Fic: Possessive
Title: Possessive
Author: kaylynnkie
Disclaimer: Not mine
Pairing: Norman Jadyen/Carter Blake
Summary: Jayden realizes that he isn't chasing the killer anymore
Word Count: 4,845
Warnings/Rating: NC-17, disturbing content, dark, explicit sexual content
Notes: Written for zekkass prompt over at comment_fic; “ any, any, 'You've ruined me for sex with anyone else, and that's why I did it.' ”
Jayden had been staying late for the past eight days, and he wasn't getting anywhere. He fought back a smile. He hadn't been this frustrated since the OK case eight years ago. A lot had changed since then, he though, twisting his wedding band around his finger.
He reclined at his desk, taking the time to stretch and crack his back. Several hours sitting in front of a computer screen did strange things to the spine. He glanced down at the bottom right hand drawer, where he knew his ARI was. It had been a long time since he'd put those on, but then it had also been a long time since he's been this stuck on something before. His eyes fell over the open case files, the numerous post its, highlighted sections and then flicked up to the map pinned up on the wall. There was a rough circular pattern, but it also correlated with the outskirts of the city. It was still too much of a chance to say that the killer was operating in the city when it could be just as likely that he was operating just outside of it. He had poured over surveillance footage, but there was only so much to go on. It just wasn't the norm to put cameras out on the streets.
What could it hurt?
The glasses felt so right perched on his nose. Slowly, they began to blot out the real world and pull him under. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the world around him was a lush forest on the morning of autumn. The trees were still lush but richly colored in hues of red and orange. He inhaled the scent of crumbling leaves and relished in the sound of the nearby river. It felt right to be back here, but he knew that he had to be careful. Too much and he'd be right back to where he was before...with the tripto and alcohol. He inhaled deeply. Careful. Had to be careful.
There were seven victims in all. Two female and five male and all were found somewhere just inside of the city limits. They were expertly killed, possibly by a contract killer. Jayden pulled up all seven of the crime scenes and linked his ARI to the local precinct's database. He leafed through the victim's records. None of them were criminals and they only had two parking tickets between them. They even paid their taxes. He raked his fingers through his hair and waited. It was usually like this in the beginning. He needed to wait and let the information flow over him. These people had to have something more in common than a propensity to not break the law and follow the rules.
He picked out the two women and put their C.V.s next to each other, so he could compare them. Melanie Brown, 32 years old, brunette, brown eyes and a pollen allergy. Stephanie Morgan, 27 years old, and brown eyes. Melanie graduated from MIT, and Stephanie went to a community college in Ohio. He drummed his fingers on the table, wondering if there was any point to all of this, when he finally reached their more recent employment and froze. In 2000, they were both employed in D.C. Stephanie worked as a secretary, and Melanie was in forensics and research. In fact, Melanie looked a little familiar.
Norman was an up and coming agent, fresh out of Guantico with an advanced degree in Psychology when he met Mel. She was a supervisor in the crime labs, which generally speaking wasn't a place that he frequented. Sure, he knew all about the forensics, but he wasn't trained to examine dead bodies. Just minds.
“You're Jayden,” she had said with a tight smile and a firm handshake.
He'd nodded. “Yeah. M'here from training.”
She's smiled, and it had looked painful. “I heard you're going to be the assistant supervisor of interrogation.”
Warily, he nodded again. He knew that there were a lot of unhappy people because of that. He was a stranger coming in and younger than everyone else. Experience was preferred typically, but then, he was going to be one of the first test subjects for ARI. That, his superiors had told him, would more than make up for the age difference.
“That's...” she cleared her throat pointedly. “Grand.”
She started to walk away but he called out to her.“Hey , Mel?” She waited. “Maybe we can see more of each other? I'm new and you're obviously well settled in.”
He enjoyed her look of surprise. “I thought-”
“I'm here on more of a research basis,” he flashed a broad smile. “Not so much a supervisorial capacity.”
Mel and Stephanie were close friends. They are lunch together every day, carpooled, and the rumors flying around the office suggested they shared a lot more than lunch. Jayden, because ever since Mel called him that he had ceased to be Norman, liked both women. They weren't a huge part of his life, but he saw them almost daily and enjoyed their company. Six months after he joined up, Mel got an offer by a major pharmaceutical company as a quality control manager. Stephanie went with her.
Jayden leafed through the other files, but none of the men had anything interesting about their sexuality. Four were married to women and two had children. His hate crime theory nicely decimated in a matter of minutes, he looked at the fifth man: Michael Straught. Several photos of the man appeared in front of him. He flicked through them. Michael was average, pudgy and in his early 40s. He had written programs for the Pentagon while working in their IT department. An older image of Michael in college caught his eye. The younger Michael was wearing a football jersey and holding a pint of amber liquid. There was another man by his side, leaning into him, cradled in his arms. It was Norman Jayden.
“Won't people talk if they see a picture of the football hero with his arm around a fag?” he whispered as the photographer waved and left.
James pursed his lips. “Norm, don't say that. It doesn't matter what people say anymore. We're graduating this year. Then, we're moving to the city. No one cares what happens in a place like New York.”
“The Big Apple, huh?”
He kissed Norman's cheek. “Or we could go back to Bean Town if you're feeling homesick.”
“James!” He tried to shove the other man away, but Michael tugged him closer until Norman was sitting in his lap. He cupped both Norman's cheeks and kissed him, softly and sweetly.
“We're gonna be together, Norm. Just you and me. Remember?”
At twenty, Norman was still a dreamer. He dreamed of a happy ever after, of falling asleep and waking up with the same man every day, of a happy career, of kids and PTA meetings. It wasn't a lot, but it made him happy. James made him happy. But dreams are best in the warm comfort of night. In the harsh light of day, they fall apart.
