by Abigail Roux
other man as he slowly pushed into him. Brandt moaned and tried to push down with his hips, but Carl’s fingers dug into his hipbones and stopped him. Words flew in one ear and out the other with Brandt, and this was the only way Carl knew to let Brandt know how he felt. He intended to do it right.
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Brandt shuddered as Carl finally sheathed himself completely; they both
gasped and stared at one another raptly. Carl kept his movements slow and deliberate, just the way he liked it, and soon Brandt was begging and whimpering, pleading with him to go faster.
“Please! Fuck me, Trigger! Please go harder, please make me burn!” the man
begged.
But Carl had no intention of making Brandt burn. For once, he wanted
Brandt to feel what he felt: a slow, cold swelling of emotion.
“Come for me, Brandt,” Carl whispered, savoring the name as it came out of
his mouth. “Come all over yourself. Let me feel you. Let me see you.”
Brandt groaned and his cock jumped against Carl’s body. Carl gripped
Brandt’s hips and thrust into him, pulling at him and sitting back on his knees as he did so. Brandt allowed himself to be manhandled until his hips were resting on top of Carl’s thighs and Carl was just barely moving inside him.
“Come all over yourself,” Carl repeated enticingly as he took Brandt’s cock
in his hand and began a fast, steady rhythm. “I want to see it.” Brandt’s hand went to the headboard and scrambled for something to grip as his entire body began to shake.
He was so close; Carl could feel the rhythmic tensing of his muscles as he fucked him. “I want you to come. I want to lick you clean,” he coaxed as he started moving faster inside the other man.
“Fuck yes! Carl!” Brandt cried out, the first time either of them had ever
heard Carl’s name spoken by the other man. He groaned and shuddered, and thrust
into Carl’s hand with a muted roar as Carl jerked him off. His come spurted across his muscular stomach, and Carl immediately rubbed his free hand slowly through the
milky fluid even as more covered the backs of his fingers.
Brandt was breathing hard and moaning constantly, and his head thrashed
back and forth with each of Carl’s powerful thrusts into him. Carl spread his hands over Brandt’s stomach and massaged his torso as he pushed into him, and when
Brandt finally looked down to investigate Carl’s activities, he groaned wantonly at what he saw. Carl was leaning over him, holding Brandt by his sticky waist, his
fingers digging into Brandt’s ribs as his hips moved faster. Brandt’s orgasm had
destroyed Carl’s self-control, and he thrust into Brandt’s body with as much force as he could manage as he licked over Brandt’s chest and sucked on his nipples one by one.
Carl continued to lick and rub Brandt’s come into the man’s skin, and by the
time he lost complete control and was forced to shift and really begin pounding into the other man, Brandt was shivering as the cold air hit his moistened body.
“That’s what I feel,” Carl gasped as he thrust into Brandt and they both
moaned in pleasure. “You feel the cold?”
Brandt groaned in response and dug his fingers into the bedcovers.
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Carl pounded into him and marveled at how stunning the man was laid out
like this. The heat engulfed him and Brandt’s clenching body surrounded him as he moved. He pulled almost completely out and then rammed back in with all his might.
Brandt called out his name again and sent Carl plummeting over the edge.
“Fuck, yes,” he murmured over and over as he rocked his hips and clung to
Brandt. He cried out wordlessly as he came hard into Brandt’s shivering body.
He collapsed against Brandt as soon as the aftershocks had ceased, and
Brandt held him close as their sweating bodies stuck together pleasantly.
“You feel that?” Brandt panted as he wrapped his arms around Carl and
pulled him up to stretch out by his side. “You feel cold like that? All the time?” he asked with a hint of sorrow in his soft voice.
They both lay on their sides, facing one another and breathing heavily. Carl
slid his arm beneath Brandt’s head and kissed his forehead tenderly. Brandt slung his leg over Carl’s hip as they stared into one another’s glazed eyes.
“My whole world is cold, Wally,” Carl whispered matter-of-factly. “It’s all
cold steel and cold nights… turning off emotions in order to do a job. Well, it was, until you blew it all to Hell.”
Brandt smiled and rolled slightly until he was half on top of Carl, and he
reached to the edge of the bed where the forgotten box remained. He picked it up and rolled back to his previous position, cuddled into Carl’s embrace. He opened the box slowly and looked inside.
“You got me another lighter,” he said in a soft, pleased voice. “The other one
was tainted. But you knew that, didn’t you? You got me another one,” he murmured
as he tore his eyes away from the new lighter and looked up into Carl’s eyes.
“Yeah,” Carl whispered as he ran his knuckles over Brandt’s cheekbone and
licked his lips nervously. There was no other time to do this. Soon, they would be running again, and Carl was good enough at his job to know that anything could
happen to any of these men at any time, no matter how much he loved them. “Promise me something,” he requested in a tentative whisper as he rubbed his hands up and
down Brandt’s hard, muscular chest.
“Anything,” Brandt whispered as his eyes closed slowly and he arched
sideways into Carl’s touch.
Carl scooted forward and kissed Brandt chastely before moving to whisper in
his ear. “Promise you’ll stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.
