Author's Note: Yes, this chapter has another Nine Inch Nails song featured. It just fits Duo so very well, I couldn't resist. And, um, there is what you could almost call NCS. But then, I think everyone's been waiting for some kind of sex...any kind at all...right?
Witness Protection Part 18
Desperately Seeking Duo
I tried to keep my wits about me, even as I gathered up the map and the car keys. I thought back over every word Maxwell had said that afternoon. He'd bitched about Chang and me being lousy company. He'd groused about never getting to go anywhere. And he'd scathingly told my partner we could fuck ourselves and he'd get his own damned cigarettes.
So, that meant he was headed for someplace he could buy cigarettes, and probably find better company. Hell, even the web site administrator had been able to discover that Maxwell liked clubbing. I'd have had to be a total idiot not to think of it. Of course, I was pretty sure I was a total idiot, after letting Maxwell in on the location of all my motion sensors. But I hadn't been thinking of confining him; I'd been focused on protecting him.
God, did I feel stupid. Stupid...angry...frustrated...panicky...take your pick.
As I activated the surveillance system to keep watch in my absence, I tried to remember which town Wufei had chosen for his shopping trip. Maxwell would most likely head for the other decent-sized city. And I know he'd gotten a good look at the map over breakfast.
Shit--I wondered how long he'd been planning his escape. Had we just been played for fools from the moment we left the hospital? Or was Maxwell's escape something Chang and I had pushed him into?
I shoved the nagging questions to the back of my mind and hit the switch to open the garage...then climbed into the rental car and started it up.
By the faint overhead light in the car, I studied the map, noticing Chang had circled the two largest towns within an hour's drive. He'd left a faint pencil mark next to the closest one...which meant I'd seek out the other, guessing Maxwell would do the same.
But even as I backed out of the garage, I worried that Wufei would get home before I did, and I'd face an inquisition upon my return. It wasn't very likely Maxwell would agree to cover for me and say we'd had a sudden urge for pizza; nor would Chang fall for such an obvious lie.
I thought about leaving a note--but I couldn't think of any graceful way to phrase the situation. Nor could I come up with an explanation that would in any way reassure my partner that everything was all right. If he returned and found an empty garage, regardless of any lame excuse I left behind, he'd know something was horribly wrong.
Unless I got back first--with Maxwell--I was screwed. And not in a good way.
Great. Now I was even starting to think the same kind of smart-ass comments Maxwell would come up with! Where would it end?
I drove through the solid blackness of the wilderness, pushing the speed limit for all I was worth. It's a wonder I didn't get pulled over, but then again, I really was in the middle of nowhere. The odds of me hitting a deer or bear were far greater than the chance that a cop might be out there with radar.
I'd driven for nearly an hour before I spotted a road sign for the city I sought. And I drove for nearly fifteen minutes more, before reaching what looked like an oasis of light amid the uninterrupted dark of the mountains. One moment I was driving along a deserted highway, and the next there were billboards, neon signs, and all the accoutrements of civilization.
In fact, there was so much civilization that I felt a rush of despair at the thought of ever finding one seductive young man and a Harley in all that chaos.
"Goddamnit, Maxwell, where are you?" I groaned, wanting to slam a fist on the dashboard in frustration.
After half an hour of searching, I decided to stop at a gas station and ask for the nearest nightclub district.
When I walked into the Food Mart, it was almost eight-thirty--early by "clubbing" standards--but much too late by mine. Wufei had a head start on me, a shorter distance to drive, and a list. Not to mention he didn't have to search for groceries. They'd be right there waiting for him at the store. Maxwell, on the other hand, was unlikely to wait anywhere for me--and he had to know I'd be coming, unless he was dumber than I took him for. Frankly, I didn't intend to ever underestimate his intelligence again.
A teenage clerk leaned on the counter, chewing gum with her mouth open, and flirting with a guy who was young and pimply enough to be her boyfriend, while some older guys were rummaging through the cooler for beer.
"Miss?"
She gave a little sigh of annoyance and turned a resentful look towards me--only to suddenly straighten up and smile. "Oh--hi! Can I help you?"
I'd dodged Relena's advances often enough to know flirting when I saw it. "I'm--unfamiliar with this area. Can you tell me where I'd find a nightclub or two?" I flashed a very brief, barely-civil smile at her...the kind a wolf might wear at the sight of a helpless sheep.
It went completely over her very empty head.
"Oh you'd want Maple Street," she said, nodding.
Her male friend shook his head. "Nuh-uh. The best places are on Vine."
"No way," she shot back. "Just 'cause Carlo likes Mo's place, you think all the great clubs are near there. Frosty Jugs is ten times better!"
