by Angel, Orithain and Rina
Bolting upright, he groaned as every single part of him screamed in agony.
All around him the warehouse burned. He remembered... Michael. Going back
in for Pouchie, Li Ann and Vic racing inside, Vic screaming out his name.
Vic. Oh God... "VICTOR!!!!"
Stumbling to his feet, the younger man ignored the burning wood, falling
timbers and general chaos and devastation to find his partner. What he
found was Li Ann. Or at least the body that used to house her spirit. "Mei
Mei," {Younger Sister}, he moaned before turning his head to the side and
losing what little contents his stomach held, dry sobs of tears that
wouldn't fall wracking his lanky frame.
A groan from nearby had him on his feet in a heartbeat. "Vic! Victor,
answer me. C'mon, you big dork!" he begged desperately, trying to pinpoint
the sound. Another groan came from under a pile of smoldering beams.
"Impossible, there's no way he could be alive..." Mac whispered in stunned
disbelief. And yet the beams shifted, and Vic somehow crawled out from
beneath them, a shard of wood imbedded in his side.
Collapsing, the older man looked dazedly up at him. "Mac?" he croaked out
and then was still. "No. Nonononono," Mac begged as he staggered to his
partner's side. "You can't die. Not now, not before I tell you. Dammit,
Mansfield, you were supposed to let me tell you I love you," he screamed in
a smoke-choked voice. Gently cradling the older man's head in his lap, Mac
looked around at the devastation that was his life and wondered why he was
the only one to survive.
Bending he gently kissed the lips of a man he'd come to admire, respect, and
god help him, love with such a burning intensity it was painful. "You
weren't supposed to leave me, Vic," he choked as he pulled the wood fragment
free. And watched at Vic's body jumped as if he'd been defibbed. The older
man's chest began to rise, and a soft, thready moan whispered across
Mac's... newly healed flesh. But there had been third degree burns there
not five minutes ago...
Mac watched as the gaping hole left by the wood healed right before his
eyes, leaving Vic's flesh whole and unscarred once more. "Jesus Christ -
what is going on here?" Sirens alerted him to the fact that they were about
to get visitors. If he couldn't figure out how he and Vic had miraculously
survived, there was a good chance that they couldn't either.
Mac was suddenly very leery about being found here. Last thing he wanted
was for him and Vic to end up as Agency experi... The Droogs. The Agency
had created the Droogs. Soon after Vic and Mac had been called in for
'vaccinations'. Could it be linked?
Shaking his head, Mac heeded that little voice of his that told him when it
was time to cut and run. It was screaming enough to break the sound barrier
right now. Hauling Vic up, Mac swung the shorter man over his shoulders in
a fireman's carry and, with one last tearful glance at their former love,
picked his way out of the building, hot wired a car and got him and Vic the
hell out of Dodge.
A small jolt caused Victor to shift position, and he groaned, feeling as if
the Director had chosen him for her punching bag of the day or if he and Mac
had one of their infamous go-rounds—not that that had happened in a while.
Matter of fact, he actually found himself enjoying the other man's company
more often than not and... Another bump rolled the ex-cop half off the car
seat, and his eyes flew open—what the hell? Last thing he remembered was
the warehouse, Mac and the bomb... and the explosion.
"Jesus!" The sharp inhalation Vic took filled his nostrils with the smell
of blood and smoke, and he pushed himself upright, reaching for his gun at
the same time, prepared to use it if necessary. "Mac..." he gaped
helplessly, leaning between the front seats and staring at his partner,
taking in the charred clothing and bloodstains that marked him. It looked
like the younger man should be in the hospital, but he acted like nothing
was wrong... until he turned to meet Vic's eyes anyway.
Suddenly conscious of an absence in the car, Vic slid his gun into the
holster at the small of his back, swallowing hard before he asked the
question he dreaded the answer to. "Li Ann?" Mac's sorrowful look
confirmed what he already knew, and Vic felt the shock of grief twist in his
guts. He lowered his head into his hands, then stared at the blood that
covered them. The clinging wetness of his shirt pulled the ex-cop's gaze
downward, and he drew his shirt out from his torso. The fabric was drenched
in blood, and a handspan wide hole was ripped in the side of the cloth—but
there wasn't a mark on his skin underneath it.
Okay, think, Mansfield. There has to be some explanation for all this.
Only problem was he couldn't think of a single one right now. Turning his
attention back to Mac, Vic stretched out a hand and fingered the charred
silk of the younger man's shirt, reaching past it to feel that Mac's skin
was as unblemished as his own. Swallowing at the bile that rose in the back
of his throat, Vic caught his partner's gaze in the rear view mirror. The
ex-thief's dark eyes were shadowed, holding nothing of the light-heartedness
normally found there.
"Let's find somewhere to clean up, then I think we have a lot to talk
about," Vic said, his voice hoarse and raspy from the smoke but seeming to
clear even as he spoke.
The motel may have been just this side of a flophouse, but the water was hot
and plentiful. After showering and washing the blood and grime out of his
clothes as best he could, Vic draped his jeans and the remains of his shirt
across one of the towel bars and walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped
around his waist. "Your turn, Mac. Mac?" The younger man was sitting on
the bed, staring into space as if in a daze, one that he came out of only
when Vic rested his hand on Mac's shoulder.
Mac acted before he thought, his instincts still on a killing edge. Vic was
flipped and pinned underneath him, a thumb at one of the more dangerous
pulse points on a human body before Mac realized what he was doing.
"Jesus. Vic, I'm sorry, God," Mac breathed out softly as he took in the
older man beneath him. The freshly washed, clean smelling, very much alive,
older man beneath him. A man that he'd come to want very badly—and one
whose erection was pressing into his stomach even as he blushed bright red.
"Is that a gun in your towel, Vic, or are you just happy to see me?" Mac
quipped before lowering his head and claiming the older man's for a passion
laced kiss.
The soul-snatching kiss was definitely at odds with the deep flush that
stained his face, and once Vic's adrenaline rush shifted from defense to
other things, he decided that the kiss won out over the blush as far as
reactions went.
Waiting until Mac's lush lips stopped trying to devour his mouth, Vic pulled
one hand from the other man's hair, eyed him in challenge, arched his hips
enough to get some of the pressure off them, and dragged the towel out from
between them. "Why don't you frisk me and see?" he offered, his fingers now
busy with the buttons on Mac's shirt. This may have been the primal need to
prove he was alive after a near death experience or something else, but for
once Vic didn't try to analyze it; he just went with what he wanted, and
that was Mac.