“Stay with you?” Brandt asked in a breathless voice as he unconsciously slid
his body closer and rubbed against Carl like a puppy trying to get comfortable. “What do you… where? When?”
“Anywhere,” Carl said as he kissed Brandt’s temple. “For as long as you can
stand me. I want you with me,” Carl admitted in a barely audible voice.
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Brandt froze and his breath caught as Carl’s heart beat wildly in his throat.
“So you were asking me to marry you,” Brandt finally teased with an
amused grin as he nuzzled his face against Carl’s chest and inhaled deeply.
Carl smiled despite the evasive manner of the response.
“You’re stuck with me now, Trigger,” Brandt whispered, so softly that Carl
almost missed it.
“You’ll stay with me?” Carl asked hopefully, his tone almost disbelieving as
he hugged Brandt close.
Brandt shimmied even further into the embrace and wrapped his arms around
Carl’s body before looking up and kissing him on the tip of his chin. “I’ll stay with you. I’ll keep you warm,” he whispered.
XXXIV.
SHAWN watched Remy closely, trying to decipher the other man’s mood before he
said or did anything that would exacerbate Remy’s irritation. He desperately needed Remy to give him some sign that he could follow him to the master bedroom; if that sign didn’t come, then Shawn knew all was lost for the two of them. All he wanted was to talk to the other man and hold him. Just hold him.
Remy stood and watched Carl and Brandt withdraw into the bedroom, and
then he turned and shuffled down the hall away from Shawn without another word.
Shawn’s heart sank, and he stood with his head bowed, watching Remy’s feet as they moved away
from him. Remy stopped as he reached the doorway and turned around.
Shawn looked up quickly and met Remy’s soft brown eyes.
“Coming?” Remy asked softly.
Shawn swallowed the lump in his throat and ducked his head gratefully as he
started forward. Once inside the room, Shawn leaned against the closed door, feeling as if there was nowhere left to hide. He wanted to hide. He needed to hide almost as much as he needed to tell Remy everything.
“So you’re a Hunter?” Remy asked in a low voice as he padded over to the
bed and stood beside it, looking down at it idly.
Shawn had a strange sense of déjà vu as he watched the other man. “Yes,” he
answered gruffly.
“Will you tell me about it?” Remy asked as he turned to look at Shawn
appraisingly.
“Yes,” Shawn said eagerly, and he took a step forward.
Remy smiled and turned back to the bed. “What should I call you, then?” he
asked as he looked at Shawn over his shoulder. “Elmer?”
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Shawn snorted and grinned before he could stop himself. He took several
tentative steps toward the other man. Remy had always made it easy. Easy to love
him. Easy to forgive him. Easy to be forgiven. He closed the distance between them slowly.
“Which is it, Mr. Fudd?” Remy asked. His eyes were twinkling even as his
voice grew low and mockingly serious. “Duck season or rabbit season?”
“Silly wabbit,” Shawn murmured as he circled his arms around Remy in a
gentle embrace and kissed him slowly.
Remy muttered something unintelligible and wrapped both of his arms
around Shawn’s neck, but almost immediately he hissed and jerked away. Shawn let
him loose as if he’d suddenly been burned.
Remy looked at him apologetically. “Shit,” he breathed as he let his right
arm hang limply by his side and rubbed it gingerly. “Sometimes I forget that it hurts,”
he said ashamedly. He closed his eyes and hummed quietly as Shawn ran gentle
fingers over his cheekbone and down the side of his face.
“How did it happen?” Shawn asked curiously as he let his fingers travel up
and through Remy’s short hair. “And why did you cut your hair?” he asked sadly
“Those two events are shockingly related, actually,” Remy said absently as
he looked at Shawn. “God, I missed you,” he said dazedly as he stepped closer and hugged Shawn to him. His arms slipped around Shawn’s waist carefully and he buried his face in Shawn’s neck as he pulled him close. Shawn stood there stiffly for several seconds, his brain not fully realizing that he should be performing some sort of action in return. Remy was hugging him. Not seducing him or kissing him or embracing him passionately, but simply hugging him.
Shawn thought he might cry. He hugged Remy back, wrapping him in a soft,
tender embrace.
“Will you hold me, Shawn?” Remy asked in a voice muffled by Shawn’s
skin and the gauze in which Remy had wrapped him after their shower.
“Forever,” Shawn murmured into Remy’s short hair. Even now the damp
hair was trying to curl, and Shawn smiled into the shower fresh scent of the other man.
They both laughed softly at the words. They had never been very romantic
with one another, and even now, even when it felt good to commit and say the words, it still struck them both as funny.
“C’mon,” Shawn laughed gently as he pried Remy loose and pushed him
gently toward the bed. “Do you want me to wrap your arm first?”
“Yeah,” Remy said as he ran his hand idly over Shawn’s chest. He sat on the
edge of the bed and Shawn gathered the gauze and peroxide Remy had used earlier.