God--fucking kill me now!
"Not since Candy Stripper quit working there!" he retorted.
"Aha! I thought you said you hadn't seen her act. Gerry, you're a lying sack of shit!"
"I haven't been there--I just heard she quit," came the unconvincing response.
"Right. I'll bet!"
I slammed a hand down hard on the counter, which was just enough to break up their inane argument. "Directions please!" I barked out impatiently.
"Oh." Her eyes and mouth were equally round. "Uh--right on Main, through three lights and left at the fourth--five blocks and you'll see all the clubs."
I didn't even bother thanking her. I just got the hell out of there before I had to hurt someone. Shit--the girl and her boyfriend made Maxwell and Chang seem mature enough to be senior citizens!
I followed her directions, and was fairly stunned to find they were correct. And then I was cruising slowly down a three or four block area lined by nightclubs on both sides of the road. I groaned in despair at the sheer number of them; was this the only fucking town in a hundred-mile radius with bars? They sure seemed to be overcompensating. If I had to go door to door, it promised to be a long, long night.
I might never have found Maxwell at all, had I not caught a glimpse of the Harley's chrome in an alley between a place called Hell's Bells, and one called Paradise City.
Parking at the mouth of the alley, I walked over and took a closer look, sighing as I positively identified the bike. Of course, the momentary relief was quickly swallowed by cold rage as I recalled the ordeal Maxwell had just put me through. When I got my hands around his skinny little neck, he'd wish he'd never even thought of escaping on my watch!
I hesitated only a moment before deciding someone who sported a tattoo of the Grim Reaper would enjoy a place with Hell in the name. And then I was pushing my way in the door, shoving a fifty into the hand of a bouncer who would have delayed me, and blinking to adjust my eyes to the murky lighting.
Head like a hole, black as your soul...I'd rather die, than give you control...
The music was loud, raucous, and as defiant as Maxwell, creating a pulsing beat in the strobe-lit interior of the bar.
I spotted him barely a moment after entering the dark, smoky club.
The braided man was out on the dance floor; he'd traded his faded jeans for the tight leather pants that left so little to the imagination, and a mesh top that left nothing. A leather collar graced the long, slender neck, and matching bands encircled his wrists, which he held up over his head as he danced sinuously against another man. The silver studs on his jewelry occasionally caught the light; or, at least, what little light there was in the dark hole of a place.
I glared at my wayward charge, on the verge of storming across the dance floor and dragging him back to safety. The fucking idiot had no idea the risk he was taking, coming to a place that was so typical of his old haunts.
I watched him sidle closer to his dance partner; so close, in fact, that their bodies were against each other. And as Maxwell swung his hips in a slow, circular motion, the man in front of him dropped his hands to that slim waist and pulled him even closer, throwing his head back and closing his eyes in ecstasy.
Bow down before the one you serve...you're going to get what you deserve...
They moved together, and a shaft of flickering light briefly illuminated Maxwell's face so I could see the sweat dripping down the sides, and the wisps of chestnut hair clinging to it as he watched his partner with half-lidded eyes and a perfectly wicked smirk.
Fuck!
For a moment I hesitated, torn between the desire to protect Maxwell and the all-consuming need to devour him with my eyes. He was sex personified; a creature of darkness and shadows; his every movement sensual, provocative...dangerous. And I wanted him.
Goddamn it!
Shaking off the hypnotic spell as he ground his hips against the other man's, I started working my way through the crowd towards them. I kept my gaze locked on the pair as I did so, glancing away only long enough to avoid walking squarely into other patrons of the crowded bar.
By the time I reached the edge of the dance floor, Maxwell had turned so that his partner was up against his back, arms wrapped around his waist and his groin pressed against Duo's ass. My protected witness had his head back against the other man's shoulder, eyes nearly closed as he ground back even harder than his dance partner. I could almost hear his breathy groans, and I had to stop to catch my breath and steady my own racing pulse.
Why the fuck was he affecting me this way? He was a witness. Nothing more. A junkie and stripper, who'd probably done some whoring on the side before he hooked up with Merquise. He was tainted goods, and the only thing that made him worth keeping alive was that he'd witnessed the murder of his lover by the powerful head of the Oz syndicate. He was...fucking gorgeous.
With his head thrown back like that, and his pale throat exposed, he looked almost too ethereal to be real. His braid trailed between their bodies, moving like a coiling snake, slapping against the tight leather covering his thighs. And I had an insane urge to grab him by it.
Fuck, Heero, get a grip!
Right about then, as the man tried to slide a hand down the front of Maxwell's groin, the braided man pulled away, turning to face him again. I swear, for a second he looked right at me, and I thought for sure he'd bolt. But he didn't. Instead, he kept dancing with that same graceful rhythm, his indigo eyes locked on those of his partner.
