2: For a Friend

Author's Note: The original version of this story first appeared in the Without a Trace zine, Come and Gone #3, published by Neon RainBow Press, Cinda Gillilan and Jody Norman, editors. Story lasted edited 6-5-2008. Art by Shiloh (shigal13@excite.com)

Martin took one last look around the office, then headed to his desk. He reached down and picked up the file he'd been working on, scanning the financial records one more time, mumbling under his breath. File in hand, he headed out. In the hallway he passed his teammate, Danny Taylor, heading into their offices, a cup of coffee and a small paper bag in his hands. The agent still looked pretty bad, the aftermath of the beating he'd endured while working on this case still visible in the darkened bruises and cuts on his face.

Martin wasn't sure he would have been able to take that kind of a beating and not surrender the information the assailants wanted, but then it wasn't his brother who was at risk.

"Hey," Martin said softly as they passed.

Three steps farther on, Martin stopped and turned, catching Danny just before he stepped past the door into the offices. "You okay, man?"

Danny stopped as well, looking over his shoulder. "Yeah," he replied, offering a thin smile.

Martin nodded and returned the smile, then turned and completed his walk to the elevators. He rode up to the office he needed, dropping off the records and giving the technician instructions on the follow-up he needed run.

Stepping back out into the hall, he knew his day was over. It was time to go home and get some rest. Walking back to the elevator, he stabbed the down button and waited. When the car arrived he stepped inside, exchanging polite greetings with one of the agents from the seventh floor.

He reached out to push the button for the ground floor, but stopped short. "Damn," he sighed softly. He had to go back. Danny was a member of his team, a friend, and he knew the man was hurting in ways more than physical. He pressed the button for his own floor.

With another long, heavy sigh, he stepped out when he reached his floor and headed back to the office.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Danny set his coffee down on his desk and removed the small frame from the bag he carried. With purposeful motions he removed a photo from his wallet and inserted the small picture, which he had carried in his wallet for years, into the frame, then fitted the back into place and secured it with the small tabs on the frame. He set it down next to the paper coffee cup, then leaned back in his chair, staring at it.

He shook his head, wondering how his life had gotten so damn messed up.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Walking back into the large open office he shared with his teammates, Martin found Danny seated at his desk, staring at a newly-framed picture.

He walked over, pausing to check out the photo in the frame – Danny and another man. His brother, he guessed. He knew a little about the man – ex-con, drug addict, married with a son… Without a word he walked over and dropped casually onto his chair.

"Said I was fine," Danny said softly, still staring at the photo.

Martin shrugged, but Danny didn't see it. "Might be what you said, but it isn't how you look."

Danny lifted his head, tilting his chin to meet the other man's appraising gaze. "Just wanted to be alone."

Martin tsked his tongue against his front teeth, his jaw twitching in irritation. "Okay," he said, standing and heading back toward the hall. Before he reached the door Danny's voice stopped him.

"Look, Martin, I'm sorry."

Fitzgerald turned, looking back at Danny. The man's shoulders sagged and his gaze was imploring. With a slight nod, Martin walked back and sat down in his chair again, rolling it closer to Danny. "You want to talk about it?" he asked.

Danny snorted, a sardonic smile flashing across his face. "Don't you know we aren't hardwired for that kind of stuff?"

Martin shrugged, the half-smile on his lips saying he understood exactly what Taylor was saying. "All right," Martin replied, "how does pizza and a Coke sound?"

Danny thought for a moment, then nodded.

The two men stood, Danny leaving both the photo and the coffee on his desk, and they headed to the elevators and headed out. Martin hailed a cab and they climbed in.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

A short while later the two agents climbed out of the cab, which had dropped them off in front of Martin's apartment building.

Martin paid the driver, then turned and led the way past the doorman into the building. They rode up to the apartment in silence. Martin removed his key and unlocked the door, gesturing for Danny to enter first. He did.

Martin stepped in and flipped on the lights, then closed the door and relocked it.

"Make yourself at home," Martin said, already shrugged out of his jacket. "I'm gonna go change. I'll be right back."

"Sure," Danny said, walking over to sit down on the sofa.

Martin headed off down a long hallway, disappearing into the room at the far end. But he was back in a few short minutes, dressed in faded jeans and a long-sleeved blue T-shirt that somehow made his eyes even bluer.

Danny met the man's eyes for a moment, then said, "I hear you're the only one who thought I wouldn't talk. Well, besides Jack, maybe. Mind if I ask why?"

Martin leaned back and sighed. He tsked again, then said, "The way I look at it, it's a blood thing."

"Blood?" Danny echoed, surprised.