“He caught up to us in Los Angeles, at the airport,” Remy said as his eyes followed
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Shawn’s movements. “We knew he had been following us, but we didn’t expect him
to attack us. He was just a Paint, y’know? I’ve never heard of one attacking like that.”
Shawn nodded and sat beside Remy. “It is unusual. He did this, then?”
Shawn asked as he indicated the knife wound on Remy’s arm. Remy nodded and
Shawn’s eyes were drawn to the red line beneath his chin. “And this?” he inquired as he let his knuckles brush over Remy’s jaw.
“That too,” Remy said. “I went to the bathroom while Gray was checking the
message drop Thiago always used.”
“You were in contact with Thiago?” Shawn asked as cold rage threatened to
boil up. If Thiago had known all along that Remy was alive and he hadn’t told Shawn, there would be hell to pay!
“No, no,” Remy said quickly as he patted Shawn’s knee soothingly. “But we
checked by phone every day, just in case. Anyway, he attacked me in the toilet.
Didn’t even have the decency to let me zip back up first!” Remy continued in outrage.
Shawn grinned and dabbed at the wound. That was so like Remy, to be
insulted by the fact that he’d been attacked with his willy out instead of by the fact that he’d actually been attacked.
“Ow.”
“Sorry,” Shawn murmured as he looked at the wound. His eyes were
carefully avoiding the urge to dart up and look at the pink scar his own bullet had created, and instead he examined the knife wound. It was deep, probably a defensive wound. Shawn could imagine Remy standing at the urinal and hearing the scuff of a shoe behind him, then turning just in time to block the killing blow. Shawn shivered as the mental image played itself over and over.
“That’s okay,” Remy muttered. “We scuffled for a bit, but he overpowered
me. I couldn’t use my right arm, you see,” he went on almost defensively. “When
Gray finally came in, the guy had me on my stomach, holding my head back by my
hair and getting ready to slice my throat open. That’s where this came from,” he said with a wave of his hand at his throat. “Gray killed him just as the knife cut into me.
He threw a dagger at him. Really cool move,” he finished with a small appreciative smile.
“Had you by your hair, huh,” Shawn said as he wrapped the wound with
gauze. “That’s why you cut it?”
“Yeah. We figured we needed to eliminate as many useful handles as we
could,” Remy muttered almost shyly.
Shawn ran his fingers through Remy’s hair affectionately. “All done,” he
said quietly.
“Good. Now it’s your turn. I want to know everything. From the beginning.”
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XXXV.
“THREE hundred dollars for a train ticket?” Thiago yelled into the phone.
Nikolaus looked at the words Thiago had written on his little white pad as he
spoke to the person from Amtrak, and he furrowed his brow in confusion.
“Is that for all seven or… Jesus Christ, I don’t want to buy the damn thing, I
just want to ride on it! Fine, fine. It’ll take how long? Are they still laying the fucking track? All right, all right. Yes, that’ll do. Seven, yes. Thank you.”
Thiago slammed the phone down and looked at Nikolaus disbelievingly.
“Why are we going through D.C. and Chicago to get to Spokane?” Nikolaus
asked as he pointed to the scribbles Thiago had made. “Would it not be quicker to, you know, walk or crawl maybe?”
“I don’t know,” Thiago huffed is disgust. “Probably. Why are we paying
more than we would for a plane ticket to do it?” he countered in agitation.
“Remy seems to be fully loaded, I don’t think he’ll mind the expense,”
Nikolaus pointed out as he sat back and looked at Thiago carefully. “Does all this money come from you and your activities?” he asked suspiciously.
“No. I don’t know where he gets it from,” Thiago answered uneasily.
“Are you really the Archer?” Nikolaus asked suddenly, unable to control his
sudden urge to inquire further into the matter.
Thiago stared at him steadily for several long seconds, his icy blue eyes
making Nikolaus squirm. “I am,” Thiago finally answered, his tone apologetic.
“Then why the hell don’t you ever know what’s going on?” Nikolaus
demanded angrily. “I mean, you have agents running wild every which way and
people trying to kill us and–”
“I think, perhaps, the situation is no longer within my grasp,” Thiago
murmured grimly. “The only option we have left open to us now is to turn tail and run.”
XXXVI.
BRANDT was drifting somewhere between awareness and sleep, but when he heard
the dull thump his eyes snapped open and he was immediately awake and tense. He
remained still, his head resting on Carl’s shoulder and his leg still slung over the other man’s hip possessively.
Carl was awake; Brandt could feel him breathing shallowly. You never held
your breath when you were trying to listen. Shawn had taught Brandt that. You ended up hearing the blood rushing through your body and your own heartbeat, instead of external sounds. On remembering this, Brandt released the breath he was holding and
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listened intently. He started to move but Carl tightened his grip and Brandt froze.
“It’s okay,” Carl whispered into Brandt’s hair. “It’s just Zed.”
“How do you know?” Brandt whispered back as his body relaxed against
Carl’s. It struck him then, just how much he trusted the other man. For the first time he could remember, Brandt was entrusting someone else with his life. The realization made him smile.
“He mumbles to himself when he’s fucked off,” Carl answered with a smile