James Michael Sr. was from another generation and didn't like his son's obsession with computers. Unhealthy, he called it, and he hated Norman Jayden. “The fruity influence fucking with his son's football career.” He got a black eye when James had brought him home for Thanksgiving, the day after the party and the picture.
They had fallen asleep and woken up on the couch together, and they'd been kissing when James' father came in. It had been Sarah, Jame's mother who had pulled her husband off and rescued Norman.
“What's wrong with you, James? He's a guest in our home! He's Jimmy's...” Her voice had faltered then, and she had looked Norman up and down. “Jimmy's friend.”
“He's a fucking fag, Sarah. Unnatural.”
But James Sr. had backed off and left Norman to pack his things. He could hear them arguing in the kitchen, while he tried not to cry.
“Jimmy, you're taking that offer from The Giants.”
“I don't want to go pro. I have an internship with Apple. They're taking off, and when I'm trained, they'll probably offer me a job.”
“You should listen to your father, honey.”
“I don't want to be you! I have a life of my own, with my boyfriend.”
“Don't say that!”
“Why not?”
“Honey, it's disgusting.” That was his mother.
They quieted down, and Norman couldn't hear them anymore. He left the house without saying anything and stayed with a friend who was studying law. She had lived nearby and gave him a hug when she answered the door. She didn't ask any questions, and when James Michael was signed on for the NFL, she muttered, “Fucking sell-out.”
Jayden hadn't thought about Jimmy in years. He had remembered that he hurt his knee while Jayden was at Quantico, dislocating something, then he disappeared. A quick ARI scan revealed that he had changed his name and accepted a job working with Sun Microsystems. The government gig came soon after. Jayden had been to busy taking supplemental masters courses at night while training to be too bothered. Besides, there was too much bad blood between them. After all, Jimmy never came to see him after him, and that hurt more than the punch had. He'd pushed Jimmy so forcefully out of his mind that he hadn't been able to recognize his picture, though he was a long way from the football star he was twenty some years ago.
A heavy feeling of dread settled in his stomach. It couldn't just be a coincidence that he knew three of the victims. This was personal, detailed and well orchestrated. All of these people were connected with Norman Jayden. They had to be. He told ARI to run the “six degrees of separation program,” a nickname given to a search engine designed to find commonalities between unlike things based on the user's experiences or memories. The images of the other men materialized in front of him, thin strings connecting them to an image of Jayden.
Samuel Smith. The agent who trained him in survival tactics. Thomas Smith. Sam's cousin and Jayden's one night stand from a lifetime ago. Both were killed in a car accident, but their bodies had been relocated to be consistent with the Outskirt Killer's MO. Dean O'Malley. A man who taught Jayden 7th grade English. And, finally, Jeffrey Monroe. He had spearheaded the ARI project and selected all of the FBI agents who had received the model Jayden used. It was because of Jeffrey's death that Jayden had been tapped in the first place.
Jayden ripped off the glasses, breathing heavily because of the sudden change in environment, and looked at the pictures and case files still splayed open on his desk. This was unreal. His hand trembled as he ran a finger over James Michael's picture. Jimmy.
He couldn't do anymore tonight, and he put away his glasses. Driving home, he allowed the new information to float around in his head. It made him uncomfortable and the profiler in him couldn't help but smugly note his own sense of narcissism. When he went to his supervisor, he was going to laugh his ass off. That was a problem for tomorrow. He pulled into the driveway and noticed the kitchen lights were on. He smiled.
“I was beginning to think that you were sleeping over there tonight.”
No matter how quiet Jayden thought he was, his lover always heard him. “One of these nights, I'm gonna-”
A rough kiss cut him off. He returned the kiss and enjoyed the burn of stubble against his skin.
“Did you eat?”
“Later,” he said, his fingers hurriedly undoing his jeans.
“You're pretty fucking presumptuous, Norm.”
If Blake's cock wasn't pressing against his thigh, Jayden might have said something witty, but he chose to undo the other man's fly and remain silent instead. Blake tangled his hand in Jayden's hair, enjoying the softness of the other man's lips and the wetness of his tongue while holding him still.
“You're a sure thing,” he ultimately said, then tugged off his tie and headed towards the bedroom.
Blake shut off the stove and followed. Jayden was down to his briefs already and flashed a lecherous smile at the other man.
“Sure you can keep up?”
Carter's smile was something Jayden loved to see. It started out slow, a minute movement of his eyes. They swept over the younger of the two from his head to his toes and back up again. Then, there was a slight tug at his lips before Carter showed any teeth. His smile was sweet, open and easy. Everything the police detective was infamous for not being.
“You think you have enough patience to handle it, kid?”
“I think I have the stamina.”
Jayden noticed their bed was made. Carter must have gotten home much earlier. He had a tendency to tidy up and clean when he was trying not to do work in his head when he felt that he shouldn't be. The duvet cover was on straight.
“You gonna just stare at it? Should I leave you two alone?” Carter mumbled, kissing the side of Jayden's neck.
“You don't want to watch?”
“I'd watch,” he said quickly.
Jayden fell onto the mattress and tugged his lover after him. “I'd rather have you do more than watch.”
Carter's hair was wiry against the smoothness of Jayden's, and he giggled at the ticklish sensation. Over the years, their kisses had grown softer, and they shared touches that were more practiced and mature. It seemed that, all those years ago, there was just as much hate as love and lust in the bed they shared. The passions between them had mellowed but intensified with time. Jayden always liked to say it was like fine wine. Carter would grin and reply that they should both drink harder then. Usually, Jayden would be in a position to place a very direct threat with his teeth over a very sensitive part of Carter's anatomy. The conversation would stop there, and the sex would resume with a mixture of tenderness and need.
