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Warning: Graphic description of male-male sex.
Martin jerked his shoulder back, sidestepping to avoid two workmen in the cluttered hallway, and the six-foot ladder one of them was carrying. Dropcloths had been laid down on the floor, and ladders, buckets of paint, and other obstructions large and small were scattered at irregular intervals, which made traversing the space between the elevators and his office nothing less than an obstacle course.
He would be so glad when the renovations were over. The building had looked perfectly fine as far he was concerned, but someone, somewhere, had decided that it needed an internal facelift, and so the workmen had arrived, just a few at first, but now the various teams were nearly being overrun by the coverall-clad horde.
Martin passed Jack's office. The work there was done and Malone moved back in – the lucky dog. He nodded his approval of the thick, wooden doors that had replaced the glass ones that had been there before. At least now he wouldn't have the feeling Malone was looking over his shoulder all the time.
He sighed. That was probably nothing more than wishful thinking on his part. The feeling that Jack was watching him had nothing to do with the glass doors and everything to do with the fact that Fitzgerald still felt like he needed to prove himself to the man. He'd had several supervisors since starting with the FBI, but Jack had been, by far, the hardest for him to get a read on. There were days he honestly didn't know if Jack liked or respected him, although he hoped the man did both.
Well, at least Jack wouldn't have to live in a fishbowl any more. Martin was sure that would at least improve the man's disposition a little.
Skirting around a tarp-draped chair and two-drawer filing cabinet, Martin slipped into his office area – a corral of desks arranged around a large open space that was filled by a conference table, but that table now looked more like a workbench. The first thing he noticed was that his chair was missing, the second that his desk and computer were shrouded with more of the ubiquitous dropcloths. He sighed heavily, his hands coming up to rest on his hips in a gesture of frustration. How was he supposed to work in conditions like this? It shouldn't matter that it was 1 a.m. on a Saturday morning. He should have access to his desk 24-7. Kidnappers didn't take weekends off and, it appeared, neither did the workmen.
Glancing around at the rest of the unit, he found no one else there to commiserate with – no one who might know where his chair was, or why his space had been draped with tarps when done of the others had. Really, just how the hell was he supposed to get any work none under these conditions?
Muttering under his breath, he glanced over at his teammate's desk. Danny Taylor's space was clear of dropcloths, buckets and other stuff, and his chair was still tucked safely under his desk. After a moment's hesitation, Martin stalked over, pulled the chair out, and sat down.
He was surprised to discover that Taylor's computer was still on, which was most unusual. Danny always made sure that he turned his computer off when he left for the day, and Martin knew for a fact that the man had left – three hours earlier – because Danny had gone out of his way to make sure Martin knew he was leaving, going so far as to drop by the audio lab to tell him so.
Rubbing it in, Martin knew, because he was in the doghouse – again.
Not that Martin really blamed Jack for putting him there. He should have told the man the truth about the shooting at the scene. He shouldn't have let Viv try and cover his ass like that. He shook his head, trying to the troubling thoughts out of his mind. It was over. The OPR had cleared him and Vivian, but Jack knew the truth and Martin wondered if Malone could ever trust him again as a result. It certainly didn't look like he would anytime soon. Although why he was the one in the doghouse while Vivian wasn't, he still couldn't fathom.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to get back to the business at hand. He touched the mouse and the desktop blinked back on.
Martin immediately frowned. There was a folder sitting in the center of Danny's screen – a folder labeled "Martin."
"What the hell…?"
Curiosity getting the upper hand on his common sense, Martin double-clicked on the icon to see what was inside.
A single file: Readme.
He double-clicked on the file and a popup window appeared, asking him for a password.
"Now how the hell am I supposed to know?" he grumbled at the screen.
Leaning back in Danny's chair, Martin scowled at the screen and tried to imagine what kind of password Taylor would assume he could intuit. He tried "Martin" and "Fitzgerald," then "MartinFitzgerald," and when those didn't work, he tried "Danny" and "Taylor," "DannyTaylor" and "doghouse," but none of those worked either.
