell you. You had enough to do, keeping yourself safe. The morning after Mauer—yesterday? Holy shit, yes. Yesterday morning, after you went to bed, DeGraff had me come down to the loading dock, and he had three people there that were meant for what happened to Ethan.” He laid his cheek against the top of Julian’s head. Julian could have stayed like that forever, especially when Leo added, “We got them out. Them and the two girls. And the young man from this morning.”
That was when the tears started. Not hard, not heavy, no sobs to shake them loose. It was a weird soft cry, and as each tear fell, Julian felt some small part of his anger and desire for revenge dissipate. They were a relief, a catharsis. Leo held him and let him sniffle and take huge, gasping breaths while the poison drained out of him.
When it finally wore down, Julian was ridiculously comfortable, except for Shiro’s voice in the back of his mind. As he lay there, that voice grew louder and louder until it drowned out everything, including the sound of Leo’s heart beneath his ear. He pushed himself up to sitting and buried his face in his hands. “Fuck Harrow.”
“Why?”
“Because this could hav
e gone down differently. Because Ethan is dead, and Shiro is living in hell, and I’m fucking there with him, and I can’t find my way back.” He got off the bed and began to pace, trying to burn off some of this rage with movement. Julian didn’t really understand why he was so angry, or why he was angry at Harrow. Or, for that matter, Leo. Yeah, there was a cold, hard ball of fury for him too, for making Julian lie there and let Shiro fuck him for the entertainment of a selfish pervert.
Memory flooded his mouth with the taste of Shiro’s owner and of Shiro. His stomach churned, and his mouth watered in anticipation of a bout of vomiting. Angrily, he beat it back, increasing his pace. He knew he had no real right to be angry at Leo. Julian had made that decision—he’d made all of them, from the beatings to the photo shoot to that final night in the hotel. But Leo was the agent; he’d been the experienced one. Julian had given everything to this, and he couldn’t even pluck one man from the grip of the ring.
That made him even angrier.
Leo caught his arm on his next trip past the end of the bed. “You need to calm down.” Julian whirled on him, arms flailing. Leo pulled Julian tight against his chest, deftly avoiding an elbow in the face as he trapped Julian’s arms against his sides. “We’re human, Julian. You’re human. We do our best, but you can’t win everything.”
Fucking Dave’s words coming back to bite his ass. And why shouldn’t they win? Weren’t they the good guys? “We’re not talking fraud or drugs here. These are people! Why do we have to hold back when people’s lives are being ruined? They’re whores, so they don’t count as much as other people? Where the hell were you when I gave you your chance?” There, it was out, and now that he’d said it, he realized that this was his problem, the source of his black fury. He’d let someone use him like a piece of furniture so Leo could strike the final blow, and it had all been for nothing.
Leo grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Hold back? You think I held back?” Leo shook him again, harder this time, and a thread of anger wove its way into his voice. “Do you think what you did was holding back?”
“It sure as hell wasn’t enough!” Julian squirmed away and put the table between them. “Do you have any idea the shit I had to do to give you that chance? You knew the laptop was there. Why didn’t you do anything?” He slammed his fist on the table, making the rum bottle wobble. Cheap-ass furniture.
For the first time, Leo looked guilty.
“What?” Julian demanded.
“I didn’t have the phone. I couldn’t get it out of my jacket before we left.”
Julian stepped away, holding his hands up in disbelief. “What the fuck.”
“DeGraff made me change jackets. I couldn’t get the phone out with him standing there.”
“You had the other one.”
“He made me leave it behind.”
Julian turned his back on Leo and ran his hands through his hair. “Oh, fuck me,” he whispered. What a comedy of errors. Did all operations work like this, or was he just a jinx?
He didn’t know what to do with this emotion. It wasn’t really Leo he was angry at, but when the man touched him, even though it was the most tentative of contact, Julian swung around and backhanded him across the face. “Get off me!” He flipped the table in retribution and only had a moment to notice the blood that streaked down the side of Leo’s face afterward before Leo had him pinned against the wall. The smell of spilled rum filled the air like the ghost of the oblivion Julian desperately wanted. Leo’s face was so close Julian could feel his breath against his cheek.
Julian stared at him for a moment, then kissed him.
Leo jumped and fell briefly into the kiss before he gave a sharp, distressed cry and released Julian to back away. Or at least he tried to. Julian followed him, hands clasped behind Leo’s neck, mouth both angry and eager against Leo’s. He chased the other man backward until they tumbled onto the bed. He wasn’t really angry with Leo. Well, maybe a little. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his brain, he knew he wouldn’t have done any better, but that tiny ball of rage still pulsed within him. So he buried the harsh words and the need to hurt in the taste of Leo’s mouth and the weight of his body.
For the first time, Leo wasn’t enthusiastic. In fact, Julian found him downright reluctant. Julian pulled his head back, staring up at Leo at close range. “What? The operation’s over and so are we?”
Leo smiled, but it was awkward, like he was getting ready to say something that would hurt.
Julian pushed against his chest. “Get up. I don’t want to hear it.” Leo rolled off him, and Julian sat up, hands gripping the edge of the mattress, hiding the hurt in his eyes behind his bangs. “I just want to stop thinking for a while.” He stood up. “I’ll go back to my room.”