Mac stared down at the older man in shocked delight, then hastily ripped the
remainders of his charred shirt off and slid the pants down over his hips,
toeing off his shoes and kicking the offending clothing off. "Vic, God,
you're..." beautiful, the younger man thought to himself as he looked down
at the flushed and already hard body beneath him. A work of art,
Michaelangelo's David. "Why haven't I seen you before?" the younger man
wondered out loud, not realizing he'd spoken. In the back of his mind there
was this new, comforting presence, and somehow Mac just knew it was Vic.
"I think I've wanted you from the moment I met you, and never even knew it,"
the ex-thief sighed as he ran elegantly tapered fingers from Vic's stomach,
up over his chest—making sure to catch the tender pink pebbles of the
ex-cop's nipples between spread fingers—and finally up a perfect neck to
cradle Vic's gorgeous face. Leaning in, Mac brushed his lips once, twice and
yet again across the older man's. Soft butterfly kisses meant to tease and
coax those bee-stung lips open for a more thorough plundering.
"I want to taste you everywhere, Vic. Savor you inch by inch. I want to know
all your secrets. What makes you shiver and what makes you jump. The spots
that make you moan and sigh, and the places that make you howl with need. I
want it all. I... God," Mac moaned as his eyes were drawn to the bobbing of
the older man's Adam's apple as he swallowed in reaction. It was too much
for the ex-thief. Growling low in his throat, he bent and latched onto the
dancing flesh, nipping and laving at the flesh until a bright red passion
mark stood out.
"Need you, Vic, so fucking much," he gasped when he finally came up for air,
eyes glittering like dark jewels.
"Jesus Mac... God..." The older man panted, driven close to the edge by the
touch of Mac's skillful hands and the rasped out words that escaped his
lush, pouty lips. The feel of Mac's erection brushing against his own was
enough to make him crazy, and Vic's fingers dug into the other man's back,
kneading the long muscles before roaming downward to cup the tight ass that
fit his palms perfectly.
"Need you too, baby," he whispered, amazed at just how much the cocky
ex-thief meant to him. Li Ann... Vic's eyes clouded for a split second,
then he pushed the memory aside, promising himself that nothing was going to
happen to Mac—ever. In a quick move, he rolled them both over and
straddled the younger man, savaging his mouth while his hands traced and
plucked at the crinkly, soft hair covering Mac's chest. "So fucking
gorgeous... " One hand traced lower still to frame and stroke the swollen
flesh of Mac's erection. Wetting his fingers with the clear liquid spilling
from the flared head, Vic brought them to his mouth, moaning as he suckled
Mac's essence from his skin.
"Gotta have more..." Before Mac could move or protest, Vic was turned and
had his face buried in the younger man's crotch, laving and suckling the
hard flesh as if his life depended on it. A strange tingling distracted the
ex-cop for a moment, but, since Mac had grabbed his ass and was going after
his cock in a frenzy, Vic put it down to the explosive lust that was
careening through him.
Mac felt something akin to a mild electrical jolt run through his body.
Damn, if he'd known that giving Vic head would do that to him, he'd have
tried it a lot sooner. Grinning at the thought that they'd end up setting
the room on fire at this rate, Mac dove in, so to speak, and enjoyed the
fray.
Wrapping lips and tongue firmly around the thick expanse of cock in his
mouth, Mac set out to blow Vic's mind. He wanted to taste the older man so
desperately, to feel the bitter salt slide of Vic's come as it ran down his
throat.
Relaxing his throat muscles, Mac began to sink deeper and deeper onto the
lush cock, humming happily as the salty flesh filled his mouth. His hands
grasped a perfectly formed ass, pulling the ex-cop more firmly to him. Long,
elegant fingers insinuated themselves in the crevice of Victor's ass,
brushing lightly against the older man's anus, making him leap and buck in
Mac's mouth.
Letting Vic's erection pop free, Mac withdrew a hand and licked his index
finger before sliding it back between the warm cheeks and gently breaching
the tight ring of muscle. Vic's whine of pleasure reverberated through his
already tortured cock as the older man continued to nurse on his shaft.
"Oh yeah, fuck, Vic, you are so hot!" Mac groaned as he felt his balls
draw up closer to his body. He was so close to coming it wasn't funny. He
needed something in his mouth, or he was gonna scream any second now, and he
had the perfect pacifier at his disposal. Latching onto Vic's cock, Mac
began to nurse with a steady suction, his finger moving in tandem with his
head, so that it was almost like Vic was being sucked and fucked by two
people. So close... God he was so close...
Connor MacLeod had been minding his own business, walking through one of the
seedier parts of Toronto after a battle with another Immortal, when he felt
the buzz in his head that warned him that another of his kind was nearby. He
frowned, not wanting to take another quickening before the last had had a
chance to settle, but he followed the sensation, unwilling to leave an
unknown Immortal at his back. He found himself at the doorway to a motel
room, and he kicked it in, wanting surprise on his side.
Surprise, he decided, didn't begin to describe the expression on the faces
of the two naked men who he'd clearly interrupted. Both were Immortals, and
very new ones judging by the strength of their quickenings.
God, baby, so good, so fucking good. Vic was in a state of complete
meltdown. He had figured that Mac would be good at this, but he had had no
idea just how talented the other man was until he found himself with his
brains being sucked out of his cock at the same time he was finger-fucked
into a mindless slut.
Determined to give the younger man the same pleasure he was getting, Vic
took the long, lean cock deeper into his mouth, relaxing his throat then
swallowing, massaging his partner's length with the contractions.
When a loud crash sounded, Vic wondered for a second if they had broken the
bed or crashed the headboard through the thin wall. The tingling in his head
went into overdrive, putting him in mind of a million fire ants crawling
along his nerves, and that was enough to make the ex-cop jerk his head away
from the luscious treat he'd been feasting on.
He registered the fact that the door was now hanging at an angle from the
hinges and the fact that there was a man with a sword of all fucking things
standing in the doorway before instinct took over. Rolling over Mac, Vic
grabbed his gun from the rickety nightstand and aimed it at the newcomer's
head. "You've just made a serious mistake, fucker," he growled, his hand
rock steady despite the adrenaline overload that was coursing through him.
"I don't know what costume party you're looking for, but it ain't here, so
get your ass gone." Peripherally, Vic saw and felt Mac slide out from under
him and knew he had backup, something which he was profoundly glad of; this
guy just plain felt dangerous.
"You ever hear of fucking knocking?" Mac growled at the stranger, royally
pissed that after finally getting Victor into a sexually compromising—and
promising—situation, the mood had been totally fucked up by this sword
brandishing asshole.