The other man took him by the wrists, tugging him towards the edge of the crowd, whispering something in one of his ears. Maxwell balked slightly, resisting the pull, and giving a slight shake of his head and a sultry laugh. And as soon as I saw the look that flashed in the other man's eyes, I knew my protected witness was in trouble. I reached in my back pocket for my badge and up under my leather jacket for my sidearm, elbowing my way unceremoniously towards them.
The crowd on the dance floor closed around me, momentarily obscuring my target, and when I cleared the other side, I had to glance around to find them again. They were near the sign for the men's room, and I knew exactly where the pushy dancer was trying to take Maxwell.
Great. I could hear my boss' voice echoing in my ears. "Nice job, Yuy. Care to tell me again how you allowed a protected witness to run off to a dance club and get raped while under your supervision?" Not on my fucking watch!
But as I neared the couple, I heard a loud expletive, and slowed my approach, stopping in shock when I was within a few feet of my objective.
Maxwell was pressed up against the other man, gripping his shoulder with one hand, and holding something against his ribs with the other. A gleam in the indigo eyes caught my attention and kept me still; it was the look of a predator.
I'd assumed Maxwell was helpless against the bigger man's advances--that he wouldn't be able to defend himself from his drunken aggression. Instead, he had a switchblade tucked up under the guy's ribs, mere centimeters from a potentially killing thrust.
"I said," he hissed quietly, "I'm not going anywhere with you. What the fuck don't you understand about the word 'no?'"
The man shook his head helplessly, his face a pasty white, and his hands shaking so badly I knew he'd be puking his guts out in the toilet the very instant Maxwell let him go.
If Maxwell let him go.
"Max." I kept my tone neutral; almost conversational.
He flicked a glance my way, not registering any surprise. I thought he'd seen me before, and now I had my confirmation. "Not your fight, Yuy."
"You know it is, and you know why."
His lips thinned to a tight line, and a scowl darkened his face until the man he held so firmly whimpered in fear.
"Fuck you, Yuy," he muttered, leaning in a little closer to his victim. "Next time you think you found yourself an easy lay, you fuckin' ask. Don't tell. An' if they say 'no,' it means 'no,' got it?"
The man nodded tremulously, and Maxwell shoved him away, closing the switchblade and slipping it into a tight back pocket. He'd barely begun to turn towards me when I grabbed him by an elbow and headed him firmly towards the door.
"You fuckin' duck out like this again, Maxwell, and I'll kill you myself," I growled in his ear, forcefully propelling him along, though I was keenly aware of the heat radiating from his sweaty body and the flush on his cheeks from the excitement.
"I was bored out of my ever-lovin' mind," he snarled back, glancing sideways at me as we pushed through the crowd and out the side door into a dark alley.
Once outside, he turned on me, jerking free and standing with his hands on his hips, eyes flashing. "Goddamnit, Yuy! I'm not used to being holed up in some fuckin' wasteland! I lived in the city my whole life--the noise an' lights were what lulled me to sleep at night! I can't take all this--!" He waved his arms at the world at large. "--this quiet!"
I listened for a moment to the muted sounds of distant traffic and the muffled music from the club we'd just left. It was far quieter than the city we came from, but then, that was kind of the point. And then I looked at Duo, on the verge of telling him to fucking deal with it.
But his indigo eyes were wide in the semi-darkness, his lips parted as he nearly panted with emotion. And once again I had to fight down the urge to grab him. I'd seen what he did to anyone who touched him without being invited, and I wasn't that stupid.
"Let's get back to the safe house before Wufei finds us gone," I muttered, heading past him.
He caught my arm, stopping me. "How'd you know where to find me?"
"The same way Oz's hired assassins would," I said coldly, jerking my arm free of the searing touch.
I heard his indrawn breath as it finally seemed to sink home to him that there were people who wanted him dead--and people who were willing to do the deed for money. And all I could think was it was about fucking time.
~*~
We left the motorcycle parked there at the bar; I wasn't about to let Maxwell out of my sight again. Instead I shoved him into the passenger seat and slammed the door firmly, wishing I had fucking child locks on all the doors.
I didn't say a word as I got in and started the car up, pulling a quick u-turn and heading out of the small city. Now that I had my rebellious witness back in custody, the adrenalin began to fade, along with the pounding of my heart in my ears. All that was left was the interminable ride back to the safe house and facing up to Chang, if he was waiting. And while that thought made my stomach clench, it didn't bring the panic it might have if I'd been returning empty-handed.
