A Little Gas

Justin paced rapidly back and forth, the width of the room, while waving his hands through the air. "But you just got back!" he groused peevishly.

"I know, dulce," the agent said soothed. "It can't be helped."

A moist, full lower lip slowly made its debut. "Don't know why it's always you that has to save the world," he murmured pathetically.

"It's a knack." His lover smiled to himself as he placed a fat manila folder in his case. "The level of my mission status is as close to a compliment as Brown'll ever come, mi corazon," he responded, with quiet patience.

"Still seems like a gyp to me." Justin's face wrinkled in a smirk. "Can't Brown," the name dripped derision, "'compliment' somebody else?"

Definitely not caring for his brat's tone, Choate's voice took on a moderate edge. "I don't know, Justin. Maybe you should ask him?"

Justin blinked at the edge in his lover's voice. "But, Paadddee!" he whined pitifully as he raked clawed fists through the air.

The Chief Aide's gaze lifted from his packing, dark eyes bestowing his partner with the 'Look'. "Don't make this hard, little boy," was all he said.

The smaller man crossed his arms tightly against his chest as he increased his pout. "I'd try, if I thought it'd do any good," he muttered.

Choate quickly turned his back to hide his smile. His imp was relentless. "I have an idea. Call Gideon. See what he's doing. You two don't spend much time with each other anymore."

"I don't want to spend time with Gideon!" Justin snapped, stomping his foot on the plush, patterned carpet of Choate's suite of rooms.

The big man halted his activity and straightened to his full height. "Excuse me?" he said softly as he glanced back at his companion.

The expressive pout-face disappeared as the smaller man gulped. "I said, I'm gonna go call Gideon. See if he's busy," he told his lover hastily, then turned on the balls of his feet and headed swiftly for the door. "Maybe we can do something together," Justin added, snatching the door open and escaping into the hall.

"That's what I thought you said," Choate said quietly to the closed door, then resumed his packing.

~~~

In an apartment, on the other side of the city, Fox and his little love were having quite a different conversation.

"Mouse," the big man said patiently as he watched Gideon stuff clothes in the pack. "Mouse," he tried again.

Kuschel stopped, looking up with a smile. "I've never been camping before, Damien. Sleeping out under the stars . . . roughing it with you." The younger man beamed.

And Silver Fox didn't have the heart to hurt him. The agent racked his mind for a distraction. Suddenly, the telephone on the night stand supplied it.

Gideon dove over the large backpack, landing stomach-down on the bed. Before he had finished bouncing, the young blond had the receiver clutched against his ear. "Hel-lo?" He paused. "Gram! How are you?" "Well, I kinda had something else planned, Gram . . . " "But, Gram . . . " "Can't Maman do it?" "Since when?" "What about Alice?" "Mae . . . " His voice grew more desperate with each suggestion.

"Mouse?" the agent prompted softly.

"Hold on a minute, Gram," Gideon said quickly, then covered the receiver with his hand. "My grandmother and her . . . " He thought about his lover's reaction to what he was about to say and quickly amended it to, "club want to go on the 'boat' this weekend."

Damien smiled. He liked Gideon's grandmother. She reminded him a lot of his grandfather in her zest for life. "And?"

"She wants me to drive them there, car-sit, then come pick them up."

He knew how much his Little Rain hated to drive. Hated cars at all. His grandmother owned on of those new PT Cruisers, battleship grey. A big, barrelling, boat of a car that reminded the agent of a hearse. You could barely see her head over the steering wheel. And, only being a half inch taller, her grandson hated driving her car for that corresponding reason.

"Besides," he continued, "we're going camping this weekend."

"No, Mouse. We aren't."

"What?" "When did I say that?" "No. I don't remember that." Suddenly, Silver Fox's word sank in. "Hold on, Gram," he told the receiver. Then to his lover, "But you said . . . " he moaned. And back into the telephone with, "Grammy, please!" Then, turning pleading eyes upwards to meet his love's dark ones, he implored, "Damien!"

Ignoring the pleading look on that much-loved face, the agent remark "Tell your grandmother, yes, Little Rain." The agent remarked quietly.

Gideon frowned up at his lover. "Grammy, I had other plans," he told the mouthpiece churlishly.

"Mouse," the older man's voice expressed a heavy admonition.

Kuschel pointedly ignored the signal. "Maybe I can do it next--" the rest of the sentence ended in a shrill squeak as a hard hand connected keenly with the soft, rounded surface of his rump. The young blond wisely rolled to his feet a safe distance away. "No, Gram." He eyed his lover with a look of betrayal while rubbing his bottom with his free hand. "Damien swatted me," he informed her with a pout. "Why does it always have to be my fault?" he griped with a scowl, then paused a moment to listen to his grandmother.

Silver Fox frowned, folding his arms across his chest.

Gideon swallowed hard. "Sorry, Grammy," he told her meekly, still watching the look on Damien's face. "She says hello," he cautiously informed his lover.

"Tell her hello, also," the big man said slowly.

Gideon shifted nervously at the look on his face. "Gram? I guess I can car-sit for you after all." He paused. "I'll see if I can get The Bear. . ." the smaller man danced a few more steps out of reach, "to drop me off." "Yes, Gram." "I love you, too." He reached over and quickly returned the phone to its cradle and danced away again. "You're mean," he denounced.

"It is the way of The Bear," Silver Fox informed him with a growl, and lunged.

