Code Red 2: Life Sentence ~ Chapter 9

Mika’s Note: Even after four years, I take an exceptional amount of joy out of this chapter.  *snerk*

Oh, and if some of the dialogue sounds an awful lot like hijacked song lyrics, well, it's because they are.  Not mine and I admit it.
 
Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Having to say good-bye for good the second time was even harder than it had been the first go ‘round. Seeing the hurt and anguish in his beautiful blue eyes made it hell. Neither of them had wanted to be the first to say the words they knew had to come, but eventually Ali took it upon herself to start the unpleasantries. At first, he had refused to listen to her, but he came around before long, crying and holding her tightly, begging her to find a way to fix this.

No such luck.

He’d eventually pulled himself together, although it had been hard. They’d spent most of the night before discussing where they might have gone had the outcome of the weekend been different. Ali refused to consider the idea that she’d have to raise his child on her own; there wasn’t any way she could have coped with that. She’d been down that lonely road once before. Never again.

She sat in her office, staring at the computer screen, wishing she was anywhere but here. Despite her best efforts, her mind kept wandering back to their last moments together. It became almost impossible for her to get him off her mind. And it had been two weeks since their last good-bye. He’d had no idea that last night what he was going to do when he left her, although he’d sworn he’d never go back to Leslie. Not after the lying. The cheating. All the heartache.

But Ali often wondered.

He’d probably be easier to get over if he quit texting her every twenty minutes. She looked at her phone as it buzzed on the desktop. Snagging it and reading the message, she couldn’t help but smile. He was trying; he just wasn’t succeeding very well. With a sigh, she responded quickly to his standard, “I miss you, this is BS” text with her usual, “Ditto x 2”.

“And just what are you smiling about?”

Ali looked up guiltily, attempting to hide her phone. Seeing her redheaded roommate standing in the doorway, she sheepishly waved her cell at her. “A text I just got.”

“Hmm,” Shana mused, stepping inside and closing the door. “And who might it have been from?”
Shrugging dismissively, Ali lied, “No one special.”

Shana grinned, knowing better. “I know these last couple weeks have been hard and I was thinking we both needed a night out.”

Studying her friend for a moment, she became aware of the dark circles under her eyes. “Shana, I’m so sorry, I’ve been so self-absorbed lately, I hadn’t noticed…”

She stopped her friend before she could go any farther. “It’s not like my issues are anything new, you know. Caleb’s on my ass about everything these days and becoming more annoying by the minute. I finally just told him to take a flying leap.”

“And thus your need to go out?” Shana nodded emphatically. “Good. Not that either of us needs a reason!”

“Amen, sister.” Shana grinned and hugged Ali tightly. “Eight sound good?”

“Perfect.” She patted the other’s back. “I’ll meet you at home.”

~*~

“Hey Ali,” Shana semi-shouted into her friend’s ear, “I think that guy’s checking you out.”

“Which one?” she asked, looking around the crowded bar.

“That one,” she replied, half-pointing to an attractive, brunette sitting with a young blonde at a table on the other side of the bar.

“He looks… familiar. I just can’t place where from.”

“Not our base,” Shana agreed. “But somewhere. He’s cute anyway.”

“Yeah,” Ali confirmed. “But if he’s not a green shirt, why’s he here? Not too often we get non-military in here.”

“I’m not sure but he’s headed our way.”

Ali looked up, taking a drink of her margarita. Seeing who was headed her way, she almost choked. Smiling past the burn of tequila, steeling her nerve, she waited for him to close in.

“Don’t I know you?” he asked Ali. Turning to Shana, he got quiet for a moment and then pointed in her direction. “You look familiar too. Have we met?”

Trying to hide her embarrassment, Ali nodded. “Yes sir, Mr. McTavish, we’ve met, but just once.”

Ashton McTavish, up and coming country music heartthrob, blinked his blue eyes at her and thought. “Hm, I can’t figure out where though. And have I met you as well?” He looked at Shana; she nodded. “I’ll have to think on it then.”

Waiting until Ashton had gotten a safe distance away, the girls giggled and spit margarita all over each other. “Oh my god…” Shana spluttered.

“Yeah, no doubt!” Ali agreed. “Good thing he’s married.”

“Why’s that? Having naughty thoughts like I am?”

“Maybe…” she admitted. “Blake’d have a fit if he finds out.” Realizing her mistake, she quickly amended her faux pas with, “Not that he has a say any longer, that is.”

“And speaking of the devil…” Shana grinned as Ali’s cell phone began ringing, Blake’s voice coming from the speaker.

