Moment of Truth

by Emrys Apollo

  “You come, we get you a dry shirt.” Antony nodded, changing path and leading Desmond out of the function room. Now off the mission Desmond couldn’t think of a reason to say no. As Antony walked him through the lobby, Desmond saw Cassandra stood by the reception desk, talking to the receptionist. For a moment, he thought he was going to leave Antony and head over there to aid Cassandra. He should be there doing that not skiving off a mission with some random guy he just met. But the moment passed and so did he, suddenly finding himself in an enclosed space with Antony as the lift doors shut.

  “You can take this shirt off. I get you a clean on in the room.” Antony smiled, watching Desmond with innocent eyes. Desmond moved to take his blazer off, feeling something hard press against his ribs. Of course he’d forgotten he had his gun hidden under his jacket. Desmond dropped his arms.

  “It’s alright. I can wait until we get to the room.” Desmond said, hitting the number of his floor as the lift started to ascend. Antony frowned at him.

  “Was going to lend you one of my shirts.”

  “I’m not sure I’d fit.” Desmond smirked, looking Antony up and down. This made the man blush cutely.

  “So then we are going to your room?”

  “You appear to be a man who knows what he wants.”

  “Always get what I want.” Antony smiled seductively. Desmond felt like he was being pinned to the wall by Antony’s eyes.

  “You do, do you?” Desmond met his challenge. It was quite likely that after this evening he wouldn’t see Antony again so he was throwing all caution to the wind. The moment was broken by the lift coming to a halt, dinging to signify they had reached Desmond’s floor. Antony followed closely behind Desmond as he walked down the corridor. “Do you mind giving me ten seconds to tidy up? Desmond asked, his hand poised over unlocking the door. Antony raised an eyebrow at him.

  “You want to tidy up?”

  “Wasn’t expecting company… Got pants and socks everywhere.” Antony’s laugh sent another pulse of pleasure through Desmond. He never wanted it to stop. He wanted to hear that laugh again and again.

  “Ok, I give you ten second to tidy your pants and socks.” Antony chuckled. Desmond beamed back at him, unlocking the door and handing the key to Antony.

  “Ten seconds.”

  “I will count.” Antony teased as Desmond slipped into his room. Instantly he dove for the bed, grabbing handfuls of the mission document he had left lying over it and shoving it in his bag. Once the bed was clear he ripped his blazer off, dropping his gun holster and gun into the case before trying to get the black jacket back over his shoulders. He closed the lid over the scruffy contents of the case, kicking it under the bed. He was checking for anything else that looked out of place when the door opened. He was out of time.

  Desmond just prayed he’d managed to hide everything.

  “Your room is much nicer than mine.” Antony praised as he walked in. He set the key lightly on the desk. “And I see no pants or socks anywhere. Very impressed.”

  “Glad you are.” Desmond smiled, loving the little smirk that was playing over Antony’s lips.

  “So…” Antony asked, wandering around the room slowly. He opened up the wardrobe, a little confused to see it empty. “Where is the clean shirt?” Desmond knew exactly where there was a clean shirt, but there was no way he was pulling that case back out from under his bed. He acted on his feet.

  “Never mind about that.” Desmond shrugged, pulling off his jacket and dropping it on the bed. He tucked his bowtie apart, letting it slipped from around his neck. Antony watched him as he popped each button open, carefully peeling the white material off his shoulders.

  “I think you are a man who knows what he wants.” Antony said as Desmond laid his shirt next to his blazer and bowtie. Desmond smiled, standing confidently without a shirt on.

  “I don’t want you getting the wrong idea.” Desmond held his hands up innocently, moving to the wardrobe to get a hanger. Antony passed him one. “You’re the one who ruined my shirt.”

  “And you are the one who invited me up here when you do not have a spare one to put on.” Antony pointed out. “Perhaps you do this on purpose.”

  “Maybe you threw your drink on me on purpose.” Desmond winked, hanging his blazer over his shirt on the hanger. He handed it back to Antony who stored it away, closing the wardrobe with a snap.