Rolling off the bed and into a standing crouch, Mac grabbed his own weapon
and hit the safety. "Hate to break it to you, Conan, but this is gonna be
rather like that scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark; you got a sword, we
got guns. Bullets move faster than swords, so bang, you're dead. Get the
picture? Good, now why don't you do like my partner says and get the fuck
out of here," the younger man snarled, in a state of supreme frustration.
Connor snickered. He couldn't help it. These two were not only new, they had
no idea what they were. It looked like he had a pair of students whether he
wanted them or not. "The name's Connor, not Conan," he said, abruptly
deciding to use his own name. It had been a long time since he did, so it
ought to be safe.
"So let me guess," he continued, seating himself in one of the chairs
crammed in against a wall, ignoring the fuming men and the guns pointed at
him, "you died very recently, possibly even today," with a pointed look in
Mac's direction and wrinkling his nose. "And you came back to life,
unmarked, in perfect health. How'm I doing so far, lads?"
Despite Vic's state of mind, he'd almost laughed at Mac's comment. Trust his
partner to come up with an off the wall comment like that. His eyes narrowed
into cold green slits, however, when the stranger answered. "You're way off
base, and if you don't want a bullet between your eyes leave. Now."
A sick feeling was beginning to grow in Vic's stomach despite his outward
attitude. How the hell did this guy know what happened to them? The notion
that he was an Agency employee sent to bring them in flitted across his
mind, and the ex-cop's finger tightened on the trigger under it, ready to
take the bastard down if he made a move at them.
"Go ahead," Connor invited. "It won't hurt me permanently any more than
whatever happened to you did you." He took a deep breath. "I am Connor
MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, born in the village of Glenfinnen on the shores
of Loch Sheon in 1518, killed in battle in 1536, and I cannot die. I am
Immortal, as are you." He stared soberly at the two stunned men. "But I
think you already know that much, even if you won't admit it to yourselves."
He sighed, slumping in the chair, his sword hanging loosely in his hand.
"You were fortunate that I was the first to run into you. We can be killed,
though only by removing our heads," he raised the sword in explanation.
"Some of us prey on new Immortals, taking their heads before they can learn
who and what they are. Most of us, though, teach the new ones we find. Which
makes me your teacher." He eyed the irate men glaring at him and sighed.
"Lucky me."
Mac stood there, naked as the day he was born, head swiveling from his
partner to the nutcase and back again like he was at a Wimbledon match. It
was just too much for the ex-thief to take in. Immortal. Can't ever
permanently die. That meant he and Vic would never grow old, they could
boff like bunnies forever—but it also meant that they might eventually get
tired or end up hating one another. Mac frowned at that.
And what did the crackpot say, oh yeah. you could die if... "Oh gross, you
mean you hack each other's heads off with swords? How fucking Marie
Antoinettish. No way, 'Conan', count me out!"
Connor moved so fast neither man had a chance to defend himself. His sword
rested against Mac's throat, a breath away from slicing through his
vulnerable neck. "Like this? Get used to it. Immortals carry swords. If you
don't, this is the last thing you will ever see or feel, an instant before
one of us takes your head."
He sighed and returned to his seat. "Be grateful you live in this era. My
clan wanted to burn me at the stake as a witch. The sixteenth century was
not a good time to come back from the dead in front of every person who knew
you."
He eyed them in disgruntlement. "Make up your minds. You can come with me,
and I can teach you, or you can stay here, and sooner or later, you will
die."
The only thing that kept Victor from blowing off MacLeod's damn head when
he'd had his sword at Mac's throat was the chance that he'd get a swing in
and hurt Mac before he died. Once he'd lowered the blade, it was his words
that kept Vic from pulling the trigger—that and the slim chance that what
this guy was saying was the truth.
"Can we have five minutes to talk this over or are your hordes of
headhunters going to bust in here like you did?" he asked sarcastically,
slowly lowering his gun but still keeping it ready just in case. It was a
foregone conclusion in Vic's mind that whatever they did, he and Mac would
do it together, and he wasn't deciding anything without talking it over with
his partner.
Mac rubbed his neck and warily backed away from the nutcase in the chair
until he was standing right next to Vic. Eyeing MacLeod like the psycho Mac
assumed him to be, he swore softly and succinctly in Cantonese. "Vic? Are
you actually buying this?" But he nonetheless heard the doubt in his own
voice.
"Forever? What the hell do you do? How do you live? How can you stand
watching your friends and family die over and over again until you're alone?
That's not life, that's hell," Mac whispered softly. But if it were true,
he wouldn't be quite as alone as that. He'd have Vic.
Ignoring MacLeod, Mac turned to face his partner cum lover. "You've always
had the instincts to figure this stuff out, Vic; there's no one I trust
more. You say so and we play it his way, you don't want to and we walk.
Whatever the call, I'm with you."
MacLeod eyed them, wondering why he didn't just get up and leave. It wasn't
as if he wanted more students. But he couldn't find it in him to leave the
two of them to the wolves, knowing that they were utterly defenseless. He
wondered if Ramirez had been as aggravated by him and his know it all
attitude as he was by theirs. He grinned suddenly.
"An interesting thought, but not physically possible," he replied to Mac in
the same dialect of Cantonese, though a little old-fashioned.
Narrowing his eyes, Vic wondered just what it was that Mac had said and what
MacLeod had answered. From the look on his partner's face, Mac certainly
hadn't been expecting the other man to understand let alone answer him, so
it must have been creative at least.
He honestly wasn't sure what they should do. This whole situation was so
fucked that it wasn't funny but... "If it comes down to a choice between
this and her, I think we'd better take our chances with him," he muttered to
Mac.
"Any chance we can grab something to wear before we leave?" he asked,
turning his attention back to MacLeod, raising an eyebrow at the other man's
disgruntled expression. "Or are you just enjoying the view?"
Mac stared at the Scot, his mouth falling open in shock. Victor's words
barely registered as he continued to gape. "{You speak Cantonese?}" he
managed to stumble out at last. The twinkle in the Immortal's eyes followed
by a gruffly compelling laugh made him swallow.
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit. At least she didn't understand what I was
saying when she spied on me. He's gonna know every fucking thing I say,"
Mac bemoaned as he turned back to Vic.
"Guess this means we get to learn how to," Mac swallowed as he watched Vic
solemnly, "decapitate people. God, this is worse than the organ lab,
watching Murphy and Camier play post-mortem and having the Director crawl
naked all over me combined," the ex-thief whimpered as he stalked past both
men and into the bathroom.
"And you two can sit there and glare at each other. I'm getting a fucking
shower, dammit!"
