Boardwalk Empire Fic: "Sanctuary" Part 2/3-B (Jimmy/Richard) NC-17

[twilightthief]

Title: Sanctuary

Fandom: Boardwalk Empire

Word Count: About 12,000 for the two parts

Rating: NC-17 for graphic sex, language, violence and a brief scene of torture/interogation.

Characters/Pairings: Jimmy/Richard with appearances of Nucky, Margaret, Angela, Nan and the children.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything BE wise.

Summary:  Takes place directly after the events of episode 12: "A Return to Normalcy".
Switches back and forth from Jimmy and Richard's POV.
Nan Britton, President Harding's mistress, has gone missing-having fled with Margaret's children. Nucky sends his two hitmen on a mission to find them and bring them back.
This story chronicles the two ex soldiers working alongside each other intimately, getting to know each other and seeking refuge in the other as they struggle to escape their pasts, map their futures and search for the woman but both of them secretly hoping they don't find her and that the seach and working together can continue forever.
Slow building Jimmy/Richard because I love buildup, angst and "non easy relationships".

In this part: Jimmy and Richard come closer to finding out where Nan and the children are and to finding each other...

This is Part B of the two parts of Part Two (yeah, it's confusing-sorry!)

Part A is Here

Please don't forget to comment! :)

Part 2, Part B: I think I heard you sinning. We're together like a prayer...

Jimmy slips out of Richard’s room before the older man wakes but not before he watches him a little, his breath deep and even, sunlight playing off his heavy scars, dark hair falling in his face, curling at the ends. Jimmy’s head hurts like fucking hell but his body still feels smooth as silk, his leg never better and he has to resist doing some things to thank the other man. He gathers up his boots and knife and creeps out of the room silently.

Jimmy only knocks on his door an hour later to get breakfast. Jimmy can tell Richard’s in a mood and they haven’t even spoken yet. He only gets curt, clipped responses from him when Jimmy asks questions and Jimmy doesn’t push it. It could be a lot of things and really Jimmy doesn’t want to talk about his drunken behavior, the choices they made. Richard’s eyes want to ask but Jimmy shoots him dagger looks that shuts him up. They need some sort of partnership and trust if they are going to work together to find the mistress and the children and that’s all they need.

They walk outside and the air is chilled and silent. Snow is falling lazily and collects on everything, blanketing the once familiar world. Jimmy thinks it’s beautiful. He smiles a little, closing his eyes and stretching his arms out to his sides feeling the freezing world around him, it slowly burying him. He wanted a fresh start. He thinks the unexpected snow will help.

Richard still won’t say anything while they drive which is normally how they drive anyway but its grating on Jimmy’s nerves and almost good mood. He watches snow fly past his window and his mind wanders, thinks about knives, soldiers, hands on knees, kisses in the dark and no bad dreams. He rests his head on frosted glass, fogs it with his warm breath and swirls designs on the fogged window feeling like Angela with her painting. He gets a curious look from Richard as he drives but nothing more.

They’re moving steadily northward. They stop at the docks; the snow dissolves on the gray sea, tied up boats knocking at the pier. No one’s seen her. Another train station and they get their first lead. A woman that sells tickets thinks she might have seen Ms. Britton but she can’t be sure. No one else recognizes her picture. Jimmy doesn’t know if it’s even worth mentioning to Nucky when he’ll call him later and still Richard has barely spoken two words to him all day.

They stop at the ferry and Jimmy isn’t surprised that no one recognizes her picture or can recall seeing her. The car decides to die on their way back. Jimmy knows they have enough gas in it but neither man knows much about automobiles-they were too busy off fighting a war. In Jimmy’s case he also had a son and in Richard’s case he got half his face blown off. They didn’t have time for their fathers to show them the ins and outs of how a car worked. Jimmy swears until he’s red in the face and Richard looks surlier than ever and still he won’t say a word even as Jimmy kicks the piece of shit and spits on it angrily for deciding to stop working when it’s snowing out and both of them are cold and in the middle of fucking nowhere. They grab their bags and start walking. Jimmy hopes they happen upon a Good Samaritan that will stop for them. He’s not below hitchhiking. He would love to bounce the idea off of Richard but the sharpshooter assassin is content on chewing on silence and anger and watching the sky turn darker and darker, their boots leaving impressions in fresh snow.