He huffed out a heavy sigh and growled at the absent man, "I'm not a freakin' mind reader, Taylor."
What else would he use? Martin wondered, then tried "shoes" and "radio" and "Fitz" and finally "SanDiego."
A new popup window appeared with that last, announcing, "Very good, Fitzgerald, and it only took you 11 tries."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled, clicking the "Continue" button at the bottom of the window.
And another new window opened, asking "Are you finally done for the night?" There were two buttons to choose from: Yes and No.
Martin clicked the "Yes" button as he sighed.
Another window opened, telling him, "Good! It's about time!" Below were two more buttons: "Feeling Adventurous" and "I'm a Wimp."
With a snort Martin clicked on the first one.
"Good!" the resulting window read, and below that was the message: "Meet me at your place – ASAP."
Martin frowned. "What the hell are you up to, Danny?" But he cleared the desktop of the popup windows and shut down the computer. Whatever else he had planned for tonight could wait until Monday morning. Even Jack had told him to go home earlier, but he'd wanted to see how the audio analysis of the answering machine tape had turned out. He was trying to work his way back into Malone's good graces, Martin knew. Not that the analysis had given them anything new. He really might as well go home and see what the hell Danny was up to.
Standing, Martin stretched and pushed Taylor's chair back under the man's desk, then took a last look around and shook his head over the mess. Martin headed for home, still at a loss over what Danny could possibly be planning.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Martin stopped and stared up at his building, still trying to puzzle out what Danny could be up to. When he couldn't come up with anything, he sighed and headed inside, nodding to the security man at the door as he walked inside. He headed straight for the elevator, waiting a little impatiently for the car to arrive, then stepping inside and pressing the number for his floor, which was near the top of the building.
He rode up alone, his toe tapping nervously as he waited, the piped in music grating on his nerves. When the doors began to open, he slipped past them and hurried down the hallway to his door, looking for Taylor, who he had expected to find waiting there for him.
Martin checked his knob, but the door was still locked, so he fished his keys out and unlocked it, stepping inside and calling, "Danny?"
The inside of his apartment wasn't dark like he'd expected, several candles burning on his entryway table, the melting wax giving off a pleasant aroma that filled the space. "Danny?" he called again, completely confused.
He dropped his keys into the small bowl on the end of the table and started down the hallway, loosening his tie as he went. As he passed the living room he glanced in, but it was completely dark. The same was true of the kitchen, the small dining room, and his office.
Reaching the bedroom at the far end of the hall, he opened the door and stepped inside, calling, "Hey, Danny, where the hell are–?" Words and forward motion both came to an abrupt halt and Martin glanced around slowly. Burning candles were scattered around this room as well, their low flames casting a warm glow throughout the space. And his bed had been turned down.
On his nightstand were two flutes of what looked like champaign and a small candy box, lying open to reveal the six expensive chocolate truffles waiting inside. Soft jazz music played on his stereo system.
"Danny?" he called. "What the hell's going on here, pal?" He had the horrible feeling that – any moment now – a nubile young woman was going to step out of his bathroom wearing nothing but a revealing teddy. "Damn it, Taylor, where the hell are you?"
But it was Danny who stepped out of the bathroom, and he was wearing a thick fleece robe, dark green in color, with satin trim at the cuffs and around the collar. Martin's mouth went dry and he couldn't help but stare at the V of flesh that was exposed by the robe.
"Took you long enough," Taylor purred, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge. He picked up one of the flutes and held it out for Martin.
The mind-numbed special agent stumbled forward, his mind racing. What was going on here? What kind of stunt was Taylor pulling? And why?
When Martin stalled again, Danny set the flutes back down and stood, crossing the space to Martin and casually helping him out of his jacket and tie. Then he nodded toward the bathroom. "It's all ready for you, m'man."
"Ready? What's ready? Danny, what the hell are you talking about? What are you–?"