Jayden moaned as Carter moved his hands eagerly over the other man's chest and waist and thoroughly claimed his mouth. His hands moved further down and his tongue followed, licking down Jayden's sternum to delve into his bellybutton and tease between his thighs. The lube dribbled down his cheeks and slid down his opening. Carter pushed it inside with his fingers. The callouses caught on the sleek flesh of his inner thighs and Jayden hissed. These sensations were all familiar, but they never ceased to shock and thrill him.
“You're responsive tonight.”
He settled his hand on Carter's head, threading the hair with his fingers as Carter's mouth explored his length and his fingers spread him open.
“Fuck! That. Right there.” Jayden let his head fall back when Carter's fingers curled just right and his tongue poked at the spot where the prominent vein on his cock protruded slightly. More of the cool lube was pushed up inside, and it tingled pleasantly wherever Carter spread it. Jayden's hips undulated, and he clenched greedily at the digits moving inside of him.
“Jesus fuck!” He arched off the bed and shoved Carter away. “Blake, stop teasing. Fuckin' hell.”
It was Jayden's turn to move, and he took his role seriously. Carter fell back, his hands came up to guide Jayden's hips, and he watched with interest as the younger man straddled him. This was something they had tried to experiment with, to change, but Jayden didn't get off on it if he had to take all of Carter without any help. He would open himself and take the head of Blake's cock, while Blake's fingers dug into his hips and held him steady, then Blake would take over. It was brutal and rough, and Jayden loved it. He loved how deep Blake would go in a matter of seconds. He loved that he had no control over how fast he was fucked. But, most of all, he loved that his control was just an illusion. Even though he was the one on top, that he was straddling Carter, it was really Carter in charge.
Jayden liked to struggle and make noise as Carter held tightly to his hips, forcing Jayden down when he thrust up into his tight heat. Jayden toyed with his nipples, pinched at the sensitive nubs and licked his fingers, so that he could trail the moisture down his chest and over the tight buds. He'd moan eagerly, then touch his cock. He stroked furiously, aware that Carter's eyes were fastened on him. It sent a jolt of arousal and embarrassment through him to be judged and watched like some meat on display.
“Fuhk, Cahta,” he groaned, losing the tight rein he usually tried to hold over his speech.
Orgasm made Carter an idiot. He babbled and made promises. He told the truth in bed. Always. It was the first place he told Norman Jayden that he was in love with him.
“So beautiful, sweetheart. Show me you love me. Come for me. Come on me,” he whispered, pulling himself up.
Jayden's cries changed as Carter's cock shifted inside. It felt like it was penetrating him even more deeply than before. Carter's face was pressed against his chest, and it felt so good to be able to wrap his arms around Carter's warmth and strength. Tingling ricocheted up and down his spine, from the balls of his feet to the roots of his hair. He arched and came, come spilling from his body between their sweat slicked bodies. When he came down and finally settled in Carter's arms, Carter pushed him down on the bed and proceeded to thoroughly fuck him.
Jayden ran his fingers over the other man's face, his back, any spare part of flesh he could reach, whispering his love in hushed words and pants laced with broken whimpers.
“So deep inside me. Yeah, just like that. Come in me. Know I love that, don't you? Love being full of you.”
Carter seized him by his hair and kissed him with more teeth than lips. “Put your legs on my shoulders.”
He obeyed and sobbed at the curious sensation of being stretched so far beyond his normal limits, loving every moment. Carter slid in so far that he was frightened that he would tear something inside. He knew, though, that Carter would never hurt him. After all these years, all they'd shared, he was sure of that.
“I love you.” His blue eyes were wide, probing and unsure. He was gasping and sweat was dripping from the ends of his hair.
Norman kissed him. “I know. Show me.”
“Fuck.” Carter's head dropped down with a low groan, and he thrust in violently. Norman's hands settled on his neck and back, clutching desperately until the other man filled him with liquid heat and collapsed on him.
He pushed Carter's hair out of his eyes and kissed him softly. First his lips, then his forehead, cheeks and eyelids. They didn't speak right after. It was better to have silence and stillness after. When Carter pulled out, Jayden tensed and moaned. He hated it when his lover left his body. It felt like he was losing something important, life affirming even, in that instant their bodies separated.
“You okay?”
Jayden giggled a little at that. “I think I'm okay. You blew my mind, made me come and fucked me so hard I don't think I can sit down for a while. But, yeah, I think I'll manage.”
“That's not what I meant.” Carter would get like this sometimes. He'd be moody after sex, unsure of himself. Jayden found it adorable.
“Hey.” He rested his hand on the other man's chest. His wedding ring looked obscenely shiny against the paleness of Carter's flesh. “It was great. It was. And, I'm fine. I promise.”
Carter looked down at him and smiled, then got up suddenly and went into the bathroom. Jayden sighed and flopped down, shivering at how good the cum leaking out of him felt. He was so damn sore. He moaned a little, rubbing his hand over his cock. It had been a long time since he'd been able to go two rounds, but maybe he just had a little more steam to blow off than he thought.
“Spread your legs.”
“Haven't you ravaged me enough, you beast?” Jayden asked lazily, but he complied, stroking himself all the while.
The towel was warm between his thighs, and Carter looked serious. “I didn't hurt you?”
“Why would you think that?”
He shrugged and finished cleaning up the mess of lube and semen. When he returned from the bathroom this time, he looked thoughtful.
“Couldn't get it up again?”
“Want me to try?”
He shrugged. “If you want,” but Jayden could tell he was aroused.
Carter couldn't go all night. Not since his last trip to the hospital. They had taken bullet fragments out of his lungs and gone in to try and remove a splinter from his spine. They hadn't been able to, so his back could only take so much. Two times in one night was a rarity that only happened every now and then. They had both learned to cope. Jayden found he liked to be watched, and Carter found that he liked watching.