They walk and it seems miserably long especially since the only company Jimmy has is the breath he’s expelling, the crunch his boots make on the snow and the white world all around him. His bad leg is starting to stiffen from the cold and ache from the trek. It’s getting late and they haven’t seen any cars-everyone too afraid to go out in bad weather he supposes. He smokes to create more heat, to have something to do and tries not to feel miserable. Just as he’s starting to think he can’t take anymore he hears it-the unmistakable sound of steam hissing. It was a train. He glances at Richard and he hears it too-his dark eye going wide. They pick up their pace and see that the freight train has stopped. There’s no station in sight so he figures they were stopping for repairs or to load something. Again Jimmy would like to ask Richard what he thinks they should do but he decides for them and as they approach closer the train starts to take off. Jimmy sees a partially open door to one of the train cars and jogs up to it, sliding it open even more. The train picks up speed and Jimmy limps as fast as he can to throw his bag inside and hop up onto the train car a second later, stumbling inside. He whirls around and panic grips him when he doesn’t see the other man right away. He glances through the door and behind and sees Richard a little ways off, jogging to catch up. Jimmy motions for him to hurry up. The train picks up more speed and Richard has to run and Jimmy is almost terrified that Richard won’t make it. Jimmy reaches out a hand and Richard is so close, there’s a little fear on Richard’s face too but he sprints and reaches out for Jimmy’s hand and miraculously he helps heft the older man up and inside-both of them tumbling into the dark train car as it jerks and sways over the tracks, Richard landing on top of him.

And it’s like they’re back in the dark hotel room but instead this time there’s no alcohol or talk of war. Richard is straddling him and Jimmy can’t think and it’s too dark for him to see but he can hear. Can hear their labored breathing and his own blood pounding behind his ears. “Thank you,” Richard mumbles and his face is so close. Jimmy swallows hard and nods stupidly like Richard can see him but no sound comes out of his mouth-like their roles are reversed and Jimmy’s the one that isn’t talking.

Richard gets up after a time, releasing Jimmy from the prison of long, warm limbs. How much time passes Jimmy isn’t sure. He hears him shuffle over to one of the walls of the train car and sits. Jimmy pats his pockets for his lighter, finds it and flicks it on. He squints at the sudden light and swivels the lighter over to Richard’s direction. The other man is sitting against the train car wall, his knees drawn up, his clothes damp and rumpled from snow and from falling into a moving train car. He looks around the train car and sees it’s loaded with bags of what he guesses is wheat, barely or some other crop. He doesn’t see anything useful they could use for a makeshift torch so he limps over to Richard and pops a squat next to him. Richard is glancing to the direction of the faint light and snow coming in from the partially open train car door. Jimmy feels the car gently sway, hears the metal clacking, the distant sound of the whistle. He likes the sounds. Would like it even more if he could hear Richard too.

“What?” Jimmy blurts out because he’s tired of the other man not speaking and they’re alone in a fucking train car and there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do and he feels he might go insane if he has to sit alone in the dark and silence any longer. Richard eyes him in the faint light from the lighter.

“What did I do?” Jimmy clarifies when Richard doesn’t respond. He hears metal screech on the tracks beneath them, the wheels clacking in rhythm.

“Just…say something, Jesus,” Jimmy lights a cigarette and extinguishes the light to preserve it, it won’t last forever and they may need it later. They sit side by side in the dark. Jimmy thumps his head against the cold metal of the car wall exhaling angrily.

“You don’t…hmm, want to talk about it anyway,” Richard’s gruff voice cuts through the darkness, startling Jimmy. Jimmy turns to him and can barely make him out in the small patch of moonlight that’s spilling in from the partially open door. “Talk about what?” Jimmy watches the cigarette burn-the only other light source waiting for Richard to respond.

“You know what. Now that you’re sober, hmph, you don’t have the courage to say. Hmm.”

“So I’m a coward now?”

“Yes, hmph,”

“Fuck you,” he almost wishes Richard will revert to not talking again but at the same time he doesn’t. Even though they’re arguing he’s glad for the company. He wouldn’t want to be stuck on a dark train going to nowhere alone.

“No, Jimmy. Fuck you.”

Jimmy whips his head to Richard’s direction feeling like he’s been slapped. He’s never heard Richard use his first name before or swear, never heard him so angry before. It’s almost too much for Jimmy to absorb. He’s too stunned to come up with a retort. He can only rub at his forehead and watch his cigarette slowly burn.

“Hmph. Fuck you for only taking me out when you need me. Hmm. And really. Hmm. You don’t. You’re just using me, messing with me.”

Richard’s words slice through him like the knife he keeps in his boot and again he feels stunned.

“You think…hmph, you can get drunk and do whatever you like. Hmm. But people’s emotions are involved. Alcohol or otherwise. Hgnh. I wanted to talk to you about it. Hmm. But you won’t. But you decide everything and I let you. Hmph. But not this. If you won’t talk about it…hmph… then I just won’t speak. Hmm. Because that’s what you isn’t it? You’re a selfish child…”

“Ok! Enough!” Jimmy shouts, cutting him off, his raised voice echoes largely through the train car. “If I’m so terrible, so selfish then you can fucking leave! I can finish this on my own. Fuck,” he rubs at his temple, extinguishing his now wasted cigarette and chews on his anger.

