So here's chapter Two of Blue Ecstasy. Per Usual, my muse needs feedback.
happier_bunny _alicesprings and xie_xie_xie who said she'd die if I didn't post soon.
Fic is dedicated to my wives
Brian was at Babylon by 8:45, which was unheard of for him. He knew Michael probably wouldn’t be there 'til ten but he wanted a drink. Why not Woody's? He decided he didn’t have to answer that question, even in his own head.
The music was already thumping. Most of the men on the dance floor were trolls. He ordered a double chivas and was about to down it when he realized that he’d be no use or help if he was drunk. He drank it more slowly and scanned the place looking for Justin.
Justin eventually made his appearance. White spandex briefs and angel wings. Brian tried to catch his eye but once Justin spotted him he seemed to deliberately avoid eye contact again. Sometime before ten Michael and Emmett joined him at the bar. He raised his glass to them, finished what was left at the bottom and moved forward finding someone to dance with.
When he came back almost half an hour later Michael bought them both beers. “Glad we found time to hang out.”
Brian draped an arm over Michael’s shoulder and kissed him on the temple. “I always have time for you Michael.” As he finished the sentence a likely prospect caught his eye. “Gotta go. Be back later.” He heard Michael and Emmett laugh as he danced with the tall man with green eyes. He kept Justin in his peripheral vision. They man was trying to steer them to the back room. Brian smiled and moved back to the bar.
Michael gave him a surprised look. “He have crabs?”
“That guy was hot.”
Brian shrugged and bought Michael another drink to distract him.
“So Ma says you have a new partner.”
Brian nodded, “you’ll meet him Sunday.”
Michael was about to ask another question so Brian dragged him out to dance. He kept Michael occupied 'til he left around midnight. Brian threw back another drink and watched Justin surreptitiously while appearing as if he were scanning the room for fresh meat. He found some, even though he hadn’t been looking very hard. Being Brian fucking Kinney had its advantages.
He led the guy to the backroom and leaned against the wall. Watching Justin dance all night had left him with a strong need to feel talented lips on his cock.
Sadly, the guy was less than talented but Brian held his curly black hair in his fists and closed his eyes, picturing blond hair, and dark pink lips. He came, zipped up and headed back out to the floor. Eventually he realized there was nothing he could do to help and even less he’d be able to do if he couldn’t get his ass out of bed an to work the next day. He left hoping Justin saw him go; knowing Justin would meet him back at the loft by three.
At three Brian was on the sofa, one hand behind his head, smoking and waiting. By three thirty he was pacing.
Justin did his job. He danced; he made minimal eye contact with any of the men and even less with Brian. The last thing he needed was his cover blown on the first night. When he finished his shift he swallowed a bottle of water and changed into his “street clothes”. Not his usual taste. A little too bright, a little too tight, but he was undercover. A couple of the other dancers invited him to join them for a drink. He did. Several beers and tequila shooters later they all stumbled out of the club. Justin hadn’t found out much, but he’d made nice, he’d made friends, and information was easier to get that way.
He gulped the cool air when he left Babylon. His eyes felt red and dry. He was tired. He headed towards Tremont. He had to let Brian know all was well and then get home and sleep. He was expected at the club early tomorrow to get his new costume and learn some lame routine.
He took the elevator up and was about to knock on the door when it flew open. “Where the fuck were you?”
Justin squinted… “Mom?”
“Fuck off. You were supposed to be here by three.”
Justin laughed. “I didn’t know I had a curfew. I had some drinks with the guys.”
Justin shrugged. “Easier to get information out of people when they think you’re one of them.”
“So what’d you find out?”
“Nothing. I’m tired. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Justin turned to leave but Brian grabbed his arm.
“Nothing? What the fuck were you doing there all night?”
“Dancing, duh. You saw me. You were there, you know, except when you were too busy in the back room.”