"Your brother…"

"What about Rafie?" Danny asked, his tone razor-edged.

Martin's expression didn't change. "If you'd talked, it would have endangered your brother's family. I knew you wouldn't do that."

Danny relaxed slightly. "Yeah? Wish I'd had the same confidence."

"You did," Martin countered.

Danny shook his head. "I was there, Martin."

"Danny, you know every man has a breaking point."

Danny thought for a moment, nodded, then shook his head. "Most men, maybe, but Rafie never broke."

"You're wrong," Martin said softly.

Danny's head came up, his eyes flashing. "My brother died, Martin, and he didn't talk."

"Dying is just another way of breaking."

Danny jerked like he'd been slapped. He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again as the truth of the man's words sank in. His head dipped. "He didn't tell them where those women were. That's what matters."

"Hell, Danny, we'll all break, sooner or later. Far as I'm concerned, dying is the easy way out. Surviving, fighting, that takes real courage."

Remembering the framed photo he had left on his desk, Danny said, "He was my hero, in some strange way… always was."

"You two were close?"

Danny smiled shakily. "Yeah… He protected me from the worst of my father's abuse for a long time, but then he— He took all he could and he left. He was twenty-two when my parents died. I went to live with him, but he'd already gotten into the drugs… The state put me in foster care."

"What happened to him?" Martin asked.

"He ended up in jail, then prison. He came looking for me when he got out, but after a while… I didn't want to be found."

"That when you changed your name?"

Danny chuckled softly, his eyes filling with unshed tears. "No, that was later."

"Because he was family."

Danny nodded as he reached out and picked up a framed photo of Martin with Bonnie and her family. He stared at the image, then sat back, resting the picture frame on his chest. "He was the only family I had left," he admitted. "I tried to talk to him, tried to get him to admit he had a problem and he needed help… Got so all we ever did was fight. He kept getting busted…"

"That why you went into the FBI?"

A shrug. "Maybe, I don't know. I wanted to make a difference. But it was just about as opposite as I could get from Rafie."

"You're a good agent, Danny. And you do make a difference out there."

Danny flashed Martin a sincere grin.

"That why you picked alcohol, too?"

Another nod. "Rafie never liked the taste of the stuff. It was something I could do that he couldn't." Danny picked the frame up, looking at the photo again. Martin looked really happy in the picture. He knew that he himself didn't look nearly that happy in the picture sitting on his desk. "But we were both addicts… just different drugs of choice."

"But I'll bet he still knew all your secrets."

"All my nightmares, anyway," Danny said, his voice just above a whisper.

"Did he know you're gay?"

Danny's head snapped to the right, his eyes wide. "What?"

"Didn't you tell him?"

Danny swallowed several times, panting slightly. Then he nodded. "He's the only one who accepted it, too. He didn't judge me," he said, his eyes narrowing, challenging Martin to do just that.

But Martin just shrugged nonchalantly. "He was your brother."

Danny studied Fitzgerald, looking for any signs of disgust or loathing, but he found none. "How'd you know?"

"My younger niece is gay," Martin replied matter-of-factly. "Got the same vibe around you… But it, uh, took me a while to figure it out… Quite a while, actually."

"Going to tell the others?"

Martin shook his head. "Not my place to do that. Doesn't make a difference to me."

Danny's eyes flashed. "Not what I expected, Huckleberry. You're not—?"

"No," Martin said, shaking his head, "but I've, been with a couple of men."

"You?"

"Long story."

"I'd like to hear it one day," Danny said sincerely.

Martin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What's really eating you, Danny?"

Taylor took a long, deep breath, then said, "I always thought Rafie… He was smarter, stronger, more sure of himself. Hell, he was even better looking."

Martin snorted. "No way."

Danny felt himself blush and grinned in spite of himself. "Well, okay, so I was better looking, but he was more successful with the ladies."

"Well, yeah. And?"

"And he was a man. A real man."

"C'mon, Danny, you're as much of a man as he was."

Danny shook his head. "I'm queer. Rafie knew, and he accepted it, but down deep? I knew he was ashamed of me."

"I find that hard to believe," Martin said.

Danny shook his head, continuing, "When we hooked up again after his business failed, he told me. Not in so many words, but I got the message, loud and clear. He knew I was in the closet. He told me it was all right, that he understood…"

"So you're not out at work, so what?"

Danny met the man's eyes, his own full of pain. "He said I was doing a real man's job, so he got how I had to act like one."

Martin shook his head. "That's bullshit."

Danny smiled mockingly. "Is it? I lie through my teeth all the time about my… conquests."

