Forever

by Tinnean

  Quinn had the half-and-half and the sugar I kept for him already there, and he took a seat.

  The microwave dinged, and I went to it to retrieve the maple syrup. He fixed his coffee, then took the pitcher I handed him and drizzled the warm syrup over his sandwich.

  I made a production of doing the same, wanting him to take the first bite, watching out of the corner of my eye to see his reaction.

  A slow smile crossed his face. “This is delicious! You did good, Vincent.”

  “I keep telling you I’m the best.” I sliced off a corner of the sandwich, dipped it in some of the syrup on the plate, and put it in my mouth.

  It was good.

  V

  I KEPT him distracted during the day. There were CDs in the player by artists I knew he’d enjoy: Diana Krall, Ella Fitzgerald, Dinah Washington, Sarah Vaughan. I’d first taken note of them when I’d paid a little visit to his town house this past spring.

  As the music started, I opened the board for the game on the coffee table in the living area and made myself comfortable on the floor.

  “Monopoly, Mark?”

  “I like Monopoly. Sit.”

  “I just didn’t expect you to have the kind of game that took two or more players.” He sat across from me

  “Hey, I’ve got Trivial Pursuit and Jenga around here somewhere too, you know.”

  “What? No Clue?”

  “Nah. Once I saw the movie, I could never take it seriously again.”

  That made him laugh. His hand hovered over the game pieces.

  “I’d like the horse and rider, if you don’t mind?”

  “Knock yourself out.” I took the cannon. “Okay, let’s roll the dice to see who gets to be the banker.”

  Quinn won that roll, and once he doled out the cash, we began to play in earnest.

  He bought Park Place as soon as he landed on it, and Boardwalk, as well as Pacific, North Carolina, and Pennsylvania Avenues, enabling himself to build houses and hotels on those choice properties.

  On the other hand, I was able to monopolize the railroads and the Electric Company and Water Works.

  “Are these dice loaded?”

  “Quinn! I’m cut to the quick!”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet. You didn’t answer me, though. Are they loaded? No one can roll boxcars six times in a row.”

  “No one who isn’t me. Here!” I tossed the dice across to him. “Check them out for yourself.”

  Bastard actually studied them, turning them over and over carefully.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You will later.” I waggled my eyebrows at him. “Never mind. If you’re satisfied the dice aren’t loaded?” He nodded. “Good. It’s your turn now anyway.”

  We played to a draw and then decided to break for a late lunch.

  “How do heroes grab you?”

  If it had been him asking me that, I’d have said, “By the balls,” but Quinn was too classy for that. Instead, he said, “Sounds good. Where are we going?”

  “My kitchen. I’ll make us a couple.”

  Quinn gave me a puzzled look. “You never have food in your refrigerator. Oh, maybe there are some containers of takeout, or a couple of eggs, but….”

  I took a large loaf of Italian bread from the bread box and then retrieved cold cuts from the fridge, as well as stuff to top the heroes: lettuce, tomatoes, olives, Greek peppers, onions, and a vinaigrette dressing.

  His mouth dropped open.

  “Get us a couple of beers, okay?” I looked at the onions. Should I go for it? Yeah, why the hell not? We were both going to have them, after all.

  “How did you manage to get all this here? And how could you know we’d be here today?” Once Quinn took the beers from the fridge and put them on the table, he came back to the counter to watch as I assembled the heroes.

  “I did used to be a Boy Scout, you know.” One of my old lady’s men had been a Scoutmaster. He’d lasted longer than most of the others, but even after she’d kicked him out, he’d still looked out for me.

  “I can see you as always being prepared, Mark, but you in one of those uniforms?” He shook his head.

  “I looked pretty damn good in khaki.” I brought the plates with our heroes to the table and set one in front of him.

  “Yes, I imagine you did.” He smiled, pulled my head down, and kissed me.

  I was breathing heavy when he let me go, and he was looking like the cat that had swallowed the cream.

