"Betrayal's End", C21 - "Attack and Defense" FRT

[trinitywildcat]

Chapter summary: It’s Goren to the rescue, but he might be about to jump from the frying pan into the fire.
Chapter no: 21
Story: Betrayal’s End.
Warnings: Some language and violence
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of “Law and Order: Criminal Intent” and acknowledge the rights of those who do. I will make no profit from this story.

As he neared the warehouse, Bobby Goren slowed down a little and looked for the nearest cover. There seemed to be no-one about, but there were definite sounds of movement from the other side of the building, voices raised. He heard a familiar female voice, and suddenly his heart leapt with joy. That’s Eames. She’s alive.

He had no more time to feel that, because suddenly Doyle was beside him, seeming to appear out of the darkness from thin air.

“Listen to me, now,” the Irishman said breathily. His eyes were glittering; he was obviously enjoying himself. “Your friend and Davenport are coming down the fire escape now. There’s one man behind them, and another in front. You and me are going to watch, and then as soon as we get chance, we’re going to shoot the bastards, there’s too many of them for me to take on my own. Has to be a fast strike, shoot them quick and aim to kill. We’ve got one chance, and we take it fast, else the two of them will be dead. You understand me?”

He nodded fiercely, feeling the adrenaline surging through his veins. He didn’t want to kill, but he wanted to see Eames die even less, and if she was being held at gunpoint, he would do what he had to do.

“Time to go,” Doyle murmured, and motioned that Goren should follow him. They crouched down, moving stealthily through the rubble and scrubby bushes that surrounded the ancient building, before Doyle held up a hand to stop him, then motioned to him to follow him inside the warehouse. His breath coming in short fast gulps, he followed the man inside the building and into a small room, nearly tripping over a corpse with a gaping throat. He gagged a little, then forced the image out of his mind.

Doyle beckoned him to follow, and they passed through the room and into the open space of what had been the warehouse’s main floor. Stealthily, they crept across to crouch underneath the shattered glass of the window.

Sneaking a glance up through the window holes, he saw their adversaries standing in a crescent shape, facing the end of the fire escape. He could hear footsteps clanging on it, at least four pairs of feet - Eames, Davenport, and two captors’. His Army-trained eyes realised that Doyle had picked the perfect spot. They had a clear shot at their captors, whose backs were turned to them, and when Eames and Davenport came down the fire escape, they would have a clear shot at the two men holding them captive.

It would be very, very difficult, but they had a chance. He felt a severe pang of conscience about the fact that he was about to shoot men from behind with no warning, but could see no other solution. There were far too many of their enemies to do anything else and, had they been on the streets of New York with someone pointing a gun at Eames’ head, he wouldn’t have hesitated, so he knew he must not hesitate now.

Beside him, he was aware of movement, and saw Doyle creeping across to another window that would give him a better shot at the two men holding Eames and Davenport captive. One was coming into view now. He was walking backwards down the fire escape with his gun held out in front of him, and it might have looked comical, except that there was nothing funny about the look of fear on Eames’ face. He was briefly surprised to see that she was wearing a long leather coat, and nonsensically thought, it’s too big for her, before he snapped his focus back to the task in hand. Behind her, Davenport came pacing down the stairs, his hands over his head and a look of suppressed fury on his face. Goren noted with relief that neither of them seemed hurt, then tensed himself for action, as the second of Eames’ and Davenport’s captors came into view.

It happened fast, so fast that he had no time to think any more, as, from across the room, he heard the hiss of Doyle’s silenced gun, and the man holding a gun on Davenport and Eames’s backs fell wordlessly to the ground. Doyle fired again, and so did he, and more men fell, including the second man holding a gun on Davenport and Eames, who had both flung themselves instantly to the ground and begun squirming towards their erstwhile captors, determination and fear on their faces.

They’d achieved their first goal, but the element of surprise was lost, and now the men were returning fire. Goren and Doyle ducked as bullets whined over their heads, hearing as they did a loud yell. Goren peered swiftly around the edge of the door and ducked back again to avoid being shot, but saw in that brief second that Eames had armed herself with one of the fallen men’s guns, and shot one of her captors in the leg. She fired again and again, and suddenly their captors were running, running away from her and back around the edge of the warehouse. She gained her feet and looked around wildly. He risked a shout, “Over here!”

The look of relief on her face when she heard his voice made everything worthwhile. She ran fast towards the door, throwing herself through it. He wrapped an arm round her and they hugged briefly and fiercely.