“Yes Cowboy, what can I do for you?” She turned from watching Ashton return to his table and watched the bartender instead.

“Just checkin’ in on ya, as usual. This being away from you is killing me.”

“I know, me too, but so far, I don’t have any ideas on how to fix it.”

“Hurry, please.”

“I’m trying, honey, I swear.”

“Glad to hear it. Where are you now? It’s kinda loud.”

“Hangers. It’s a bar not far from base. Red and I are unwinding.”

“Uh-huh,” he said doubtfully. “I’m jealous. Don’t go home with anybody if he isn’t me, okay?”

“Hey!” Ashton shouted, coming up behind Ali. “I remember where we met.”

“Hold on a sec, Blake.” Ali covered the phone briefly and grinned. “Really? Where?”

“Who the hell are you talking to?” Blake demanded.

“Someone. Give me a sec.”

“Tell him you’re taken!” Blake growled.

“Hush you, you’re not allowed to own me anymore, remember?” Turning back to her visitor she asked, “Where is it we’ve met?”

“In Vegas last year, for the awards show. I remember you both from that night.”

Ali and Shana grinned at each other. “I’m Shana, Mr. McTavish. This is my partner, Ali.”

“Hi ladies. Can I get you a drink now that I know who you are?”

“Tell him no and to go away,” came the angry voice in Ali’s ear.

“Mr. McTavish?”

“Ashton, sweetie.”

“Okay, Ashton…”

“Ashton? I only know one person with that name, Allyson. What the f…”

“Blake, shut up.” She said into the phone. “Ashton, my friend on the phone here told me to tell you that I have no life of my own and that I belong to him,” she waggled her eyebrows at him in amusement, “and then he wanted me to tell you to go away.” She grinned evilly at Ashton.

“Did ya tell your friend I was married?” he asked.

“I doubt he’ll care.” Turning back to her phone she murmured, “I’ll call you when I get home. I promise to be good.” Before he could reply, she hung up.

“So, what jogged your memory so quickly?” Shana asked him.

“My tour mate over there said she recognized you,” he pointed to Ali, “as being the bitch who stole her boyfriend. And I’m paraphrasing here.”

This time, Ali did choke on her drink. Looking up she remembered suddenly that Leslie Morgan was touring with Ashton McTavish this year. “Oh god help me,” she muttered into her glass, seeing Leslie steaming over at the table. “I swear I didn’t steal him…” she began to laugh.

“Nope, sure didn’t,” Shana confirmed. “Blake came by his own free will.” Taking her own words in the wrong way, Shana began to laugh too.

“Oh, and then some,” Ali coughed into her margarita. “Bartender? Another two please.” She continued to laugh, not knowing what to say now.

Ashton’s eyes widened. “So, you’re the one she’s been ranting about for the last several months?” He laughed along with the girls. “I guess Blake has better taste than Lee’s been giving him credit for.”

“That’s debatable,” Ali and Shana said together.

Grinning, Ashton shook his head at the two tipsy girls. “So, I’m guessing that he was who you were talking to a minute ago?” Ali nodded. “Hm, I’m guessing he didn’t have any idea who you were talking to when he told you to tell me off?” Ali shook her head this time, trying not to die of embarrassment. “Nice Blake. Don’t ever tell my wife about this or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Ali laughed and took another sip of her drink. “Yeah well, you know how it goes, jealous men and all.” She didn’t have the heart to bring up the very evident fact that they weren’t together any longer.

“Really? That’s too…” Ashton was suddenly pushed aside and a glaring, angry Leslie Morgan stood in his place.

“You fucking cow!” she screamed.

Ali looked at Shana and raised her eyebrows. Shana swigged the last of her drink and set her glass on the bar.

“Pardon me?” Ali asked, attempting to remain as calm as possible. If she flipped, so would Red, and then Leslie would be in little bleach-blonde bits on the floor.

“You heard me, you whore! Man-stealer! Home wrecker!”

Ali looked at Ashton and repeated what she’d said earlier. “I swear to god, I did not do anything to encourage that incorrigible man.” Looking back at Leslie, she grinned. “Home wrecker, huh? So, is that why you were sleeping with my commanding officer two weeks after you left Blake’s side?”

Knowing Bryan had been bragging loudly about it certainly helped her cause. “Still think that I’m the home wrecker?”

“Absolutely, you bitch!”

Ali set her glass down on the bar and stood up. “Well then, in the words of Gretchen Wilson, babe, ‘You can take this somewhere else or we can take it outside.’ Which do you prefer?”