  “Now, suppose we eat? I’m starved!”

  VI

  AFTER lunch, we cleaned up the kitchen—he wouldn’t let me shoo him into the living area while I wiped up crumbs and put the plates we’d used into the dishwasher—and then I picked out a DVD and inserted it into the player his mother had given me as a token of thanks for getting him back.

  I picked up the remote, sat on the couch, and put my feet up on the coffee table. Quinn made himself comfortable by toeing off his shoes and stretching out beside me, his head in my lap.

  The movie started, and he laughed. “Clue?”

  “Yeah.”

  Leslie Ann Warren hadn’t even made her appearance as Miss Scarlet before Quinn’s breathing had deepened, evened out, and he’d fallen asleep.

  I petted his hair and settled in to watch the movie.

  VII

  SOMEONE was shaking my shoulder.

  “Huh?”

  “C’mon, Mark. Wake up!”

  “Quinn? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

  “I was asleep. It’s almost seven.”

  “A.m. or p.m.?”

  “P.m.”

  “Okay, baby. I’ll make you dinner in a second.”

  “Never mind dinner. You’re going to get a crick in your neck if you keep sleeping that way.”

  That was so sweet of him, to worry like that. “Okay. I’m awake.” My eyelids slid shut again.

  “I’m not being sweet.” He poked me. “Where’s my cell phone?”

  That woke me up. “Why? Are you going to call your mother to cancel tomorrow’s ride, I hope?” I stretched and yawned.

  “In your dreams, Vincent.” Of course he wouldn’t do that. “I need to check my messages.”

  “I thought you said barring a national emergency you didn’t want to be bothered.”

  “I still need to check my messages.”

  “I promised your mother you wouldn’t go anywhere.”

  He held out his hand and tapped his foot on the carpet. It didn’t have quite as much impact, since he was still without shoes.

  “You’re too damned conscientious, Mann.”

  “My phone, Vincent.” He waggled his fingers impatiently.

  “Damned spook.” I went to the cabinet where I kept paper goods and took out a roll of paper towels still in its wrapper. Quinn watched, his eyes getting wider and wider, as I slid back the plastic wrap and shook his slim phone free of the cardboard tube. “Here. But don’t think you’ll be going anywhere.”

  “What about dinner?”

  “I’m making you a steak. Along with a baked potato and steamed green beans.”

  “What, no dessert?”

  “I’ve got an apple crumb pie in the freezer.”

  “I knew Aunt Jemima would put in an appearance.”

  “It’s Mrs. Smith’s, Mann.”

  Quinn ran his fingers over my ear. “I know. I was just teasing you.” He tugged my ear lobe. “Thank you.” He flipped open his phone, punched in the code that would give him access to his messages, and held it to his ear.

  I wrapped my fingers around his wrist.

  “Mark?”

  “Why did a green light flash on your cell phone?”

  “What are you talking about? There’s no—”

  “No?” I took it from him and demonstrated what I’d seen.

  “I never….” Quinn sounded shaken. After a second, the light went out, but I had no doubt that it had triggered whatever program it had been designed to activate. He never would have seen it.


  “Do you keep your phone on you at all times?”

  He frowned at me. “Of course. What kind of officer wouldn’t?”

  “At all times?”

  “I told you, yes. What are you driving at? The only time I don’t is if I’m at—” He turned pale. “At Langley. There was no need to have it with me if I was taking a meeting.”

  “And you felt comfortable leaving it on your desk.”

  “Yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Director Holmes has been giving me a particularly difficult time lately.”

  You just couldn’t trust the C-fucking-I-fucking-A.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Gregor suggested—Jesus, I can’t believe I’m talking about this.”

  “To me? Why? Because I’m WBIS?”

  “Asshole. Because I never talk to anyone about this.”

  I could accept that. “What does Novotny think is the problem?” The former FBI agent was a pain in the ass, but he’d been good then, and he was good now.

  “He thinks you’re the problem.”

  “Fuck. Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” I took back my good thoughts about him.