“Bobby, thank God,” she managed to say, before Doyle interrupted.

“Touching reunion time comes later! Get yourselves in gear, there’s five of the fuckers left still.”

“Make that four.” Davenport’s voice came from the door. He was on his feet with a gun in his hand, breathing heavily and grinning like Doyle, eyes glittering fiercely. “Is now the time, Mr Doyle?”

“Now’s the time, Mr Davenport, you bastard,” Doyle replied. “You two, stay here and leave this bit to the professionals.” He winked at Goren and Eames and disappeared into the depths of the warehouse. Davenport grinned at them, and took to his heels, sprinting fast out of the door and in pursuit of the running men. He was a fast runner, and soon rounded the corner of the warehouse and was lost to view. From around the corner, they heard gunfire, and more yells, and Goren pictured the scene in his mind, Davenport chasing them, firing on them to keep them running and panicky, so they wouldn’t stop to think about what might lie ahead until they ran straight into Doyle’s line of fire.

“Bobby, Bobby, Bobby,” Eames muttered, and hugged him again. “I’ve never been so glad to see you.”

“Me neither.”

Eames disengaged from the hug and looked up at him with her “Detective Eames face” back on. “Is Sienna okay? Where’s Amp?”

“Sienna’s fine, they both are. They’re waiting for us on a boat on the river, we’ll soon be out of here.”

“Oh, thank God.” She looked briefly exhausted, then snapped out of it. “Bobby - we found something in the warehouse.” She explained to him about the corpse, and about what Davenport thought it meant.

“If he’s right, that means Durham’s behind this,” Goren replied. She nodded agreement. “I wonder if he was blackmailing Maldon? It might have nothing to do with the stadium investigation. Maybe Durham wasn’t the only one working for the Barayev organisation. Sienna said Durham had money stashed away somewhere.”

“He spent a year in solitary, Bobby. That’s plenty of time to plan out something like this,” Eames commented.

“Sienna was right,” he replied. In response to Eames’ glance, he explained, “She said that she didn’t trust him, that she would only trust him when she actually saw the proof.”

“Did she say that about Davenport, too?” Eames asked. “He’s pretty pissed that no-one told him Durham escaped.”

“Yes, she did.” Goren had a sudden realisation that the journey back on the boat was going to be an interesting experience, since it would be the first time he, Sienna and Davenport had met in person since Sienna left London. He shrugged. So long as they were all alive, who cared? MI5 could sort out the mess when they got back.

Suddenly, several loud pops sounded in the air, and they both listened closely. When the sounds had died down, they gingerly picked their way back through the warehouse in Doyle’s direction, weapons drawn, senses on high alert, but there was no more danger. Not any more.

They regarded the scene in front of them with a mixture of relief and horror. Doyle and Davenport were methodically moving among the bodies of the man who, seconds before, had been trying to kill them, checking for pulses, signs of life. There appeared to be none. Doyle had shown no mercy. And Davenport neither, he reminded himself.

“That’s that done.” Doyle remarked. “Let’s leave before any friends they had get here.” He leapt to his feet and started back towards the river and the waiting boat.

“Wait.” Beside him, Eames was counting. “There’s one missing.”

All three men tensed at her words. “You’re sure?” Doyle murmured, raising his gun again.

“I’m sure.”

Suddenly, there was a crack, and something behind them shattered. Goren winced as something stung his cheek, but he was already diving for the floor, as were the other three. Quick as a flash, Doyle returned fire in the general direction that the shot had come from.

The light was so poor, he was shooting on sound alone, but so was the other man. Suddenly, the gunfire ceased.

“That’s it, that was his last shot,” Doyle remarked and raised his gun again. Beside him, Davenport shook his head. “I want this one for questioning.”

“You’re sure?”

“We might as well get something out of this whole shitty situation,” he replied, and began to belly-crawl towards their adversary. Suddenly, there was a frantic rustle, and the man leapt up and ran towards him, swinging something that glinted dully in the remaining light. Davenport rolled hastily to one side as the man swung what looked like a length of pipe at his head, then jumped to his feet and gave chase as the man ran straight past him, past Goren, who jumped to his feet as well and joined the chase.

The two of them, he and Davenport, pounded behind the fleeing dark shape as it headed towards the railway tracks in the distance. Davenport poured it on, outdistancing Goren, but the other man was running on adrenaline and was just managing to keep ahead.