Was it too much to hope that maybe Chang had a flat tire or engine trouble--anything that might delay him longer than strolling through a grocery store and topping off a tank of gas?
For once Maxwell didn't turn the radio on and crank up a rock station. He didn't even chatter on endlessly about the world he'd had to leave behind or the rules that Chang and I had heaped upon him. He just sat slumped against the door, staring out into the darkness as we drove.
I thought I'd be glad for the silence; relieved at his submissive attitude. But I found myself glancing aside at him, worried by how subdued he was.
"Are--you okay?" I finally asked, wanting to bite my own tongue off the moment the words were out of my mouth.
He just shrugged a shoulder, idly running a hand up the side of his bare arm. "What's it to you?" he asked sullenly.
"It's my job to--look after you."
"It's your job to keep me alive and get me to the courthouse," he replied curtly.
"Isn't that the same thing?"
"Not even close," he growled under his breath.
"What's the difference?"
There was a long silence as he stared vacantly out the window. But finally he answered me. "Looking after each other is what friends do--or partners do."
"Merquise looked after you?"
He nodded. "An' Solo before that," he elaborated. "In a gang, you watch each other's back. You look out for each other." He gave me a resentful glare out of the corner of his eye. "Cops don't look out for anybody but themselves."
"We look out for honest citizens who need our protection," I said stiffly.
"Exactly," he said rather smugly. "And all the not-so honest people...the ones who have to bend the rules to get by...who have to steal to eat...they can just go fuck themselves, right?"
I wasn't naïve enough to think that there weren't people who genuinely had to steal to survive; but I liked to think my job was to go after bigger fish than that, and that by doing my job, I was helping those smaller ones as well. "Maxwell, I'm not on the street to hassle the hookers or bust on the kids who steal a pack of gum at the Seven Eleven. My job is to take down the drug lords and dealers--the ones who are poisoning the streets for everyone. My job is to stop murderers and thieves. So don't tell me I don't give a shit about the homeless panhandlers in the ghetto."
Maxwell gave a short, bitter laugh. "Ya wanna know something, detective? Oz has probably fed a hell of a lot more orphans than your precious police force ever did." He fixed me with a narrow gaze. "The Syndicate might spread drugs on the streets--but if a kid can be a mule instead of a whore, his life expectancy--not to mention quality of life--goes up significantly."
"Is that experience talking?"
"I've never been a whore, Yuy," he spat coldly. "I've been a pickpocket, a mule, an exotic dancer, and a bodyguard--but never a whore."
By now my irritation with him had allowed me to tamp down my sympathetic tendencies. "You mean being Merquise's 'kept man' wasn't the same thing?"
"Zechs Merquise never paid me a fucking dime to sleep with him; as if a man like him would have to!" Duo hissed defiantly, turning a furious glare on me, his cheeks bright with color as his temper flared. And then he caught himself, visibly regaining control and smirking nastily. "It was a pleasure," he crooned in an almost sly tone. "The man was goddamn fine. Best fuck I ever had."
I rolled my eyes, glad we were nearing the turnoff for the cabin. "That's nice to know, Maxwell. But the bottom line is you were a drug lord's fuck toy, and because of that you witnessed his murder. Because of that, you're out here in the middle of this godforsaken wasteland with two cops trying to keep you alive long enough to testify against the scum that killed him."
"I'm out here because you fuckin' strong-armed me into it. If you cops hadn't picked me up in the first place, I wouldn't be in this mess."
"No, you'd be dead by now. You think Khushrenada would have left you alive once he found out how close you were to Merquise? If he even suspected you knew anything about the murder...if he even had a glimmer...he'd have had you killed just to be certain you'd never talk. You were screwed the minute you hooked up with Merquise."
Duo scowled. "Zechs Merquise was the only guy besides Trowa who ever treated me decent in my life. Hooking up with him was the best move I ever made."
I pulled into the driveway and breathed a sigh at the sight of an empty garage. Unless Chang had gotten there and gone out looking for us, I was off the hook as far as that went.
And the moment I had the vehicle inside, I hit the switch to close the door behind us.
Maxwell was already out of the car, even before I had the engine off, stalking quickly towards the door.
"Wait for me, Maxwell!" I cautioned. "Or d'you want to take a chance that no one is onto us and waiting inside?"
He stopped, crossing his arms defiantly, and tapping a booted foot impatiently as he waited for me to leave the vehicle and join him by the door into the house.
I listened at the entrance for a moment, and then opened it quickly, scanning the interior. When all seemed quiet, I walked in, heading for the laptop and flipping on the monitor to check my recording devices for any activity in our absence. I thanked my lucky stars that I'd had the presence of mind to engage the security system when I dashed off after my wayward charge.