“The price of keeping a younger man,” Carter commented.
Jayden watched him through heavily lidded eyes but bit his tongue. The weight of Carter's stare turned him on in a more intimate way that actual intercourse did. Not that he didn't love getting fucked. There was something incredibly sexy about Carter watching him get himself off. Carter kept his hands to himself and kept quiet as Jayden worked his length. The younger man whined and panted the closer he came to the edge, and Carter wished that he could he fuck him again.
It wasn't very long before Jayden was curled up against his husband, under the covers and fast heading towards sleep. Carter was stroking his hair and back with his free hand while the other one held him against his side.
“Carter?”
He made a noise.
“You remember the Outskirt Killer I was telling you about?”
For a moment, Carter tensed up. “Yeah.”
“I think,” he began and snuggled up closer. “I think he's connected to me somehow.”
Carter frowned. “What makes you think that?”
“I used ARI and - .”
“Why were you using ARI?” There was a hint of anger in the other man's voice.
“I got stuck. I though it would...It did help. The victims are all connected to each other.”
“How?”
“Through me.”
Carter chuckled. “You don't think that's a bit self-centered ?”
“Never mind,” he sighed. “I'll talk to the director. Go to sleep.” He resolutely shut his eyes and set his mouth in a firm line.
“Don't pout.” He smirked and added, “Even though it is adorable.”
“Good-night, Blake.”
*
When he was sure that Norman was asleep, Blake crept out of bed. His husband made an unhappy sound but snuggled up against the pillows instead. He threw his clothes on and headed downstairs. The office lights flickered on automatically. Norman's files and briefcase were neatly tucked against his desk. He knew that Norm would never be foolish enough to actually keep ARI in the house, but he had managed on paper just fine in the past.
The case files were thick and covered in post-its with Norm's loopy handwriting. Several loose sheets were stapled together, covered with notes and highlights. On top was an in progress profile on the Outskirt Killer.
Male. Middle Age. Older (50+)
Organized. Methodical. Cautious. Intelligent.
Sociability: Unknown.
Married: Likely but uncertain. Sexually ambiguous?
*Note: victims are of both sexes, various ages and various sexual orientations.
Norman's handwriting was all over everything. He'd crossed things out multiple times and wrote things over the cross-outs again and again. Blake tried to hide a smile. He was such a predictable man for being an elite FBI agent. His smile faded as he looked at the changes that had made to the list of victims. Next to each name was how the victim related in some way to Norman Jayden.
He sighed and replaced the folio. This wasn't good. Norman was too clever for his own good sometimes. It put him in an unfortunate place. He went into his desk, unlocking the middle drawer and pulled out a small business card. The phone rang twice before someone answered. Perfectly excusable considering that it was two in the morning.
“Hello?” A males voice. Clipped and forceful.
“My name is Carter Blake. I'm calling about my husband.”
“Name?”
“He's an ARI user. His name is Jayden. I think...” he broke off and took a shaky breath. “He's getting delusional, you know? He said that he quit, but he's getting...” he lowered his voice. “Violent I think. Talking about murder victims being special to him. I'm...I'm scared.”
“Sir, are you in a safe place?”
“He won't hurt me. I don't think he will.”
“Norman Jayden has a history of substance abuse. Correct?”
“At times he has...indulged.”
“Sir?
“Yes. He does.”
He could hear the click clack of computer keys and the man was talking to someone in a muffled voice.
“Right. We're going to send an agent and a specialist. Until then, I'm going to have a local psychiatrist come down and talk to Agent Jayden. He can be there in twenty minutes. Is your husband asleep? Do you want us to hold off until morning?”*
It took the psychiatrist thirteen minutes, and they were both already dressed and drinking coffee. They were sitting together at the kitchen table, Jayden using his Blackberry and Carter was doing the crossword in The Times.
They didn't knock, and Norman was perturbed to say the least.
“Rowena, what the hell are you doing in my house?”
There was a male officer with the psychiatrist. She looked tired, her mouth a firm line. “Agent Jayden. Can we talk somewhere?”
“What's going on here? You don't have the authority-”
“Norman,” Carter tensed at the use of Jayden's first name. “Norman, let's just talk, okay? I'll explain everything to you. I just need you to come with me. We'll sit down in another room. Does that sound alright?”
“Why are you talking to me like that?” He tilted his head and clutched more tightly to his phone. His knuckles had gone white. “Am I...” he paused, eyes widening with realization, “Do you suspect me of something?”
She was nodding encouragingly. “Nothing serious. Just come chat with me. I'll explain it all to you.”
“Call our lawyer, Carter. This is way out of hand. You can't just come into my home and invade my personal life like this.”
“Your lawyer has already been contacted. He's down at the local office, but Agent, aren't you forgetting something?”
“What?” he snapped.
“This isn't only your home.”
Something in Jayden's eyes dimmed. Carter watched him lining up the pieces, putting it together - c'mon already - and then, there it was. He slowly turned to look at his husband. The man he'd slept beside for a decade, fallen in love with and lived with.
“How could you?”*
One of the things to be admired about the FBI was in how securely they maintained their suspects. Agent Norman Jayden was detained for eight months, and during those months, the killings did not stop. Intense questioning enabled other agents put together the data from Jayden's ARI and organize a manhunt to find Officer Carter Blake. The man effectively disappeared until an anonymous tip was called in that he had holed himself up in the very warehouse Scott Shelby had used to hold Shaun. A warehouse that, once surrounded, was immediately set on fire. The trail went stone cold after that. The fire was put out and nothing was found except for Blake's wedding band, which was given to Jayden per his request.
