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Lots of Characters
Dastardly Deeds
Thu May 19, 2005 16:29
69.106.65.68

Oh Jesus.

The last thing Sean expected was this . . . a large hand settling against his jaw so timidly that the underlying fear just about broke his heart. Any thoughts of gallantly backing out of this ceased, however, when John actually leaned down – christ, the man was huge-- and slid his mouth into place against the actor’s, sending a bolt of electricity straight to his pelvis. It was easiest to identify the lust aspect, hips already pressing against the other man of their own accord.

No, what really surprised the self-admitted manwhore was the oddest sensation of … guardianship? NO, that wasn’t right. It was as if he stood outside himself, seeing the uncertainty cloud the agent’s mind. Ex agent. Enormous fellow rather used to killing people. Certainly John of all people shouldn’t need someone to protect him. But that was exactly the temptation coursing through the few clear channels of Sean’s mind.

Could one protect a person that was unsure of his own identity?

The kiss ended much too soon, and yet he fought to drag air into his lungs. As if he’d just completed the Marathon, or finished his workout. My god, had his blood ever sung this joyfully around a lover? But the agent wasn’t his lover. Not yet. Sean had every intention of fixing that, fingers curling under the hem of John’s shirt when the older man began to speak.

“Help me…?”

There was no turning back, not with that Saint Bernard expression. Sad puppy eyes. Oh god. Allowing himself one brief moment of pure lust, Sean deliberately pressed his pelvis forward, just to let John know how enjoyable that liplock had been. “First of all, sweetheart, I’m not going to take advantage of you,” A slow smile spread across the Irishman’s mouth, “ at least until you can fight back.” He tapped the bound arm with a finger in amusement.

“Second. Why don’t we do this slowly. Admittedly, it’ll be a first for me, but one should experience life at different paces to fully understand it. My sensei keeps reminding me of that, anyway.” He coughed, face turning to the side politely. It gave him a few seconds to try and reign in the urge to tug John against him and stick a tongue down his throat. Somehow, he didn’t think the former fed would appreciate being treated like a stuff gorilla.

Except . . .

He couldn’t resist stealing one more kiss, sliding his tongue against John’s lips until the man opened his mouth out of surprise, if nothing else. And … just tasting the man’s mouth produced such an exquisite taste that Sean found himself trembling at the sheer power this man so unknowingly wielded. Heart pounding furiously inside his ribcage, the actor had to force himself back. Or tried to until he realized that this future lover was holding him very securely in place against his chest with his good arm.

Oh. Well. Allowing himself to be pinned back against the counter, Sean … for the very first time in his adult sexual life, let someone else set the pace; quite happily drowning inside the psychedelic bubble of lust that John had began to weave around them, shivering when his shirt was tugged out of his pants, large hands pressing cautiously against bare skin. It would definitely be a three-cold-shower night.




It was like a taking a bucket of cold water and pouring that straight onto a campfire. There were a few flares of protest, but the heat would die down in very short order. The haze, if that was indeed what she had been laboring under, was all but extinct now. An arm belatedly threw itself across her chest in a weak attempt at modesty.

Too silent. Lucy could hear the sheets rustling as John sat down, though she refused to look at him. The girl had tried to adhere to the tenants of the Church and live as good a life as she could, but she was human. There were episodes here and there over the years where she had behaved in a less than appropriate manner. This was one of those moments, and the shame was overwhelming.

“Nightmares ..” she spoke about five minutes later, willing her voice not to crack, “I thought Caleb had come home. I was wrong.” Her intent was to remain quiet until John left the room, and then maybe curl up under the bed. The naked desire in Devon’s eyes was terrifying to recall. This man had hated her on first meeting. What was going on?

But the slow, methodical circles that her housemate was making against her back made a mockery of her plans for self pity of the gothic romance fashion. Instead, despite all her attempts to the contrary, Lucy found herself curling up against his broad chest and weeping, “ God … John. The dead. They won’t leave me alone.”

She also knew, without a doubt, whatever she felt for Caleb was a mirror of the revulsion sweeping through her now at the thought of bedding his brother. Not only because it was an afford to God, but because he was not … attractive in her eyes. No, the officer’s conduct had shattered any affection built up in the last month between them. All trust was gone.

“I’m going to have to tell Caleb.”

She sounded for all the world like it was her fault that Devon had … acted in such a fashion. Maybe it was. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask John to stay with her, because the fear of an empty room was now clawing at her, but … the memory of a certain piece of weaponry tugged at her tired mind.

Rolling over, she tugged open the nightstand drawer and pulled out the gun that Caleb so thoughtfully placed there just after buying the place. The smile she gave in response to the agent’s surprise was bleak, especially when she ejected both the clip and the round in the chamber so she could inspect the barrel for any damage.

He expression was shuttered, so she couldn’t read what he was thinking. He did, however, tuck her back into bed before vacating the room – door shutting firmly behind his bulk. And sleep was a long time in coming, despite the presence of a gun now under her pillows.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but John seemed faintly relieved when he finally quit the room.

The next two days were more of the same fun tension that had plagued the wee hours of Thursday morning. Caleb was scarce company; his presence lacking in a house that badly needed it. Or desperately wanted it. Either option amounted to the same wish. But Lucy; thanks to pride, fear or maybe a combination of both, did not speak up. Rather, she became John’s shadow. As the owner and head of the house, twas her fiance’s right to install or remove guests.

Gotta love traditional upbringings, doncha.

Devon would not stop watching her, his expression always thoughtful, and it was driving her to the point where she seriously considered asking Sean if she could camp on his floor. Things progressed beyond the point of no return exactly one week after the shootings.