Justin shot him a dismissive look. “Brian, I know we’ve got this whole buddy movie banter thing we do, but I’m seriously exhausted. So if we’re going to fuck, cool, I’ll go to your bed. If not, I’m going home to sleep in my own.”
Brian pulled him forward and kissed him. “My bed. Now.”
Justin nodded. “I’m drunk, and, as I think I’ve mentioned, exhausted, so I’ll let it go, but I’m not much for being ordered around like a puppy.”
Brian smiled as Justin pulled his shirt over his head and dropped his pants, leaving a trail of clothes as he gave his speech and headed up the steps to the bed.
He dropped his own jeans and watched Justin make himself comfortable. “Which side is yours?”
Brian stared at him, not sure he understood the question. Justin looked up. “I’m too tired to go home if you’re going to fuck me. I’m going to fall asleep. No need in both of us getting up on the wrong side of the bed in the morning, on which side of the bed do you usually sleep?”
Brian gestured towards the side closest to the bathroom. Justin nodded. “Okay, you can fuck me now, and I promise I won’t fall asleep on your side.”
Brian watched as Justin laid back and closed his eyes. He shook his head. “I’ll fuck you in the morning, just sleep.”
Justin sat up. “I’ll go home.”
The fuck? Brian thought to himself. “The fuck?” too late he realized he’d said it out loud.
“That was the deal. We fuck, I sleep here. We don’t fuck, I have a perfectly good bed at my place, well, not perfectly good, it’s got enough space for me, but I haven’t bought any shelves yet so the other side is completely covered in stuff, but that’s really not the issue here.”
“I didn’t come here to sleep.”
“Are you sure all you’ve had is alcohol?”
Justin nodded “a lot of it. I think I downed four shots in half an hour.”
Brian shook his head. “Sleep. You gonna be sick?”
“I don’t throw up when I drink too much.”
“Only if I take Tylenol.”
“Nothing, I’m allergic.”
“Yeah, and codeine.”
“I know, freakish. Can we talk about it tomorrow? Either I’m sleeping here, now, or I’ve got to get a cup of coffee into me and then catch a bus.”
“Go to sleep.”
Brian watched as Justin did just that. he let his own head fall back on the pillow, he was tired, emotionally exhausted, seriously horny, and not a little amused by the man who really did look a lot like a little blond club boy, especially with his lashes fanned out against his cheeks and the glitter from the club catching the blue lights over the bed.
Brian closed his eyes and tried not to think about what the maids were going to say about trying to get glitter out of the sheets.
Justin woke up in to the alarm. Brian grumbled and moved his hand forcefully slamming it down on the dresser twice before he actually hit the button to turn it off. He seemed to be making no move to get up. Justin closed his eyes again. He felt Brian move and assumed he was getting out of bed. He was wrong. Brian’s body moved closer to his. Brian’s arm draped over his waist. Justin figured he was sleeping. Wrong again. Brian’s hand moved slowly, starting at his chest. He flicked at the nipple ring and Justin gasped and cursed the fact that he’d have to take it out once the case was closed. Brian’s hand seemed to be moving of its own volition, nothing else about the man indicated that he was awake.
His fingers fanned out over Justin’s stomach and then moved lower, combing through is pubic hair and finally grasping his cock. Justin groaned. He was tired, but there was no way he was going back to sleep now. He moved his hips a little, enjoying the friction of Brian’s hand on his dick, gratified to feel Brian’s erection against his ass. They stayed like that for a while, Brian stroking Justin, not hard enough to get him off, just enough to make him squirm.
Justin pressed his ass against Brian’s groin, the international signal for “now would be a good time to fuck me.” but Brian seemed too drowsy, or too intent on torturing Justin slowly to get the message. Justin decided maybe body language wasn’t enough. He tried words. “Now would be a good time to fuck me.”
He felt Brian move closer, felt his breath against his ear. “Not what you said last night.”
“Actually that was this morning. A few scant hours ago and I really need to go back to sleep so, you know, fuck me. Then you can go in and be on time, Horvath will probably be shocked, and I can get some more sleep.”