  “No, he thinks Holmes is pissed because you, a WBIS agent, rescued all the personnel who had been kidnapped by Prinzip.”

  “My name was never mentioned. As far as any of the other organizations know, the Division handled the whole operation. I’d have thought he’d just be grateful that he got his people back in one piece.”

  He squeezed my arm. “Unlike the WBIS. I’m sorry, Mark. If he’d moved faster….”

  I shrugged. It was bad enough the WBIS lost three good men and the little finger of Browne’s right hand. To think we’d lost them because of a fucking waste of a CIA director…. I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind.

  “Do you have someone you trust who can see what that flashing light is all about?”

  “Yes. Gregor.”

  “Okay, then.” I felt as if I’d bitten into a lemon. But if Quinn trusted him…. “See that he gets the phone.”

  “But—”

  “I’m going to change.”

  “Mark—”

  “Shut down that motherfucker and put your shoes on. You’re coming with me.”

  “Where are we going?” He followed me into the bedroom and watched as I shed my sweatpants and pulled on a pair of jeans.

  “Out.”

  “I thought you told Mother we weren’t going out.”

  “Change of plans.” I stepped into a pair of loafers, slipped my arms into my shoulder holster, and clipped my own cell phone onto my belt. “We’re getting you a new cell phone.”

  VIII

  QUINN had his new phone. It was a cute little toy, with advanced voice recognition, picture, text, and enhanced messaging, a VGA camera with LED flash, and Web access capability.

  It was the same number, though. Quinn insisted, and I agreed. Why give Holmes any clue that we—that Quinn was on to him?

  “What are you going to do about Holmes?” I asked him as I unlocked the door to my apartment in the sequence that wouldn’t get us blown up.

  “Nothing. I’ll play dumb for the time being, and wait to see what his next move will be.” He saw my scowl. “Yes, I have no doubt you’d deal with him differently—”

  “Much differently!” I opened the door.

  Quinn walked in, switched on the light… and I got that funny feeling again because he knew where things were in my apartment. He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “But for the most part, what he’s been doing has been petty and annoying.”

  “You call being sent to Bangkok for no good reason a petty annoyance?”

  He looked at me sharply, but I wasn’t about to tell him how I’d known the trip had been useless from the get-go.

  His expression smoothed out, and he shrugged. “Well, I returned home in one piece, so I have to consider whatever else happened to be petty.”

  “All right,” I growled as I locked the door behind us. “I’ll give you that. Y’know, I could—”

  “No, Mark.” He removed his jacket.

  “Yeah, but—” I took it and hung it in the coat closet, then did the same with mine.

  “No. This is my problem. I’ll deal with it.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re giving up awfully easily.”

  “Geez, there’s no pleasing some people,” I griped. “I wanted to do something, and you said ‘no’. I said ‘okay’, and you’re suspicious.”

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  “There, you see? You’re even confusing yourself!” I jumped. “Hey!” He’d pinched me.

  “Don’t make me have to get tough with you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I swung him around, backed him against the wall, and leaned into him, kneeing his thighs apart and bracing my forearms on either side of his head. “Show me,” I murmured against his lips as I nuzzled them.

  His arms came around me. “I thought you were from Massachusetts. Hey!”

  It was my turn to goose him. “Smartass.”

  “That’s why you like me.” He rocked gently on my thigh, and I shivered as his erection nudged mine. “Now, are you going to feed me or make love with me? Because, you know, I’m up for either one.”

  I licked his lips. “Decisions, decisions.”

  “Let me see if I can make it easier for you, then. Have I ever mentioned how incredibly hot you look in a shoulder holster?”

  “You… you think I look hot?” My cock pushed against the confines of my shorts, the skin over my cheekbones felt tight, and heat rose from my collarbone to my eyebrows.