“Fine. I will. Hmm. At the next stop.”

“We don’t even know where this train is going…”

“Hmm. Doesn’t matter.”

Jimmy grits his teeth and Jesus fuck he’s angry and he isn’t sure who he’s angrier with-himself or Richard. And he still doesn’t know exactly what he did or didn’t do to elicit this kind of reaction from the other man but that was a lie. They sit next to each other in the dark swaying train car and neither of them moves and Jimmy isn’t sure why. He gets used to the rhythmic motion of the train, it almost lulling him to sleep, almost. The train screeches to a halt suddenly and Jimmy can barely register what’s happening and then Richard is standing up. Jimmy can hear him grab his bag and oh shit he’s really leaving. Words of protest die in Jimmy’s throat and Richard is pulling the train car door open wider and is slipping into the moonlight and snow, his dark silhouette disappearing and the train is still barely inching along.

Jimmy scrambles to his feet because he feels he should do something but what he isn’t sure. He limps over to the still open door and sees they’re pulling into a station. Snow flies in from the door and his body is racked with shivers. Relief washes over Jimmy. It’s a station they’ve been to before and he can easily get a cab and use their phone to call Nucky. That relief is replaced by wide eyed terror as he watches rapidly falling snow and sees Richard cross over the last of the tracks and makes his way to the platform. Jimmy can see two men huddled together lying in wait and in shadow on the otherwise deserted platform watching Richard from above closely and the intentions on their faces are as clear as day. Jimmy has seen that look before. It’s too late and there aren’t any passenger trains pulling in. It’s a setup.

He’s grabbing his bag, reaching for his gun and is leaping from the train in one fluid movement. He lands awkwardly and his bad leg flares with white hot pain, the breath knocked out of him, making him pause. The snow is obscuring the scene slightly but he sees the men approaching closer, hands in their jackets as Richard is taking the platform steps hurriedly and Richard doesn’t see them. Everything seems to happen in slow motion. Jimmy scrambles up on the slippery ground, bag forgotten, trying hard to not focus on the pain in his leg, aiming his gun at the men. “Richard!” he screams and he doesn’t know if it’s detrimental or helpful as Richard’s head, hair full of snow, whips to Jimmy’s direction and Richard is pulling out his Colt in a blink of an eye, the two men rounding on him, their own guns out now as the scene has been called out for what it is, no more need for secrecy.

A shot is fired but it happens to quick for Jimmy to register and the snow is making it harder to see but he thinks it was Richard shooting. Shots are returned back but Richard dodges them, pressing his body tightly against the wall of the stairs. Jimmy is limping towards them on snow covered tracks, his leg on fire. He fires but misses the first time but the second shot gets one of the men in the shoulder but it doesn’t bring him down. And Jimmy knows these are button men and possibly ex military just like Richard and Jimmy and the situation just got more real, more dangerous.

Shots are fired at Jimmy but he hardly notices. He’s too focused on how Richard is trapped in an awkward position-halfway on the stairs without any real cover with the men shooting at them from on top of the platform. But Richard is holding his own-his movements are fluid like water, his aim good and Jimmy thinks he’s never seen him more alive. Jimmy approaches the stairs and he thinks he might be bleeding but its dark and it’s snowing, the train clanking behind him, his mind and leg are on fire and he needs to back Richard up. Richard is reloading his Colt and one of the enemy button men takes that opportunity to rush him, heading down the stairs, gun pointed at Richard’s face.

He already lost one half of his face you motherfucker, Jimmy thinks as he grabs his knife from inside his boot and throws it at the man, it stabbing right through his throat like a pin in a pin cushion. Red flies and sprinkles the white ground and the man makes a pathetic gurgling noise before he slumps over face first as snow swirls all around. Jimmy is right next to Richard on the stairs now, standing shoulder to shoulder with him and Richard shoots him a look as he finishes reloading his Colt and Jimmy knows Richard won’t be leaving now. He’s saved his life too many times no matter how angry he may be with him.

“Thirty-four,” Jimmy says with a smile and Richard smiles back and his look reads appreciation, awe, disbelief,  hunger and possibly a little fear. Richard eyes Jimmy’s jacket that he knows is stained with blood. But he doesn’t have time to finish the thought as the man that Jimmy shot in the shoulder earlier is still on top of the stairs, ducking behind a wall for cover, shooting at them. He couldn’t come at them guns blazing like the other man they have to have an old fashioned shoot out and Jimmy grins despite the pain that’s engulfing his body and the shit storm they’re in and Richard is shoving him against the stair wall as bullets hail down, exploding the wooden steps around them.