Ahead of them, there came a loud rumble, and the sound of a freight train crossing on tracks. That’s it, he’s cornered, Goren thought, then watched as the man took in the situation, glanced behind him, saw the two of them in pursuit, and ran frantically towards the train. Goren thought for a second that he was planning to jump under it rather than let them catch him, but then he saw that the slowly trundling train was pulling a string of boxcars with open doors in their sides. The man jumped for the nearest door frantically, followed by Davenport, and then by himself before he knew what he was doing. He nearly slipped and fell, then grabbed frantically for the edge of the door, braced himself, and hauled himself on board.

A writhing shape on the floor in front of him resolved itself into Davenport grappling with his attacker. The two men were closely locked together, trying to disable each other. The man made a lunge with his teeth for Davenport’s neck, who responded by squirming down and bringing his knee up, causing a whoof of pain from the other man, who made a fast motion with his hand, and suddenly, Davenport yelled and let go. The man scrabbled to his feet and jumped for the edge of the car to escape…

…only to realise, far too late, that the train was travelling across the bridge over the river. They were forty feet up in the air. Goren tried to grab him reflexively, but it was already too late; his momentum carried him over the edge.

They heard a splash, a long way below, then silence.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He turned to see Davenport lying still on his side, frozen on the floor of the boxcar. His breath was coming in short tight wheezes. He’s been hurt, Goren realised, and felt around in his pockets for the flashlight Doyle had given him in the warehouse. He found it and trained it in Davenport’s direction.

What he saw gave him chills. Davenport was frozen because he was, literally, pinned to the spot. There was a long thin spike of metal sticking up from the floor of the boxcar and through his left arm, and Goren could see the wet splash of blood on the floor below.

Davenport looked up and met Goren’s eyes. His grey eyes were like those of a wounded fox, and there was no sound in the car except the rattle of the wheels and his pained breathing. Goren pawed his cheek, and realised that he was bleeding too.

They were stuck on the boxcar with no means of summoning help, and the train was already gathering speed, heading for somewhere unknown.

Oh shit.

***

Interlude: What Happened At Glastonbury, C10 - "This is the Worst Chat-Up Line Ever..."

Interlude 10: “This Is the Worst Chat-Up Line Ever…”

“Wow, this is… bigger than I expected.”

“Mmm. Shall we?” Drew gestured at the entrance flap, then stepped forward and peeled it open so that I could walk through. I ducked inside into the dark, shuffling my feet in the hope of not tripping over anything. Behind me, Drew stepped carefully through, a flashlight in his hand. I caught a brief, confusing glimpse of the wide, circular interior, a large flat wooden construction that could be a bed, then suddenly a light shone from behind me. Drew stepped around me and hung the hurricane lantern he was holding from a rope strung above our heads from one of the tipi poles to another.

He pulled down his hood, then shucked his jacket. I shivered. It was cold inside, although it was good to be out of the rain. Also, it was good to be somewhere private. I’d forgotten how public a festival was, how there was almost nowhere you could go beside your own tiny tent where there were no other people. It almost felt weird to be inside somewhere I could stand up without having a mass of strangers around me.

A rasping sound drew my attention. Drew was kneeling in front of me, fiddling with a box of matches and a small pile of wood in front of him. I frowned. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not really, tipis are designed for this. No point being cold… you’ll be warmer if you take your waterproofs off.”

I followed his advice, and sat down on the low wooden frame of the futon on the other side of the tipi, bundling a blanket around me. Drew must have been right about his friend having brought this in on a truck. There was no way you could have carried it onsite, it was a solid construction, easily big enough for two people to sleep in. Which was an extremely weird thought. Sure, I’d shared a bed with a friend before, when I was younger and travelling, but not with a male friend.

Drew had managed to get the fire going, and a pale light illuminated the inside of the tipi, along with some very welcome warmth. I yawned and stretched. Drew looked at me and grinned. “Tired?”

“Yeah. Good tired, though.”

A smile lit his face. “Good. That’s good. Well, here we are…” He shone the flashlight around. “Water over there, basin over there, bucket with lid over there…”

“Oh great.” I caught his eye and added quickly “I know, I know, it’s that or a Port-a-Potty in the rain… Jesus. I volunteered for this, didn’t I?” I suddenly began to laugh. Drew dropped down onto the bed beside me.

“Yeah, you did. I’m glad you did. It wouldn’t be the same without you, which is weird…”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled slowly. “It’s been what… two years since you and I first met? Back in New York. Remember how I said, the odds were we wouldn’t meet again?” He chuckled. “I hate being wrong. Lucky it doesn’t happen often, but I’m glad it happened just that once.”