~~~~~~

In a bold act of rebellion, young Mr. Evers didn't call his friend, Gideon, the day Choate left. Nor did he pick up the phone all morning the second day. But, by early that afternoon, sheer boredom had weakened his resolve.

Kuschel answered the telephone between the second and third ring. "Fox?" he breathed eagerly into the receiver.

"I've never thought of myself as a fox, Giddy," Justin said with amusement. "An ermine, maybe, or chinchilla."

"Oh. Justin," Gideon groaned. "I thought you were someone else."

"Gee. I wonder who?" Justin sneered.

"Is that why you called, Justin, to mock me?" Kuschel said sadly.

Justin sighed in sympathy, very much understanding how his friend felt. "No. I'm bored. What're you doing?"

"You mean, besides missing Damien?"

Justin grunted in answer.

"You wanna go for a ride?" Kuschel suggested, half-heartedly.

"Believe it or not," Justin said, surprised himself, "I don't feel like driving."

"I'll drive,"the blond volunteered.

"Not my car you won't," Justin told him quickly.

"No. In mine."

"Yours??" Justin exclaimed in disbelief. "When did you get a car? You aren't in Damien's truck are you, Giddy? He'll skin you alive--"

Gideon interrupted with, "Actually, I have Grammy's car."

A moment of startled silence passed. "The TANK?"

"It looks more like a hearse than a tank, Justin."

The dark-haired man snorted. "Oh, well, that makes it okay."

The blond sighed heavily. "You want me to beg, don't you?"

"It wouldn't do any good, Kuschel. I'm bored, but I'm not THAT bored." Just then, call-waiting 'beeped' in his ear. "Hold on," he told his friend as he clicked over. "Hello?"

"Dulce."

The rich, warm voice washed over him, raising his temperature and sending a dick-hardening tingle rocketing down his spine. "Paddy," he whispered.

Choate laughed fondly, then lowered his voice even more, "Justin."

"Are you on your way home?" he asked hopefully.

"In a few days, if all goes as planned. Are you behaving yourself?"

Evers pointedly ignored the query. "Why can't you come home now?"

"I'm not finished. Answer the question."

The younger man hesitated then reassured his lover. "Yes."

"Who are you talking to?" Choate inquired mildly having noted the telltale 'beep' of call waiting on his end of the phone.

"Gideon."

"Good. Not planning anything too wild, I hope."

"I wish," Justin said without thinking, then, at the sound of this lover clearing his throat, he quickly added, "No. He wants me to ride with him in his grandmother's car."

"Good. Why don't you two do dinner? Maybe take in a show?"

Justin made a rude noise. "I'm not gonna be seen in that car, Paddy!"

"It's just a car, little boy," the agent said softly.

"It's an ugly car, Paddy!"

Choate smiled on the other end of the phone. "Gideon is your best friend, Justin."

"I know that, Paddy," Justin informed him with strained patience.

"Then be a friend, little boy."

Evers sighed heavily. "It's a very ugly car, Paddy," he said softly, his voice heavily laced with defeat. "And it's grey! Submarines are grey, Paddy. Battleships. Not cars!"

The agent's sharp bark of laughter drifted back through the phone. "Gideon feels the same way, dulce. Consider it giving him moral support."

Justin made another rude noise. "I hope you're bringing me something really big back as a reward for this," he griped.

There was a short pause, an amused chuckle sounding softly through the receiver, then came that deep, titillating baritone washing over him: "Sí, galán. Prometo ninguna decepción. Entienda?"

Justin shifted slightly to relieve the pressure rapidly building in his groin. "Me entiendas."

"Muy bien, quierdo."

And the agent clicked off.

Several seconds later, the phone beeped twice in his ear, signalling that Gideon was still there.

"Sorry, Kuschel."

