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stupid.”
Thiago watched him go with a grim smile.
“So,” Thiago said as he jogged to catch up with the other man. “So, the
whole act was just to throw the others off?”
“What act?” Brandt asked as he flicked the lighter open and looked at Thiago
with that same old gleam in his eyes.
“Never mind,” Thiago mumbled.
XXVII.
REMY had given Gray directions to the best place to dump a body, and Carl
negotiated the early morning traffic as Gray quietly gave him driving instructions.
Because of this, Nikolaus was forced to sit in the back, and the poor man was white as a sheet because of his proximity to the body.
He kept sneaking looks to the side where the rolled-up floor rug containing
the body sat leaning against the back of the seat, and Carl couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. They had tried so hard to shield him from the violence all these weeks, and then Remy had just swooped in and shot all their hard work all to hell. Literally.
“So, tell me,” Carl said suddenly as he eased the car to a stop at an
intersection and turned to look at Gray. “When exactly did Remy crack?”
Gray looked at him steadily for several seconds, his arm hanging casually
out the open window as he let his lit cigarette dangle from the tips of his fingers. Carl frowned at him when he realized that the man had yet to take a drag of it.
“Afraid he rigged it, are you?” Carl asked with a small grin.
“Yes,” Gray answered readily. “I’m just waiting for it to take my hand off
when it explodes.”
“Well, you may want to toss that one out and try a new one then, mate.
’Cause he most definitely did something to it.”
Gray hurriedly flicked the cigarette out the window and watched it
suspiciously as it tumbled toward the curb and rolled to a stop, still glowing red at its tip. He accepted the new one from Carl with a wary look.
“It was probably in the filter,” Carl informed him with gleeful malice. He
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didn’t think Brandt had actually put anything explosive in Gray’s cigarette, of course, but a little psychological warfare never hurt anyone. Much.
“Fucker’s mad as a hatter, that’s what Remy kept warning me about,” Gray
said as he lit the cigarette with the car’s lighter and looked in the side-view mirror.
“Maybe so, but we’re used to it,” Carl said with a fond smile. “Remy, on the
other hand, he’s usually more… contained,” he observed worriedly.
“Remy had a difficult month, wouldn’t you say?” Gray replied dryly as he
inhaled deeply and relaxed back into his seat. “But you’re right, he’s not himself. And I doubt he will be again,” he added softly before blowing out a stream of smoke and closing his eyes with a grateful sigh.
“Is it something I’ll have to kill you for?” Carl asked as he pressed the gas
and took them out of the French Quarter. “Are you the cause?”
“Not me, sonny,” Gray answered as he flicked the ashes out the window.
“Who then? What happened to him to make him go all batshit?” Carl
demanded as he took a turn and Nikolaus squeaked as the rug slid toward him.
“From what I understand he was nearly blown up, shot, taken prisoner,
tortured, attacked repeatedly and then shot by his lover of five years, kidnapped, abandoned, and then stabbed… several times over, actually. But worst of all, he was betrayed,” Gray said matter-of-factly. “I mean, I’ve never had a friend or lover close to me like Shawn and Remy were, or are, I suppose, but I know that would hurt. Hell, it would hurt if Remy tried to kill me, and we’ve only known one another for, fuck, half a year? Christ, it feels like longer,” Gray mused with a weary groan as he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
“Close quarters with Remy always does,” Nikolaus murmured from the back
seat as he poked at the rug with his finger, trying to slide it back to its rightful spot.
“Does he have names for you?”
Gray turned around, his eyes sparkling and a genuine smile on his lips. Carl
had to look at him twice as he drove. He was quite a handsome guy, once you got
around the all-encompassing and overwhelming urge to kill him.
“He had all kinds of fucking names for me at first!” Gray said with a little
laugh. “I thought it was ’cause he couldn’t remember my name, and that brought on all sorts of… y’know… concerns over his effectiveness as an agent, y’know?”
“Oh, believe me, I know,” Nikolaus said with a long-suffering look that
made Carl smile as he watched the younger man in his rear-view mirror. They had
heard most of the stories from Remy and Nikolaus’s three months together. Carl
thanked the heavens that he’d gotten Thiago on that venture. Thiago was nice and
safe and calm and sane.
“But when we were planning or whatever, he always called me ‘Boss’ with
this, I don’t know, snide little….” Gray waved his hand through the air as he tried to
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come up with the right word.
“Sneer?” Carl supplied with a small smile. He knew that look well.
“Yes,” Gray said with a smile and a nod at Carl as he turned back around to
watch the scenery pass. “Sarcasm in its purest form. I was giving the orders, but technically, he outranked me, you see, and it really chafed him at first, I think. But then we got closer, y’know? And it became more of an endearment, I suppose. He
still uses the sarcasm occasionally, but now at least it’s tempered with friendship.”
“I don’t think any of us really took note of the fact that the two of you had
history,” Carl realized softly, suddenly understanding Gray and Remy’s actions
better. “He saved your life, yeah? And in turn you tried to save his.”