"All clear," I said over my shoulder, listening to Duo's quick, irritated stomps as he crossed the room and headed for the cupboard. "What are you after, Maxwell?"
"I need a drink," snarled the braided man, glaring briefly at me. "You dragged me out of the club before I could finish my whiskey."
"I doubt you'll find much of anyth--." I stopped as Maxwell pulled a bottle of brandy from a cupboard next to the refrigerator.
"Score!" he grinned smugly, reaching for a glass. He poured a hefty portion into the tumbler, and walked over to plunk himself down at the table, propping a foot on a spare chair and beginning to unlace his boot. "At least Winner's got decent liquor in this shithole."
"Shithole?" I echoed. "This cabin probably cost more to build than you'll have in your lifetime." I gave a wry snort. "Me, too, for that matter." I walked over and put a hand on one of the massive logs in the walls. "Twelve solid inches of wood, Maxwell. It might be the only thing that keeps you alive if Khushrenada ever gets wind of where we are. He could send a dozen hired guns to set siege to this place, and they'd never be able to get a shot through." I looked up at the window, raising an eyebrow. "Of course, if they had grenades and could get close enough to break a window--." I let my voice trail off significantly.
"Point taken, Yuy," drawled Maxwell wearily. "I'll be a good little stoolie and stay in the nice, fortified bunker from now on." He kicked off his boots and took a long swig of brandy, tilting his head back and rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Goddamn, but this sucks!"
I shook my head, walking over and pouring myself a single finger's-depth of brandy, and taking a quick swallow. "That goes double for me," I admitted wryly, adding a little more to my glass before sitting opposite him at the table.
Maxwell eyed the glass, and then me. "Is that why you're drinking while on duty, Mister Big Shot Cop?"
"I'm drinking because I need a little break," I growled back irritably. "You slipped out on my watch and damn near got yourself raped."
The indigo eyes narrowed, and Maxwell snorted skeptically. "He never had a chance, Yuy. Or did you not see the switchblade?"
"You know I did," I replied. "And we won't even go into how you got it or whether you're supposed to have it. With the number of people after your hide, it's probably just as well you're armed."
"Nice ta know you care," he shot back snidely, getting up and going for a refill of his drink. He was standing with his back to me, and I once again found my gaze irresistibly drawn to the tight leather pants and the braid trailing down his ass. Where he was standing at the counter, that ass was only a few feet from my face, right at eye level, and I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away.
"Y'know, Zechs was probably the only one who ever really cared," he said quietly. "Besides Trowa anyway."
"Zechs the drug lord?" I asked scathingly, irritated at both my situation and that compulsion to stare at my too-sexy charge.
He shot me a look over his shoulder, and then turned back to the table, settling into the seat across from me, and placing his glass between his two hands. "Maybe that's how you saw him. I saw a different side of him."
"Right," I scoffed. "You saw a meal ticket, Maxwell."
"I saw the sexiest man alive," came the quick, fervent reply. "Zechs was more than rich; he was elegant--classy. And it just blew me away that he thought a street punk like me was worth pursuing."
"Yeah, it kind of blows me away, too," I said snidely, not even sure why I was bothering to engage him in conversation when all I really wanted was to take the edge off with a stiff drink, and find my way to bed.
He shot me a glare, and then turned his gaze back to the amber liquid in his glass. "No one ever made me feel the way Zechs did." His lips quirked in a pensive smile as he brought the glass to his lips again.
"What way is that?" Again, why was I asking?
His smile softened and became wistful. "He made me feel--important--almost respectable."
I snorted at the very thought of Maxwell ever being considered respectable, and downed the rest of my drink.
His eyes flashed and he slammed his glass down, sloshing liquor over the sides. "What? You think it's funny that he bothered with a punk like me?"
"I think it's funny that you think you could ever pass for respectable."
"Oh fuck you!" he snarled, stiffening in anger. "Who are you to judge me?"
"I'm someone who obeys the law," I retorted. "I'm someone who is respectable--that's why I feel qualified to judge you."
He picked up the glass again and with a quick jerk of his wrist, he flung the contents in my face. "You fucking, self-righteous prick!" Then he raised his arm and threw the tumbler to smash against the far wall of the kitchen, and stood up. "I'm outta here! For good this time!"
He was halfway to the door when he heard me cock my gun, and it stopped him in his tracks. "Sit back down, Maxwell."
Indigo eyes shot me a purely dangerous look over his shoulder. "No." He turned to face me, arms crossed defiantly. "Go ahead and shoot me. Fuck the case! Fuck the cops! Take Khushrenada's damned money and retire to Tahiti, you arrogant asshole! It'd be worth dyin' just to see you get your lily-white hands dirty!"