Norman Jayden retired and joined the faculty at U Penn. He lived a very quiet life, disturbed every eighth of the month by an odd postcard from a CB who wished him well and referred to him as 'Beloved'.*
Author: kaylynnkie
Disclaimer: Not mine
Pairing: Norman Jadyen/Carter Blake
Summary: Jayden realizes that he isn't chasing the killer anymore
Word Count: 4,845
Warnings/Rating: NC-17, disturbing content, dark, explicit sexual content
Notes: Written for zekkass prompt over at comment_fic; “ any, any, 'You've ruined me for sex with anyone else, and that's why I did it.' ”
Jayden had been staying late for the past eight days, and he wasn't getting anywhere. He fought back a smile. He hadn't been this frustrated since the OK case eight years ago. A lot had changed since then, he though, twisting his wedding band around his finger.
He reclined at his desk, taking the time to stretch and crack his back. Several hours sitting in front of a computer screen did strange things to the spine. He glanced down at the bottom right hand drawer, where he knew his ARI was. It had been a long time since he'd put those on, but then it had also been a long time since he's been this stuck on something before. His eyes fell over the open case files, the numerous post its, highlighted sections and then flicked up to the map pinned up on the wall. There was a rough circular pattern, but it also correlated with the outskirts of the city. It was still too much of a chance to say that the killer was operating in the city when it could be just as likely that he was operating just outside of it. He had poured over surveillance footage, but there was only so much to go on. It just wasn't the norm to put cameras out on the streets.
What could it hurt?
The glasses felt so right perched on his nose. Slowly, they began to blot out the real world and pull him under. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the world around him was a lush forest on the morning of autumn. The trees were still lush but richly colored in hues of red and orange. He inhaled the scent of crumbling leaves and relished in the sound of the nearby river. It felt right to be back here, but he knew that he had to be careful. Too much and he'd be right back to where he was before...with the tripto and alcohol. He inhaled deeply. Careful. Had to be careful.
There were seven victims in all. Two female and five male and all were found somewhere just inside of the city limits. They were expertly killed, possibly by a contract killer. Jayden pulled up all seven of the crime scenes and linked his ARI to the local precinct's database. He leafed through the victim's records. None of them were criminals and they only had two parking tickets between them. They even paid their taxes. He raked his fingers through his hair and waited. It was usually like this in the beginning. He needed to wait and let the information flow over him. These people had to have something more in common than a propensity to not break the law and follow the rules.
He picked out the two women and put their C.V.s next to each other, so he could compare them. Melanie Brown, 32 years old, brunette, brown eyes and a pollen allergy. Stephanie Morgan, 27 years old, and brown eyes. Melanie graduated from MIT, and Stephanie went to a community college in Ohio. He drummed his fingers on the table, wondering if there was any point to all of this, when he finally reached their more recent employment and froze. In 2000, they were both employed in D.C. Stephanie worked as a secretary, and Melanie was in forensics and research. In fact, Melanie looked a little familiar.
Norman was an up and coming agent, fresh out of Guantico with an advanced degree in Psychology when he met Mel. She was a supervisor in the crime labs, which generally speaking wasn't a place that he frequented. Sure, he knew all about the forensics, but he wasn't trained to examine dead bodies. Just minds.
“You're Jayden,” she had said with a tight smile and a firm handshake.
He'd nodded. “Yeah. M'here from training.”
She's smiled, and it had looked painful. “I heard you're going to be the assistant supervisor of interrogation.”
Warily, he nodded again. He knew that there were a lot of unhappy people because of that. He was a stranger coming in and younger than everyone else. Experience was preferred typically, but then, he was going to be one of the first test subjects for ARI. That, his superiors had told him, would more than make up for the age difference.
“That's...” she cleared her throat pointedly. “Grand.”
She started to walk away but he called out to her.“Hey , Mel?” She waited. “Maybe we can see more of each other? I'm new and you're obviously well settled in.”
He enjoyed her look of surprise. “I thought-”
“I'm here on more of a research basis,” he flashed a broad smile. “Not so much a supervisorial capacity.”
Mel and Stephanie were close friends. They are lunch together every day, carpooled, and the rumors flying around the office suggested they shared a lot more than lunch. Jayden, because ever since Mel called him that he had ceased to be Norman, liked both women. They weren't a huge part of his life, but he saw them almost daily and enjoyed their company. Six months after he joined up, Mel got an offer by a major pharmaceutical company as a quality control manager. Stephanie went with her.
Jayden leafed through the other files, but none of the men had anything interesting about their sexuality. Four were married to women and two had children. His hate crime theory nicely decimated in a matter of minutes, he looked at the fifth man: Michael Straught. Several photos of the man appeared in front of him. He flicked through them. Michael was average, pudgy and in his early 40s. He had written programs for the Pentagon while working in their IT department. An older image of Michael in college caught his eye. The younger Michael was wearing a football jersey and holding a pint of amber liquid. There was another man by his side, leaning into him, cradled in his arms. It was Norman Jayden.
“Won't people talk if they see a picture of the football hero with his arm around a fag?” he whispered as the photographer waved and left.
James pursed his lips. “Norm, don't say that. It doesn't matter what people say anymore. We're graduating this year. Then, we're moving to the city. No one cares what happens in a place like New York.”
“The Big Apple, huh?”
He kissed Norman's cheek. “Or we could go back to Bean Town if you're feeling homesick.”
“James!” He tried to shove the other man away, but Michael tugged him closer until Norman was sitting in his lap. He cupped both Norman's cheeks and kissed him, softly and sweetly.
“We're gonna be together, Norm. Just you and me. Remember?”
At twenty, Norman was still a dreamer. He dreamed of a happy ever after, of falling asleep and waking up with the same man every day, of a happy career, of kids and PTA meetings. It wasn't a lot, but it made him happy. James made him happy. But dreams are best in the warm comfort of night. In the harsh light of day, they fall apart.