Gray nodded slowly. “I thought Shawn was trying to kill him. If I’d known
the whole story, I, well, I’m not sure what I would have done. Would’ve still gotten him out of that square, for sure, but….”
“Why would Shawn try to kill him?” Nikolaus asked distractedly as he
poked at the rug again.
Carl looked over in time to see Gray’s jaw clench. “I don’t know the guy,”
he answered in a tight voice. “But when Remy forced me to leave him with all of you, Shawn had just tied us both up and we were awaiting our executions, remember? That seems a pretty good reason not to trust him to me.”
“Right,” Nikolaus said softly, sounding slightly chastised. “Forgot about
that.”
“Must be a nice habit,” Gray responded wryly.
XXVIII.
REMY’S back hit the wall of the tiny shower stall with a wet thud, and Shawn
pressed into him as the shower’s spray beat down on his own back.
“Fuck me, Shawn,” Remy breathed pleadingly, just before their mouths
crushed together.
The hot water beating down on Shawn’s brand new gunshot wound had been
agonizing at first, as had the removal of the copious amounts of duct tape, but Remy had tempered the pain with heated kisses and periodic grinding of their bodies
together. Now, Shawn didn’t notice that he was in pain or bleeding.
“Now,” Remy ordered in a low growl that sent shivers all over Shawn’s
body.
Shawn knew that they weren’t anywhere close to being okay again, but he
also knew that they both needed a release; the type of release they could only give one another. They would deal with all the othe
r problems later.
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Shawn slid his hand down Remy’s slick body, feeling the hard muscles of
Remy’s torso bunch as he tensed with anticipation, and then he leaned in to kiss him hungrily as he slid his hand between Remy’s slightly parted legs. Remy groaned and let his head fall back against the tile wall. They’d fucked in this shower before, but they had both been healthy at the time. Shawn didn’t know how well he could hold
Remy up in the slick stall and still pound into him like he wanted. And God did he need to pound into him. Now.
He slipped his soapy finger into Remy’s body and Remy groaned wantonly,
wriggling his hips slightly and sliding down the wall a little more as his legs parted further, trying to get Shawn’s finger deeper inside him.
Remy’s hands grasped for purchase on Shawn’s wet body. He seemed to be
disregarding his own injuries as well as Shawn’s, and Shawn’s primal instincts began to take over. Remy began to mutter in an indecipherable mash of French, Cajun, and English.
Shawn kissed him brutally once more, and Remy pushed his head forwards,
meeting the momentum of Shawn’s kiss and opening his mouth wide to welcome
Shawn’s tongue with his own. Shawn allowed the other man to suck on his tongue
and paw at him for several long, agonizingly pleasurable moments before he pulled away and curled his fingers once more, watching in fascination as Remy’s mouth fell open and his eyes drifted shut in pleasure.
His other hand gripped the back of Remy’s neck and pulled his head
forward. “Do you want to be fucked, Dixie?” he growled hungrily.
“Fuck,” Remy murmured as his eyes glazed over.
Shawn recognized that look, he had seen it often enough to know what it
meant. The lust had overtaken Remy’s brain, and Shawn knew that the man was
simply listening to the growling cadence of Shawn’s voice now, not really hearing what was being said.
Shawn picked him up by the backs of his thighs and pushed his hard cock
into Remy’s body in one swift movement. Remy cried out again and scrambled to get into a position that allowed Shawn to do what he wanted.
“Fuck, yes!” he cried once more, and one of his hands pressed against the
stall door as Shawn held him by the backs of his thighs and pressed his shoulders hard against the wall. Shawn bit into his collarbone as he rocked into Remy’s body,
waiting for the other man to right himself. The last thing they needed was to bust one or both of their heads open by falling in the shower.
“Brace yourself, lad,” Shawn rasped into Remy’s ear, his accent thick and
hoarse as need coursed through his body.
“Fuck,” Remy breathed as he wrapped one arm around Shawn’s neck and
pressed his foot against the opposite wall to steady himself. It wasn’t a large shower stall, just barely big enough for the both of them to shower together and not bump the
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walls, and its size was perfect for this particular activity.
As soon as Shawn felt some of the weight of Remy’s body lift off his aching
arms he slammed into the younger man with every bit of force he could muster, and Remy cried out and threw his head back, banging it on the tile wall. He didn’t seem to care though, and so neither did Shawn.
Shawn continued to thrust into him, forcing Remy’s lower back to hit the
wall with each powerful thrust. The give of Remy’s body as he suspended himself
between the walls made it difficult for Shawn to get as deep or go as hard as he
wanted, and he kept increasing the power of his thrusts, trying to go deeper and
harder and faster. Some primal urge buried in his brain was screaming at him to
maim, and his body was responding. Finally, Remy pushed away from the wall using
his shoulders and his abdominal muscles, and he held his hips away from the wall
with a strength that would have shocked Shawn if he hadn’t been so busy fucking the other man through the wall.