"Let me make a wild guess," he paused for added drama, "the Chief Aide?"

Young Evers face colored at the insinuation. "Come on, Giddy--"

"Do phone sex on your own dime, Evers," Gideon interrupted testily.

A moment of silence passed. "Low blow, Kuschel," Justin said softly. "You'da done the same thing."

"Would not!" the blond replied with self-righteous, indignation.

A familiar signal interrupted Evers' retort. "Is that your call-waiting?" he replied with a smirk.

Gideon checked the call waiting ID, saying a silent prayer of thanks that his friend couldn't see the blush that rose to his face. "Be right back,"he responded quickly, and clicked over, effectively cutting off Justin's highly amused laughter.

~~~~~~

Justin leaned back in the car's plushly upholstered seat and groaned, feeling stuffed as a sausage. Maybe he shouldn't have eaten that last slice of pizza, but he couldn't help himself. Geonelli's made the best pie in Cascade. "Giddy, I'm gonna pop."

The young blond smiled over at his friend. "Not in the car, Evers. Grammy'd kill us."

Both laughed at the mental picture of the tiny woman on the warpath.

"What now?" Gideon asked as soon as he regained his composure.

Kuschel shrugged. "Wanna go hang out?"

Justin turned to look at his friend. "I thought that's what we were doin'."

"Well," he hedged, "we are . . . kinda. I meant something a little more lively than pizza and cruise." Justin's voice dropped an octave at the end of that sentence. "I meant at the club."

"JUSTIN," Kuschel screeched in shock and amazement.

The dark-haired man gave his friend the classic, brat-patented angelic look. "What?"

"We are NOT going to get into trouble!"

"What?" The slant of Justin's eyes all but disappeared in their surprise. "I suggested spending a few hours at the club, not holding up a liquor store."

Gideon responded with a very rude noise.

"Just because we go clubbing, Mr. Kuschel, doesn't mean we have to get into trouble," Evers told him with resentment.

The skeptically reply sounded suspiciously like, "And pigs fly."

"Come on, Kuschel," Justin said, turning the charm up another notch. "One drink."

Looking at his passenger from the corner of his eye, Kuschel grunted, "Uh huh."

His friend sighed, his shoulders slumping. A second later Justin straightened and challenged his friend, "Gideon . . . think of it as a test."

Kuschel shook his head. "What possible kind of test could the club be?"

Evers thought carefully. "Okay, not our usual club, then."

"What other club?" Gideon asked his friend, the moment his face changed to horror. "No!"

"What?"

"Concise? You want to go to Concise?"

"What's wrong with--"

"It's twenty-five, thirty miles outside the city!"

"We got grandma's car--"

"That place is EXCLUSIVE!!"

Justin's smile was wicked. "I can get us in."

Kuschel's eyes could not have gotten any larger. "How do you FIND these places? Do you take out an ad in Places For Us To Get In Deep Shit Magazine?"

"Don't be such a drama queen, Kuschel scoffed. "I've been there with Paddy. The owners know him, which is a safe bet they know your Outrider, too."

"So, that means they find out about it and we get spanked sooner rather than later?"

~~~

Nearly three hours later both young men realize they've spent too much money entertaining themselves and the several friends they'd met at Concise and decide to call it a night.

"WHAT?" the table says in unison, "the night is still young."

"Broke, man," Gideon admits reluctantly.

The table turns to Justin who shrugs. "I'm tapped too," he announces.

The small group exchanged several thoughtful glanced at one another. None truly willing to call the evening a close. Finally, one of the young men speaks up, "I have a tab at Halo's"

"Halo's?," Gideon exclaimed, "that's WAY out away!"

"Come on, Kuschel! Where's your sense of adventure?"

They all rise to their feet.

"Getting its picture taken for the centerfold of Places For Us To Get In Deep Shit Magazine." he mutters under his breath as he followed the crowd out the door.

Three hours later then two young men sat in the giant car headed on the long ride back to the city.

Justin laughed. "It was a reputable establishment," he said, in his best Chief Aide voice imitation.

Gideon laughed too. "Surprisingly so."

"And I had a surprisingly good time."

"Considering we didn't drink a heck of a lot," Gideon said softly.

"And I wonder why is that?" Justin asked him.

"'Cuz we ain't stupid!" they yelled out into the night, immensely proud of themselves.

Suddenly, the huge car coughed.

"What was that?" Justin demanded.

Then it hiccuped.

"Giddy!"

"I don't know!"

By the time the steel monster had worked itself up to a sputter, its passengers had worked themselves in a panic. They were several miles from home and they were running out of gas.