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t.” The hand tugged, turning Julian and coaxing him to lie on top of Leo’s body. “Are you sure you want this?”
Julian sighed and let his head fall to rest against Leo’s shoulder. “No more words, Leo. Yes, I want you.” He spread his fingers out around the base of Leo’s neck. “Do I need to beg?”
“No.” Leo wrapped his arms around him. “But I might.”
Oh. His words made Julian shiver, and the heat between them pooled in his groin. Maybe there was something to be salvaged here. He lowered his mouth to Leo’s, nipping at Leo’s lips and pushing his hips down in immediate need. Leo cradled the back of Julian’s head with one hand and used the other to start pushing Julian’s sweatshirt off over his shoulder.
“Mmm, good idea.” Julian wiggled and twisted until he worked the cotton down his arms to land on the floor. That hadn’t gone as well as he would have liked. Julian stood and peeled off his T-shirt. “You too.”
Leo sat up and pulled his shirt up over his head, the flexing of his muscles leaving Julian dry-mouthed and wanting. He reached out to touch Leo, ran the tips of his fingers over the curves and hollows of Leo’s shoulder, the hard line of the man’s collarbone mapping a path to the rough tenderness of his throat.
Julian spread his hand over the stubbled curve of Leo’s neck and cradled his jaw in the arc between thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently. The urge to just push him onto his back still lurked in the base of Julian’s spine, to take him hard and fast, an unusual cruelty he’d never felt before. Leo watched him with calm eyes, then ducked his head to kiss the inside of Julian’s wrist, scratchy pleasure against his bounding pulse.
“Sometimes it takes you like that, after an operation. I wasn’t around for the bad ones, but I’ve sat days waiting for the signal to rush a house and take lives. It passes.” Leo stood up and undid the button at his waist, then Julian’s. “Take what you need.” He placed his hands on Julian’s shoulders and kissed him, hard and wanting, giving silent permission to buttress his words.
Julian shoved his jeans down over his hips, then kicked them away and tumbled Leo back onto the bed in one motion. “Off.” He yanked on Leo’s zipper and wedged his fingers beneath the denim, tighter than he’d realized. Leo obligingly raised his hips, and Julian wiggled the cloth off him, stopping to rub his cheeks against the skin thus revealed, bathing in Leo’s scent.
When they were both naked, Julian crawled up on the bed. He draped one arm over Leo’s chest, closing his hand firmly around the muscle beneath it, and tugged to urge him to lie beside Julian.
Leo pulled them chest to chest, his thigh between Julian’s. They kissed and caressed, hands roaming over each other. Julian reached for Leo’s ass, warm against his palm, hot where his fingers pressed between the mounds of muscle. Leo’s breath caught, and Julian pressed deeper, stroking down the crease to push against Leo’s entrance.
Julian tightened his grip. “On your stomach.” He kissed Leo once more and got up on his knees to glance around the room. Where would Leo keep lube?
“What are you looking for?” Leo rolled over, the light gleaming along the groove of his back.
“Lube.” And condoms. After last night, that went without saying
. Shit. “He didn’t use condoms.”
“Who didn’t?” Leo sat up, his expression worried.
“Shiro.” Julian met his eyes. “The blond from last night. We need to use a condom.”
Leo took Julian’s hand and squeezed. “I don’t have any.”
“What? Oh, dammit.” Julian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was official—he was a jinx. He was just opening his mouth to tell Leo that he would go back to his room when Leo pulled Julian down beside him on the bed. He reached between them and gathered up both their cocks in one hand.
“There’s more than one way to get what we want,” he said with a smile and ran his hand lightly over their lengths. “It makes no difference to me.”
Julian saw the truth in his eyes, and the dreadful tension in his heart unsnarled itself. “Thank you.”
Leo’s smile widened. “Hang on a minute.” He let go and rolled off the bed. Julian grabbed for him to make him come back, but Leo moved like a man twenty years his younger. He jogged into the bathroom and came back a moment later squinting at a tiny plastic bottle. “You don’t have sensitive skin, do you?”
“What?” Julian hitched himself up on his elbows.
“Hand lotion.” Leo squirted a pile into his hand, and the smell of sweet lemon filled the air. He threw himself onto the bed beside Julian and pulled them face-to-face. Once more, his hand disappeared between them. Julian met his eyes and gasped as the cool lotion hit his overheated skin.
“Good?” Leo asked. He leaned forward and ran his tongue along Julian’s lower lip. “Hmm?”
Julian sucked in a breath and pushed forward to turn the tease into a real kiss. “Yes.”
Leo kissed him back, running his tongue over the inside of Julian’s lip, tracing his teeth, tasting him deeply. His hand moved slowly up and down their cocks, the lotion warming against Julian’s skin.
Julian sighed and held Leo tightly, his hips moving of their own volition, greedy for Leo’s touch. He groaned, and his head fell back. “Faster. Faster, Leo!” Something touched his neck—strong lips, hot tongue, warm breath. The rest of his body fell out of notice, his attention narrowing down to only those places where skin touched skin, and pleasure sparked. He clutched Leo closer and hooked a leg behind Leo’s, using that as well to add leverage as he thrust into Leo’s grasp.