"What an interesting comparison," Connor observed. "You'll have to explain
it to me some time. And yes," he added, turning back to Vic, "I'm definitely
enjoying the view. Both of them." His eyes flicked from Vic to Mac's ass
disappearing through the bathroom doorway. "But I don't go where I'm not
invited," he said coolly in response to the jealous flare in Vic's eyes.
"One thing you might want to keep in mind, Victor, is it? All those stories
about highland barbarians and clan wars and the like, they're not history to
me. That's who and what I am, how I was raised. I was killed in a battle
between my clan and another. Don't presume that I'll react the way people of
this time do. Scratch the surface and I'm still a highland warrior," he
warned, his brogue thickening with every word.
"So you can slice and dice, I can shoot, and Mac can rob us all blind, that
cover all the bases?" Vic sighed, catching his damp jeans when Mac threw
them out of the bathroom and pulling them on, grimacing at the cool,
clinging denim. "You're a highland warrior, but we're both secret agents,
and we're damn good at what we do. If you have a problem with that, take it
up with this." He held up his gun again, gesturing with the barrel.
"If what you're saying is true, it won't kill you, but it'll probably slow
you down for a while. Oh, and yes, it's Victor," he added as an
afterthought, still disgruntled by the way MacLeod's eyes had followed Mac
as he walked away. "Mansfield. The one in the shower is Mac Ramsey."
Connor laughed wryly. "Are you always this irritable, or is this something
special for me? And if it's jealousy, forget it, man. A man would have to be
blind not to appreciate the eye candy the two of you have been treating me
to since I got here.
"I know you're not offering," he added, forestalling an angry reply, "but
that doesn't change my appreciation." He shrugged. "Nothing to worry about,
though. I only take what's freely offered."
"So sorry if my attitude offends you. Being blown up and having a total
stranger bust into my room when I was in the middle of the best fucking
blowjob I've ever had in my life tends to make me a tense," Vic snarled.
Still glaring at MacLeod, he sat on the bed and grabbed up his shoulder
holsters, checking the leather for weak spots before shrugging into them.
"And damn right no one's offering. You teach us whatever the hell it is
you're going to, and that's it. We've had one psycho controlling our lives,
last thing we need is another one." As he spoke, the ex-cop shrugged into
the harness, then cursed, realizing that his shirt and jacket were both
total losses so he had nothing to cover the guns with.
Mac stood in the now open doorway, his worse for wear Armani slacks riding
low on his hips and clinging to damp skin. His charred shirt hung open
revealing flesh unmarred by any burns he had sustained.
An eyebrow quirked at Vic's blowjob comment, and he chuckled softly, causing
the two men's heads to swing in his direction. "Shit, Mansfield, if that's
the best blowjob you've had in your life, you've been seriously deprived. I
was going for maximum satisfaction in a minimum amount of time there. Wait
until I really have time to... ahem... work on the problem," he sniggered
as he walked past Connor to his partner.
Not bothering to acknowledge the Scot, Mac held Vic's head steady and
ravished the older man's mouth for long seconds. "And I will work on the
problem, promise," he husked as he came up for air.
Turning back to the now squirming Scot, Mac appraised him carefully while
leaning back against Vic's chest. "You know—he is kinda cute, in that
heathen barbarian sort of way," he commented with an offhand shrug, deviltry
alight in his eyes. "And he's got good taste—after all you are prime,
Mansfield."
Connor smirked at the men. "Cute?" he asked dryly. "I've not heard that
applied tae me verra often." His accent thickened slightly as his eyes ran
over the deliberate display Mac was providing. He cleared his throat before
continuing, "You should keep in mind that we barbarians tend to take what we
want."
He shifted again in his chair. "If ye're ready, perhaps we could go now?
I've had a long night," thinking of the encounter with the nameless Immortal
earlier and the quickening still sparking through his body, making him want
to ravish these two.
"You can try," Vic muttered, snaking an arm around Mac's waist, his fingers
sliding under the fabric of the other man's waistband. "Might not like the
results though."
He studied the Scot for a long minute, then snorted softly. "You've had a
long night, that's a good one." Tightening his arm around Mac's waist when
he felt the other man's silent laughter, Vic reluctantly let him go, then
made a quick check of the room, wiping down everything they may have touched
and gathering up the remains of his shirt and the towels they'd used. The
Agency may have thought they were dead, but all it would take was a
fingerprint to have the Director hot on their trails again.
"We're clear here. You have everything, Mac?"
"Got you and got my guns. The clothes can be chucked, they're useless. Just
need to pick up my stash on the way out of town is all," Mac replied as he
grabbed his guns, tucking them in his waistband then putting on his suit
jacket, which had survived the ordeal unscathed somehow since he hadn't been
wearing it.
"So, just where are we going anyway, and how the hell are we expected to
make a living now that we're dead, oh wise and ancient kiltboy?"
Connor shook his head, wondering again why he hadn't just kept going. Either
one of them would be handful as a student, but both of them! He sighed.
Having to look at them with the quickening still racing through his veins
wasn't helping his chancy temper either.
"You'll come back to my home for now until we can establish new identities
for the pair of you. It would be best to get away from here where people
know you, so we'll go to one of my other properties until you're trained.
After that, it's up to you where you go and what you do. I'll make sure you
know who to contact before you move on.
"Now, shall we go?" he demanded impatiently.
"Hopefully that means you'll be able to keep me in the style to which I'm
accustomed," Mac shot back, not liking the tone of the Scotsman's voice very
much and wanting to needle him a bit. "Lead on, Macduff. Whoops, wrong
movie, I mean MacLeod."
"Christ, Mac," Vic groaned, smacking himself in the forehead with one hand
and grabbing his partner by the arm with the other, pulling him past the
Scot and outside before MacLeod could launch an attack based on that reply.
He kept himself between Mac and the older man, fully expecting to hear the
slide of oiled metal as their teacher gave up and simply decided to dispatch
both of them.
"You got a car?" he shot over his shoulder, noting thankfully that Connor's
sword was still hidden, though the other man did look like a thunderstorm
that was about to explode over both of them. "Mac, just let it lie,
please," he hissed, turning back to his partner. "At least until we get a
chance to deal with all this."
"Awhh, but Vic-tor," Mac pouted playfully. "He interrupted at a somewhat
crucial moment, and you know how I get when I don't get what I want," Mac
moved closer to Vic and nuzzled his ear despite the fact that he knew
MacLeod was watching. "And I wanted to come in your mouth, Victor, just
when you came in mine. I wanted to drink you down and then get you hard
again so you could fuck me. I really, really wanted you to fuck me, Vic."