James Michael Sr. was from another generation and didn't like his son's obsession with computers. Unhealthy, he called it, and he hated Norman Jayden. “The fruity influence fucking with his son's football career.” He got a black eye when James had brought him home for Thanksgiving, the day after the party and the picture.
They had fallen asleep and woken up on the couch together, and they'd been kissing when James' father came in. It had been Sarah, Jame's mother who had pulled her husband off and rescued Norman.
“What's wrong with you, James? He's a guest in our home! He's Jimmy's...” Her voice had faltered then, and she had looked Norman up and down. “Jimmy's friend.”
“He's a fucking fag, Sarah. Unnatural.”
But James Sr. had backed off and left Norman to pack his things. He could hear them arguing in the kitchen, while he tried not to cry.
“Jimmy, you're taking that offer from The Giants.”
“I don't want to go pro. I have an internship with Apple. They're taking off, and when I'm trained, they'll probably offer me a job.”
“You should listen to your father, honey.”
“I don't want to be you! I have a life of my own, with my boyfriend.”
“Don't say that!”
“Why not?”
“Honey, it's disgusting.” That was his mother.
They quieted down, and Norman couldn't hear them anymore. He left the house without saying anything and stayed with a friend who was studying law. She had lived nearby and gave him a hug when she answered the door. She didn't ask any questions, and when James Michael was signed on for the NFL, she muttered, “Fucking sell-out.”
Jayden hadn't thought about Jimmy in years. He had remembered that he hurt his knee while Jayden was at Quantico, dislocating something, then he disappeared. A quick ARI scan revealed that he had changed his name and accepted a job working with Sun Microsystems. The government gig came soon after. Jayden had been to busy taking supplemental masters courses at night while training to be too bothered. Besides, there was too much bad blood between them. After all, Jimmy never came to see him after him, and that hurt more than the punch had. He'd pushed Jimmy so forcefully out of his mind that he hadn't been able to recognize his picture, though he was a long way from the football star he was twenty some years ago.
A heavy feeling of dread settled in his stomach. It couldn't just be a coincidence that he knew three of the victims. This was personal, detailed and well orchestrated. All of these people were connected with Norman Jayden. They had to be. He told ARI to run the “six degrees of separation program,” a nickname given to a search engine designed to find commonalities between unlike things based on the user's experiences or memories. The images of the other men materialized in front of him, thin strings connecting them to an image of Jayden.
Samuel Smith. The agent who trained him in survival tactics. Thomas Smith. Sam's cousin and Jayden's one night stand from a lifetime ago. Both were killed in a car accident, but their bodies had been relocated to be consistent with the Outskirt Killer's MO. Dean O'Malley. A man who taught Jayden 7th grade English. And, finally, Jeffrey Monroe. He had spearheaded the ARI project and selected all of the FBI agents who had received the model Jayden used. It was because of Jeffrey's death that Jayden had been tapped in the first place.
Jayden ripped off the glasses, breathing heavily because of the sudden change in environment, and looked at the pictures and case files still splayed open on his desk. This was unreal. His hand trembled as he ran a finger over James Michael's picture. Jimmy.
He couldn't do anymore tonight, and he put away his glasses. Driving home, he allowed the new information to float around in his head. It made him uncomfortable and the profiler in him couldn't help but smugly note his own sense of narcissism. When he went to his supervisor, he was going to laugh his ass off. That was a problem for tomorrow. He pulled into the driveway and noticed the kitchen lights were on. He smiled.
“I was beginning to think that you were sleeping over there tonight.”
No matter how quiet Jayden thought he was, his lover always heard him. “One of these nights, I'm gonna-”
A rough kiss cut him off. He returned the kiss and enjoyed the burn of stubble against his skin.
“Did you eat?”
“Later,” he said, his fingers hurriedly undoing his jeans.
“You're pretty fucking presumptuous, Norm.”
If Blake's cock wasn't pressing against his thigh, Jayden might have said something witty, but he chose to undo the other man's fly and remain silent instead. Blake tangled his hand in Jayden's hair, enjoying the softness of the other man's lips and the wetness of his tongue while holding him still.
“You're a sure thing,” he ultimately said, then tugged off his tie and headed towards the bedroom.
Blake shut off the stove and followed. Jayden was down to his briefs already and flashed a lecherous smile at the other man.
“Sure you can keep up?”
Carter's smile was something Jayden loved to see. It started out slow, a minute movement of his eyes. They swept over the younger of the two from his head to his toes and back up again. Then, there was a slight tug at his lips before Carter showed any teeth. His smile was sweet, open and easy. Everything the police detective was infamous for not being.
“You think you have enough patience to handle it, kid?”
“I think I have the stamina.”
Jayden noticed their bed was made. Carter must have gotten home much earlier. He had a tendency to tidy up and clean when he was trying not to do work in his head when he felt that he shouldn't be. The duvet cover was on straight.
“You gonna just stare at it? Should I leave you two alone?” Carter mumbled, kissing the side of Jayden's neck.
“You don't want to watch?”
“I'd watch,” he said quickly.
Jayden fell onto the mattress and tugged his lover after him. “I'd rather have you do more than watch.”
Carter's hair was wiry against the smoothness of Jayden's, and he giggled at the ticklish sensation. Over the years, their kisses had grown softer, and they shared touches that were more practiced and mature. It seemed that, all those years ago, there was just as much hate as love and lust in the bed they shared. The passions between them had mellowed but intensified with time. Jayden always liked to say it was like fine wine. Carter would grin and reply that they should both drink harder then. Usually, Jayden would be in a position to place a very direct threat with his teeth over a very sensitive part of Carter's anatomy. The conversation would stop there, and the sex would resume with a mixture of tenderness and need.