"Oh, like every guy out there doesn't do the same thing?"

"You don't."

"Yeah, well, you saw how well my attempt to live a 'normal' life with Sam went."

Danny shrugged, but he didn't look convinced. "I let him down, Martin. He was the one person who loved me as I was, and I let him down. I couldn't keep them from killing him…"

"And beating yourself up makes you feel better?"

A flash of anger crossed the man's face. Danny wiped his hand over his eyes, brushing away the unshed tears before they could fall. "I just feel— I—"

"You're feeling like less than a man, but you're wrong. You did everything you could to help your brother. You helped get him released from prison, you helped find him a job, you tried to help when he wanted to start his own business… You got him cleaned up again when he fell back into the drugs, you talked to the parole board… You did everything you could. He made some bad choices, and they cost him his life, but you didn't make him choose them."

Danny weighed the man's words, trying to accept them.

"And who you sleep with doesn't have a damned thing to do with it."

Danny sniggered. "Not what his wife says."

"It's what I say."

"Why?"

Martin paused a moment, then said, "One of my best friends is gay. He spent his entire life hiding it, until he got to college and he just couldn't do it any more. But he wanted to be a priest, and he knew if he was 'practicing' he'd be turned down. It was eating him up inside. He tried to kill himself a couple of time."

Danny looked away. There had been a few times he'd considered the same thing. "I'm sorry."

"He didn't manage to do it. But he came close. He finally made his peace with it… Found a partner… They've been together for over ten years now, married in Massachusetts. And he's an Episcopal priest, too."

"You're a good friend, Martin," Danny offered. "Did he tell you he was going to kill himself?"

"He sent me a note. I got there before he redecorated the walls with his brains, thank God."

Danny shook his head. "Rafie was trying to kill himself his whole life… He just finally managed it. "

Martin moved over to sit next to Danny, reaching out and resting a supportive hand on the man's shoulder. "Look, we've all faced our addictions… We all have issues… But he was your family, and no matter how badly either of you messed up, you were brothers, and you loved each other."

"Maybe," Danny replied. "I hope so. He was the only one who understood what it was like, living with Pop… I wouldn't let myself remember, but he did…"

"He was older, he could see it more clearly, that's all."

"I hope you're right."

"I am."

Danny looked at Martin and shook his head. "Anybody ever tell you that you're an arrogant son-of-a-Fitzgerald?"

Martin grinned. "When you're right… you're right."

Danny felt a smile spread across his own face. Damn, but the man was cute, too cute. He dipped his head and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "The great, all-knowing Huckleberry has spoken."

Martin chuckled.

"I'm going to say something, okay, and all I ask is… don't shoot me."

Martin nodded.

"I could use a good fuck right now."

"So go get one."

Danny shook his head. "Too dangerous, and I don't mean just what you can catch."

"I understand," Martin said.

Danny's head dipped and his cheeks went red. "Wish I could, uh, ask you…"

"Ask me what?"

"What do you think?"

"You mean–?"

Danny nodded, then watched with fascination as Martin actually considered the idea. But he knew what the answer would be. Fitz would say n—

"Okay."

"What?"

"I said okay, but we better take this into the bedroom. The sofa isn't wide enough to get comfortable."

The blood drained from Danny's face, leaving him feeling lightheaded. The room spun, so he closed his eyes.

"Change your mind?" Martin asked.

The brown eyes popped open. "No! Uh, I— I don't know. You'd do that?"

"I said I would," Martin said, standing. He offered Danny his hand. "Come on."

Danny found himself reaching out and taking the man's hand, letting Martin tug him to his feet. His knees were weak and he nearly had to sit down again.

"You okay?"

Danny nodded. "Just–"

Martin interrupted, stepping close and brushing Danny's lips with his own. The Cuban's eyes immediately closed and he moaned, his arms reaching out to snake around Martin's sides and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

Feeling Martin's teasing tongue, Danny parted his lips, allowing the man access to his mouth. Their tongues paried and explored. Their hips pressed tightly together, bulges at their groins grinding.

"Bedroom," Martin said breathlessly.

Danny just nodded, too astonished to reply.

Martin led the way to his bedroom. Without a word the two men stripped out of their clothes, Danny dumping his into a pile on the floor while Martin hung his carefully over the back of a chair.

With that done, Martin pulled Danny into another exploring kiss. One of Taylor's hands wrapped around Martin's cock, sending hot sparks of pleasure exploding through the man's entire body.

"Oh, damn," Fitzgerald breathed when they surfaced for air.

"What?" Danny asked, stiffening. Here it comes; he's going to change his mind.

"I don't have any condoms."