Despite being three or four sheets to the wind, Ali sidestepped the swing coming her way. Placing her boot to Leslie’s ass, she pushed her while she was unbalanced and watched her fall. Turning, she downed the last of her margarita quickly, waiting to see if the blonde would resurface.

Instead of Leslie, she got two angry men. Band mates of the downed singer. Shrugging, Shana asked Ali, a little too eagerly, “You want the blonde or the brunette?”

“I’ll take the blonde. Got a grudge against them at the moment.”

“Deal.”

Totally in synch, Ali and Shana pulled back and let loose, hitting both band members square in the jaw. Ashton couldn’t help but laugh; watching two drunken women take out two young men in one punch was more than he’d bargained for. He knew he should be rooting for his tour mate, but he couldn’t help but like these two feisty girls.

Leslie pulled herself off the floor and got back into Ali’s face. “I don’t know what he ever saw in you except for a cheap lay,” she spat angrily. “But I do know that I’m better off without him.”

“All I know for certain is one: I’m not cheap. Two: you are one psycho bitch and I feel sorry for him for ever getting mixed up with you.”

Paling with anger and embarrassment, Leslie pulled her fist back and connected with Ali’s abdomen. Pissed, Ali swung again, not holding back like she had before. Her fist met the bitch’s eye, knocking her into Shana. Grabbing hold of the instigator, Shana kicked the back of her knees, sending her down to the ground yet again.

Ali reached out, shook her friend’s hand, and noticed the combination of amusement, fear and awe on Ashton’s face. “Thanks, Red.”

“Anytime, Ali.”

“Okay, ladies. Break it up.” Came a stern voice from the back of the bar.

“Crap,” Ali and Shana moaned together.

~*~


“Caleb, I swear to you, I was just defending myself.”

“Yeah, Cal, it’s true.”

“You two are on my list at the moment. I’d keep my mouth shut if I were either of you.” Caleb Lockhart marched angrily down the row of jail cells. He’d bailed them out, but he wasn’t happy about it. Fuming might be a better word. Steaming, even. “What the fuck possessed you to take on a celebrity, Allyson?”

“She called Ali a man-stealer and a home wrecker,” Shana giggled.

“You two are freakin’ drunk to boot,” Lockhart sighed angrily. “I give up.”

Ali stuck her tongue out at Leslie Morgan as they passed her cell. Wiggling her fingers at the blonde, she watched her blanch and then turn red. “Yeah, I swear, I didn’t steal him. He gave himself to me.” Ali started to laugh again too.

Caleb turned to the officer in charge and moaned, “Can’t I leave them here until they’ve sobered up?”

Grinning, the officer shook his head. “Sorry, once you’ve claimed ‘em ya gotta keep ‘em.”

“Hey Ali,” Shana perked up suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“I bet Blake would love the handcuffed look.”

“No doubt. He’s funny that way.” Ali laughed and looked at Caleb. He was beyond pissed.

Stopping short, he turned on Ali, fuming. “I just don’t get you. You have the man you were after, why did you have to pick a fight? She’s half your size for cryin’ out loud!”

“First of all,” she spat in frustrated anger, “I don’t have him any more, remember? You and freaking Bryan made sure of that.” She caught her commander’s eyes and refused to let them go. “Secondly, I didn’t pick…”

“I don’t care. I want to know why you fought with her.”

Ali looked at Shana and shrugged. Taking a deep breath, she sang loudly, “I watched her for a while but I didn't like her walk. She came across kinda cheap to me, but hey, how's that my fault…”

Shana grinned and joined in, “I'm a crazy ex-girlfriend…”

Caleb looked them both over and sighed. “I give up. When they’re sober, I think I’ll try again…”

Pushing them both into the back of the Jeep, he buckled them in and drove off towards base.

~*~

“Hello?”

“Blake? It’s Asthon. How’re you doin’?”

“Um, good, I think.” Depending on whether you had the nerve to touch my woman or not. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to tell you that you have one spitfire of a woman on your hands.”

“Ah, so you’ve met Ali then,” Blake braced himself for what was coming next. He never knew how people were going to react to Ali.

“Yup. And her redheaded friend too.”

“Oh gods,” he moaned, putting his head in his hand. “Please tell me they weren’t drinking when you met up with them.”

Ashton laughed. “Oh yeah. What a team those two make, attractive, intelligent, and feisty. Oh, and don’t be expecting that call she promised you until tomorrow sometime.” He laughed even harder, thinking about all three women being led out in handcuffs.

“Why? When should I be expecting it?”

“Probably not until she and the redhead make bail.”

“Oh. My. God.” Blake hung up the phone and stared at the wall. What now? Not like he could just come to her aid.