Brian laughed, and Justin wriggled out of his grip, mourning the loss of Brian's warm hand around his cock. He was facing Brian now, Brian’s arm still across his body. Their cocks almost touching. Brian’s hand found its way to Justin’s ass. Brian’s hand splayed across Justin's ass and pulled him forward, pressing their bodies together. “You’re pretty demanding. You know that?”
Justin nodded against Brian’s neck. “I’ve been told. I’m also pretty tight. Sure you don’t want to fuck me?”
Brian kissed Justin. Justin ignored the stale cigarette taste and just enjoyed the moist heat of Brian’s mouth and the feel of Brian’s fingers running along the crack of his ass.
Eventually he pulled back. “Brian, I’ve got to work today. I really do need to get back to sleep.”
Brian nodded and pushed at Justin's hip. He rolled over.
He’s pretty fucking confident. Then again, we did agree last night that I’d fuck him in the morning. His arms are folded over the pillow and his face is resting on them, his legs are spread and I swear to Christ, he has to have practiced that casual pose because there’s no way anyone can make me want them this much without putting thought into it. No fucking way.
He grinds against the sheets and his pale skin against the dark blue is… I’m going to fuck him, but first, I really want to taste him again. I want him to want this. He’s acting like he’d be just as happy if I showered and let him jerk himself off. Fuck that.
His skin is amazing. He smells like beer, and tequila, and Babylon, but under that, he tastes like… there aren’t words. It’s musky, and sharp, and acidic and sweet, all at the same time… must be that glitter they make him wear. Whatever. I part his cheeks and he moves. He raises himself up on his knees, just a little. He loves a good rim job, he told me that the first night, when he was too drunk to… or maybe he wasn’t, maybe he was just telling me what he wanted. I’m not going to overanalyze this. He was playing me, or he wasn’t. Either way, kid’s a hellion in the sack when he wants to be. Not now though. Apparently now what he wants is my tongue up his ass. I can oblige. I lick at his hole and he sighs. Just lets out this long breath like he’d been holding it, waiting. I plunge my tongue into him and he lets out a small sound in the back of his throat and pushes himself back against my face. His hand is moving towards his own cock but he’s not coming until I’m inside him. I move his wrist away. He moves it back when I bring my hands back to his ass. Fucker.
I lean over him and get a condom and lube. He takes the lube from me, and almost before I can get the condom on he’s got a finger in his own ass, fucking himself with it. I can’t move my eyes from the sight of that finger disappearing and then reappearing. He adds a second one and I wrap my hand around his wrist again, guiding him. He angles towards his hand. So, good to know, he’ll let me control him, as long as I’m making him do what he was going to do anyway.
I pull his hand away completely and I think he just growled. This little twinkie is growling at me? But he’s not, not really, a twinkie…he really did growl. He’s a man, a cop, and he’s on his knees now, facing me. Um… were his eyes always that narrow?
He pushes me backwards and he’s straddling my hips. Hmmm, he doesn’t seem tired anymore. His hand wraps around my cock, and then he’s lowering himself onto me, slowly. Really really slowly. I bend my knees and plant my feet for leverage pushing up into him but he raises himself up at the same time, preventing me from even taking that much control. The fuck? He’s got one hand on either of my shoulders now and he’s pressing down, further, further. And when he’s almost taken all of me he raises himself up again. I’m going to have bruises on my shoulders…I really don’t care.
He moves 'til just the head of my cock is inside him and I’m about to protest when I think he’s gonna pull off completely but then he slams down onto me, fast. I think I let out an oof, or something. He’s clenching and rippling, hot and tight around me, and he’s moving fast now. Fucking himself on me, angling his hips. He takes a hand off of my shoulder and finds my hand, bringing it to his cock. My dick is up his ass, how did he end up running this show exactly? Who cares? He’s doing an excellent job.