I looked at him with mixed happiness and sadness. I knew what he meant. I’d known him for two years, Tanya and Jack for barely a year, and yet I couldn’t imagine my life without them. Yet at the same time, Drew mentioning that reminded me painfully of Bobby, whom I’d met at the exact same time I’d met him, and who had given me some of the greatest happiness and most tearing pain I’d known in my life to date.

“You mind if I get into bed?”

“No, if that’s what you want… You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

“Drew, if I said I wasn’t, what would you do? Sleep on the floor? Walk back to our tents? Really, I’m good with it. Just don’t hog the blankets.”

“Yeah, I’ll try not to. Give me a few more minutes, there needs to be more ash before I can bank the fire. We want to keep it burning through the night, let’s stay warm.”

I looked at him and shook my head in slight amazement. He caught the gesture. “What is it?”

“You. You act like you were born to walk the mean streets of south London, and then suddenly you know all this stuff.”

“Country boy, remember?”

I did remember. Earlier that day, as we peered at the non-stop rain through the flaps of the canteen tent, there had come a blood-curdling shriek. Drew and I, and several others, had raced outside to see a young women pointing at her tent and gibbering about a snake.

Drew had given her an exasperated stare, dropped to his haunches and picked up something that looked indistinguishable from the muddy grass around it.

“It’s not a snake, it’s a slow worm,” he’d informed us. “Probably terrified. You want to see it? They’re quite rare these days.” He held the tiny creature out to the woman in question, who’d shrunk away as if from a cobra.

I was curious, so I wandered on over. Drew was holding what looked like a very small brown snake.

“How can you tell?” I asked.

“It has eyelids.” He held it up for me. “Lizards have eyelids, snakes don’t.”

I reached out and gently ran a finger along the worm’s back. It felt smooth and leathery, not slimy. It flickered its tongue at me, tasting the air.

“Let’s go find it a home.” Drew wandered over to a nearby hedge and gently deposited the creature at the base. It wriggled off slowly.

“How do you know all this stuff?” I asked.

He grinned. “I don’t sleep much and I read a lot, mostly… but that, I know that because I’m a country boy, remember?”

I flipped back through pages of memory. “You grew up in a village, right?”

“Yep. Not all that far from here, actually…” His voice trailed off. I wanted to ask more, but sensed I would get nowhere. Even though I was one of the few people who actually knew who Drew was and what he was, no spy likes to talk about their past, and Drew was so paranoid about talking about his I actually suspected there was something he was concealing, something beyond the usual professional paranoia. I was unlikely ever to find out what it was. Jack and Tanya wouldn’t tell me, and Drew himself was unlikely to be persuaded to talk by as inexpert an interrogator as I.

Back in the present, he banked the fire carefully. “There, that should hold it.”

I wriggled under the bedcovers, trying to decide what clothes I wanted to leave on. Mine were mostly damp and mud-splattered, though the waterproofs (and wellies) had kept the worst of the mud off. After a few moments’ indecision, I settled for my T-shirt, panties and socks, shucking my pants and folding them inexpertly under the covers; they were so damp they’d be horrible to sleep in. The bed had enough old blankets piled on top of it to keep me warm.

Drew rose and turned to me, and the reality of the situation hit me for a moment, as he stood, body limned by the fire, face in shadow. I was about to share a bed with a man, and the memories of other times when I’d lain in bed just like this, watching a man prepare himself to climb into bed with me, rushed in. My heart, absurdly, began to beat faster. Drew’s eyes met mine, and for a few seconds I forget everything I knew about him and saw only a man, a man to come into my bed and sleep with me, because there was something very unfamiliar in those grey eyes…

But only for a few seconds, then Drew blinked and dropped his gaze. The light was dim enough that I couldn’t quite make out his expression as he dropped to sit on the other edge of the bed, pulling off his clothes just as I had done. He rolled his head on his neck and stretched, cat-like, all movements I’d seen him make any number of times before. He swung himself into bed beside me and I felt the tugging on the bedclothes as he settled himself in.

I repressed a shiver, not very successfully.

“Cold?” Before I could answer, he wriggled backwards and pressed the length of his back against mine. It was blissfully warm. I tried to relax, slightly.

Okay, I am in bed with a man, albeit my best friend, who is gay. This is weird.

But it wasn’t unpleasant. Clean male is never an unpleasant scent… I realised with a jolt of surprise, Drew’s scent was familiar to me. Had I known him that long? Apparently I had.

Over a year… two years. And now we’re in bed together.