Connor rolled his eyes. "And they call me immature?" He groaned, tempted
to beat his head against a wall. It would probably be more productive. "If
you're a really good boy," he said in a syrupy voice usually reserved for
young children and idiots, "and do as you're told right now, you can have
your reward when we get home." He gave the irritating man a vacuous smile,
backing toward the door and crooking a finger at him.
Vic decided that it was probably for the best to ignore the other two until
they'd reached somewhere more private, somewhere that he could deal with Mac
and the damned raging hard-on his partner's husky words had given him. And
as for MacLeod... Let's just see how you like listening in and not being
able to come near him, bud, the ex-cop growled to himself, fighting the
possessive anger that welled up in him at Connor's words.
"Can we just go?" he growled, brushing past the two taller men, stalking out
into the night, not really caring that he had no idea where they were going.
Mac looked after his partner, startled at Vic's abrupt departure. Shedding
all teasing and attitude, he stared forlornly after him. "I didn't mean
to... shit." The younger agent tore after Vic, catching up to him outside.
"Vic, hey slow down!" Grabbing the older man's arm, he pulled Vic to a stop.
"I'm sorry. You know how my mouth runs off around people who seem to think
they own my life. I mean it almost seems we've traded one jailer for
another, no matter how well intentioned he is. I guess I'm just pissed.
Life can't even cut us a break in death, you know?" Mac's shoulders hunched,
and he tried to withdraw into himself.
"I'll stop giving kilt-boy grief, and I'll behave, just don't shut me out,
okay, Vic? You're all the family I've got left now, and I don't wanna lose
you too," Mac husked quietly, looking anywhere but at Vic as he said it.
Connor followed more sedately after his two students, frowning as he caught
the tail end of the conversation. "Maybe I wasn't clear earlier... the
teacher/student relationship is temporary. Most of us remain friendly with
our teachers, but we go our own ways after a few years."
He suddenly grinned wickedly. "Don't worry about giving me grief, lad.
You'd have far to go to outdo some of the things I did to Ramirez." A
faint smile crossed his face as he remembered his own teacher. I still miss
you, you Spanish peacock.
"Look, it's nothing personal," Mac tried to explain. "Where Vic and I just
came from—well, let's just say that dying was the only way we were ever
gonna get away, okay? So I'm a little leery of too good to be true offers.
It's what landed me in my last job. Even though the job did let me find
Victor, that is," Mac smiled shyly at his partner. "I need some time to get
used to all this, MacLeod. I mean, talk about your life changing events."
Taking a deep breath, trying to shed some of the almost overwhelming anger
that had overtaken him, Vic looked first at MacLeod, then at Mac, sighing
when he saw the insecurity hiding deep within the younger man's dark gaze.
Shit. All that he knew about Mac and his past and he still did the one thing
that would hurt him most—he made him think that he was leaving.
"I think we all need to talk more about this if we're going to understand
each other at all," he said quietly, sliding an arm around Mac's shoulders
and hugging the other man for a second to reassure him. "And a good, stiff
drink too." Looking back at the Scot, he studied the older man for a long
moment. "I hope you have a car around here somewhere, 'cause there doesn't
look to be jack out for hot-wiring."
Mac leaned into the embrace for a moment and smiled at his partner, grateful
for Vic's intrinsic thoughtfulness. Oh, he knew Vic was the type that would
stick by you through thick and thin; after all he'd always watched Mac's
back, even when he couldn't stand the younger agent. It was just nice to be
reassured that what he knew about Victor Mansfield still held true in their
crazy new life after death. That Vic was an honorable, upright, and loyal
man who was so god damned sexy he'd probably even gotten a rise or two out
of the Director despite her nasty fixation on him.
"Hey, it's okay, Dork," he teased affably. "I know I'm a pain in the ass
and drive you nuts. All part of the magnificent Ramsey charm," he teased
Vic, returning the hug while waiting to see the Scot pull a Volvo out of his
hat.
Connor shook his head, wondering what horrible karma he'd accumulated to
cause him to inherit two baby Immortals. And of course, they both had to be
fucking gorgeous and totally fixated on each other. He sighed. It was his
punishment for everything he'd done to Ramirez, he just knew it.
"Follow me," he said, striding forward and around the corner. He led them to
his car, which was parked not far away, the reason he'd been passing by in
the first place. He motioned them into the car and got in himself, then
drove them to his condo in that city. He'd been about ready to kill off the
identity he was currently using and move on, and judging by what the babies
had said about their recent past, getting them the hell out of Toronto
sounded like a very good idea.
"Spare room's down the hall, private bathroom, the security system is armed,
and I'm going to bed. If you're smart, you'll stick around and I'll teach
you what you need to know. If not, well, don't wake me up on the way out."
Too tired and horny after the Quickening to spend another moment with the
men, Connor locked himself in his bedroom, where he collapsed into bed and
jerked off several times before finally managing to fall asleep.
Mac closed the door to their new bedroom with a sigh. The Scot, while cute,
was damned annoying. And the way he kept looking at Vic had the ex-thief
wanting to do some damage to the 'barbarian'. Vic was his, dammit!
Seeing the older man sitting on the bed staring at him, Mac gave him a
predatory smile and began to stalk towards him with a lithe rolling of his
hips. The jacket and charred silk shirt were tossed. The Armani slacks
came down and were kicked off while barely breaking his stride. Mac didn't
stop until he was in front of Vic, and then only long enough to push the
ex-cop down onto the bed so he could straddle the older man.
"So, 'dork', wanna continue where we were so rudely interrupted or try
something new and different?"
"Like what?" Vic countered, resting his hands on Mac's thighs, his gaze
moving upwards from the younger man's crotch to his lush lips—lips that
were twisted in a familiar smirk. "Since I apparently don't know what a good
blowjob is, how can I have any other suggestions?" As he spoke, Victor
rubbed his palms over his partner's legs, feeling the toned muscles shift
under his hands.
"Awwh, did I hurt poor, widdle Victor's feelings earlier?" Mac smirked as he
rubbed his ass against the erection brushing against it. "Or was it 'cause
I said it in front of the big, bad Scot?"
"Here's a suggestion, babe—how 'bout you make me scream the rooftop down
and give the moldering old kiltboy an audio show that has him climbing the
walls with envy. Or I could do you," the younger man teased. "Have wanted
to for a long time, you know—ever since the Droogs case when we went to
the Caligula. You looked so yummy, even though the shirt was kinda dorky.
Bet you'd look amazing dressed in black leather and nothing else, mmmm—I
can almost see it."