“Cover me,” Richard growls out, shooting Jimmy a look and Jimmy wants to protest but again Richard’s eye flicks to Jimmy’s phantom injury and Jimmy nods, reloading his smoking Colt. They wait till there’s a pause of enemy gun fire and Richard bolts up the stairs. Jimmy catapults off the wall and shoots in the direction of where the button man is hiding. He moves up the stairs slowly, the icy wall at his back, fresh blood making the stairs slipperier, snow cutting across everything. He steps over the other fallen button man, his crumpled body in a pool of blood and snow. Jimmy hears shots but they aren’t directed at him and he limps feebly up the rest of the stairs and it’s getting harder to move, his body betraying him. He gets to the top of the stairs, still shooting for cover and sees Richard approach the area where the enemy has been hiding from the opposite direction. He can see more clearly as the platform has an overhang and protects them from the rapidly falling snow.  Jimmy shoots until his fingers ache and his arm trembles and the enemy shoots back at him but misses but he isn’t sure as his body hurts too much and Jimmy hopes he’s providing enough of a distraction. He sees Richard creep around the wall and out of sight, hears a shot and a scream and Jimmy can barely move but somehow he meets Richard around the wall and the button man has a fresh bullet wound in his shoulder, kneeling on the ground and Richard has the button man’s gun and is training both guns on him. Jimmy trains his gun on the enemy’s head too and he knows he has one bullet left, just enough. Richard shoots him a look.

“Sit down. You’re bleeding. Hmph. We need him alive. Need to know who sent them. Hmm.” And Richard is right. He’s glad he’s back; that they’re working together again because Richard kept them on track and was always the thinker, Jimmy the doer. But right now Jimmy can’t do much of anything so he sits, his battered body totally betraying him. He leans his back against a wall, his body splayed out and watches Richard interrogate.

“Who sent you?” Richard’s all hard eyes and even gruffer voice with two guns trained on the man on the ground. The button man with two matching leaking bullet wounds in his shoulders just laughs, breath raspy.

“Go to hell,” the man says, his body shaking with pathetic laughter, cold or just pain and Richard smacks him hard across the face with his Colt. The crack echoes loudly and sickeningly in the small space and the man slumps over on his side, clutching his face, blood dripping from his broken mouth. The man is groaning and Jimmy’s eyes are wide. Jimmy leans forward and new heat ignites in his chest and it’s not from possible injuries. It’s from watching Richard like this-so hard and strong, not taking shit and Jimmy feels strange but also special he gets to see Richard like this since so many write him off as being too quiet, meek and mild and he is normally under his killer interior…

“Hmm. Who sent you? Say or you’re going to die,” Richard watches, guns trained as the man is still lying on the ground, spitting blood and teeth out. His hard eyes find Richard, shooting him the coldest look that even Jimmy can make out in the gloom.

“No,” he rasps out, spitting a wad of blood out. “You’re mistaken…you two are going to die,” he coughs up blood, his body racked with tremors. “You have no idea who you’re up against,” he laughs pathetically and Richard is grabbing at the man’s collar, getting right in his face and growls something low and deep. He sticks his gun right underneath the man’s chin, near his Adam’s apple making the man’s head shoot up and despite the button man’s high talk his eyes flash with fear in the semi darkness.

“You have thirty seconds.”

The man laughs, his head lolling back, blood leaking everywhere. “They have her…the children too.”

“Hmm. Where?” Richard shouts right in the man’s face, shaking him a little. The laughs the man makes become groans and coughs. “You’ll never find them,” his mouth dribbles blood. “Just kill me. If you don’t they will. I’m already dead,” he laughs again, his head lolling back in a frightening way.

“How long have you been, hmph, following us?” Richard digs the barrel deeper into the man’s blood encrusted throat. The man winches. “For a while. Picked up your trail after you left the hotel…” he rasps out and Jimmy knows he’s dying, losing too much blood and Jimmy is too, the room is spinning.

“Richard,” he breathes out gently, a warning and a plea. Richard shoots him a look and he’s the old Richard with his warm eye, the gentle Richard that watches over Irish women and children and offers nightcaps and takes off boots, not the hardened assassin and interrogator that only knows duty and wants to kill. Jimmy’s hands shake as he searches for his cigarettes. He might as well have a smoke before he dies.

“Left pocket,” Richard’s voice is smooth and gentle and Jimmy is glad he isn’t mad at him anymore. Jimmy meets his eye after he finally finds his pack, fishes out a cigarette and lights it with much fumbling. Richard nods at Jimmy and there’s concern in his eye but he turns his attention back to the button man he’s still holding and it turns hard again. “Last chance. Who sent you? Where are they? Hmm.”

The man laughs but it’s gargled with blood and dying breaths. “Gonna have to…kill me…” More shouts and threats later and still the man won’t talk. Richard won’t be able to get it out of him. They don’t have enough time. Richard releases him sending the man backwards in the pool of his own blood and filth.