“Okay… this is kind of weird, right?” I asked, my voice sounding a little forced and brittle.

Drew didn’t answer for a few seconds. “Yes, I guess it is… Okay, I’m not going to ask again if you’re alright with this, I’m assuming you are.”

“You’re assuming right. It’s okay, Drew, really.” It’s really okay that you are in the same bed as me, and I can feel how warm you are, and smell you, and that tight body of yours is barely a few inches away, and why the fuck do you have to be gay?

Oh, shit. That thought had come out of nowhere, but it was the truth. I was slightly stunned by the strength of feeling behind it. Oh Christ, I wanted to sleep with my gay best friend. No amount of telling myself that it was stupid, just based on the fact that Drew was the only single male I’d actually got to know with any level of intimacy over the past few months, that I’d just seem him naked, that it was all just a natural reaction that I had to control despite the fact that his warm back was pressed tightly against mine and I could feel him breathing and sense his heartbeat, was doing anything about the fact that all I could think about was sex.

I gritted my teeth. It wasn’t Drew’s fault I was having the thoughts I was having.

Yes, it’s not his fault for wandering around naked and then getting into bed with me. Not at all.

Drew had gone quiet. Ominously quiet, for someone who never stopped talking by choice. He wasn’t asleep; his breathing was wrong, deep and fast, not steady and slow.

I thought, If he is doing what I think he is doing whilst I’m in the same bed as him, thinking these thoughts, I’m going to kill him. Before I could do anything though, homicidal or otherwise, Drew rolled over so that he was facing my back, managing at the same time to scoot backwards slightly so that there was an inch or so of space in between us.

Damn, this is hard. Knowing that behind me was Drew’s body, separated from mine by only a very thin layer of cotton, was doing nothing for my attempts at control.

“You asleep, SiSi?”

“No. You?”

“No.”

“What’s on your mind, Drew?”

“Thoughts.”

“Interesting thoughts?”

“Hmm.” He half-grunted the last word.

“What’s on your mind?” I purred softly. “Would I like your thoughts?” Part of my brain was screaming what are you doing, Sienna, but I’d stopped listening to it.

“You might do. I don’t know.” His voice was hoarse, a tone I had never heard from Drew before.

If I didn’t know - think - he was gay, I would know exactly what he was thinking, I realised. What he’s feeling… Okay.

Very, very slowly, I reached a hand behind me, and rested the palm of my hand against Drew’s belly muscles, letting it rest there, gently. He didn’t pull away. His breathing came faster, deep gulps of air.

If you do this, Sienna, there’s going to be no going back, one way or the other.

I took a deep breath myself, and slid my hand down, very slowly. Very, very slowly, making it as clear as I could that he could stop me any time he liked. My hand travelled down, tracing the flat stomach muscles under his T-shirt down to the waistband of his briefs, where I found… exactly what I was hoping to find. I let my fingers stroke along his flesh gently, then moved my hand away, eliciting a very soft groan, so faint I wasn’t sure I’d heard it. I suppressed a groan myself; that had done nothing to suppress my own feelings.

Except maybe I didn’t need to suppress them.

I rolled onto my back, turning my head to look him in the eye. Drew’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and his face was flushed. I want that.

I kept my tone light. “Well, either you’re having really intense thoughts about Johnny Depp, or…”

“Not about him.”

“Mmm. About who, then?”

Drew cocked his head on one side, and his face crinkled up into a wicked grin. “You know perfectly well who.”

“Me.”

“You.”

“Okay, this is… new.” I copied the head-tilt manouvre. “What is this, Drew?”

He ran a hand through his hair, chuckling softly. “Well. Okay. This is the worst chat-up line I’ve ever used…”

“No it’s not.”

He stared at me. “Sorry?”

“No, the worst chat-up line you ever used was ‘This is boring, do you fancy a quick fuck in the toilets?’”

“How did you know that?”

I grinned. I couldn’t believe Drew, of all people, had fallen for that old trick. “Because you just told me.”

He looked at me reproachfully, then burst into laughter. “Oh, SiSi…” He paused, then began again. “Okay. Well.”

I decided to help out a little. “Does this involve the words, ‘I’ve never slept with a woman before, but…’”

“Yes it does.”

“And you want me to be that woman?” I wondered if I was managing to hide how much that thought turned me on.

“Yes. Yes, I really do.”