"The Scot can go..." Vic's response changed to a half-swallowed groan at the
feel of Mac's body rubbing against his renewed erection through the soft
denim of his jeans. Ever since MacLeod had interrupted them in the act of
devouring each other, the ex-cop had found himself getting hard every time
he looked at Mac's mouth, and now here he was presented with the younger
man's rangy, long-limbed body like it was a feast.
"Could always make each other scream," he rasped, running his thumbs along
the creases where Mac's thighs met his hips. "As for the black leather...
I'll wear it if you inspect the stitching." The sight of the ex-thief's
expressive features twisting up at the memory of what the Director had done
that night made Victor chuckle, and he brushed a thumb along the side of
Mac's cock. "I'm not going to bother telling you how you looked that night,
would give you a swollen head." He glanced downward, then laughed again. "Or
another one anyway."
Mac grinned down at the older man, "Awwwh, you mean you don't wanna stroke
my... ego some more, Vic?" he shot back before bending to take the ex-cop's
mouth in a passionate kiss. "I fell hard for you, you know?" he confessed
softly when they came up for air. "That's the reason I was such a prick -
and there you were mooning over Li Ann... and Ivy... and Gloria. All I had
was the Director pawing at me, oh, and Claire, but she was a massive
mistake. I was settling for second best. You were what I really wanted."
Rubbing cat-like against Vic, teasing the older man's nipples with his chest
hair, Mac set out to drive Victor slowly insane. His hand reached between
their bodies to cup and caress the ex-cop's cock. "Oooh, a present for me?"
he purred. "Vic, you shouldn't have!"
"What about what's-her-face, the Rivers girl," Vic growled in between
exploring the hot recesses of Mac's mouth with his tongue. "You have no idea
what I would have done that night if you hadn't had anything on in my bed."
His hips arched upward as much as was possible with Mac's weight on them,
trying to press the other man's agile fingers harder into his aching groin.
"What I should have done," he continued, breathing the words against Mac's
lips, "was to shoot that idiot when he broke in so that we could finish what
we were doing. As it is, I hope the fucker's a light sleeper."
"Angie?" Mac queried, somewhat distracted, "sweet kid, pretty too—but you
have no idea how tempted I was to crawl naked into your bed... Damn, we
wasted a lot of time, didn't we? And forget about kiltboy and play with me,
okay?" the ex-thief demanded, grinding his hips down hard so that his hand
goaded Vic's erection before sliding back down between Vic's legs to kneel
on the floor.
"And I did promise to teach you all about blowjobs earlier," he smirked at
the older man before unbuttoning and yanking down Vic's jeans. Letting his
tongue dart out to run up the underside of Vic's cock, Mac purred at the
flavor that danced on his tongue. "Mmm, just like an all-day sucker, I
could lick you for hours."
"Unless you've got a cockring somewhere in those over-priced pants you had
on, no way that's happening." Vic's back arched as the heated glide of Mac's
tongue turned cool when the cool air hit his flesh.
At the glint in Mac's dark eyes, the ex-cop pushed up on his elbows, his
eyes narrowing. "Play time is later, baby. Show me what ya got."
"Oooh, now that's quite an offer—but you have to be a little more specific
than that, Victor. Do you want to fuck or be fucked? I," Mac snickered. "I
swing easy, brother," he snickered, using the same phrase he had in the
infamous Rivers case.
The phrasing his partner used brought to mind that night in Michael Tang's
building—both of them suspended in mid-air, Mac rubbing against him as
they swung back and forth. Luckily, Mac had thought his reaction had been
due to the adrenaline rush, and Vic hadn't acknowledged the real reason for
it until much later.
Sitting up, Vic hauled Mac back up onto the bed, pulling the younger man on
top of him. "All I've heard from you so far is a lot of bragging, Ramsey.
Put up or shut up; fuck me so the Scot knows just what we're doing."
"Your wish is my command," Mac laughed, then realized a slight logistical
problem. "Shit—no lube. Wait a minute, I saw something in the bathroom."
Clambering off of Vic, Mac dashed back into their en suite bathroom and
came out seconds later holding a container of hand cream.
"Jergen's hand lotion, keeps the skin soft and supple while smelling like
cherries," Mac quipped as he crawled between Vic's legs. Squirting some of
the hand cream onto his palm, he let it warm before dipping his finger in it
and slowly working the slick substance into Vic's puckered opening
"Damn, you're so tight, Vic," the ex-thief moaned. "Can't wait to get in
you." Soon a second finger joined the first, and finally Mac felt Vic was
sufficiently stretched. He slathered the rest of the hand cream onto his
cock and brought Vic's legs up to his shoulders. Positioning himself at the
tight portal to Vic's body, Mac pushed in slowly until he was fully
embedded. "Hmm—cherry hand cream. I think I really like the sound of
that," he grinned as he came to a halt within the older man.
Vic's breath hissed out as Mac pushed inside of him. God, this was good;
this was real; this was Mac in him. Once his body relaxed, accepting the
firm length of flesh that had breeched him, Vic opened his eyes, smiling
slightly as he rocked his hips upward.
"Somehow I think that's the only thing cherry in this room," Vic rasped,
grinning up at the younger man and rocking his hips again. "Unless that's
all you intend on doing with that thing."
"Oh, I don't know, I think you're pretty cherry, Mansfield," Mac moaned as
Vic began to move against him. "Damn, Vic... you feel so fucking good!
Can't believe I'm actually, finally in you," the ex-thief breathed as he
began to rock his own hips back and forth.
Releasing one of the older man's hips, Mac wrapped his long fingers in a
loose grip around Vic's cock and began stroking in time with his thrusts.
"You are so hot, Vic. All buff and lean and so goddamned beautiful it
should be a sin. And you're all mine!"
Mac's hips began to move even faster as too much tension and too little
release played havoc with his normally exceptional self-control. "Need you,
love you, want you always," the younger man chanted without really realizing
what he was saying as he pounded away at his lover's body.
"Jesus, Mac!" Vic exclaimed, trapped between the burning pleasure of the
younger man inside him and the talented fingers circling and tugging at his
cock. His fingers threaded behind Mac's neck, and he pulled his partner
closer, hissing his next words out against those full lips.
"Been driving me crazy all night. Showing yourself off for that guy. Made me
want to jump you right there and then." He rocked upwards, caught in Mac's
frenzy, absorbing the words of love and possession and whispering out his
own in return.
The nudge of Mac's cock against his prostate made Vic's impassioned words
dissolve into a howl of pleasure as his whole body spasmed. He sucked in a
breath, his muscles clamping down around the younger man, "God. Yes, there.