Jayden moaned as Carter moved his hands eagerly over the other man's chest and waist and thoroughly claimed his mouth. His hands moved further down and his tongue followed, licking down Jayden's sternum to delve into his bellybutton and tease between his thighs. The lube dribbled down his cheeks and slid down his opening. Carter pushed it inside with his fingers. The callouses caught on the sleek flesh of his inner thighs and Jayden hissed. These sensations were all familiar, but they never ceased to shock and thrill him.
“You're responsive tonight.”
He settled his hand on Carter's head, threading the hair with his fingers as Carter's mouth explored his length and his fingers spread him open.
“Fuck! That. Right there.” Jayden let his head fall back when Carter's fingers curled just right and his tongue poked at the spot where the prominent vein on his cock protruded slightly. More of the cool lube was pushed up inside, and it tingled pleasantly wherever Carter spread it. Jayden's hips undulated, and he clenched greedily at the digits moving inside of him.
“Jesus fuck!” He arched off the bed and shoved Carter away. “Blake, stop teasing. Fuckin' hell.”
It was Jayden's turn to move, and he took his role seriously. Carter fell back, his hands came up to guide Jayden's hips, and he watched with interest as the younger man straddled him. This was something they had tried to experiment with, to change, but Jayden didn't get off on it if he had to take all of Carter without any help. He would open himself and take the head of Blake's cock, while Blake's fingers dug into his hips and held him steady, then Blake would take over. It was brutal and rough, and Jayden loved it. He loved how deep Blake would go in a matter of seconds. He loved that he had no control over how fast he was fucked. But, most of all, he loved that his control was just an illusion. Even though he was the one on top, that he was straddling Carter, it was really Carter in charge.
Jayden liked to struggle and make noise as Carter held tightly to his hips, forcing Jayden down when he thrust up into his tight heat. Jayden toyed with his nipples, pinched at the sensitive nubs and licked his fingers, so that he could trail the moisture down his chest and over the tight buds. He'd moan eagerly, then touch his cock. He stroked furiously, aware that Carter's eyes were fastened on him. It sent a jolt of arousal and embarrassment through him to be judged and watched like some meat on display.
“Fuhk, Cahta,” he groaned, losing the tight rein he usually tried to hold over his speech.
Orgasm made Carter an idiot. He babbled and made promises. He told the truth in bed. Always. It was the first place he told Norman Jayden that he was in love with him.
“So beautiful, sweetheart. Show me you love me. Come for me. Come on me,” he whispered, pulling himself up.
Jayden's cries changed as Carter's cock shifted inside. It felt like it was penetrating him even more deeply than before. Carter's face was pressed against his chest, and it felt so good to be able to wrap his arms around Carter's warmth and strength. Tingling ricocheted up and down his spine, from the balls of his feet to the roots of his hair. He arched and came, come spilling from his body between their sweat slicked bodies. When he came down and finally settled in Carter's arms, Carter pushed him down on the bed and proceeded to thoroughly fuck him.
Jayden ran his fingers over the other man's face, his back, any spare part of flesh he could reach, whispering his love in hushed words and pants laced with broken whimpers.
“So deep inside me. Yeah, just like that. Come in me. Know I love that, don't you? Love being full of you.”
Carter seized him by his hair and kissed him with more teeth than lips. “Put your legs on my shoulders.”
He obeyed and sobbed at the curious sensation of being stretched so far beyond his normal limits, loving every moment. Carter slid in so far that he was frightened that he would tear something inside. He knew, though, that Carter would never hurt him. After all these years, all they'd shared, he was sure of that.
“I love you.” His blue eyes were wide, probing and unsure. He was gasping and sweat was dripping from the ends of his hair.
Norman kissed him. “I know. Show me.”
“Fuck.” Carter's head dropped down with a low groan, and he thrust in violently. Norman's hands settled on his neck and back, clutching desperately until the other man filled him with liquid heat and collapsed on him.
He pushed Carter's hair out of his eyes and kissed him softly. First his lips, then his forehead, cheeks and eyelids. They didn't speak right after. It was better to have silence and stillness after. When Carter pulled out, Jayden tensed and moaned. He hated it when his lover left his body. It felt like he was losing something important, life affirming even, in that instant their bodies separated.
“You okay?”
Jayden giggled a little at that. “I think I'm okay. You blew my mind, made me come and fucked me so hard I don't think I can sit down for a while. But, yeah, I think I'll manage.”
“That's not what I meant.” Carter would get like this sometimes. He'd be moody after sex, unsure of himself. Jayden found it adorable.
“Hey.” He rested his hand on the other man's chest. His wedding ring looked obscenely shiny against the paleness of Carter's flesh. “It was great. It was. And, I'm fine. I promise.”
Carter looked down at him and smiled, then got up suddenly and went into the bathroom. Jayden sighed and flopped down, shivering at how good the cum leaking out of him felt. He was so damn sore. He moaned a little, rubbing his hand over his cock. It had been a long time since he'd been able to go two rounds, but maybe he just had a little more steam to blow off than he thought.
“Spread your legs.”
“Haven't you ravaged me enough, you beast?” Jayden asked lazily, but he complied, stroking himself all the while.
The towel was warm between his thighs, and Carter looked serious. “I didn't hurt you?”
“Why would you think that?”
He shrugged and finished cleaning up the mess of lube and semen. When he returned from the bathroom this time, he looked thoughtful.
“Couldn't get it up again?”
“Want me to try?”
He shrugged. “If you want,” but Jayden could tell he was aroused.
Carter couldn't go all night. Not since his last trip to the hospital. They had taken bullet fragments out of his lungs and gone in to try and remove a splinter from his spine. They hadn't been able to, so his back could only take so much. Two times in one night was a rarity that only happened every now and then. They had both learned to cope. Jayden found he liked to be watched, and Carter found that he liked watching.