We’re stroking him, his hand still slick with lube, coating his cock, and thus my hand as well. His other hand is on his own thigh and I lay my hand on top of it. I want more contact, I’m not touching him nearly enough. He keeps fucking himself on me until he’s close. I can feel it. I’m about to come. He moves so that the head of my cock hits his prostate and then he just grinds down, making slow circles on me, around me, with me. He’s letting the head hit his prostate with every movement now. His hand guides me to speed up on his cock.
We come at the same time. He shoots across my chest, and I’m coming hard into the condom inside him.
He leans back against my thighs for a second, his arms dangling at his sides, his head back. His eyes are really really blue. I want to sit up and lick his throat. He pulls off of me and rolls back to what has been established as not my side of the bed. I watch him burrow into the pillows and pull the duvet up until I can barely tell he’s still there.
“Thanks. See you later.” He mumbles it against the pillow. I think he’s already half asleep. I guess I’ll shower and go to work.
It’s not until I’m about to get into my car that I realize I’ve just been sent off like a trick, from my own goddamned loft!
Brian had trouble keeping his eyes open most of the morning. He’d only gotten a couple of hours of sleep, and unlike Justin, he didn’t have the luxury of falling back asleep after they fucked. The thought of that made Brian’s cock twitch. He focused on something else. The image of dangerously narrowed blue eyes kept popping back into his head.
He finished a couple of reports he’d been working on and considered calling Justin to see if he was up, and more coherent. He must have found out something last night.
He was still debating when Horvath came by his cubicle. “What’d Taylor find out?”
Brian shook his head. “Don’t know yet. He didn’t get off 'til after three.”
“You tell him about Sunday?”
“You and he…”
Brian looked up at Horvath. “You want to know if we’re fucking?”
Carl shook his head. “I was asking if you were getting along.”
“We’re playing nice, I promise.”
“Just get this thing wrapped up quickly. They’re breathing down my neck.”
“Which is why you’re breathing down mine?”
“That and Debbie.”
“What’s she got to do with the case?”
“Some of her boys are dying. You know diner regulars…”
“Yeah, but you know Deb...”
“Heart and mouth, both too fucking big.”
“Exactly. So she wants this wrapped up.”
“Well, I never disobey a direct command from a superior officer, so if Debbie says fix it...”
Brian nodded and stood up. “I’m heading out. I’ve got to catch Taylor before he leaves for work. Oh, and my hours are gonna change if I’ve got to work this case. It’s not a nine to five thing.”
Horvath raised his eyebrows and then scowled at his coffee. “This shit’s cold. I’ll see what I can do about the hours.”
Brian didn’t say anything. He headed back to the loft. His loft. His loft, from which he’d been summarily dismissed this morning. His anger grew with each block.
By the time he’d reached the loft he’d built up enough steam to have an argument that would be an excellent precursor to some really rough, angry sex, in which he could have the opportunity to prove who was really in control here.
He opened the door ready to roust the sleeping blond from his bed. The bed he owned ALL of, not just one side. both sides were his thank you very much. He was about to say something when Justin slid past him. “Hi, you’re home early. I used your shower, hope you don’t mind. Bye, I’m late for work.”
Justin turned. “Didn’t I tell you about that whole ordering me around like a puppy thing last night? Did I dream that?”
Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Come inside.”
Justin headed towards the elevator. “Can’t. Late. Bye.”
He pulled the grate down and hit the button. Brian was about to say something but the elevator lurched to action and Justin disappeared. Brian cursed and closed the door.
He noticed the place was clean. No crumbs on the counter, although there was one less bagel than there had been this morning. No coffee mug in the sink. He moved towards the bedroom and glanced to see the towel neatly hung in the bathroom and the bed made. He shook his head. Fucking twat kid.
He pulled off his clothes and took a nap. He was tired, he had to go to Babylon tonight to keep an eye on Justin and the brat had better check in with him after his shift.