  “Should clean you up.” Antony said, his voice a touch breathy, as he approached Desmond. His eyes were unashamedly taking in every inch of bare skin Desmond had on offer. “Yeah…” His hand pressed gently against Desmond’s shoulder as he looked up into the other man’s hazel eyes. “Sticky.”

  “Maybe you should clean me up then…” Desmond was unraveling at the seams. It was like every silken word Antony said was secretly pure filth. Antony had to know exactly what he was doing. That little smirk that Desmond couldn’t get rid of let him know that he definitely knew exactly what he was doing.

  “Take a seat.” Antony said quietly, his hand slowly falling from Desmond as he disappeared into the bathroom. Desmond let himself fall back onto the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in a desperate plea to clam himself down. It had been a while since Desmond had been this aroused and he really wasn’t sure what would happen if he didn’t calm down a bit.

  It could be a very short night if he didn’t calm down a bit.

  “You going to sit up or do you want me to lay down with you?” Desmond sat up quickly, pressing his hands behind his back to stabilize himself. Antony, leaning against the bathroom doorframe, let out a small sigh. “Shame…”

  “We’ve got plenty of time to lay down.” Desmond said, feeling a little more confident now he’d had a chance to breath clear air for a moment. But it really wasn’t going to be a long night if Antony kept walking towards him with that little sway in his hips.

  “Tell me if is too cold or too… Hot…” Antony purred, resting on the bed beside Desmond. Desmond needed anyway to defuse this situation, just for a little while. He had to bite his lip as Antony pressed the warm flannel to his chest, squeezing it so little droplets ran down his taunt stomach.

  “So what does Antony do when he’s not… Doing this?” Desmond asked, his hands tight in the bed sheets. Antony’s hand released on the flannel slightly, taken back by the question Desmond was asking.

  “Are you asking me what I do?” Antony queried. Desmond turned his head to look at him.

  “Yeah… Thought it would be nice to know you a little bit better than ‘Antony’” Desmond shrugged. Still with a frown on his face, and a lot less sexuality, Antony began wiping small circles across Desmond’s chest.

  “I… drive trucks.”

  “Drive trucks? That sounds like fun.” Desmond smiled, finding he loved the little confused pout on Antony’s face just as much as that sexual little smirk.

  “Its okay.” Antony muttered, his eyes fixed on watching what his hands were doing.

  “Not what you want to be doing? Seems a little niche for something you accidently find yourself doing.”

  “No, no I love the it. Papa used to do it with me when I was younger and has been something I always love…”

  “But?” Desmond encouraged. Antony played the flannel in his hands.

  “It’s weird, talking about this with a stranger.”

  “I’m not a stranger.” Desmond nudged. “Come on, you did throw your drink over me.”

  “You are very easy to talk to.” Antony admitted, still looking at his hands.

  “Well, that’s a lovely compliment.” Desmond smiled. “I like listening to your voice.” Desmond winced at his own words. That sounded a lot worse than he had meant it. “No, I mean-”

  “I know what you mean.” Antony grinned, pressing the flannel back to Desmond’s chest. “Where I live, back home, is an old hotel. Is not spooky or anything is just… A little run down. When I was a little boy I used to love it. My sister and me would play there all the time. And there was
an old man who was there, I think he used to run it as a hotel. He would tell us all these stories about the people who stayed there and about the funny things and the wonderful things that would happen. I used to love it, it could make me light up…”

  “It clearly still does.” This expression that Antony was wearing now; this was Desmond’s favorite. Antony was so love-struck with this little hotel, with the idea of owning it or running it. Desmond wasn’t sure which but he wanted to find out, wanted to make it possible for Antony.

  “Anyway,” Antony said, moving so he was straddling Desmond’s waist. He hooked his hands behind Desmond’s neck to stabilize himself as Desmond wrapped his hands around his waist. “How about Desmond?”

  “What about Desmond?”

  “What does Desmond do when he is not bringing strange men to his room?” Desmond couldn’t help but laugh lightly at Antony, holding him a little tighter.