“How long…”

”Have I been thinking like this about you?” He chewed his bottom lip. “Some time, let’s say. I don’t know. I can’t really describe it. It’s just… we spend time together, lots of time, and I find, I want to spend my time with you. I don’t like people, SiSi, but I like you. And you are, let’s face it, extremely sexy, and lately I just keep thinking… Maybe it’s more than friendship? I want you. I really, really, want you right now.”

“I want you, too. So badly.”

“Mmm. I guessed as much.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“Yes, well, you were looking at me in the sauna as though in two seconds’ time you were going to jump on top of me and go for a ride.” His hand slid over my hip, pulling me closer. I reached out and slid a hand over his waist, scenting musk in the air in between us.

“Would you have minded?”

His face was barely half an inch from mine, those beautiful grey eyes looking deep into mine. “Only because I don’t like being interrupted.”

“There’s no-one here to interrupt us now.”

He smiled, and leaned in, pushing his lips against mine.

We kissed slowly, gently, Drew’s hand resting lightly on my hip. I hadn’t expected him to be so slow, so cautious. With a man, he probably wouldn’t be… I kissed back a little harder, more forceful, shoving my tongue into his mouth and pushing the tip against the tip of his tongue, duelling lightly with him. His tongue danced against mine, teasing me with a featherlight touch. I pulled back a little, inviting him in, and this time his kiss was a lot more assured, but still light, still teasing, still very, very good. I moaned in appreciation, and he instinctively pulled me closer.

Damn, I’d missed that about a man. I’d missed how you could feel how strong they were when they pulled you close, how warm a man’s skin was, how good it was to rub up against them when both of you still had your last layer of clothing on and you could feel the hot contours of flesh beneath the thin cotton.

I wrapped an arm tightly around Drew, pulling him closer to me, something I’d never have been able to do with either John or Bobby, both of whom had been huge, powerfully built men who outweighed me by over fifty pounds. Drew was nearer my size and lithe rather than bulky, which normally wasn’t my thing, but right now I found I liked it a lot. We were both lying on our sides, facing each other, and his hand was exploring the edges of my body rather tentatively, pausing here and there, as if wondering how far he could go.

As far as you like, Drew, I thought hungrily, and pushed in closer to him. My body might be unfamiliar to him, but a man’s body was not unfamiliar to me. I traced my hand down his back, breaking the kiss at the same time and pushing my mouth against his neck, kissing and sucking gently just underneath his jaw, working my way slowly along the sensitive spots to his ear, which I nibbled slowly, then drew the lobe into my mouth and deliberately sucked it, flicking my tongue across the skin.

“Ohhh, fuck,” Drew growled softly, his grip on me tightening. “Fuck, SiSi…”

Keeping up my work on his ear, I brought my leg up and slid it over his, hooking him closer to me, and pulling the two of us closer together, not quite touching all the way, but nearly. Partly I wanted to be honourable and give him the chance to pull back if he wanted to, partly I just wanted to make him wait, make him sweat thinking about what could happen next. Both of Drew’s arms slid around me, gripping very tightly, and I pushed against him so hard that he rolled onto his back, pulling me on top.

I straddled him, still not quite touching, then let his ear slide out of my mouth and pulled my head back to look him in the eye, enjoying the annoyed narrowing of his eyes as the sensations ended. “You like that, hmm?”

Drew grinned widely, sending a thrill right through me. “Oh, yes.” His arms tightened to the point that I was pulled down against him. I wriggled fiercely, pushing myself down his body and resisting his attempts to kiss me; I wanted more of him. Wanted to kiss him, wanted to play with him, wanted to kiss my way all the way down that flat belly…

Drew gripped harder, not hard enough to hurt me, but hard enough to hold me in place. I looked up sharply into his eyes, which were huge and dark in the dim firelight. One of his hands slid around to the back of my neck, and pushed my head gently towards his. I didn’t resist, and this time his kiss was much firmer, more dominant. I was still on top of him, but now it was him in the lead, his hands running over my back. One slipped under my T-shirt, running up my back as far as he could reach. I moaned with enjoyment. I had to admit, the combination of a man’s body and a teenage boy’s uncertainty was one I was really enjoying, except that Drew’s uncertainty seemed to be vanishing by the second. He repeated my trick, kissing along my neck and sucking hard on my ear. I ground my hips against him, although I was too far up his body to ride him like I wanted to.