Justin changed into his new costume and practiced the steps for the new routine; they were having a "Fab Abs" contest. He was suddenly grateful to his mother for making him take those seemingly nonsensical ballroom dancing classes when he was eleven. Although, as he thought about it, he was almost 100 percent positive that memorizing steps while wearing a lime green Speedo and sneakers is not how his mother pictured him using his talents. He reminded himself to call her tomorrow. She’d left three messages over the past week.
When rehearsal was over several of the dancers invited him to join them for dinner. Justin pulled on his jeans and followed them to the nearest pizza place. He walked past a beat cop he recognized and tried his best not to react. The officer was smart enough not to show any recognition and Justin let out a relieved sigh as he joined the other three men in a booth.
After they ordered pizza and a pitcher of beer the attention turned to the new guy. "So, what do you do?"
Justin had prepared his back story. "I’m going to school. Well, I’ll start in the fall. 'til then, just saving money."
"You make enough working in the cage?"
Justin shrugged. "It’s a start. I’ve got some saved up."
"There’s a shortcut to the high traffic dance spots."
"Yeah, not really into that, but thanks."
"He’s not that bad. Gary's a good guy."
Justin highly doubted it, but now was not the time to belabor the point. "I’m okay, thanks."
They were joined by a tall lanky kid a few moments later. "Is Gary pissed?"
"I missed rehearsal. Fuck, was it complicated?"
Morrison, the one who'd first started asking Justin questions, grabbed a breadstick and shook his head. "It’s exactly like the Wet Willy routine. I thought you worked a party last night so you could have off tonight."
"Yeah, but I need the money. Fucking professor requiring another goddamned textbook."
There were five men at the table including Justin; all of them were nodding in commiseration.
"You worked one of Gary’s parties?" Justin tried to steer the topic back to what it was exactly Gary was into, or involved with."
"Yeah, you know, stand around, look pretty..."
Justin had a feeling working for Gary Saperstien required more than that but he didn't push it. "Maybe I can work one; I could use the extra cash."
"I thought you said you were flush."
Justin started to dislike Morrison. "I am, but reserves are always nice. How hard can it be? Stand there, look pretty, I can do that."
He saw a couple of them shift in their seats or fidget with their beer mugs. He knew he was right. One of them might have been about to say something but just then the pizza came and conversation turned a corner. They were laughing and on their third pitcher of beer when Morrison shepherded them all back towards Babylon. Justin got the feeling Morrison was older than he looked, but hey, who wasn't? As Justin trailed behind the boisterous twinks Morrison held him back for a minute. "You’ll do fine tonight."
Justin smiled. Morrison looked like he was about to say something else. Justin waited but nothing was forthcoming so he headed back to the club.
Justin danced; he watched Brian watch him and wanted to tell him to cut it the fuck out. Brian didn't look worried, he looked...angry? Justin wasn't sure but he was sure that Brian’s gaze was going to draw more attention to him. Justin moved closer as Brian slid a ten dollar bill inside his briefs and whispered into his ear. "I’m heading out soon. By four or I swear to Christ I’ll kill you."
"I’ll just go home and meet you tomorrow."
Brian glared. "You want me to blow your cover right now?"
Justin stood up and crossed his thumb over his palm, for just a second, enough to gesture the number four to Brian who watched his hand but made no eye contact. He turned around and Justin watched him pull a tall broad shouldered guy into the backroom. He smiled and caught the eye of an older silver haired man who'd been checking him out all night. He made an extra couple of hundred dollars with a few flashes of this big smile thing he'd learned. He'd been working this particular smile since he was a teeneager. He'd found it was the best way to get teachers to agree to extending assignment deadlines and bosses agreeing to days off.
He and the guys drank a few beers at the bar after they'd changed to street clothes. he saw them passing a bullet throughout the evening but none of them seemed to have died, so it probably wasn't the same batch, or they were more used to it than the people who were dying, or they were getting stuff that hadn't been stepped on a second time and it was the second cutting that was killing people, or, or, or. Justin’s head was spinning with questions but he wasn't drunk when he left a little before four.