Justin gripped the dashboard in fear. "Didn't you see the little light flashing?"

"You drive. I don't," Gideon snapped back as he desperately scanned the scenery. "Why didn't YOU see the little light flashing?"

"It's not my car, Kuschel. My dashboard has a little light AND a voice to tell me when the tank is low. The voice is there just in case I miss the little light! How come your grandmother's car doesn't have a little light AND a voice to warn her when the tank is low in case she misses the little light--"

Suddenly, Gideon interrupted in excitement, "I see a gas station!"

Both small bodies pressed against their seat belts from the centrifugal force of Gideon turning the wheel.

Once they came to a stop in front of one of the station's island, Justin peered nervously out the passenger's window. "Giddy! This isn't a gas station. It's a bunker in a demilitarized zone." His voice rose an octave. "Communist checkpoint." Then higher still. "A terrorist strong hold."

The blond eyed his friend speculatively throughout his tirade. "You are a snob, Justin," he said finally.

"I am a realist," young Evers snapped. "Keep driving."

"Are you crazy?" his friend exclaimed in disbelief. " We're running on fumes here!"

"Giddy!" Justin hissed in exasperation.

"Oh, for the love of . . . does the Chief Aide have you THAT paranoid, Justin?"

"What?" he asked horrified.

"We're not out here alone, J.C." Gideon pointed. "There're other people at the pumps."

"I just have a bad --"

"--feeling about being here?" his friend interrupted. "I had a bad feeling about the club," Gideon snapped as he got of the car. "And we still went. Not just to a club, but to two." He held up the appropriate amount of fingers. "So, we're even," he told Justin as he slammed the car door.

The station had only two islands, one pump each instead of the usual doubles.

Gideon stalked around the car to study the face of the pump. They looked old. Almost antique. The kind that you had to lift the cradle to activate. No electronic swipe for your charge card. And a sign overhead that read, "PAY FIRST. CASH ONLY." The blond gulped. Money? Who in their right mind carried real money nowadays? Knocking on the car's side window, he asked, "JC? You got any money?"

In the dim light cast by the island's overhead illumination, large green eyes stared back at him a moment before rolling the window down enough to say, "REAL money? I have plastic. Again. At last. Besides, who in their right mind carries real money, Giddy?"

"They don't take plastic," Kuschel told him, sighing heavily. They were . . . wait a minute!

Quickly, he dug out the wallet his lover had given him. Soft leather and handcrafted, he fumbled in a tiny compartment hidden behind the design. "Bless you, Fox," he whispered, pulling out the crisp, six-folded hundred dollar bill concealed there. "Be right back, JC," he told his friend, then went to pay the attendant.

A dark-haired young man sat behind the counter, talking on the phone while he worked on the line of customers in front of Gideon. But, when it came Gideon's turn, he had to rap on the bulletproof glass to get his attention. Gads, Kuschel hissed to himself, could the man be less attentive?

"Yeah?" he asked, holding the receiver between his shoulder and chin, obviously annoyed at the intrusion.

"A fill-up."

"What pump?"

Gideon pointed behind him.

The attendant snorted as he followed Gideon's motion with his eyes. "You think it's big enough, my man?"

"It's never big enough," Gideon told him as he slid the bill beneath the glass. "Size is irrelevant. Skill is the key."

The attendant's answering snort sounded a lot like a bigoted slur. He looked down at the money in Kuschel's hand. "I can't make change for that," he said nastily.

"Why not?"

"It'll clean out my register."

"It's all I got."

Just then the door opened and Justin leaned in, waving a crisp, new 'C' note in his hand. "Giddy, I forgot about my emergency stash."

"Thanks, JC." Kuschel waved his bill also. "He won't take mine, I don't think yours'll be any different."

"It'll clean out my register," the kid behind the glass repeated.

Gideon turned back to face him. "It's all I got."

The young man shook his head. "Then you'll at least have to spend half."

"Why?" Justin asked, stepping into the room as he put his money away.

"So he won't clean out my register?" the man behind the glass said sarcastically.

"That's extortion," Gideon informed him irritably.

"So, sue me. You want the gas, or what?"

"We'll just take our business elsewhere," Justin threatened.

The attendant smiled evilly. "Good luck. Next station is more than four miles down the road." He glanced out the station window at the Cruiser. "I'm guessing you're running on gas fumes. Think that liner'll make it that far?"

Kuschel sighed in defeat.

The same time Justin sighed in frustration. "Nevermind, Giddy. I'll give you half back."

Gideon made a rude noise before acquiescing. "All right!" he told the attendant angrily. "Just, set the pump."