"Sit down!"
"Make me."
I slipped the safety on and slammed the gun back into my shoulder holster. Then I stood up and stalked quickly over to where he was waiting. He was clearly looking for a confrontation, and after chasing his ass all over town, I was in just the mood to give him one.
But before I got my hands on him, he'd slipped away, evading my grasp and hooking a foot around my ankle to nearly bring me to the ground. With an angry growl, I reassessed my position, and then attacked--keeping in mind his quick reflexes and incredible agility.
I figured if I just got an arm around his waist, I could overpower him and wrestle him into the kitchen chair, handcuffing him to it if I had to. And he almost didn't elude me the second time--my fingers actually brushed his skin.
But all I caught was a handful of air as he twisted away, lashing out with a backfist to the side of my head that made me see stars. It also made me mad as hell, and I sidestepped, feinted to the right, and then caught his arm, trying to bring it around behind him and get him in a lock hold. I hadn't been partnered with Chang all those years without getting an education in martial arts. We sparred regularly, and my Chinese colleague had taught me volumes about hand to hand combat.
On the other hand, I'd had just enough brandy to mess with my reflexes a bit.
Once again Maxwell wrenched himself free, chuckling darkly and dancing just out of reach. "You're slow, Yuy!" he taunted, looking for all the world as if he were enjoying the scuffle.
And maybe he was. As he'd said, the inactivity was driving him crazy. Maybe a night out and a good fight would be enough to settle him down.
We'd dodged and danced our way into the living room before I finally landed a blow to his stomach that made the air rush out of his lungs and sent him staggering back a step. "That's for spitting in my face three years ago and ruining a day's worth of paperwork!" I vented.
He recovered all too quickly and kicked at my leg, landing a glancing blow as I dodged back. "That's for calling me a hooker that day!" he retorted.
"The truth hurts," I sneered, ducking another punch, and catching his wrist. Ah yes! It would all be over soon.
He tried to break free, but I pulled him up against me hard and swept his legs out from under him, bringing us both to the floor with me on top.
"Goddamnit, Yuy!" he snarled, flailing with his free arm and smacking my head again. "Fucking asshole cop! Get offa me!"
I caught the thrashing arm and forced it to the floor, keeping it there with a death grip on his wrist. Maneuvering so that I could control his movements, I soon had both of his arms pinned above his head, a leg trapping both of his, and my weight holding him down on the floor...but that didn't keep him from panting, cursing, and squirming under me.
"Let me the fuck up!"
I shook my head, grinning victoriously. "Give it up, Maxwell. I'm not gonna shoot you--you're not gonna leave. You're going to testify against Khushrenada and put him away for a long, long time."
"I ain't gonna do jack shit for you!" >I looked down at the angry glitter of the deep bluish-purple eyes--and for a moment it was as if gravity pressed down on me--and my head lowered until my lips were against his.
His struggles ceased all at once, and his lips parted, welcoming my tongue--allowing me to taste and feel and just devour his mouth. And, God, did he taste good! With the sweet brandy overwriting the cigarette he'd smoked earlier, I could have gone on kissing him all night. He was that intoxicating.
I pulled myself away with effort, looking down at the half-lidded, lust-filled eyes.
Oh shit.
I scrambled back, releasing him and getting to my feet, brushing my clothes off and backing away. But before I could open my mouth to apologize or try to explain the inexplicable, I found myself staring down the barrel of my own gun...which he'd apparently lifted from my shoulder holster as I extricated myself from our embrace.
"Fuck!"
Maxwell smiled, but it never reached his eyes. "Oops," he whispered, pulling the trigger.
A bullet whipped past my face so closely I felt the breeze--and imbedded itself in the wall behind me. The report echoed in the close confines and the pungent smell of gunpowder filled the room.
I hesitated--my every instinct urging me to dodge and attack--to wrest the weapon from his hands. But once again, it was pointed unwaveringly at my face--and he looked no less deadly than before.
He sat up, still keeping the gun trained on me. "Now--I guess since I'm the one with the weapon--we'll do this my way from now on." His gleaming eyes raked me from head to toe as he got up and stood facing me. "Take off your clothes."
"What?" I must've gaped like a fish, because he smiled evilly.
"Take 'em off. All of 'em."
"I'm not--."
Another report rang out, deafening in the small room, and the bullet bit through the floorboards mere inches from my feet.
"Fucking shit!" I snarled, taking an involuntary half-step backwards. "You're a goddamned lunatic!"
"That may be. But I'm a lunatic with a gun--so strip, Yuy! Or the next shot'll have you singin' soprano the rest of your life."