“The price of keeping a younger man,” Carter commented.
Jayden watched him through heavily lidded eyes but bit his tongue. The weight of Carter's stare turned him on in a more intimate way that actual intercourse did. Not that he didn't love getting fucked. There was something incredibly sexy about Carter watching him get himself off. Carter kept his hands to himself and kept quiet as Jayden worked his length. The younger man whined and panted the closer he came to the edge, and Carter wished that he could he fuck him again.
It wasn't very long before Jayden was curled up against his husband, under the covers and fast heading towards sleep. Carter was stroking his hair and back with his free hand while the other one held him against his side.
“Carter?”
He made a noise.
“You remember the Outskirt Killer I was telling you about?”
For a moment, Carter tensed up. “Yeah.”
“I think,” he began and snuggled up closer. “I think he's connected to me somehow.”
Carter frowned. “What makes you think that?”
“I used ARI and - .”
“Why were you using ARI?” There was a hint of anger in the other man's voice.
“I got stuck. I though it would...It did help. The victims are all connected to each other.”
“How?”
“Through me.”
Carter chuckled. “You don't think that's a bit self-centered ?”
“Never mind,” he sighed. “I'll talk to the director. Go to sleep.” He resolutely shut his eyes and set his mouth in a firm line.
“Don't pout.” He smirked and added, “Even though it is adorable.”
“Good-night, Blake.”
*
When he was sure that Norman was asleep, Blake crept out of bed. His husband made an unhappy sound but snuggled up against the pillows instead. He threw his clothes on and headed downstairs. The office lights flickered on automatically. Norman's files and briefcase were neatly tucked against his desk. He knew that Norm would never be foolish enough to actually keep ARI in the house, but he had managed on paper just fine in the past.
The case files were thick and covered in post-its with Norm's loopy handwriting. Several loose sheets were stapled together, covered with notes and highlights. On top was an in progress profile on the Outskirt Killer.
Male. Middle Age. Older (50+)
Organized. Methodical. Cautious. Intelligent.
Sociability: Unknown.
Married: Likely but uncertain. Sexually ambiguous?
*Note: victims are of both sexes, various ages and various sexual orientations.
Norman's handwriting was all over everything. He'd crossed things out multiple times and wrote things over the cross-outs again and again. Blake tried to hide a smile. He was such a predictable man for being an elite FBI agent. His smile faded as he looked at the changes that had made to the list of victims. Next to each name was how the victim related in some way to Norman Jayden.
He sighed and replaced the folio. This wasn't good. Norman was too clever for his own good sometimes. It put him in an unfortunate place. He went into his desk, unlocking the middle drawer and pulled out a small business card. The phone rang twice before someone answered. Perfectly excusable considering that it was two in the morning.
“Hello?” A males voice. Clipped and forceful.
“My name is Carter Blake. I'm calling about my husband.”
“Name?”
“He's an ARI user. His name is Jayden. I think...” he broke off and took a shaky breath. “He's getting delusional, you know? He said that he quit, but he's getting...” he lowered his voice. “Violent I think. Talking about murder victims being special to him. I'm...I'm scared.”
“Sir, are you in a safe place?”
“He won't hurt me. I don't think he will.”
“Norman Jayden has a history of substance abuse. Correct?”
“At times he has...indulged.”
“Sir?
“Yes. He does.”
He could hear the click clack of computer keys and the man was talking to someone in a muffled voice.
“Right. We're going to send an agent and a specialist. Until then, I'm going to have a local psychiatrist come down and talk to Agent Jayden. He can be there in twenty minutes. Is your husband asleep? Do you want us to hold off until morning?”*
It took the psychiatrist thirteen minutes, and they were both already dressed and drinking coffee. They were sitting together at the kitchen table, Jayden using his Blackberry and Carter was doing the crossword in The Times.
They didn't knock, and Norman was perturbed to say the least.
“Rowena, what the hell are you doing in my house?”
There was a male officer with the psychiatrist. She looked tired, her mouth a firm line. “Agent Jayden. Can we talk somewhere?”
“What's going on here? You don't have the authority-”
“Norman,” Carter tensed at the use of Jayden's first name. “Norman, let's just talk, okay? I'll explain everything to you. I just need you to come with me. We'll sit down in another room. Does that sound alright?”
“Why are you talking to me like that?” He tilted his head and clutched more tightly to his phone. His knuckles had gone white. “Am I...” he paused, eyes widening with realization, “Do you suspect me of something?”
She was nodding encouragingly. “Nothing serious. Just come chat with me. I'll explain it all to you.”
“Call our lawyer, Carter. This is way out of hand. You can't just come into my home and invade my personal life like this.”
“Your lawyer has already been contacted. He's down at the local office, but Agent, aren't you forgetting something?”
“What?” he snapped.
“This isn't only your home.”
Something in Jayden's eyes dimmed. Carter watched him lining up the pieces, putting it together - c'mon already - and then, there it was. He slowly turned to look at his husband. The man he'd slept beside for a decade, fallen in love with and lived with.
“How could you?”*
One of the things to be admired about the FBI was in how securely they maintained their suspects. Agent Norman Jayden was detained for eight months, and during those months, the killings did not stop. Intense questioning enabled other agents put together the data from Jayden's ARI and organize a manhunt to find Officer Carter Blake. The man effectively disappeared until an anonymous tip was called in that he had holed himself up in the very warehouse Scott Shelby had used to hold Shaun. A warehouse that, once surrounded, was immediately set on fire. The trail went stone cold after that. The fire was put out and nothing was found except for Blake's wedding band, which was given to Jayden per his request.
Norman Jayden retired and joined the faculty at U Penn. He lived a very quiet life, disturbed every eighth of the month by an odd postcard from a CB who wished him well and referred to him as 'Beloved'.*