"Doesn't set. Just lift the cradle, open your hole, insert the nozzle and squeeze the trigger." He smiled nastily, before remarking in a low voice, "Can you handle that, sweetheart?"

Gideon looked startled, then frowned. "Yeah," he said softly. "Better than you know." And he walked out the door.

Once back outside, the duo saw that the both pumps had short lines. "Seems like we aren't the only ones running low on gas," Justin told his friend.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Giddy asked.

The driver of the car behind the Cruiser leaned out his window. "How much longer, fella?" he yelled.

"You're next in line," Justin yelled back as he opened the passenger door and stepped inside.

"JC!" Gideon hissed. "It'll just take a second," he told the guy behind them.

"Just pump the gas, Kuschel, and get some drinks, snacks, your change and let's get outta here, okay?" Justin instructed, before shutting his door firmly.

Gideon seemed to wilt. "Okay."

He didn't realize the gas cap locked until nearly breaking a finger trying to open it. Slowly, Gideon opened the car door and took the keys out of the ignition.

"You're not done, yet?" Justin asked peevishly.

"Bite me." Gideon slammed the door.

He grappled with the bunch of keys before dropping them. How did Grammy carry this around in her bag? The entire set must weigh 10 pounds. What did they all open?

After several moments, he finally found the correct one. Hurriedly pushing it into the lock, he turned it with a quick snap of his wrist. He put the cap into the brace on the small gas door and turned to the pump. What did that asshole say? Lift the cradle. . .Push up the lever? Yeah. He did it. Then pulled the pump from its cradle.

"Dammit!" he hissed when he found the hose too short to reach the opening. Unwilling to move the car, Kuschel wrestled with the uncooperative contraption, stretching the hose to reach, fighting the tension of an over-stressed hose, until he could get the nozzle in the opening.

Finally, settling it into place, Gideon started the pump and the hose twitched from the pressure of the released flow of gasoline. He turned to get back in the car.

"Come on, buddy," the man behind him called. "I've got some place to be."

Gideon turned sharply, his patience at an end, a harsh rejoinder on the tip of his tongue. Just then, his feet became entangled in each other, throwing him off balance. His body pitching forward. Kuschel flayed his arms frantically, desperately trying to regain his balance, but in the end, toppled like a redwood, face first to the concrete beneath him.

The weight of his body pulled the already taunt hose down with it. The nozzle caught on the lip of the opening and snagged.

As the young blond landed flat on the dirty concrete with an audible 'oomph', the nozzle separated from the hose. A flood of gasoline rained down on his head and back, quickly pooling under him.

It took several seconds before Gideon realized what was happening, and when he did, he leaped to his feet with an ear-piercing screech. His mouth immediately filled with gasoline, which only panicked him more.

"Giddy?" Justin called as he rocketed from the car. "What the hell . . . "

Gideon screamed again, this time flapping his arms as he backed away from the pooling petroleum.

"Giddy, stop!" Justin called out as he covered the distance between them.

"I'm gonna catch fire! Justin," he shrieked his friend's name. "I'm gonna catch fire and burn!"

"Don't be stupid, Giddy," he snarled as he took another step forward. "There's no fire! You're not gonna burn."

Kuschel looked as if he was going to break and bolt at any moment. "Car engines are hot! It only takes hot! I've seen it on TV. All it takes is a spark from an ignition and everything goes up like a bomb. I'm gonna die!"the young blond screamed, now beyond reason.

Justin eyed the fluid streaming from the hose as it snaked across the ground warily. "Somebody, turn the pump off!" he screamed, panicking.

"Call the fire department!" bellowed someone else, before jumping into their car and speeding away.

"They're on their way!" someone else called as they followed suit.

"Hear that, Giddy?" Justin howled as he took another step. "Help is on the way."

The fumes were causing his eyes to tear and swell. "Help me, Justin. I don't want to burn," he wailed desperately.

Justin fidgeted on the balls of his feet. "You're not gonna burn, Giddy," he told his friend, sincerely hoping he told the truth. Urgently fighting the urge to flee. Also weighing a need to help his friend against the lack of knowledge on how to accomplish this goal.

At that moment, Kuschel's cell phone rang. He snatched it from its holder so fast that he fumbled and dropped it. Sinking to his knees, Gideon fumbled around until he found it. Scooping it up, he flipped it open and wailed. "Damien!" "Damien," he shrieked at the top of his voice. "Gas. Burn! Can't breathe. Help!"

"Give me the phone, Giddy," Justin yelled, holding out his hand.

"Damien," Kuschel whimpered, then dissolved in hysterical tears.