  “I’m a writer.” Desmond lied easily. He hated the way Antony’s eyes lit up after being told his fake occupation. He didn’t like lying to Antony, even if this was only going to be a one-time thing. Antony had been so honest and truthful but Desmond couldn’t return the courtesy. “It’s not that exciting.”

  “It’s amazing. Have never met a writer before.”

  “Gives me an excuse to travel the world.” Desmond shrugged. Antony frowned at him. “I’m a travel writer.”

  “Oh…”

  “See, told you it wasn’t that exciting.”

  Antony blushed, his fingers playing with the wisps of hair at the base of Desmond’s neck. It felt nice… Relaxing… “I hope you do not mind…” Antony started, causing Desmond to open his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them. “It’s just…”

  “No, don’t worry, like I said, there was no expectation.” Desmond smiled lightly. He went to move Antony off his lap but the man gripped to him tighter.

  “No…” Antony shook his head, looking a little annoyed at himself. “You make me feel…” Desmond frowned at Antony as his cheeks heated up. “I never feel like this before.”

  “No…” It was almost relieving to hear that it wasn’t a one-way feeling. “Me neither.” Antony’s head shot up, a small shocked smile on his lips.

  “I think I would like to see you again.”

  “And this means I can’t get you into bed now? Damn me and my charm.” Desmond feigned being annoyed, smirking at Antony to make sure he knew he was joking.

  “Trust me, did not mean for this to happen either. Wasted a good drink on you.” Antony teased.

  “And I wasted a good little strip tease.” Desmond poked. “Here’s a deal, you tell me what you were drinking and I’ll try and I’ll order a couple up and then you tell me more about that little hotel?” Desmond smiled softly, brushing Antony’s hair out of his face.

  “I see, you want to get me drunk.”

  “If that means you’ll stay the night?” Desmond asked hopefully. “I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Desmond said quickly, to avoid any awkward conversations. “I just… I don’t know, I don’t want you to go.”

  “Do not want to go either.” Antony beamed, looking deep into Desmond’s eyes.

  - - -

  Desmond would never forget that night. It was their first night; Antony had told him all about his desire to retire and reopen the little hotel and they had both fallen asleep curled together watching some sappy film. Everything just felt right with Antony, and when Desmond accidently bumped into him again two weeks later on another mission he was certain it was fate.

  Desmond wasn’t a believer in love at first sight but with Antony there was no other definition for it.

  Antony just made his world seem brighter. Made him feel like he’d been living at twenty percent until Antony came along and showed him what he’d been missing. From the moment he had laid eyes on him he knew he loved him, he just didn’t know how to process those feelings for someone he had just met. Scared of what he might be feeling he was happy to take it slow with Antony. Taking it slow allowed them to open each other up and to realize exactly what they meant to each other.

  Desmond tapped the business card on his leg. Maybe the room number was the clue? Squeezing his eyes tighter shut he tried to remember it, but they had stayed in that hotel so many times it could have been one in a million numbers. Did the ballroom have something to do with it? Maybe the drink Antony had spilled? Or was it the song that had been playing? Like hell he could remember that.

  Desmond gasped suddenly, sitting up in spite of the pain. How could he have overlooked something so important? It was screaming in his face and he had looked the other way. How could he have been stupid enough to miss it? Of course that was what Antony was trying to tell him. Of course that’s what the clue was.

  “Desmond?” Jody slurred sleepily as he sat up too, having being woken up by Desmond’s sudden gasp. His half asleep mind took in Desmond sitting up and the crumpled business card in his hand. “Des, what-?”

  “I know, Jody.” Desmond said, a small smile pulling on his lips. “I know where they are.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Jody was pacing. It was really starting to get on Desmond’s nerves. Maybe if he were in Jody’s position he would be pacing too. But he wasn’t and right now he just wanted the man to sit down and stop making him feel dizzy by pacing back and forth. It had been five days. Five days since he had last seen Antony and they had lost Stuart. On cue, Jody paced over to the table beside Desmond’s bed and flipped open the Motorola, slamming it shut when there was no message on it.