At a quarter after four he was at Brian’s door. The door flung open again. Brian seemed to be in a perpetual state of aggravation Justin noticed...and then amended, except when they were fucking.
He decided to fuck Brian first, and talk to him afterwards. Far more sensible than trying to talk to an unreasonably angry man and then trying to get laid.
Brian was aggravated. Justin had come to check in at the loft late, again, and now seemed to be ignoring him completely. Well, not completely. Justin’s hands were splayed against Brian’s chest and pushing him. He felt the sofa hit the back of his thighs and let himself fall. Justin removed Brian’s pants quickly, dropped his own and fell onto Brian, between his naked thighs.
Brian felt Justin’s tongue probing for entrance into his mouth and he resisted, and then opened his lips, pulling Justin’s tongue into him. Sucking on it. Scratching it lightly with his teeth and then nibbling on that full bottom lip for a moment. He let his head fall back then. "Learn anything?"
"Yeah, dancing in a cage is boring, and makes you horny."
"I meant about..."
"I’m bored and horny; we'll talk about work when we've fixed those two things."
Brian wrapped his arms around Justin and pulled him fully on top of him. In a complicated maneuver that involved bending his knees, sliding one foot to the floor for leverage, ignoring the warm flesh grinding against his body, and maintaining control against simply humping Justin’s thigh 'til they both came, Brian flipped their position until he was hovering over Justin, his weight on his arms. His hips between Justin’s naked thighs. "Horny?"
Justin’s legs wrapped around Brian’s hips and his cock, hard, hot, and leaking, moved against Brian’s. "Yeah. Fuck me, then we'll talk."
Brian reached behind Justin, and pulled the condom from behind the pillow. The lube was under the sofa. Justin’s hand found it before Brian’s did. Brian took it out of his hand and then realized his predicament. This kid...man...cop...twink...whatever was way too aggressive. If he used both hands to do the prep work, Justin would no doubt be running the show again in a matter of moments. If he gave the lube to Justin... well, same song, different verse. Finally he handed the condom to Justin, who smirked.
Brian’s brain got enough blood to realize what he'd done. "Put it on me."
Justin nodded and Brian moved forward toward Justin’s hands.
He slid inside Justin almost effortlessly, and was still astounded by how hot and tight he was. By how good he was... how they fit. Justin’s hands were on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Brian's hands were everywhere, and still not touching Justin enough. Brian tried to stop thinking, because this was the second time within this single interaction that Brian had wished for more hands. Stupid. He stopped thinking and just paid attention to the important things. Things like the feel of Justin’s thighs against his hips. Things like the feel of Justin’s teeth nipping at his bottom lip, his mouth sucking Brian’s tongue inside it and then pulling back, causing Brian’s head to follow. He could taste those lips forever. Or well, until he came, which might be any moment now. He pulled back and Justin moved his body with Brian’s. Brian plunged back in and Justin was grunting out commands, demands, directions....Brian didn’t need a GPS to find Justin’s prostate. He tuned out Justin’s words and lost himself in watching Justin shudder under him. He pulled back before Justin could come though. He moved slowly, and held Justin's hands over his head, refusing to let him jerk himself to completion. He was running this show goddammit.
Um... I may have pushed this control freak just a little too far. The look on his face... it's a little scary. His hand is around my wrist. One hand holding them both and I can't really get out of his grip... he's strong. I’m close, but he won't let me touch myself, apparently he's going to do it or it's not going to happen. I want to scream because he seems intent on making this take as long as possible. Now, don't get me wrong, that's not always a bad thing, but it's four thirty in the morning, I’m still getting used to this schedule, I’ve had at least three beers in the last hour and now he wants to take his time? Fuck this. I open my mouth to say something but he leans in and sticks his tongue down my throat. Okay, he tastes really good. It’s weird. I usually HATE guys who smoke, but on him... it's mixed with mint, and bourbon, and coffee, and it's intoxicating. The air is warm and musky around us. Pungent and his eyes are... have I mentioned they're a little scary. I try to talk again but he puts his hand over my mouth. I freak.