With that move, Shawn’s thrusts finally met the resistance he had needed,
and he growled into the wet skin of Remy’s neck as he slammed into him. Remy’s
hand squeaked against the stall door as he lost the strength that had been holding it there and the water beat down on Shawn’s back in a dull, thumping rhythm that only added to Shawn’s need to devour the other man.
“Fuck! Shawn! Fuck, yes!” Remy called as his blunt fingernails made red,
ragged trails across Shawn’s shoulder blade. He finally gave up on the wall and he brought his other hand to tangle in Shawn’s hair as his body shuddered
uncontrollably.
Shawn was holding more of his weight now, but he didn’t care. All he cared
about was the hot, wet body pressed against his, and the feeling of his cock once again surrounded by Remy’s more than willing warmth. Remy hissed as his muscles
convulsed around Shawn’s cock, and his come spurted onto both their bodies. When
Shawn finally fought through the fog of lust, he realized that Remy was repeatedly whispering his name as he rode out his orgasm.
Shawn came with a plaintive roar, his movements never ceasing as he tried
desperately to keep Remy pressed against the wall and within fucking distance. Remy clung to him, moaning almost continually until Shawn’s movements finally stopped
and he slid slowly out of Remy’s body. Remy hugged Shawn close and let his feet fall to the ground. Shawn held him almost tenderly as he regained his footing in the slick shower.
Remy slouched against the wall and panted as he looked up at Shawn.
Shawn leaned over him, his hands on either side of the other man’s head.
Remy looked up at him unblinkingly for several seconds, and Shawn tried
several times to meet his eyes, but couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, Shawn,” Remy offered finally.
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Shawn had known him long enough, and seen him in action enough times, to
be able to recognize a real emotion from a fake one. The pain and regret in Remy’s voice were real enough to make Shawn’s heart ache. Shawn closed his eyes and
leaned over to rest his forehead against the tile beside Remy’s head as the water continued to beat down on his now tender back. It was running lukewarm, and Remy
reached to switch it off. As he did so his chest and arm made contact with Shawn’s torso, and Remy hissed in pain and pulled away.
“You’re bleeding,” Shawn observed belatedly as he took Remy’s elbow in
an iron grip and examined the wound on Remy’s bicep. It was deep and clean, an
obvious knife wound, and Shawn frowned at it. “How did you get this, exactly?” he asked, hoping to not only find out what had happened, but also to turn the
conversation away from the painful subjects of who had fucked whom and for what
reason.
“Knife,” Remy replied curtly as he tried to wrench his arm away and climb
out of the shower.
Shawn growled menacingly and pressed Remy back into the wall. Remy
didn’t fight him. Shawn didn’t even see the spark that usually lit Remy’s eyes when they sparred like this, and Shawn knew then that Remy was in far worse condition
than he made out to be. Shawn had never seen Remy’s eyes so lacking in life.
He released the younger man and let him make his escape, but he followed
closely behind. He grabbed a terry cloth robe from the back of the door and shrugged into it with a pained wince as Remy stalked out into the bedroom and began to pace with a towel slung low around his waist.
Shawn watched him prowl back and
forth at the foot of the bed, examining
the lithe body for other wounds that his passion may have caused him to miss. There was the knife wound on his arm, the healing bullet wound on his shoulder, and the purpling bruise on the side of his face, as well as several other nasty bruises along his ribcage and his arms and legs. There was also a long, thin red line just under his chin that Shawn had failed to notice earlier, partially because it could only be seen when Remy was in mid-pace and tilting his head to the side.
Brandt had a similar mark; the slice Carl had made when he had apparently
almost slit the big man’s throat.
The thought of Brandt suddenly slammed into Shawn as he stood there, and
all of his anger was knocked from him like the air whooshing out of a balloon. How could he be angry with Remy? He himself had done far worse than simply fuck
someone else out of spite. He’d been ready to discard the younger man. Shawn’s
stomach flipped uncomfortably and he squeezed his eyes closed before going to sit on the bed in defeat.
“You look guilty,” Remy observed as he stopped pacing long enough to look
at Shawn through narrowed eyes.
“It’s a horrible feeling, that,” Shawn mumbled. “I’ve never done right by
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you, Remy. Not in five years of….” Shawn trailed off and swallowed heavily. What
did he even call it? It seemed condescending to call what they had shared merely a
‘relationship’ or a ‘partnership’ or, God forbid, an ‘acquaintance.’
“Tell me,” Remy begged in a soft, pleading voice as he crawled onto the bed
and toward where Shawn sat. He sounded almost desperate. Was he desperate to find out the truth? Or desperate to have it told to him so he didn’t have to dig for it? Was that it? Did he want Shawn to tell him so badly because he knew he would find out sooner or later? Or did he already know? Was this a test? Was he testing Shawn’s
supposed newfound loyalty by trying to get him to talk first? Was he trying to save Shawn after all that Shawn had done?
“I don’t deserve you,” Shawn said sadly. “I never will.”