That could change. For now, though, I slid my hand up his ribcage, feeling the thump of his heart through his flesh. If we’re playing follow-the-leader, I know what I want you to do next… I slipped my hand in between our bodies, lifting myself off him just a little, and traced a finger up his chest, finding his nipple already half-erect. Drew closed his eyes as I ran my fingertip lightly over the top of the sensitive bud, caressing gently. His hips bucked underneath me, his kiss getting a lot harder, and my smile widened. I sat back on my haunches above him, my hands going to the waistband of my T-shirt…

Drew’s hands caught mine, covering them and stopping me removing it.

“No.”

“You don’t want to see?” I teased.

“I want to do that.”

“Go on then.”

He grinned wickedly. “In a minute.”

I glared at him, and he chuckled, a sound so familiar I couldn’t stop myself laughing. I lay down beside him, letting him spoon me, his leg sliding over me. I could feel him pressed hard against my backside, and it felt really, really, good.

“Drew, please…”

“Please what?” His hand stilled at the base of my ribcage.

“Please this.” I took hold of it and guided him further up. His touch on my breasts was so gentle it nearly drove me mad. I slammed my hips back, rubbing against him as his fingers slowly traced my breast, then cupped it lightly, his fingertips finding my nipple.

“Is that good?”

“Better than good… harder, please, Drew.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

I twisted around so that I could see him. His expression gave me pause; it was more concerned than I’d ever seen Drew look, an expression so unfamiliar that for a second I barely recognised him. I reached around and stroked the side of his face.

“You won’t. I promise you, you won’t.”

“I’m bigger than you…” He seemed to realise as he said it that the same could be said of just about anyone I’d ever been to bed with, and his words trailed off.

“I’m built for this. Just like you. You won’t hurt me, Drew. I trust you.”

A wry smile curled across his lips. I realised that I really liked Drew’s smile, not his grin but his real smile, which was a rare sight. “That’s good to know. Umm, listen…” He frowned. “I’ve never had to ask this before, but…”

“Ah. I’m on the pill. Well, not actually the pill, but… yeah, I can’t get pregnant.”

“I have supplies.” He wriggled backwards slightly and pulled some small foil packets out of his pants pocket.

It was on the tip of my tongue to say that we wouldn’t need them, but reality kicked in. Yes, I was clean and I trusted Drew, but yes, he was gay and, well, “sexually active” was putting it mildly. Not that he was obsessed with it, but as I knew from observation, a gay man in London didn’t have to go far to find a few willing playmates. I was suddenly struck by how weird the whole situation was, and for a second it felt very strange, then he drew me back into his arms and I suddenly remembered just how warm he was and how good that sleek male body felt when it pressed up tightly against mine.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on the sensations as Drew found my breasts again. His hand pulled away, then slid under my T-shirt and up, cupping the soft flesh and playing with my nipples. Both of us moaned together, and I rubbed my hips back against his. This time our bodies met, separated only by a few layers of clothing. Drew’s hips moved rhythmically against mine, and I shifted so that the angle was just right. He was really hard, and I started to feel like I couldn’t wait much longer. I wanted him in me, and reached back, getting my hand to the waistband of his boxers. I paused, brought my hand away, licked it, then slid it back.

“Fuck, SiSi,” Drew groaned, then took his hand away from my breasts and slid it down.

“Yes!” I encouraged him, putting his hand on the waistline of my T-shirt and wriggling to help him pull it off. The cool air against my flesh was a shock, making the contrast of the hot male body behind me even more delicious. I squirmed around and grabbed his T-shirt, pulling it up before he could say no. I paused as I bared his chest, pulling it up to obscure his view and putting my mouth over one of his nipples, sucking hard but not too hard, just enough to make it swell and tighten and make him moan, sounds I’d never heard from Drew before but wanted more of.

Drew grabbed the edge of his T-shirt, then pulled it up and over his head so forcefully I was amazed it didn’t rip, then forced his mouth against mine and kissed me hard. His hands slid further down, paused at the waistband of my pants, then…

Yes, go on, I urged him silently. Please, for Christ’s sake, don’t say you want to stop now. I’d respect his wishes, but dear God I did not want him to stop right now.

He didn’t. Very slowly, Drew slid his hand into my pants, then further down. His fingers explored just a little. I snuck a glimpse at his face, which had an oddly endearing mix of flushed lust and curiosity at the sensations he was experiencing. I was already wet and I could probably have taken him right then and there; it may have been a while, but my body remembered what to do and I was more than ready.

“Please, Drew,” I groaned softly into his ear. “I want you inside me.”

“I want to be inside you.” His voice was so low and hoarse I barely caught it. I ran my hand down his body and gripped him, my hand encircling him tightly. He hissed softly, lolling back on the pillow as I rubbed him hard but slow, sliding my hand up and down the warm, velvety flesh, over the soft broad head, slick with fluids.