He's with me now. Moving with me. He tries to talk and I push my tongue in his mouth. His hands twist in my grip but they're pressed against the arm of the sofa and he won't get loose until I’m ready for him to. His ankles cross behind me and pull me forward. I’m moving slowly now, letting the pressure build again. I’m not sure if I’m gonna let him come this time, or next time, or maybe I’ll just keep taking him to edge and bringing him back all night. He opens his mouth again and I put my hand over it. I expect him to bite my palm, or lick it, either way I’ll remove it in a second... but then he's bucking against me. I look at his eyes and that's not passion... I let go, of all of him. My hands are at my sides, palms up, his legs are not around me anymore, he's using them to push himself against the edge of the sofa. Neither one of us is hard anymore. He’s... fuck, is he crying?
I try to touch his shoulder but he slaps my hand away and glares at me. Nope, not crying. Pissed, but not crying.
"You fucking asshole."
"What the hell was that?"
"That was me not being into rape scenes, you stupid motherfucking control freak."
He’s pulling on his jeans now. Finding his shirt. I don’t want him to leave... not like this.
"Fuck off. You order me around, you feel threatened the moment any one else takes the slightest iniative when fucking, and then you pull something like that. Fuck. Off!"
He’s shaking his head and moving towards the door. "Just tell me what you found out at Babylon."
"Nothing. The Sap hires little twinks as party favors, which is not surprising, most of his boys are college students. Whatever they're taking isn't toxic, and I think the bartenders are in on the distribution thing. Goodbye."
"Sorry." Fuck, did I just say that? Yeah, well, I am, I didn't mean to freak him.
He’s walking towards me now, stalking towards me actually. "You don't say that a lot do you?"
"I’m not usually sorry."
"But you are now? Why?"
How the fuck do I know? "How the fuck do I know?"
"I think you know yourself pretty fucking well."
"Maybe. The bartenders are in on it?"
He nods. "I think so."
"Gonna tell me what the fuck just happened?"
He shakes his head. "I’m going home. Sleeping in my own bed. I’ll see you Sunday."
"You working tomorrow?"
"At Babylon? Yeah, dancing, nothing dangerous."
"I’ll see you after your shift."
"This is getting ridiculous."
"You’re a fucking control freak and I’m not checking in with you every night. I’ll see you Sunday."
I look at him and he runs a hand through his hair... a shaky hand. "Stay here."
"We didn't finish."
Ouch... why the fuck does that hurt? It shouldn’t. Fuck, let him go. He can go home and sleep in his bed, in his apartment with no shelves and shit all over the bed. "Goodbye."
"Brian, I’ll see you Sunday."
I nod. "Sunday."
Oh Christ, that was embarrassing. I just... hate that... fuck, my hands are shaking, and he better not have seen that. It’s after five am, people are starting the morning rush hour and I’m just getting back to my place. I walk most of the way. It's only about thirty blocks, takes me an hour but I’m exhausted by the time I get there and I crash on the small part of the bed that isn’t covered in books. The blinds do little to cut the light and I remind myself to buy some room darkening drapes and some bookshelves this weekend. It’s the last thought I have until I hear my phone.
"Taylor, you have to check in."
"No. Horvath, your boss."
"Oh, Detective Horvath. I'm sorry, I was asleep, I’m..."
"Undercover, yeah, I know. I expect you to check in occasionally."
"I check in with Brian... if I’m seen at the station..."
"Fine. Brian. Every day."
"Every day. Tell him he wins. Goodnight."
Horvath looked up at Brian. "He said to tell you that you win."
Brian grimaced but breathed a little easier. Direct orders from a superior officer. He’d check in.