“You two are so fucked,” the man laughs and Richard gets up and shoots Jimmy a look and Jimmy’s seen that look in the war too many times and they’re sharing slow, murderous smiles .

“Can I kill him now?” his mouth around his cigarette, their gaze never breaking and Richard nods.

“Yes, you can kill him now.”

Jimmy lifts his Colt that he was still holding pathetically in his hand at his side the whole time, aims and unloads his last bullet in a clean shot to the man’s head. Richard is moving quickly, searching the dead man, pulling out pieces of paper with sketches and profiles of Jimmy and Richard out of his blood stained pocket, takes his wallet but finds little else. He helps Jimmy up even though Jimmy protests but Richard won’t let him argue. He supports him as they make their way to retrieve Jimmy’s knife from the other man’s throat and Richard’s bag. Richard searches the other man and doesn’t find much either but pockets his meager processions. He leans Jimmy against a wall and runs and grabs Jimmy’s bag still on the snow covered tracks and Jimmy’s eye lids are drooping. He’s very tired all of a sudden.

Richard’s on him again, supporting him, practically dragging him with both bags over his shoulder, his coat stained with the dead man’s blood and snow. They find the button men’s car. Richard helps Jimmy in and Jimmy wants to sleep. Richard slaps at his face, still standing outside. “Not yet, need your help. Hmph. Where are you shot?” Richard’s warm, blood smeared hands are on him, unbuttoning his jacket and Jimmy thinks the question is absurd but he faintly thinks he probably was shot at while he was limping across the train tracks but his body hurts too much to know. Richard’s unbuttoning his waistcoat, moving away cloth and he makes a hissing noise through his teeth. He feels Richard’s fingers ghost over his chest, a short distance from his collarbone, near his shoulder and Jimmy cries out because fuck it hurts.

“Went clean through,” Richard eyes him, his face so close and Richard turns to his bag, snow still flying all around. Jimmy hears a ripping sound and Richard is wrapping one of his shirts around his wound tightly making Jimmy’s eyes tear up with pain. His body only knows pain and Richard’s gentle touch and he’s so tired again. He slumps forward in the seat, Richard catching him and they’re too close. Jimmy kisses the one side of Richard’s mouth because fuck they almost died and he almost left and maybe Jimmy is dying now and Richard was so spectacular and he’s losing blood but Richard doesn’t pull away and almost kisses him back. He rights Jimmy in the seat, his half a face flushed and he shakes his snowy head. “You have the worst timing. Sleep now.”

Jimmy can’t keep his eyes off of Richard as he smiles warmly, snow flying all around him as he sweeps his blood encrusted thumb over the corner of Jimmy’s mouth and Jimmy smiles back, his eyelids fluttering and then he can’t remember anything as darkness and snow swallows him up.

* * *

Light is spilling in his eyes and they hurt, everything hurts. He chances opening them and sees snow falling steadily across the fogged window-it already crusted with snow. He touches at his chest and feels a new proper bandage there under a fresh shirt. His eyes sweep the unfamiliar room all clean and stark white save for a wooden cross hanging high on one wall like a reminder. His eyes stop at Richard’s bent over position at a desk in the corner of the small room. His dark hair is mussed and he’s wearing his white undershirt and dark slacks. There’s a bottle of half full bourbon on the desk with his Colt and Jimmy’s knife resting right next to it. Richard must sense that Jimmy’s awake because Richard turns slowly in his chair to meet him. His mask and glasses are off and he breathes in slowly through his disfigured nose.

“Hmm. You’re finally awake. Been sleeping for nearly three days…”

Jimmy chances moving and it burns but he’s able to bring himself to a sitting position though the room is spinning slightly and his throat is dry.

“Where are we?”

Richard claps his hands between his knees and looks about the room. “We’re near New York now. Ngh. Ditched the car that first night after we got a good, hmm, distance away. Stuck to the woods. We had to keep moving. Didn’t know how many more were out there, hmm, still out there looking for us. Wasn’t safe to stay at a hotel. Hmph. Met an old Polish woman while we made camp. It was her backyard,” Richard smiles. “Hmm. I told her we were wandering ministers and that you got injured in a hunting accident. Hmm. She offered to have us stay. It’s safe here. I only was able to call Mr. Thompson, hmm, once. The woman doesn’t have a telephone. Told him what happened. Hmph. The men were from New York I found by going through their things. Mr. Thompson says to go there, hmm, when you’re well enough.”

Jimmy looks around the small, too white room with the dark cross hanging on the wall, the snow falling steadily outside the window. His eyes rest on Richard with his black hair in his eyes and his day old stubble.

“The old woman is very trusting, very religious. Hmm. She says my face will heal because I’m doing God’s work.”

Jimmy eyes him carefully. “Do you believe her?”