Code Red 2: Life Sentence ~ Chapter 8

Mika’s Note: What?  It’s only been four years since I updated this story.

Back to the Grind

They’d managed to steal four days alone before Ali’s leave time was up. Reluctantly, they said good-bye and went their separate ways. Ali went back to her headquarters in Washington, DC; Blake back to his sometime-home in Nashville before heading back to his real home outside of Tulsa.

Ali sat with her booted feet propped on her desk, thinking on her recent mission to Peru. The situation there had been handled and the rebels, aka terrorists, had been contained. Something still didn’t make sense but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Yet. She leaned back in her chair and tapped her lips with a finger.

“Let it go,” the voice told her.

She looked up and met the soft brown eyes of fellow soldier, Andrew Kash. “Hey Andy, let what go?”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking so hard about. It can’t be good.”

Ali grinned, sitting up in her chair and putting her feet back on the floor. “I was just rehashing our last mission.”

Andrew frowned. “See, I told you it wasn’t good.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the edge of her desk. “What has you rethinking that one? We went in, we got out, none of the good guys got hurt.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “but something’s still not right. We never found their ring leader and that worries me.”

He shrugged, unconcerned. “They all slither back to the same dank hole eventually, so why worry?”

“I dunno,” she admitted, “I just feel like we missed something and it’s annoying me.”

“Better put it out of your mind soon. Just heard General Stone discussing a possible new mission with Caleb and Bryan. I think your office was their next stop.”

“Thanks for the heads up. I can look busy then.”

Laughing, he couldn’t pass up the chance to tease her a little. “Also gives you time to get him off your mind.”

Ali growled and he ran for the door. “Jerk,” she muttered. Approximately three minutes later there was a knock on her door. “Enter.”

General Stone entered followed by her two commanding officers, Bryan and Caleb. “Afternoon Lieutenant, may we have a seat?”

She wasn’t so sure she liked this; for any kind of mission debriefing or discussion she’d have been summoned to them. The fact that they had come to her boded ill for everyone. “Of course, General. Can I get any of you a drink?” She had a mini fridge stocked with bottled water and Frappuccino's for those times when she desperately needed a caffeine fix.

“No thank you, Allyson,” Stone replied, urging her to sit. “We’ve come to,” he looked at his two right hand men, momentarily at a loss for words, “have a bit of a discussion with you.”

“Okay,” she began, slightly afraid. “Any other time, I probably would be aware of what I’d done to deserve a confrontation like this, but for once I’m at a loss. Enlighten me.”

Caleb frowned. “I think you’re pretty sure of what you’ve done.”

“Huh?” Ali looked from face to face trying to find some hint of the crime she’d committed but wasn’t getting any help. “Okay, so call me stupid, but I really don’t know.”

“It’s probably because she doesn’t think it was wrong,” Bryan snorted angrily. “Sleeping with a man committed to another woman doesn’t generally cross her mind as wrong.”

“Fuck me,” she mumbled under her breath. “This is about Blake then, I’m guessing?”

“Yes,” General Stone started, leaning forward in an effort to intimidate her. She’d known him for too many years however, he didn’t intimidate her in the least. “It has been brought to my attention that you’ve had an… interlude… with the man.”

Ali choked on the mouth of water she’d taken. Interlude? She swore they’d performed entire concerts… “Excuse me?”

Bryan opened his mouth, ready with an angry response, but the good General beat him. “I have reason to believe you’ve been intimate with Mr. Matson, Allyson.”

Looking from Bryan to Caleb, she realized that they’d either assumed she would or had found out somehow. Undaunted and unashamed she wasn’t worried that she’d done anything really wrong. “And?”

“And you damn well knew you weren’t allowed!” Bryan managed to get his nasty retort in this time.

“Allowed? Are you my father now? I sure as hell hope not because…”

“Bryan! Allyson!” General Stone bellowed. “Stop it now.”

“Yes sir,” they muttered, glaring at one another.

“What he means is that you knew going in that any sort of fraternization between the two of you was not permitted. You broke that rule.”

“Only after the mission was finished.”

The General squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he really hadn’t heard her correctly. “So they’re right then,” he asked her, slowly opening his eyes to look at her.

“Yes, sir,” she admitted, frightened for the first time since they’d arrived.

“Lieutenant, you do know that that’s not allowed either?”

“If I had known, do you think I would have done it?” Seventeen times.

Stone let out a heavy breath. “When did you last see him?”

“My last visit home, a week or so ago.”

“Make sure that it’s your last.” General Stone stood to leave and motioned to the other two to do the same.