  “Oh, yes.” He rubbed his lips back and forth over mine, the light friction driving me crazy. “Do you remember in Paris, when you brought me my guns? You already had yours back in place. It was all I could do not to drop to my knees in front of you, unzip your fly, and go down on you right there.” His eyes locked on mine. “In spite of the fact that we had an audience.”

  Then abruptly, our positions were reversed, and I was up against the wall. Quinn ghosted his fingers over my fly.

  “You’re killing me, baby.” I reached for the button that fastened the waistband of my jeans, but he brushed my hand away.

  “Have a little patience.” He slid down to his knees and ran his palms up and down my thighs.

  The quiet of the room was broken by harsh breathing, the sound of him lowering my zipper, a moan as he mouthed the material covering my cock.

  And then somehow my jeans and shorts were down around my knees, and he stroked the flesh where thigh and groin joined. He licked and nibbled up and down the length of the hard flesh that he’d freed, blew across the tip, and began to take me in, inch by quivering inch, until I was lodged in his throat.

  Quinn swallowed, and the movement was a visceral caress. Electric shocks zapped up my spine to the base of my brain and short-circuited any rational thought.

  Garbled vowels and consonants spilled from my lips, and I tipped my head back, closed my eyes, and fisted my hands in his hair while I tried not to buck into his mouth, tried to concentrate on breathing.

  His finger teased its way between my ass cheeks and dipped into my hole, and I shook and battled back the urge to come. It was too soon. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to stay like this forever, leaning against a wall in my apartment, the harness of my shoulder holster digging into my back.

  What did that matter with Quinn crouching at my feet, working that finger into my ass and sucking on my cock as if it were his only hope of survival?

  I let his hair sift through my fingers and grabbed for the base of my cock. Quinn growled, and my hand stopped in midgrab. He hummed in approval—I felt the vibration through every nerve in my body—and his teeth lightly scored my cock, he curled his tongue around the crown and tugged, and then he returned to sucking me off.

  His finger found my prostate and rubbed across it relentlessly, and between that and the suction of his talented mouth, I f
ound myself teetering on the brink of orgasm.

  Last night I hadn’t come; it had been about Quinn, about making sure he was relaxed and sated enough to sleep.

  Now, I looked down to find Quinn watching me, his pupils so dilated with passion that his eyes were almost black, and I knew he’d be there to catch me.

  I let myself go and came so hard that for the first time in my life, I blacked out.

  WHEN I recovered enough to know what was going on, it was to find myself lying on my front, a pillow under my hips. My shoulder holster had been removed and my jeans and shorts dragged down my legs to my ankles, but my shoes were still on, and so they were trapped there.

  Quinn leaned over me, stroking the curves of my ass, the material of his clothes rough against the nakedness of my lower body. He ran his lips along the curve of my jaw, and I thought he was going to tongue my ear, but instead he whispered, “I want to fuck you.”

  “Ye… yes.” I got my knees under me. I knew it wouldn’t take much for him to have me ready.

  He worked a slicked finger into me, and then another one. I groaned at how good the stretch felt. The hand on my hip that was steadying me was shaking.

  So, yeah, he was driving me crazy, but he was coming along with me for the ride.

  “I don’t need careful, Mann.” Unwittingly I repeated his desperate demand from the early hours of the morning, and he responded the same way I had.

  “I know what you need.” He nipped an ass cheek, and then his cock was at my hole and he entered me with a slow, steady push.

  I rested my cheek on my folded arms and let him have his way with me, too relaxed to wonder where the lube had come from or when he’d put on a condom.

  “I used to be a Boy Scout too, Vincent.”

  I would have laughed to have my earlier words tossed back at me again, but I was feeling too good. His cock kept brushing against my prostate, and though I couldn’t get hard again so soon, waves of pleasure inundated me.

  He pushed my sweatshirt up under my arms, slid his hands around my torso, and ran his fingertips through the hair that sparsely covered my chest. As sated as I was, I waited impatiently for him get his hand around my cock. Instead, he trailed his fingers down the center of my body to circle and dip into my navel. God, he was driving me crazy!