Richard reaches over on the desk and fingers his Colt.

“Hmm. I’ve done too many horrendous things to be owed any favors….going to continue to do horrendous, unspeakable things.” Richard meets his eyes slowly and there’s a look there and its hungry and deep and his words stir in Jimmy’s chest, gives him the strength to stand yet it’s difficult. Richard is at his side in two quick strides from his long legs supporting him but lingering.

“You look the very, hmm, opposite of me,” he touches his blond hair faintly, runs a thumb over his fair eyebrow like he’s claiming him. He’s only an inch taller and he supposes only a year older but he seems significantly younger with only his undershirt, his dark hair a mess and his true face exposed to him, ugly but only to those who don’t know him. He’s anything but horrendous. But Jimmy doesn’t really know him either. Jimmy isn’t sure of much when Richard’s touching him and saying things like that. Richard’s thumb tenderly circles his cheek and his brown eye is warm and Jimmy knows he’s going to kiss him but how he’s not sure.

“May have to help me do these unspeakable things, hungh,” his thumb sweeps his bottom lip, seals it with his own lips in the lightest of kisses a heartbeat later and Jimmy’s closing his eyes, hands on the other man’s forearms anchoring him feeling the room spin, like he could float away like the dust filtering in with the golden light of the room. Jimmy tucks some hair behind Richard’s ear getting a smile from the other man. It’s easier to tell when’s he’s smiling without the mask on. He touches at the scars and angry lines that riddle the one half of his face and Richard meets his hand slowly, breathing deep. Jimmy brushes their noses together, their lips a heartbeat later and Richard is surprisingly responsive, meeting his mouth feebly. Jimmy smiles against him and tries a different tactic. He focuses on the one half of his mouth which is more difficult but strangely erotic and Richard kisses him back with more need and suddenly his warm tongue is in his mouth and Jimmy groans into him, wonderfully pleased that there isn’t anything wrong with the older man’s tongue. Richard massages Jimmy’s tongue with his own like he had done to his leg all those nights ago while he was sleeping-something he didn’t admit to himself until just now and Jimmy’s growing impossibly hard for his man.  He tangles his fingers in his dog tags. The whole thing is insane as the cross is watching them from its position on the wall in the old religious woman’s house but he needs this.

“You’re skin…”Richard trails off as he presses his nose into Jimmy’s cheek, inhaling deeply, his fingertips are lightly grazing his neck and Jimmy winds a hand in his thick hair, pulling a little and Richard grazes his soft lips to his sensitive neck, trailing his fantastic tongue over it a second later making him shiver just like when Richard was running his fingers over his knife. Jimmy moves his hands to Richard’s hips and plays with the hem of his undershirt as Richard grazes his teeth over the pale skin of his neck. Richard gets the hint after a moment and reluctantly removes himself from Jimmy so that Jimmy can pull Richard’s shirt off over his head and toss it to the floor. Richard just stands there with his exposed face and chest like he’s letting Jimmy get used to seeing him. Jimmy runs his fingertips over his muscular frame surprised he doesn’t see any scars or disfigurements. His skin is blemish free save for a light dusting of black hair across his chest trailing down to his navel and beyond. Jimmy rests his hands on his hips again and feels some heat flood his cheeks.

“Just like that,” Richard growls lowly and he’s pinning Jimmy to the wall, between his long, muscular thighs that seem to go on for days in his six foot frame, encroaching Jimmy’s dangerous territory. Jimmy captures Richard’s mouth to silence him and clings to him in the white spinning room with the dark cross staining the wall.

* * *

Richard moves his thigh, inching his knee a little bit higher, closer to Jimmy’s growing erection getting a satisfactory groan and eyelid flutter from the younger man, him digging his fingernails into Richard’s bare arms getting a shiver of pleasure from Richard. He fingers the hem of Jimmy’s undershirt and Jimmy’s face erupts in a sloppy, broken grin and he lifts his arms up, wincing as Richard releases him of his shirt. He runs his fingers greedily over the miles and miles of porcelain skin, an empty canvas. He wants to get lost to his body, so pale like the snow but firm yet delicate, muscular, lean yet inviting, begging to be touched. He lowers his face and claims his skin with his mouth, kissing everything within reach. Jimmy winds his fingers in Richard’s hair and moans, holding him to his chest like he wants more and doesn’t want him to pull away. His thumbs find Jimmy’s sensitive nipples all taut and pink and his eyes are full of the snow covered window as he grazes his teeth over them getting a shudder from the younger man. Richard laps his tongue over the sensitive area twisting the other in his fingers and Jimmy squirms. “Fuck,” he says under his breath and he hears his head knocking against the wood wall.