"Gideon--" his plea cut short by the buzz of his own phone. "Hello?"

"¿Qué sucediendo, dulce?"

"Paddy, where are you?" Justin whined. "I want you here."

His voice changed to a more soothing tone, but still carried the commanding edge of authority. "Fox is talking to Gideon. He says he's hysterical. Are you two still together?"

"Where are you, Paddy?" Justin wailed. "I don't know what to do."

"Is. Gideon. With. You?" the agent coolly enunciated each word. A teary whimper came through the phone line. "It's all right, querido. Breathe. Calm down, then tell me what's wrong."

"Please, Paddy," he pleaded.

The agent said something off to the side, the words obviously muffled by a hand over the mouthpiece.

Justin heard a click. "Paddy," he screamed frantically. "Don't hang up, Paddy!"

"Justin, calm down," he ordered sternly.

He said something else beyond Evers' hearing.

"Paaaaddddddeeeee!" the young man bellowed.

The Chief Aide paused in his sideline conversation long enough to inform the his hysterical lover to, "Stop screaming, little boy."

"I wanna go home."

Gideon had not calmed down a bit. In fact, he had begun hyperventilating. Sucking up great lungs full of fumes with each breath. Suddenly, the young man swayed on his knees and toppled over, flat onto his back onto the ground.

Thirty seconds later, Justin followed him off the deep end.

~~~

The first unit on the scene began spreading a layer of sand over the spilled, gasoline. A rescue unit pulled up behind it and began foaming down the people still standing on the site. Hard on the heels of the EMT was a plain, black sedan with no plates and heavily tinted windows.

Justin and Gideon felt the cool spray of the foam hit them almost at the same time. The screech of indignation was almost simultaneous too.

"What the FUCK!" Justin demanded. "What're you assholes tryin' to do---"

"Manners, brat," a deep voice sounded off to his right. "I know you know better."

Justin turned towards the source of that rich tenor. Before his eyes could focus, his stomach emptied in an explosive gust.

"Goddammit all to hell!" Evers heard the voice growl, then, "Sedate them both. I want them at the treatment center in at home base. Under my sanction code. They get better or you're the first one to explain to me why not. Are we clear?"

"Yessir," came a new voice. The hiss of a hypogun zzzzed in Justin's ears.

"You are going to replace these shoes with your own money, little boy."

And the world went dark again.

~~~~~~

Slender hands gripped the pillow used to cushion his head from impacting the teakwood headboard.

'Oh, shit! That hurt,' he moaned to himself as the vicious impact pushed him deeper into the bedclothes. Then groaned as the friction changed angles. 'Fuck. Me. FuckMe. Fuckme,' the young man hissed to himself, knowing what the price would be if he said the word aloud. His bottom definitely in an ideal position fot the thick, heavy slab of flesh to hot kissed THAT spot again. Sliding across that tiny bump of flesh with the intensity of a cattle prod. 'Damn, that felt good.'

"Oh, please! Please! PLEASE!"he pleaded, desperately reaching back, frantically trying to grasp the animated flesh moving intimately behind him. YES! Right there! Like that! Then out loud. "There! Please! Again! Right there!" He spread his legs further apart to help with leverage. But nothing to help counteract the power of those thrusts as his partner angled his dick to accommodate the young man's pleas.

"Ummmm! Yes!" After another hard thrust, he saw stars. His back nearly bent in a bow. "Ohhh, that feels good." He moaned out loud. "Really good. Ohhh."
His knees began to wobble. "I give. Ah! Yes! I give!"

"Then give," a heavy voice growled from someplace above and behind him.

The young man whimpered softly to himself as the steel rod up his ass sent hot bolts of pleasure rocketing through him.

Bending his arms inward, his weight resting heavily on his elbows, he clutched his firm, weeping cock with both hands and pulled as he pushed back fiercely against the powerful thrust.

The deep voice grunted in reply to his moan as sweat pour off the two men, soaking into the sheets beneath them.

"Like this?" the deep voice asked, never pausing in his motion.

The young man released one hand from its ministering to brace himself against the headboard. "Yes. YES! YES!" he shouted in time to each masterful thrust.

"Then prove it," demanded the man behind him.