The policeman instigated things in the beginning. He had not contented himself with watching now. No, as the use of his leg grew, he began following Lucy from room to room – claiming his was stretching his leg whenever questioned about it. Since he had not made any threatening overtures since the wee hours of Thursday morning, John couldn’t pound him into the ground and claim self defense.

Yet.

It so happened that Lucy was attempting to cook everyone a late afternoon dinner, partially to assuage her own guilt, but in honor of a woman now resting peacefully with the Almighty. Alone in the kitchen, she had just finished dumping a handful of steak cubes into the stew slowly cooking on the stove. When she turned around, Devon was there.

He moved forward, trying to trap her where the counter curved in both directions. “We have something, Lucy. You felt it the other night. I know you did.” That voice sent chills down her spine, so soft … so carefully modulated. She moved past him, or tried to. An arm shot out, blocking her progress in that direction.

“If you want danger, I can give it, Luce. A cop’s job is no less dangerous than a fukking fed. Caleb doesn’t appreciate you like he should. “ Okay … this was not a conversation she was willing to have with her fiance’s brother and moved in the direction. Devon cut that avenue off as well, deliberately pinning her back against the counter in much the same way her brother had been just days before … only she wasn’t entering this situation willingly.

“Back off. Go away. Leave. Me. Alone.” That was about as pretty straightfoward as one could get, even if it turned her stomach in the way that all peaceful hippies found their tummy aching when they were forced to use means other than … shit. Talking wouldn’t do any good here. The very set of his shoulders told the singer that he was committed to .. whatever this farce was.

“Give us a chance, Luce.” His head lowered, mouth crushing her own in what was intended to be passionate. The only emotion it incited was disgust, and she tried to wriggle free, succeeding only in having her head held firmly in place.

But … that left her arms free to move! Her left hand grasped blindly for some sort of weapon and happened on a pair of scissors she had used earlier to cut open a bag of pasta, fingers wrapping gratefully around the handle. Trying to concentrate past Devon’s efforts to pry open her lips with his tongue, Lucy steeled herself for the attempt to break herself free.

That was her mistake, the hesitation before the act. It warned the cop with years of experience and training, so when she shoved the scissors towards his side, he was able to reach down and rip them out of her grasp, clattering against the kitchen floor. Shit! I don’t want to do this!Her conscience screamed, knowing there was only one escape clause left and it involved quite a bit of pain. Otherwise, he would move forward …

. . . Lucy lifted her knee, mentally pleading for forgiveness as she slammed the bent limb right into his family jewels. The assault haulted as she was flung away; a gutteral moan issued from the bastard’s lips. He stumbed after her, hand raised . . .

. . . and found himself blocked by three hundred pounds and well over six feet of angry CIA spook. “Get out of my way, John. She deserves better than some lousy stiff who barely remembers to come home every couple of days!” Sad thing was Devon apparently believed it.

“I’m in love with Caleb.” Lucy straightened up slowly, afraid to take her eyes off the cop. “The other night was a mistake and it will never be repeated.”

“The other night? You slept with him?!”

No one had heard the man in question enter, front door still partially open. He was visibly exhausted, dark circles under each eye, normally combed hair slightly askew. In fact, he looked perfect to his girlfriend … until she noted the banked fury in his gaze, and it was directed at her.

The relieved smile slipped off her face. “You .. slept with … my brother …” And Lucy found she couldn’t honestly deny that, they had been rolling around on the bed. “I thought he was you …” she started to explain, only to be met by a harsh demand to shut the hell up.

The agent turned around and picked up his suitcase, face completely blank. Lucy blinked, realizing he was about to leave. And that was what finally set off her temper. It had stayed simmering throughout the seduction attempt just minutes before, but his refusal to listen or deal with this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“You fukking hypocrite.” And Lucy rarely employed such language. “You—“

He turned around, expression deadly. “I what? I have to stick around and hear the explination of why MY girlfriend got it into her head to sleep with my brother while I’m doing my goddamn best to keep Rob’s office afloat?! My god, you’re just like the Bonds.”

Well, that was the wrong thing to say. Judging by the look on both his and Lucy’s face, they knew it too. And he couldn’t take it back. No. She wasn’t going to let him. The fight went out of her visibly, shoulders sinking towards the floor.

“You’re right, Caleb. I’m not good enough for you. Here. Take it back. Find some who lives up to your high ideals to wear it.” She fumbled with her engagement ring, fingers trembling as she finally slid it off with some difficulties, before stepping forward to set it on the kitchen table. Ironically, she was wearing the tie-dyed sundress he’d had custom made for her.

Grabbing her purse off the counter, and refusing to look at any of them, Lucy stalked towards the front door. “I’m done with this family. I love you, you stupid idiot. Maybe someday you’ll realize that.” With one wrench of her arm, the door opened and she stepped outside into the humid afternoon air.

There was an Italian standing at the bottom of the steps, wearing a three piece suit and a subtle bulge inside his jacket. Behind him, parked at the curb, was a sleek black Mercedes.

“Signa Luciana Avellino?” At her wary nod, his face brightened and the man continued.

“Eccellente. Sono qui portarlo al vostro nonno. Vorrebbe venire a contatto di e parlare con voi. Venuto, Sig.na. Il signore de Medici non gradisce essere continuato a attendere.” * He gestured towards the car, obviously waiting for her to move.



* “Excellent. I am here to bring you to your grandfather. He would like to meet and speak with you. Come, Miss. Lord de Medici does not like to be kept waiting.”

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    • Dastardly Deeds — Lots of Characters, Thu May 19 16:29
      • Invention of the A-BombCaleb Holmes, Fri May 20 01:07
        Why could things never be easy? Frowning, John watched Caleb retreat up the stairs, obviously intent on getting at least a modicum of sleep. Why the idiot actually assented to taking over Agent... more
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