He takes a nipple between his lips and sucks and hears Jimmy’s breath hitching in his throat and releases sounds somewhere between pain and pleasure. Jimmy’s cupping his face, drawing him upwards and Jimmy meets his mouth in a messy, eager kiss. Richard pushes him further into the wall as Jimmy sucks on his bottom lip. He’s mindful of Jimmy’s injury and still frail state but he needs to be closer. He smells like ointment, blood and the soap the old woman uses to clean her sheets. He also smells a bit like himself. Richard releases a groan as Jimmy continues to suck and his hands find the buttons and fly of Jimmy’s pants. He feels Jimmy stiffen at the close contact as he fumbles with shaky fingers to release him of his pants. He hears Jimmy gasp against his ear, his lips at the right side of his neck when Richard’s fingers graze Jimmy’s erection. Richard closes his eye, his breathing hard and Jimmy puts his hands on his bare shoulders as Richard works his briefs off. He rests his head in the crook of Jimmy’s shoulder and he isn’t sure who’s supporting who anymore as he takes Jimmy in his hands, stroking his length all hard and thick and leaking pre come in his fingers and Jimmy’s sucking in air beneath him making broken sounds.

Richard finds his mouth, his eye still closed and the warm room is dissolving and he’s moving them towards the bed, half carrying a still slightly weak Jimmy. He opens his eye and there’s blond hair falling in Jimmy’s flushed face, sun and snow bouncing off his pale form, his red leaking and trembling hard cock against the white sheets. Jimmy is watching him hungrily and Richard can’t get his pants off fast enough. He hovers over Jimmy splayed over the white sheets once he loses his pants. He fumbles with his underwear and Jimmy’s fingers meet his and help him pull them down, their faces so close. Jimmy’s eyes never leave his and they’re burning with intensity but also warmness as his briefs slide down Richard’s thighs.  Jimmy’s fingers splay over his bare ass and Richard shudders at his touch. His fingers grip him there and are coaxing him downwards on top of him and Richard is hesitant but lies on top of Jimmy properly after a moment and they both groan as their erections dig into the other’s stomach.

Richard forgets who is when Jimmy captures his mouth, one hand still on his ass, the other running over his cock. Richard shifts a bit and their pelvis to pelvis, erections gliding off each other and both men can’t breathe. Jimmy is all flushed, sweaty skin, hair in his face on the white sheets. Richard runs his hands all over his exposed skin resting on Jimmy’s cock and he shifts, withdrawing from Jimmy, hovering over him and he takes him quickly in his mouth. Jimmy bucks and swears every curse in the book as Richard’s mouth molds around Jimmy’s cock that’s still leaking. He takes him in deeper and deeper and Jimmy is pulling at his hair when he decides feeling him in his mouth, his warm pre come dribbling down his throat, isn’t enough and he moves over him in his mouth. Jimmy cries out, echoing through the small room as he works him. He cracks his eye open and sees Jimmy writhing on the sheets, biting his lip, pooled in sweat, his chest working hard and Richard experiments and runs his tongue along the underside of his cock slowly as he moves his lips over him getting a satisfactory moan from the other man. He swirls his tongue over the head, reaching behind Jimmy’s balls and stroking the sensitive areas there and Jimmy is becoming undone. “Fuck…” he almost screams and Richard is very glad the old woman is a little hard of hearing and doesn’t speak much English. He guesses she won’t be up for a couple hours and Richard smiles with Jimmy’s cock still in his mouth.

He sucks at him eagerly when his tongue gets tired and Jimmy moves with him, thrusting his hips up to meet him and Richard’s head is spinning, filling with lust. His eye sees the snow drifting across the window and they move in a steady rhythm to match it. Richard can’t take much more, his own cock leaking horribly all over Jimmy’s stomach, his jaw hurting but he’s lost to Jimmy inside and all around him.

“Richard,” his voice breaks and it brings Richard back to the present. He removes Jimmy from his mouth with a soft PLOP and straddles him once again. Jimmy’s pupils are blown as he regards him, his lips red and bruised, and his bandage still covering his chest near his left shoulder. Jimmy’s massages Richard’s tired jaw, his other hand massaging his cock, his lips finding Richard’s neck and Richard lets him because this is who they are now. In the room almost all of white with snow dissolving the known world outside, the cross bearing down on them exposing their sin and Richard doesn’t want to be anywhere else, only further inside Jimmy to trap this moment.