Mac. Mine!" His body froze, then trembled, the waves of seed pumping from
him to coat his chest.
Mac watched with hot eyes as Vic orgasmed. "Jesus fuck, you are so damn
hot!" the ex-thief growled hungrily before bending to feast on the lush lips
of the man beneath him. Losing whatever shreds of control he'd managed to
retain, Mac began driving into the older man's body, feeling the tight anal
muscles milk his aching cock.
"There, right there, Jesus, fuck, oh God, VIC!" the younger man wailed as
his cock jumped one final time before he came, inundating the older man with
milky threads of his own seed.
Collapsing spent on top of Vic, Mac managed to raise his head and plaster a
sardonic smile on his lips. "Wasn't the kiltboy I was showing off for. Was
you. Wanted you to jump me. Maybe later, though?" Letting his head fall
back down to Vic's chest, Mac slowly came down from his post-orgasmic high,
feeling more content than he had since... since before he'd asked Li Ann to
marry him.
"Count on it," the older man murmured, wincing slightly as he rearranged his
legs to allow Mac to settled closer to him. The other man was a comforting
weight on him, and Vic slowly stroked his partner's back before lifting his
head enough to nuzzle Mac's neck.
"And damn glad to hear that. Would hate to have to shoot the guy when he's
supposed to be our teacher." He sobered a bit at that, though he kept
stroking Mac's back from his shoulders to the swell of his ass. "Do you
believe him?" he asked, still not sure of his own answer on that matter.
"I dunno, but..." Mac paused a moment, trying to sort out his feelings. "I
can feel him, you know—like this buzz in the back of my mind. I know
he's in the other room. And... my shirt was charbroiled, Vic; I should have
third degree burns on parts of me, but there's not a mark, not a scar, not
even a scratch other than the old ones. It's so fucking bizarre.
"But it's got me thinking. Why us? Out of all the people in the whole
fucking world, why did the Director recruit a thief out of a Hong Kong jail,
a cop in a Toronto jail, a mob princess and Li Ann. What're the odds?"
"I don't ever try to understand why she does anything but..." Vic sighed and
rubbed his palm over Mac's warm, untouched skin, thinking. "Figured we just
had skills she wanted. If—if it was something more, why isn't Li Ann here
too? Why were we the only ones to survive?"
"Maybe Li..." Mac's voice hitched at the thought of his now dead sister. He
had loved her with all the passion of youth and then had that love mellow
into what it should be —a brother's love for his sister. "Maybe she was a
personal choice. She and the Director seemed closer than usual this last
little while. Maybe Li Ann played her real feelings closer to the chest
than we'd ever thought, either of us.
"I don't know," Mac finished with a tired groan. "How would she even know
we were going to be Immortal? I mean—how can you tell that? Damn—we
almost need MacLeod here to answer these damned questions. Almost," Mac
said, forestalling the older man's outburst. "He don't get to see you
naked. No way, no how!"
Vic blinked at the other man's statement, then had to laugh, though the
sound was a bit sad. "Hate to remind you, babe, but he's already seen both
of us that way. And you're saying Li Ann and the Director..." Vic frowned,
feeling suddenly naive and every bit the 'dork' Mac called him at times. His
own personal relationships had been fucked up enough that he'd given up
trying to figure other people's out—maybe that was why he'd missed how Mac
felt—missed it until it was thrust in his face so to speak.
"Well, the dragon lady had definitely taken Li Ann under her wing. And she
touched her more than she touched me—which was every fucking day. So. Li
Ann never came out and said anything, but they were going salsa dancing
together and playing dress up and stuff... I dunno, maybe I'm reading more
into it than there was, but that's the way it seemed to me."
Snuggling closer to Vic, Mac sighed in utter contentment. "As for MacLeod -
he may have looked, but if he touches, I'm gonna rearrange his pretty
highland face for him. End of story!"
Still wondering just how he could have missed all that, Vic shook his head.
"You're probably right, babe. You're more...into those nuances than I am. If
it's not out there in plain black and white, it goes right by me."
"Like he would. And even if he tried, like I'd let him," Vic soothed, still
wondering just why Mac thought the Scot was after his ass when he'd plainly
been watching Mac's. "Besides, thought we weren't talking about him
anymore." He cocked his head to the side and listened. "Don't hear him
banging on the walls; guess we'll have to be louder next time."
Mac purred softly and rubbed himself against the older man. "You realize,
don't you, if what he says is true... we're this age forever. No getting
older, no worries about longer and longer 'rest' periods between go rounds
of hot sex. What we're at sexually is where we'll stay.
"Always hard, always needy. You feel needy yet, Vic?" the younger man
breathed, rubbing more feverishly against Vic. "'Cause if you are, it's my
turn to be fucked. C'mon, babe, fuck me raw!"
Vic shook his head slowly, unable to keep from laughing, though the sound
had a needy edge to it. "I'm getting there, babe, but remember, even if we
are Immortal, I still have ten years on you."
He paused, becoming more and more aware of the glide of Mac's lean body
against his, and the effect it was having on him. "One good thing about all
this is that I can fuck you raw, or vice versa, and we won't even feel it
next morning." He rolled to the side, settling Mac under him, then brushed
his lips over the other man's lush mouth. "But ya know, if you're never
going to get any older, maybe I should start calling you Peter Pan, the boy
who never grew up."
"Does that make you Tinkerbell then?" Mac teased as he writhed underneath
the lean body of his lover. "And dammit, you're not old, you're just right,
Victor. If I ever hear you talk about age difference again I'll... well
hell, I can't threaten to kill you 'cause you'll just come back anyway.
"I mean, in four or five hundred years, what's it gonna matter that you're
all of ten years older than me?" Mac finished hotly, his whole body tense
with his conviction and ire. "God, you are such a dork at times, Vic," Mac
grumbled as he watched the older man for a reaction.
"So you've told me repeatedly," Vic murmured, a calculating expression
darkening his green eyes. He'd learned a thing or two during his years on
Vice; maybe now was the time to show Malcolm Ramsey just how un-dorky he
could be when he chose.
"And you want to get fucked, hmm?" Vic brought his hand down on Mac's ass,
hard, then rolled them over so that he was looming over his new lover. "You
want it, then get yourself over to the wall and spread 'em." That said, he
kissed Mac hard enough to bruise his lips and climbed back off him, settling
himself against the pillows and waiting for the other man to do as he said.
Mac stared down at Vic in shocked disbelief. Who was this and more
importantly, could he stay for a while? Deciding to see if he could push the
envelope a little, Mac crawled up Vic's body as far as the older man's
waist. Bending he licked Vic's burgeoning erection like a lollipop and then
smacked his bee-stung lips appreciatively.