"But you really should have some of this first," Danny said, walking back to retrieve the two glasses, carrying them back to Martin, who was too dumbfounded to move. He accepted the flute he was given and lifted it to his lips without thinking. Taking a sip, he was surprised to find that it was an expensive brand. He took another gulp and allowed Danny to shuffle him off to the bathroom saying, "Chop, chop, Martin, time's wasting."
And then the door was closed behind him and Martin was glancing around the bathroom where more candles burned, the champaign bottle chilling in a bucket of ice chips on the counter. His own robe was waiting for him.
And then he noticed it, the wonderful aroma rising with the steam from the shower where the water was already running.
Deciding that he must be dreaming, Martin finished off his drink, then set the flute down and quickly undressed and stepped into the shower.
Scrubbed and more curious than shocked, Martin stepped out of the shower and hurriedly dried himself off.
Picking up his robe, Martin pulled it on and looked for some underwear, but there was nothing there besides the thick robe, and he didn't want to put the briefs he'd been wearing back on. He refilled his glass and then opened the door and stepped out into his bedroom, carrying the flute and bottle out into the bedroom.
Danny was lounging back on the bed, just finishing off his own glass. He grinned when he saw the bottle and held out the flute so Martin could refill it, which he did.
"Danny, are you going to tell me what's going on here?" Martin asked before turning and taking the bottle back to its waiting ice bucket. Stepping back out into the bedroom he added, "Well?"
Danny refused to answer, gesturing for Martin to take a seat on the edge of the bed, which he did, both of them sliding their glasses onto the nightstand.
"Try one," Taylor said, picking up the small box of chocolates and holding it out to the man.
Martin sighed, more than a little frustrated, but he decided to play along. He reached out, picked one of the candies and tried a bite. "Mmm, that's good," he said, pleasantly surprised by the rich, sweet taste that coated his taste buds in pure bliss. He popped the rest of the chocolate into his mouth and chewed, his eyes closing in delight as he savored the wonderful flavor.
It was then that Danny made his move, leaning in and kissing Martin lightly on the lips.
Blue eyes shot open, rounded with surprise, but they immediately drooped closed again when Danny deepened his kiss. Then his tongue slipped into Martin's mouth.
Both men's lips and tongues were coated with the sweet candy and they were soon sharing each other's selections.
Breaths slowly became more and more ragged as they explored and tasted each other and Martin moaned softly when Danny finally pulled away.
Taylor grinned at the sound and reached for two more of the chocolates. He popped one of them into his mouth and held the other up for Martin, who opened his mouth and allowed Danny to push it inside.
Martin closed his lips on Danny's fingertips and watched the man's brown eyes round slightly, then drop half-closed as he sighed softly and trembled. Martin filed the reaction away for use later.
They chewed their truffles, then swallowed and leaned in, their lips meeting for a second time, their tongues beginning to explore once more. Both men were more confident, more daring, this time, sucking on each other's lips, tongues dueling until they were both breathless and shaking with arousal.
The second time they parted, they each reached for their flutes, gulping down swallows of the bubbling liquid. Danny's eyes were sparkling brighter than the drink and he grinned at Martin, asking, "Still hungry? There's one left for each of us."
"Think I'll wait," he replied, still a little breathless. "What's happening here, Danny?"
Taylor grinned. "Funny, you're a smart man. I would've thought you would've figured it out by now."
Martin sighed through his nose. "All right, then tell me why."
"I think that's fairly obvious, too. You're slipping, m'man."
"Damn it, Danny, you're trying to seduce me."
"Trying?" Taylor yelped, smiling widely. "Only trying?"
This time Martin sighed, loudly, and rolled his eyes. Danny chuckled, the sound vibrating straight through Martin's groin.
Taylor picked up his glass and raised it, waiting until Martin did the same, then he tapped the rim of his glass against Martin's and said, "Here's to trying… and succeeding."
"Why, Danny?" Martin implored after draining his glass.