  “Jody-”

  “Shut up.” Jody cut in before Desmond could take a breath. Desmond sighed. “I never told you how to feel.”

  “I can’t just sit here and watch you torture yourself, mate.” Desmond said sitting forwards a little. A shot of pain ran down his side, making him fall back into the pillows. “You’re not helping anyone.”

  “No, you’re not helping anyone.” Jody slammed his hands down on the end of Desmond’s bed, causing the man to flinch in shock. “You said you knew.”

  “Jody-”

  “You said you’d worked it out.” Desmond dropped his eyes to the floor. He couldn’t bear to look at Jody like this. “You got my hopes up for what?” Jody yelled, slamming his hand back into the bed frame.

  “I’m sorry-”

  “Doesn’t cut it.” Jody spat, resuming his pacing. Desmond watched him until it made him feel too dizzy again. He dropped his head back into the pillow looking up at the ceiling. How could he tell Jody he had worked it out? He didn’t want Henson knowing. Henson wouldn’t actually go! He’d just set up a steak-out mission that would probably only end up with another agent going missing. No, it was time for Desmond to start taking this into his own hands. If he had done as he had wanted to last weekend he could have Antony back by now and Stuart would still be safely with Jody. Team attacks weren’t going to work. He had to do this alone.

  Henson didn’t even knock as he walked in with Kendrick in tow.

  “Agent Barnett,” Henson nodded. Jody folded his arms, stopping his pacing and giving his attention to his boss. Henson turned his eyes on Desmond. “Sharp.” He nodded again, sliding the table that lay across Desmond’s bed towards him. “I do hope you’re recovery is coming along.”

  “Slowly but surely.” Desmond muttered, folding his arms. He had to drop them the moment they touched his chest; too much pain coursing through his torso.

  “Good.”

  “Had a chance to look at that business card yet, Agent Sharp?” Bowse asked from the screen that Henson had loaded up, his laptop now sat on Desmond’s bed-table. Desmond pressed a button on the remote of his bed to sit him up a little.

  “No… Sorry.” Desmond said sheepishly. His eyes flicked to Jody in the corner as he heard a faint scoff.

  “It’s been five days, Sharp. I’d have thought you’d have been all over it.” Henson said from above the laptop screen.

  “Haven’t you got anyone else working on it?�
�

  “If the hotel on the card was where we thought they were then yes, but it is believe that Abascal left the clue for you, therefore we expect only you to be able to decipher it.”

  “So you’re doing nothing?” Desmond asked. Just as he had suspected. Henson rolled his eyes.

  “We have a team based around the hotel, just in case that is where they are being held, but apart from that we have nothing to go off.” Kendrick explained.

  “That place really means nothing to you?” Henson asked, his tone serious. Desmond just shrugged lightly. They had a steak-out team set around the first hotel and that’s all the ever intended to do at the arena. It was clear MI6 really didn’t want to get their hands dirty.

  “Well-”

  “Jody.” Desmond cut in sharply as Jody began to speak. The man froze, his mouth open as if he were about to carry on talking but his eyes were knowing. Desmond didn’t look away.

  “Well what?” Henson asked, looking between the two agents. Jody just blinked.

  “No… Nothing…” Jody said, his voice too high to be normal. Desmond sent him a dark look before turning back to Henson.

  “Like I said, nothing important comes to mind initially. I’ll keep thinking.”

  “So no update to report?” Henson exasperated. Desmond just shrugged again.

  “48 hours, Sharp. Then I want an update. You better get thinking.” Bowse ordered before his image disappeared. Henson slammed the lid of the laptop shut.

  “It’s not just your little friend on the line, Sharp. We’ve lost one of our best agents.” Henson shot darkly.

  “That was a bit careless of you. Should be more careful where you leave these things.” Desmond sent back, his tone dry. Henson stormed from the room with Kendrick right on his toes. Desmond had about six seconds after the door had closed before Jody’s hands were tight in his collar.

  “Hey!”