"Okay, if you want me to," Mac grinned his little boy grin and hopped off
the bed, deliberately heading to the wall that separated their bedroom from
the Scotsman's. Leaning nonchalantly against the wall, Mac reached up to
his neck and let his hand trace downwards through his chest hair, along his
abs and through the curls at the apex of his thighs.
Wrapping the hand loosely around his erection, Mac brought the other hand up
to his lips and sucked two fingers into the wet haven of his mouth then
applied the moist digits to pulling on a nipple. "So, what now, Vic-tor?"
Victor's eyes glittered in the low lighting, and he slowly pushed himself
off the bed, pacing toward Mac with an almost cat-like grace to his
movements. "Now," he purred, catching Mac's hand in his and bringing it to
his mouth to swab the palm with his tongue. "Now you turn and spread 'em,
and stay that way until I come back."
Releasing the younger man's hand, Vic ran his thumb over Mac's full lower
lip, before taking a step back. Giving his partner's lean, lanky body a very
blatant once over, he smiled, then turned and wandered toward the bathroom,
leaving a wide-eyed Mac behind him.
"Med leng yea?" {What the fuck?} Mac breathed, staring in disbelief at the
suddenly bad to the bone and butch lover he'd acquired in the blink of an
eye. Not that he was complaining. Immortality seemed to agree rather well
with Vic, and Mac was liking it, especially if his weeping dick was
anything to go by. Christ, he was so god damned hard it hurt!
"Vi-ic," Mac whined shamelessly as he turned and 'spread 'em' as ordered,
wriggling his ass provocatively. "C'mon, don't leave me like this. I need
you. I need to feel you inside me, fucking me, taking me. God, do you have
any idea how many times I woke up covered in my own come because I dreamed
that you were doing just that? You were my standard wet dream, Mansfield.
It got so that I had to think of you when I was with a woman just to get
it going. You drove me crazy.
"C'mon, Vic-tor. Stop teasing, will ya? Just fuck me, okay?"
Victor couldn't help a grin as he used the facilities, then sauntered back
out into the bedroom. "Hmm, careful there, Ramsey, or I'll get the feeling
you really like me or something."
Before Mac could respond, he crowded up behind the taller man, rubbing his
hardening erection against the crack of Mac's ass. One hand slid in front of
the other man, and he took up where Mac had left off, stroking the
ex-thief's cock until he was moaning and writhing against the wall.
"Now about that fucking you..." Flipping open the hand cream he'd grabbed on
the way over, Vic poured some out into his palm, then trailed his fingers
through it before pressing one between Mac's asscheeks, teasing, then
pushing into the tight bud of his anus.
"Ohhhhhh fuuuuuck," Mac moaned quietly, pushing back to help Vic's finger
slide in further. "God, Vic." Resting his head against the cool wall, Mac
let the sensations wash over him. The feel of his lover's finger sliding
inside his body, the hot, insidious pleasure that gripped him and made him
crazy, the rushing of his blood, the pounding of his heart, the gasping for
breath as he was taken beyond himself.
Mac had missed this, missed the feeling of being claimed. It was so
different making love with a man; there was understanding—primal and
visceral—the knowledge of how parts worked, what caused pleasure, what was
needed. And Vic was an attentive and thorough lover, driving Mac higher and
higher, making him moan and writhe and beg and beat his clenched fists
against the wall as his body was made to jump through imaginary hoops while
Vic was preparing him.
"Mansfield, if you don't fuck me and do it now, I may have to do something
drastic," Mac warned with a growl as his prostate was nudged yet again by
the three fingers now inside him, twisting and teasing his loosened channel
with the promise of what was to come. "I. Want. Your. Cock. In. Me," the
younger man explained as clearly and concisely as he could.
Vic muffled a chuckle against Mac's neck. He'd never heard the ex-thief
sound that needy before, and he found he liked it. "Well, if you put it that
way..."
Sliding his fingers from the heat of Mac's body, Vic steadied his cock and
pushed inside. Heated flesh surrounded him, and he moaned, his breath
cascading hot and damp over the younger man's shoulder. One hand slipped
around, closing on Mac's erection, his grip just this side of painful as he
stroked his partner in time with his thrusts.
Moaning quietly, Mac let his head fall back onto Vic's shoulder. "W-wanted
you for sooo long, Vic," he moaned as the older man worked his body so
incredibly well. His cock, his ass and all the pleasure points in between
were throbbing with Vic's claiming.
Mac's hands flowered open and braced against the wall, nails digging into
the plaster and paint. His arms were white with tension as he tried to force
himself back further, take Vic in deeper, merge them into one somehow. "Need
this, need you, need you forever, VIC!" he wailed as the older man found and
stabbed his prostate repeatedly, sending him into paroxysms of shuddering
pleasure and driving him that much closer to orgasm.
One of Vic's hands closed over Mac's, twining their fingers together. He
dropped his head to the taller man's shoulder, senses filled with the smell
of sweat, musk and Mac when he sucked in a gasping breath. "Have forever
now," he rasped, driving in a final time before Mac's body shook in orgasm,
wringing his own climax from the depths of his body.
Panting, drained of strength, Vic leaned against his partner, fingers still
moving idly over Mac's softening cock, strangely loathe to move and lose the
contact with the younger man. "Think we should move this to that bed over
there? Immortality or not, I need some sleep."
"Yeah," Mac sighed, whimpering slightly as he felt Vic slide out of him,
leaving him feeling empty and alone. "Besides, kiltboy is probably less
than impressed with us for keeping him up all night and will wanna start our
'training' early. He kinda reminds me of the Director—ruthless and
sadistic," the younger man groused as he climbed into the bed and
immediately plastered himself all over Victor when the ex-cop lay down next
to him. So he liked to snuggle; Vic would have to get used to it.
"Wonder where he's gonna take us to train," the ex-thief continued on a
yawn, as he began to let the day's events and the night's too fantastic sex
take hold and lull him into an exhausted and sated sleep. "Somewhere the
Agency can't see, hear or find out about us, hopefully. Night, Vic," he
continued, pressing a kiss to his partner turned lover's shoulder.
"Dunno, guess we'll find out come morning," Vic murmured, wrapping his arm
around Mac's waist, holding the other man close to him, fear of losing him
making Vic's grip tighter then it would normally have been and keeping his
arm in place long after they both fell asleep.
hat was the first thing that registered. Close on it was the feeling of
excruciating heat. That was followed by the smell of burning wood and...
flesh. That got Mac Ramsey's attention like nothing else could.