"Why not?" Taylor replied casually and then leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on the soft material at the shoulder of Martin's robe. "Kiss me again, Martin."
Fitzgerald swallowed hard. He knew he couldn't refuse the man, and he didn't really want to. He shifted his weight forward, eyes closing as his lips brushed Danny's lightly, once, twice, three times before they met, crushing against one another. At the same time, Martin felt Danny's hand moving off his shoulder, slipping past the fold of his robe and rubbing lightly over his chest, his palm passing over one of his hard nipples and causing him to groan. It had been a long time since he'd been with someone, and even longer since he'd really wanted someone like he wanted Danny right now. And it appeared that Danny wanted him just as much. If not, this had been one hell of an effort for a quick fuck.
I'm thinking too much, Martin told himself. Stop thinking and start feeling for once, Fitzgerald.
But that was easier said than done. Feelings and emotions, their outward expression, had never been welcomed in his father's home and he'd learned very quickly to hide them while growing up – learned too quickly and too well, he knew now. The few lovers he'd had in the past had all accused him of being "unfeeling," but he wasn't. He felt things deeply, too deeply sometimes. He just couldn't seem to open up and risk his heart with someone else.
But Danny Taylor was different. Martin didn't know how, or why, but he was certain he could trust the man with his life, and with his heart. He just didn't know how. And the hand stealing across his touch-starved skin wasn't making it any easier to decide how to try.
Then his thoughts were scattered when fingertips closed around the hard nub of his nipple, squeezed and then tugged. Martin burbled something incoherent at the back of his throat, his head arching back, his chest pressing into the magical sensations being visited upon him.
"Oh, yeah," he heard Danny whisper, chuckling softly. "I finally got past some of those damned locks of yours."
"Locks?" Martin managed to gasp breathlessly as Taylor reached up and pushed the robe off his shoulder.
"Mmm-hmm," Danny replied, leaning in, kissing and licking the exposed skin, the contact making Martin shudder. "The invisible locks… around… your heart," he said, lifting his mouth from Martin's body each time.
"I lost the keys," was his reply.
"Think I might've found 'em," Danny said, fingers returning to the aching nub, his lips nibbling at the side of Martin's neck, leaving the man shaking with pleasure and need.
Danny took the glass from Martin's trembling hand, setting it on the nightstand, then pressed against the man's chest, forcing Fitzgerald back onto the bed. He shifted so he was stretched out alongside Martin, hands and mouth attacking again.
For his part, Martin arched and twisted under the touch, but his arms refused to obey when he willed them to reach up and stroke Danny. They were leaden, weighed down by the languid ecstasy pouring through his veins. "Danny," he breathed, wanting to explain why he wasn't participating.
"Shhh," Taylor replied, pulling Martin's robe open and bending over to lick the hard nub he'd uncovered. "I'm busy." His lips closed on the hard flesh and he nibbled gently.
"Ah! Shit!" Martin gasped, fingers curling into the sheets. His eyes squeezed closed and he reveled in the sensations created by the mouth attacking him. Then he felt Danny reach down and tug the knot on his robe free. Cool air raced up his naked body when the thick cloth was thrown open. He knew he was erect, and he felt his cock spring up when the weight of the cloth was removed.
"Mmm, beautiful," Danny moaned, his hand closing around Martin's thick shaft.
"Easy," he gulped when that hand began to move, "it's been a while. My control's shot to hell."
Danny chuckled evilly. "I want you to lose control."
Martin's eyes opened and he stared up at the man above him, the dark eyes hungry, the mouth turned up in as wicked a smile as Fitzgerald had ever seen. He had so many questions, but he didn't know where to start. The effort to decide was stopped when Danny's hand moved, fingers closing, squeezing the flared head of Martin's cock.
"Stop thinking so damned much," Taylor scolded him. "I don't want you to think, Martin, I want you to feel." He squeezed again. "Do you feel that?"
"Oh yeah. Yeah, I feel that," Martin breathed airily.