And the young man came, his joyous shout covered by the growl of his partner's echoing climax.

~~~

Several moments later, the younger man's heart rate slowly returned to normal, enough for him to mutter, "I'm lying in a wet spot."

A tolerant chuckle sounded in his ear. "Where's the towel?"

The smaller man felt around himself in the bed. Finding nothing, he lifted his head enough to peek over the edge. "On the floor."

Another chuckle sounded behind him. "Why?"

"Cuz, my lover's excavation into my rectal cavity tipped the Richter at six?" he muttered impishly as he strained to reach for the fallen 'soldier'. Suddenly the bed seemed to elongate and the towel skidded from his grasp just as his tender backside was parted like the pages in a book. "Ow," he hissed as calloused fingers intimately probed him.

"Did I hurt you?" The growl deepened as investigating fingers came away tinged pink with blood.

"A little." The bed dipped and the smaller man looked back over his shoulder. "What? Where are you going?" Seeing what his lover held in his hands, the younger man rolled away. "No," he said stubbornly.

"When will you learn?" the big man said as he easily caught his prey and flipped him onto his stomach.

"Don't numb it. Please! I like it when we make love this way."

One large hand parted pinkened cheeks. "Hush,"the older man whispered as he used the other hand to carefully position the mediprobe at the point of injury.

"But it doesn't hurt that much!" he protested, jumping slightly at the touch of cold metal. "I still feel you inside me!" The young man squirmed as he felt the shank slide in. "Don't take that away." Then he lay still and waited.

The big man gently inserted the probe and pressed the button on the handle that activated the tiny LED display.

A sad voice sounded muffled against the bedclothes. "But, I like it when we make love this way."

There was a faint beeping, then, suddenly, the young man found himself looking up into the stern eyes of that much loved face. "Can you still 'feel me'?"

The young man turned all his senses inward for a few moments, then looked up with surprise.

"I only wanted to stop the bleeding," his lover told him with a rare smile.

"Thank you," he said softly, reaching over once again to retrieve the towel. And squealed when the world spun, and he was once again looking into stern, dark eyes. "I was getting the towel."

"You don't need it."

"But the wet spot---"

"There's no wet spot on me," he said, pulling the smaller body hard up against his chest.

The dark-haired man settled against the warm, powerful flesh. "First the fu- umm, sex of my dreams, then I get to sleep on my ultimate desire?"

That got him a squeeze.

"I must've been a REALLY good boy, huh?"

That got him a laugh.

A heavy voice sounded in his ear, "Have you caused a toxic spill today?"

He frowned in confusion. "Ummm. No."

"Have you nearly blown yourself up?"

He had to look up. "Not since high school."

"Have you had to be doused with an anti-flame agent by Fire and Rescue?"

"Well . . . Not if you don't count the events of this evening. No."

The big man chuckled. "Or thrown up on my shoes?"

"No. But I'd pay to see the expression on your face."

His next breath felt literally sucked from his body by his lover's kiss.

"Then, you've been a very good boy," Winn told him.

And Jon smiled as he settled in to sleep.

~~~~~~

Aces barely had time to start the door's opening sequence before his leader, and third-in-command had jumped from the bird.

Brown met them at the gate.

"Where is he?" Both asked as they breezed by their commander.

The larger man fell into step beside them. "I have them both on level three."

Viper glanced over from the corner of his eye. "Three?"

"Being a section head has its advantages."

"Is it bad?" Silver Fox asked.

"They got drenched in a toxic, flammable chemical. Luckily, none of it got into their eyes. The little blond swallowed some. Both inhaled a great deal. They both look like boiled lobster, but the SDF-501 seems to be doing the trick."

They stopped at the elevator. Clutch pounding the button, viciously.

"Are they awake?" Viper asked.

Brown shook his head. "The doc had to put them under pretty deep."

The door whooshed open and both agents jumped in.

"Rooms 302 and 389," Brown called out, just as the doors slid closed.

The big man shook his head as he activated his private comm. "Where are you, little boy," he asked as he turned to stalk back down the hall.

"I just signed off shift."

"Good. Meet me back at our suite. "

There was a pause. "Is something wrong?"

"It will be if you're not naked and in bed by the time I get there." And he signalled off with a smile.

~~~

Gideon opened his eyes, sensing the presence before he actually saw it.

"Mouse," the older man said softly, as he stroked back a slick lock of hair.

The smaller man tried to speak, and coughed.

Silver Fox immediately pressed the water glass' straw to his lover's lips.

Gideon drank greedily before pushing the cup away. He whispered, "In trouble?"

Fox set the cup down on the table and climbed over the railing into the bed. "Should you be?"

The young man blinked in surprise. "I get to chose?"

Fox smiled. "For now."

Gideon smiled back. "Then I chose not to be."

The agent laughed.

"Will you hold me?" the young blond asked.

He found himself immediately gathered against a strong chest.

~~~

"Dulce?"

Justin struggled to open his eyes. "Not my fault, Paddy," he whispered.