"Sonofa--!" I glared heatedly at Maxwell as I methodically stripped off my shoes, socks, shirt, trousers, and finally boxers. Then I stood with my arms crossed self-consciously, not quite able to keep looking the man in the eyes as he eased closer.
"Nice," he purred, running his gaze up and down. He licked his lips, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and to my absolute mortification, I felt my body respond. "Oh, very nice," he murmured, so close I could smell the brandy on his breath.
Then he sank slowly to his knees, eyes still fixed on my face. As I started to shift my weight in preparation for moving back, I felt the icy muzzle of the gun settle against my left knee.
"Stay," he commanded flatly.
Not wanting to walk with a limp for the rest of my life, I stayed, trying not to shiver with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation.
Then he ran his tongue up the underside of my cock, and my knees very nearly buckled. "What the fuck are you doing?" I demanded hoarsely.
"Anything I want," he replied with a wicked smirk, his breath hot against my now completely-hard flesh. "--seeing as I'm still the one with the gun."
Another teasing lick and then his hot mouth enveloped me completely, and I swallowed a moan, willing my legs to remain steady. Fuck, but he was talented...teasing...licking... sucking...until I found my hands tangled in his hair, anchored there as if to keep me from falling to the floor, or him from moving away. I couldn't keep my hips from thrusting towards that incredibly skilled mouth--and I bit my lip until it bled to keep from screaming his name as I came.
When I was done--what seemed like an eternity later--my knees buckled despite my best efforts, and I sank to the floor as he eased away, wiping the back of a hand across his mouth and then licking those amazing lips.
He rocked back onto his heels, the arm with the gun lying along one thigh as he looked at me with eyes that practically glowed with lust.
"Why--?" My voice came out a ragged breath of sound.
He didn't answer, but moved forward, wrapping his free arm around my neck and pulling me in for a deep kiss. I moaned at the taste of myself on his tongue, tangling a hand in his hair and devouring his mouth.
He didn't resist as I worked the gun free of his fingers and tossed it aside--or as I tugged the buttons free and slid his shirt off. By the time I got to his pants, he was helping me, rising up on his knees so he could work the snug fabric down past his thighs and off over his calves.
And then I pressed him down, ignoring the hiss as his heated back encountered the cool wood of the floor.
"Fuck, Yuy," he whispered in a throaty voice. "God--please. Fuck me!"
So I did.
You'd think at some point my sanity or conscience might have kicked in--but both were curiously silent as I ravaged the lean body lying so compliantly beneath me. Actually, "lying" didn't really fit what he was doing; neither did "compliant." He was far from passive--his fingers digging into the back of my shoulder blades as I kissed my way down his chest, tasting the skin I'd only dreamed about. He wrapped a leg around my waist, forcefully bringing our groins together in electrifying contact.
At some point, one of his hands let go its hold on me to grope around until he found his discarded pants and dug in a pocket, slipping a small tube and a foil packet into my hand a few seconds later. Oh--right--protection. I was fucking a guy who'd stripped for a living and slept around, with virtually no thought for safe sex practices until he reminded me. Proof positive I'd totally lost my mind.
But fuck he was amazing--lithe and powerful--all smooth skin and hard muscle underneath me. And I couldn't get enough of him. I kept one hand firmly on his bicep, pinning his arm down as I prepped him with my other hand. He squirmed and bucked against me, gasping and moaning--but if he'd really wanted to break free he could have done it easily.
When I pushed into him, he let out a low, satisfied groan, wrapping both legs around my waist and pulling me in as deep as he could. "C'mon!" he urged. "Harder, dammit! Harder! Fuck me like you mean it!"
The raw need in his voice shredded the last of my self-control and then I was pounding into him like my life depended on it, spiraling towards the release I so desperately craved.
All of the teasing and tension--the heated looks and seductive promises--and now he was underneath me--around me--feeling tighter and hotter and better than any dream I'd ever had. Everything else faded away into meaningless oblivion as I lost myself in the dark pools of indigo staring up at me and the fiery passion consuming both of us.
He came first, yelling obscenities and digging his fingers into my back so hard I knew there'd be bruises, if not blood drawn. And the sight of his face contorted in pleasure, his eyes locked on mine drove me right over the edge into the most intense orgasm of my life. Goddamn, he was amazing!
Fucking amazing.
And it wasn't until the high wore off, and I began to register the harshness of my breathing and the cooling sweat on my back--the tight heat still around me and the panting body beneath me--that the voice of reason made itself heard.
God--I had sex with a witness! A protected witness, no less! A male protected witness, goddamnit!
And I had no idea what to think about that--or how to feel about it.
I pulled out of him, shaking like a leaf at the realization of what I'd done, and rolled onto my side on the cool boards of the floor, gasping as my breath finally returned.