"How about this?" Danny asked, rubbing his thumb over the small slit, catching a drop of precome and spreading it over the sensitive skin.
"Yeah," Martin gulped, "that, too."
"Good," Danny replied, continuing to circle his thumb a few more times before he shifted down on the bed and touched his lips to the weeping crown.
Martin gasped loudly, unable to think now, even if he wanted to, which he didn't. His cock jumped in Danny's hand, and he felt his hips grinding his ass into the mattress as he whimpered Taylor's name.
He almost sobbed when Danny swallowed him in reply, his tongue stroking the underside of Martin's shaft, his fingers fondling Martin's balls.
His eyes closed and time ceased to exist, Martin trapped in an endless "now" that was defined by the pleasure being visited on his aching, weeping cock.
Then the brush of skin across the surface of the sheets announced Danny was reaching for something and Martin opened his eyes to see what it was, but then the man's lips were on his cock again and he didn't care what it was Taylor had been reaching for. That is, until the pleasuring hands and lips were suddenly gone and he heard the sound of a condom wrapper being torn open.
He blinked his eyes open, watching as Danny shrugged out of his robe and then pulled a condom from its foil packet, rolling it onto his long, hard erection. Once that was on, Taylor picked up a tube of KY and squeezed out some of the clear gel, rubbing it over the condom's surface. That done, he grinned down at Martin and then descended upon his cock like it was an all-day lollipop Danny intended to eat in three bites.
When the wet heat of Danny's mouth enveloped him, Martin knew he was lost. His control was gone, his rational thought lost in the explosions of molten pleasure erupting in his groin. He knew what Danny was doing, but he couldn't do anything more than whimper and jerk on the bed while he was carried to the brink of orgasm and flung off.
He pumped out his load into Danny's mouth, unaware of anything but the freeing explosion of bliss that continued to rock through his body in waves when he slumped back against the mattress and panted for breath.
Martin moaned and forced his eyes open, intending to pull Danny into another kiss, but Danny was pushing his hand under Martin, a slick fingertip tapping at the most intimate spot Martin could imagine. He'd never let anyone–
Thoughts scattered in an instant when Danny pressed just inside the rim of tight muscle, igniting a passion inside the man like nothing Martin had ever felt before. He gasped, suddenly unable to breathe. "Danny," he called, fear and longing warring in his blood.
"Easy," Taylor soothed, pushing his finger in deeper while he leaned over and rained kisses across Martin's chest. "Easy, Martin, I won't hurt you."
The words weren't necessary. Martin's body was too relaxed, too receptive to the intriguing sensations assailing him to stay the man. The tight ring of muscle loosened, Danny's finger diving in deeper, exploring, stretching, every touch igniting a new pleasure that Martin had never felt before.
The single finger was soon replaced by two.
Martin lifted and bent his knees, his hips tilted back to give Danny more access to him. And Taylor took advantage of it, leaving Martin jerking and shaking with excitement, his soft penis slowly filling again. Then he was empty and, bereft of the stimulating digits, mewed his displeasure.
Danny chuckled in response, rolling the shorter man over and moving between his legs. He lifted Martin's hips from the bed and pressed his condom-sheathed cock against the exposed pink pucker. Grabbing the base of his shaft, he leaned over the man, forcing himself past the rim of muscle and sliding inside the impossibly hot, tight channel. He sighed, and so did Martin.
"Yeah," Danny breathed. "Oh, yeah." He pushed in farther, trying to go slowly so he wouldn't hurt Martin, but it was impossible. Martin wasn't helping either, bearing back against him, driving him in faster than he would otherwise have gone. "Easy, babe, easy," he ground out. "Slow and easy is best." But he was unable to heed his own advice, plunging into the tight embrace until he was fully buried inside the man he'd wanted for so long.
They both went still then, panting, waiting while each adjusted to the sensations rocking through him. Then, without a word passing between them, they began to move in a waltz as old as time.
Sweat coated their bodies, breaths came faster and faster, moans bounced off the walls and, finally, as tightly joined as they could get, they came together, great shuddering gasps the only "words" that passed between them.