I wanted to suck him, but knew it wouldn’t be wise to do that unprotected, and I hated the taste of rubber, so instead I let my fingers play over his flesh, caressing the tip so slowly, pushing the skin there down gently so that the head was bare and ready.

“SiSi, please…”

“Please what?”

He chuckled softly again. “Please… slow down!”

I met his gaze again. He looked so different, nearly naked, totally aroused, in bed with me, and all I could think about was how much I wanted him.

The sudden shock as his fingers slid inside me made me cry out, and he froze. “Did I…”

“No, nonono, you didn’t hurt me, don’t stop, fuck it, Drew, don’t stop.” I grabbed his hand and practically forced his fingers deeper in me, gripping around them as he moved slowly, in and out.

“God… Drew, could you, um…” I was ridiculously shy all of a sudden. “Um… like this,” I demonstrated with my other hand, curling my fingers up as if I was beckoning someone.

“Like this?” he asked, curling his fingers up inside me. I arched up off the bed as he found the spot. “That’s it! Fuck, yes, that’s it.”

He took my hand and pushed it lower, and for an uncomfortable second I thought we were going to have to have the “there are some things I don’t do” conversation, but he stopped, placing my fingers at the base of his balls and pushing them down slightly. I felt around gently, pushing in… and suddenly it was Drew’s turn to arch his back and pant desperately, feeling the pleasure going all the way through him.

Fuck it, I couldn’t wait any more. I pulled down my pants, then reached for one of those little foil packets, tearing it open.

“You’re sure?” Drew asked softly.

“Fuck yes, I have never been more sure, please don’t keep me waiting any longer,” I panted, practically ripping open the packet and unrolling the condom down his length.

“Get on your back, then,” he purred into my ear. I obeyed in a heartbeat, grabbing his ass and pulling him firmly on top. He pressed hard against me, the tip gently pushing against my flesh, seeking the entrance. I reached in between us and gently guided him towards the right spot. I could feel him pause for a fraction of a second, then push forwards. I lifted my hips, swallowing him inside me.

The feeling was so intense I cried out. He pushed forwards incredibly slowly, then back almost as slowly. Drew, if you pull out now I may kill you, I thought for a heart-stopping second as he paused, his body as taut as a bowstring above mine. I slammed my hips up against his and gripped around him as tightly as I possibly could.

His eyes and mouth opened wide, an almost comical look of surprise and pleasure spreading over his face. He rewarded me with a deep thrust, and now it was my turn to cry out and moan. We settled into a rhythm, squeeze-and-thrust, squeeze-and-thrust, and soon Drew was thrusting powerfully inside me, that taut body on top of mine, pinning me against the bed. The pleasure was so intense after so long I could think of nothing else, especially when Drew arched his back, lifting his chest off mine and bringing his mouth down to suck hard on my nipples, first one, then the other…

Almost before I knew what I was doing, I reached around and grabbed his hips firmly, pulling him as deep into me as I could go, pulling against him in time with the rhythm of his hips and rubbing myself shamelessly against his hard body, arching my back so that the angle was just right. This was much, much easier to do with Drew than it had been with a bigger man, and it felt so good, so right, all I could think about was the sheer sensation as he slammed into me again and again, the pleasure building and building until I simply couldn’t take it any more and screamed as I came, “Fuck yes! Yes! Drew, fuck!”

“SiSi!” He growled hard into the side of my neck as I went limp underneath him, throbbing hard and moaning helplessly as I felt him thrust harder and harder, losing any inhibitions he’d had earlier. He might be light but he was strong, and his thrusts prolonged the pleasure, so much so that I nearly came again as he thrust faster and faster, his arms tightening on either side of me, holding me firmly in place, his mouth sucking bruisingly hard on my shoulder, his cock slamming into me again and again as he cried out with satisfaction, the sensations of him coming rippling all the way through me. I groaned with pleasure, feeling his body collapse on top of me, giving a few last thrusts, getting the last few drops of pleasure.

“Oh fuck… Fuck, SiSi…” I felt his head turn, his mouth press a firm kiss into the side of my neck. “That was just…”

“Yeeeah,” I lay there, completely satisfied, Drew’s warm but light weight pressing me into the bed. I pulled the covers up over us both, feeling him shiver a little as he became aware of the cold.

As far as I was concerned, the rest of the world was somewhere on another planet, and it could stay there as long as it liked.