"Seems that's what you always say, isn't it, little boy?"

"It's true. I bystood this time."

Choate looked down into the pink face of total innocence. "Just a victim of circumstances?"

Evers nodded vigorously. "Yes! A victim."

The agent snorted.

"Are you mad, Paddy?"

Choate shook his head. "I'm grateful you're all right. Both of you." He gently cupped the crimson face. "Trouble does seem to be your familiar."

Justin pouted. "No fair!

The agent pulled the smaller figure gently into his arms. "No, it isn't, galén."

Justin clung to his lover, trying hard not to cry. "Paddy?"

"Justin?"

"Did Brown rescue us? Or was I hallucinating?"

Choate laughed out loud. "Sounds like a hallucination to me."

A weepy giggle ended in a choke. "That's what I thought."

~~~~~~

Epilogue

Buddy laughed to himself as he pocketed the customer's change. It never ceased to amaze him how many times they fell for that 'I can't break something that big.' Pretty soon, he'd be able to blow this pop stand. Do some real living.

He jumped a mile when a heavy hand knocked on the dense glass enclosing his cubie. "What the fuck, man?" he screamed at the big asshole standing on the other side.

"You the one here six nights ago?"

Buddy perked up, sitting up straighter. "Why? Who wants to know? You from the insurance company? Hey, man, I ain't felt right since that gas spill. Must be the fumes I inhaled, man. Fucked up my whole system. I been in and out--"

"I'm not from the insurance company."

"You're not?" Buddy glance over the stranger's shoulder. "Then what the fuck do you want then?"

"Remember the two young men in here about 3 that morning? They were driving a grey PT Cruiser?"

Buddy frowned. "The two fags that were in here? The ones that nearly torched the place?"

The stony expression on the stranger didn't waver. "You owe the blond one change."

Buddy blinked. "Excuse me?"

"He gave you a hundred---"

"And he emptied the underground tank. I'd say he owes me a lot more than a hundred fuckin' bucks. Now get out of here before I call the cops." To give credence to his bravado, Buddy picked up the phone and began to dial. When he looked up again, the man had disappeared. "Fuckin' fag lover. Not so tough after all, are ya?" he postured as he returned the receiver to its cradle.

Suddenly(?), the locked door of the cubie opened and Silver Fox stepped through.

"How'd you. . ." his voice trailed off in disbelief as the big man grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

"Trick a good friend taught me." Damien hit the switch that locked the pumps and turned off the outside lights.

"Clutch?"

"Yo," he replied softly to his team mate through his commlink.

"Viper says check."

"Got him."

"Well, all right. Why should ACQ have all the fun? ETA?"

"Thirty minutes." He gave the man struggling in his grasp a teeth-rattling shake. "Buddy," he shook him again, "and I have some business to discuss."

~~~

Two days later, Damien looked up just as Gideon stepped through the door that lead towards the carport attached to the house. "Stop."

Gideon froze in his tracks, startled out of his wits. Nearly dropping the frost sweating glass he carried. "Do you have radar or something?"

"What did the doctor say about the sun?"

"I mean, I hadn't even gotten out of the house. . ."

"You walk like The Buffalo. "

Giddy drew up in indignation. "I do NOT!"

Damien's lips twitched, fighting a smile. "I heard you coming through the kitchen." He paused a moment, then prompted, "The sun?"

"I was bringing you a cold drink. You've been out here for hours."

"Trying to get this done," he said as he reached for the towel on the bench behind him. "You were napping." Damien used the towel to wipe his hands clean, then repeated more forcefully, "What did the doctor say?"

"He gave me a clean bill of health," Gideon said petulantly. The cantankerous frown quickly disappearing as Damien came around the truck towards him.

"Who?" Damien asked as he got nearer.

The blond backed away. "The doctor?"

"When?"

"Just now."

"That you could go outside?"

"Oh." He sighed. "Tomorrow."

Damien scowled. "Mouse."

"Scout's honor." The young man quickly confirmed.

Damien had reached the doorway. "When were you a scout?"

"If you must know, when I was 10." Gideon handed his lover the glass.

The agent took a sip. "You were cute in knee socks."

The blond blushed.

"Oh." Damien put the glass down and dug in his pocket. "This is yours.'

Gideon took the six-folded bill from his lover's hand.

"Try to hold onto it this time."

The young blond frowned. "Another?"

"Yes. He couldn't find the same one."

Kuschel looked up. "He?"

"Buddy." At his love's confused expression, he clarified, "From the gas station."

He smiled up at the light of his life. "I can't believe you made him look for it." Then he thought about it. "On second thought, yes, I can."

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