Riding out the afterglow, Danny lightly stroked Martin's back while he waited to soften enough to pull free. Then he pulled his condom off and dropped it into the wastebasket next to the nightstand.
They both collapsed onto the bed.
"Want to hit the shower?" Danny asked, running his hand over Martin's arm, the gesture feeling oddly possessive to both of them.
"Yeah," Martin breathed, inching closer to Danny, one arm snaking over the man's lower belly, his hand stroking Taylor's hip.
"You ever let anyone do that before?"
"No," Martin said. "You?"
"A couple of times."
"Going to let me?"
Danny smiled and laughed softly. "Now?"
"Hell no," was the immediate reply. "Later."
"Later," Danny agreed, nodding. "Maybe."
"Maybe?"
Danny chuckled. "Oh, all right – yes."
"Good."
Getting off the bed was harder than either of them expected, but they managed it, stumbling into the bathroom and relieving themselves, then stepping into the shower and washing under the hot water spraying from the two heads.
"Nice," Danny commented on the arrangement.
Martin grinned. "Glad you like it."
They stepped out, dried, and then headed back to the bedroom, Danny grabbing the bottle on his way out. He filled their empty flutes, which finished off the bottle, so he set it in the wastebasket as well.
They lifted their glasses, toasting each other and finishing off their drinks.
Danny climbed into bed first, grimacing when he found a wet spot. Martin grinned at the expression, offering, "We can change the sheets."
Taylor shook his head, too tired to care now that he was lying down.
Sliding in next to the handsome Cuban, Martin reached over and grabbed the small box with the last two chocolates in it. He held it out and Danny took one of the candies, depositing it onto his tongue and them pulling it inside his mouth to chew on it.
Martin shook his head and popped the last piece into his own mouth, letting the chocolate begin to melt on his tongue before he chewed it up and swallowed it. Then he leaned over and kissed Danny, whose mouth opened, letting him in to sample the lingering taste of raspberry truffle that was on his tongue. "Mmm," Martin said, licking over the man's teeth.
Danny's arms encircled him, pulling him tight against his side. When they parted he said, "You're mine, Fitz."
"I am, am I?"
Danny nodded. "Body and soul."
It was true, and Martin knew there was no use denying it. Danny was already aware of the fact or he wouldn't have tried this little seduction. "And you?" he asked softly. "Are you mine?"
Taylor nodded again. "Body and soul," he replied in a seductive half-growl.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Martin awoke to the pounding of hammers. He reached for Danny, but there was no one in his bed. He glanced around, frowning. There were no candles, no champaign flutes.
He leaned over the edge of the bed and checked his wastebasket. No bottle, no condom… no nothing. He rolled over onto his back with a groan.
A dream. It had been nothing but a dream.
The hammering returned and he recalled the images from the dream. He snorted, rolling his head back and forth. The renovations were being made on his building, not at the office. He wasn't on a case. He hadn't used Taylor's computer and Danny hadn't made love to him.
Sitting up, he ran his hands over his disheveled hair and sighed. But, God, it had felt so real… so damn good. And he had the creamed underwear to prove it.
He tossed the blankets and sheet back and climbed out of bed, wishing the dream had been real.
He snorted softly to himself as he waited for the water in the shower to warm. There was no way Danny could have made those popup windows, he knew. But he could.
"Yeah… I could," he said out loud, and then smiled. Maybe it was time he launched a little mission of seduction on his own. He was pretty sure Danny would be receptive. They'd been getting closer over the last year, spending more time with one another. And he'd begun to notice the look Taylor gave him when they parted, each heading home to an empty apartment.
He climbed into the shower and began to wash.
Yeah, maybe he could pull off a seduction. If he could just stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong and just went for it. He'd never been particularly good at spontaneity, but there was no time like the present to give it a try. The prize he won for his efforts might just be priceless.
He smiled, determined to make his dream reality, and as soon as possible, too.