Relief flooded through the other man and he squeezed the long, thick cock in his hand. "Not to worry," he assured him. "I'll take care of that." He moved to the pile of clothes on the floor and rummaged through his jacket pockets to find a condom. Meanwhile, Martin went to the nightstand and removed a bottle of KY.

"What do you want, Danny?" he asked.

"Inside me," Danny said, his tone almost pleading.

"Turn around," Martin directed.

Danny did as instructed, the thought of what was to come making him so hard he could barely stand it. A hand between his shoulder blades forced him to bend over, and he braced himself with his hands against the surface of the bed and widened his stance.

"Some nice bruises," Martin commented as his lube-coated finger poked against Danny's puckered hole.

"They'll fade fast enough," he sighed, feeling a single finger slide into his chute up to the third joint. Martin wiggled his finger, sending waves of tantalizing sensations washing over him. "Oh, God," he breathed.

After a moment the finger was withdrawn, replaced by two. "Yeah… God," Danny panted. "That feels… so good."

"Been a while?"

"Too long… too long."

Martin worked carefully and slowly, stretching the tight muscles until they were loose. Danny closed his eyes, his head arched back, his hips moving in small, tight circles against the ministrations.

Martin used his free hands to grab Danny's balls, rolling them in his palm.

"Not too much," Danny cautioned. "It's been so long… no control, y'know?"

Martin stopped and withdrew his fingers a second time. He slipped the condom on, then took the KY, rubbing the slick fluid over his erection and added more to Danny's ass.

"Like this," Danny said, crawling onto the bed and turning over onto his back. He raised his legs up in the air. "Go for it," he encouraged.

Martin climbed onto the bed and maneuvered between Danny's thighs.

"Please," Danny said, "hurry."

Martin slowly eased his thick cock into Danny's well-prepared ass.

Danny still grimaced, and Martin stopped, waiting for the man to adjust to his presence.

When Danny lowered his legs, draping them over Martin's shoulders, Martin pressed the rest of the way in.

"Man, you're tight… so hot," Martin hissed, grinding his teeth together to keep from shooting his load right then.

"Feels so good," Danny replied. "Do it."

Martin began to move, gliding in and out with long, slow thrusts.

Danny's eyes closed and he groaned, lowly, deeply. "God yesss," he growled, squeezing the muscles in his butt and driving his hips against the invading cock, impaling himself over and over again.

Martin pumped faster, Danny meeting each thrust and enjoying the feel of the other man's heavy balls slapping against his butt, heightening his pleasure.

Before long Martin was shoving in all the way up to his balls and pulling out to the very tip of his crown. Their bodies gleamed with sweat, trickles of it running down their faces, which were twisted by the feelings shooting through their bodies. They breathed hard and groaned softly.

Supporting himself on one arm, Martin reached down and took hold of Danny's stiff cock, pulling on it in time with the rhythm his hips were setting. Then he reached past and squeezed Danny's balls, making the Cuban groan, half in pleasure, half in glorious pain.

Feeling his climax beginning to build, Martin skewered Danny faster and faster. When his balls pulled up tight, he gave one last, mighty thrust, embedding himself to the very root of his cock.

Danny felt Fitzgerald start to shudder, his fingers tightening almost painfully on his balls. Then the man cried out, and Danny could feel the man's cock pumping its load into the condom. He ground his hips tight against Martin's groin and clenched his butt muscles over and over, milking the man dry.

Lost in the pure pleasure of his release, Martin grabbed Danny's rock-hard cock, pulling and squeezing, pushing Taylor over the edge. The Cuban's load gushed out, one squirt after another, splattering against Martin's chest. And Martin reached in, squeezing the man's balls to drain every drop out of them.

When Danny's shudderings decreased and finally stopped, Martin slowly pulled his softening cock out and crawled out from between Danny's legs to collapse on the bed.

Danny stretched his legs out, his ass sore but tingling with pleasure. "That was good," he panted, "very… very good."

Martin chuckled. "Can't complain, either."

A short while later the two men cleaned up and got dressed, neither saying much of anything. Back in the living room, they sat together on the couch, Martin sipping on a beer, Danny on a soda.

"Any regrets?" Danny asked.

Martin shook his head. "No, none."

"Good," Danny replied. "Me, either. Thank you."

"Any time," Martin replied.

Danny grinned playfully. "Any time, huh?"

Martin blushed. "Not what I meant, but, uh…"

"What?"

"Wouldn't mind… every once in a while."

"Me, too," Danny said, his voice soft with gratitude and friendship. "Me, too."

END
Just Friends 3: Confessions

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