He flips Jimmy gently on his back, straddles him and explores his backside, his strong shoulders and back and his ass all white and smooth as snow. He runs his fingers over his ass exploring him, spreading his cheeks and exploring further until he finds his pinks muscle and Jimmy is arching his back and crying out when Richard circles it with a finger. He wets a finger in his mouth and circles the sensitive area again taking his thumb of his other hand and circling the small of Jimmy’s back to relax him. He gently pushes in with a finger going deeper and deeper until Jimmy is shaking and fisting the sheets mumbling something incoherent. He moves in him, stretching him, fucking him slowly like the falling snow. Richard kisses his ass, his back, anything and Jimmy is up on his knees suddenly making Richard’s head spin again. He’s pleading with Richard under his breath for more. He’s in two knuckles deep now and fucks him open. Jimmy shoots him a pained, broken yet eager look over his shoulder and Richard meets his mouth still moving silently inside, filling him up with his fingers. Jimmy moves with him after a time, fucking back on Richard’s fingers and Richard can’t breathe. The only sounds in the small white room are the two men sucking in air and the broken sounds they release as the room seems to get smaller and smaller. Richard grabs Jimmy’s cock, holding on for dear life as they meet a rhythm and it’s all Richard can do from losing it, his own cock too impossibly hard.

“Richard,” it’s needy and a plea, the same sound from when Jimmy was asking him to stop interrogating the man, wanting his attention, wanting him…

Jimmy looks at him over his shoulder with half lidded eyes. His eyes are darker and full of impossible things and want, his hair in his face, sweat on his brow he’s and nodding at him. Richard takes a deep breath. He removes his dripping fingers from deep inside the other man getting a whine and a hiss from him. He drapes himself over the younger man-all perfect pale skin, trembling and fucked open for him. He runs his fingers over Jimmy’s cock and thighs, getting his fingers saturated with pre come. He slicks up his own cock with his own mingling it with Jimmy’s. He circles Jimmy’s hole with his cock and the other man hangs his head between his shoulders, arching his back and ass wanting to meet him. It punches the air out of Richard’s lungs with how eager he is for him. He circles slowly, sweeping over his tight muscle and enters him just as slowly.

Everything goes out of Richard like he’s turned inside out and the only thing that makes sense is his inching cock filling Jimmy up. His tight heat grabs at him and he feels every miniscule as Jimmy stretches around him, accommodates him. It’s like war, the half of his face exploding, like killing-it’s chaos but makes perfect sense.

* * *

Richard holds Jimmy down and pushes inside him deeper and deeper. Jimmy hopes that he can keep going until he reaches oblivion, like standing on the edge of a boat and only seeing the vast open sea and nothing else. He doesn’t want to feel anything, only Richard inside him pushing everything else out. Richard’s all around him, his hot skin encompassing him and his dog tags tickling his back. Once Richard is fully inside to the hilt they move but it’s slow like they’re back in the dark hotel room or in the swirling snow and Jimmy only breathes when he meets his trusts like it’s giving him life. And Richard is giving him life. He may have saved Richard but Richard has saved him, given him his much needed do-over.

Richard’s fingers are wrapped around his cock and he works him in his hands and he’s getting his restart. His and Richard’s hands were meant for killing but they aren’t killing they’re being made over for something else… Richard’s barely a couple slow strokes in and Jimmy feels he’s getting close. Richard is all around him, everywhere, his cock moving inside him smoothly and his hands touching, exposing him and Jimmy feels it take over and he comes-in Richard’s fingers, on the sheets, everywhere and he’s reborn from Richard’s touch, from all of this. His eyes are slightly leaking with pleasure and his body is floating, riding high. Richard is close behind and he feels him grip him tightly, filling and slicking him up and fucks him through his own release.

They’re a mass of tangled limbs on the now ruined sheets. Richard rests his head on Jimmy’s shoulder, his fingers ghosting over his chest and bandage. Jimmy reaches over at the small table next to the bed and grabs his cigarettes. He smokes with half lidded eyes, his heart pumping rapidly, his body humming, full of Richard and sex. The cross mocks him but absolves him and he feels Richard shift on the bed. He feels coolness at his chest and he looks down and sees that Richard has put his dog tags around Jimmy’s neck. Jimmy fingers them stupidly and shoots the other man a look and a smile.

“They’ve always brought me protection and put things in perspective. Hmph.”

Jimmy runs his fingers over them.

He rubs at his bleary eyes, cigarette burning between his pale fingers catching the light from the window.

“I don’t think I’ll ever like it…”

When Jimmy peers over at the other man Richard is watching him curiously, hair in his eyes, white sheet drawn over half his body, head slightly cocked.

“Like what? Hmm.”

“Killing. I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to it.”

The side of Richard’s mouth is twisted up in a smile. “That’s good.”

Jimmy releases the smoke he was holding in his body, trapping it. His eyes dart to the other man. The confusion on his face must be showing and he squints at Richard.

“Hmph. It’s good that you’re not use to it. Hmm. It means…you have some good left in you. Not like me.”

Jimmy answers him by filling his mouth with smoke and a kiss, a promise. He falls asleep to the gentle rhythm of Richard’s heartbeat so close to his, his warm skin all around him-his past, his present and his future.