After a moment, his breathing steadied, and he pushed up into a sitting position, gathering his discarded clothes and dressing with his back to me. "Told you it'd help pass the time," he said nonchalantly.
I felt my chest constrict at that. So it was nothing more than a physical release for him.
But then--that's what it was to me, too. Right? It's not like I felt anything for him emotionally. He was a criminal--always had been and probably always would be--witness protection notwithstanding.
He turned to fix a cool gaze on me. "Gettin' up, detective? Or d'you like sitting buck naked on a cold floor?" He started towards the gun, which finally galvanized me into action.
I dove past him, retrieving the weapon and turning a threatening glare his way.
He smirked darkly. "I was gonna give it back, Yuy," he said, flashing white teeth in a grim smile. "I got what I wanted."
"Good," I snarled coldly. "Because that's all you're getting!"
He looked up through half-lidded eyes, his expression unreadable. "It was good," he said simply, turning and heading for his room.
I pulled my clothes back on quickly, reloading my gun and tucking it back into the holster, snapping the tie-down over it for safekeeping. Then I took a kitchen towel and wiped the floor to remove all evidence of my colossal mistake, grabbed the used condom, and flushed it down the toilet so there was no chance that Chang might stumble across it in the trash. After throwing the towel in the bottom of the hamper, I went looking for the remains of the brandy--and witness protection be damned! I needed a drink.
~*~
The bottle was nearly empty when I heard the rumble of the garage door opening, and I stumbled to my feet, easing over to peer through the blinds. I sighed in relief as Wufei pulled the car in, parked, and got out, picking up two grocery bags and heading for the door.
"Jesus, what kept you?" I snarled, yanking open the door.
"Damned cashiers from Hell," he muttered wearily, pushing past me into the kitchen. He stopped at the sight of the open bottle on the table. "Yuy?"
"It's been a long goddamned night," I growled back. "Our witness made another break for it, and I almost didn't find him."
My partner's eyes glittered with anger. "He got past you?"
"He went out the bathroom window."
"The little one?"
"He's slender," I reminded him. "Slipped out the window and hotwired the Harley."
"So that would explain why the motorcycle is missing from the garage," sighed my partner. He looked once again at the bottle and then at me. "Were you drinking before he left as well?"
In a heartbeat I had Wufei pinned to the wall by both shoulders, glaring into his face. "I was not fucking drinking before he bolted, Chang. And if you'd screwed all the windows shut like I suggested yesterday, it wouldn't have happened at all."
"I did screw them shut! But that one was too high and too small to bother with!"
"Obviously not!"
"Well how the fuck was I supposed to know he'd be that desperate?"
"It's your job to know!"
"It's yours, too!"
The sound of a door opening and closing made us both pause, and Duo walked around the corner with an infuriatingly bouncy spring in his step. "So--yer back Wuffers!" he said cheerily, heading straight for the grocery bags. "Did you get my cigarettes?"
When neither of us answered, he paused and gave us a long look, eying the way I had Chang shoved up against the wall. The indigo eyes raked me with a knowing look, which made me hastily release my partner and take a step back.
"You boys wanna be alone?" Maxwell teased, his hand sliding into a bag and emerging with the aforementioned carton of cigarettes.
"Fuck you, Maxwell!" I spat coldly, nearly shaking with anger. "You ever try to run from us again, and I'll personally put a bullet in your back."
He turned and put his hands on his hips. "I didn't run from you. I went out. I'd have come back--." Here he gave me another long, almost searching look. "--once I got what I wanted."
Wufei brushed past, getting between me and the braided man. "Sneaking out to get your goddamned cigarettes is over the top, Maxwell! If you breach security again, we're well within our rights to take you back to be locked into a holding cell until the trial."
"Yeah," scoffed Maxwell. "It'd be like shooting fish in a barrel for Khushrenada's people."
"Then stop being a fucking asshole and let us protect you," snarled my partner.
Maxwell gave me an infuriating leer. "Fine. Yuy can guard my body day and night," he said with a suggestive lick of his lips.
I darted a glance from him to Chang. "I have to get out of here before I kill him, 'Fei," I growled, grabbing my jacket off the back of a chair and storming out before I did what I'd just threatened.
I know I was drunk. And I've always been a bit of an angry drunk. The last thing I needed was another incident on top of what had already happened.
What had already happened. Yeah. Talk about closing the barn door after the horse is out. Lingering amid the waves of self-loathing I was feeling was the sensation of Duo's hands on my back, his fingers digging into the skin, and his legs locked around my waist. And God, I wanted to feel all that again!
What the fuck was wrong with me?
TBC...
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