“But General…”

“No buts, Allyson. You know the rules.”

“And this is a new one for me,” she fumed.

Bryan crossed his arms and smirked, waiting for the fireworks to fly.

Stone looked around and frowned. “Bryan, Caleb, wait for me back at my office.”

“But,” they both spluttered, disappointed at missing what was sure to be a real show.

“Now,” he growled.

“Yes, sir,” they muttered and slinked out the door.

Ali glared. “When did the rules change?”

Stone held his hands up. “I’m sorry, but I have no choice. Keeping your identity on the down-low is high priority. If you start dating someone who is so high profile, it will blow your cover. Makes it hard to go unnoticed when everyone knows who you are.”

He had a point there, she had to admit. “I have no intentions of being in the spotlight with him. He even said that he didn’t want to share me with the world. I don’t see…”

“Because you are blind. You know what you have to do, now do it. Understand?”

Ali nodded, unhappy. Blake was going to be pissed. And that’s if she was lucky.

~*~

“You’re kidding me, right?” Shana pleaded, wondering just when the world had gone crazy and why she hadn’t noticed. “Please tell me you’re fucking kidding me.”

Ali shook her head slowly and sat in her favorite chair. “’Fraid not, Red. Official orders are to break off any semblance of a relationship. And, I quote, ‘ensure he knows it’s permanent’.” She sighed, frowning up at her best friend. “Not sure it’s him I need to convince.”

Shana growled in frustration. “Just when I thought you and I could get our lives back on track they do this.”

“I’ll live, I always do.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” she retorted angrily, “they do this to you way too much.”

Ali couldn’t deny that. “Yeah, but what can I do? I refuse, they toss me in jail and then I really can’t see him.” She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. “How am I going to break this to him?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, honey, but I do know that you should do it soon. It’ll be easier for both of you that way.”

She nodded, but she wasn’t sure if this was going to be easy at all. Heaving a sigh, she picked up her cell and left the comfort of her chair for the solace of her bedroom.

~*~

Snapping his cell phone shut, he threw it angrily across the hotel room, denting a small hole in the wall. “Fuck,” he growled, inspecting the damage. Looking without really seeing, he put his back to the wall and rested his face in his hands. “Why?”

But he knew, he just refused to admit it. She’d told him from day one that there couldn’t be anything between them. He wouldn’t listen, in true Blake form, and denied her the option of telling him otherwise. Eventually, she’d given in and he’d taken full advantage.

And now he was screwed.

He should have walked away when he had the chance. He knew better than to chase after her, even knowing Leslie had directed her attentions elsewhere. However, he couldn’t stop seeing her. Calling her. Kissing her. Thinking of her. Pinning her to the wall and…

“Stop thinking things like that!” he admonished himself, angry that he couldn’t, didn’t want to, stop. She’d become such a part of his life, of him, in such a short time. And now she was gone.

Gone.

And he never had a chance to make her understand.

Mi Vida Loco (Common Law Fanfic)

Title: Mi Vida Loco

Fandom: Common Law

Pairing: Travis/Wes

Rating: NC-17 (quite possibly R, depending on your point of view)

Word Count: just shy of 4k (3,922 for those keeping score… and you know who you are)

Warnings: Language, smut, mistreatment of leather furniture, and still, your crack head author at work. 

The OMG What ARE You Doing Now Person: skyesurfer12. At least she’s stopped laughing at me.  For now.  That’s good, right?

Spoilers: None that I can think of offhand, but you now officially know that I’m a dork of epic proportions.  (This still fits, so I’m leaving it)

Hate mail: asphaltcowgrrl@aol.com

Author’s Note: All because of this prompt here. This time, the title is a variation on a really awesome, if a bit ancient, song by Pam Tillis.  The first line of the song says, “If you’re coming with me you need nerves of steel, ‘cause I take corners on two wheels”.  And what can I say?  That about sums it up.

One more to go after this, with the possibility of a total bit of insanity spurred by a random comment by my lovely beta, if I can pull it off.  Thanks for reading. 

--

Mi Vida Loco

No no no no no, he thought, white knuckling the steering wheel. What the fuck just happened?

“Wes?”

“What,” he growled.

“Where are we going?” Travis had asked this once before and hadn’t gotten an answer. He thought he knew. Hell, he hoped he knew, but Wes wasn’t being very forthcoming at the moment and since he was at the wheel, it was hard to really know for sure.

“Um, to that address you gave me a minute ago,” he hedged.

Travis grinned. “You’re going the wrong way, sweet cheeks.”

Wes opened his mouth until he realized Travis was right. Fuck. “Crap. I am. I’ll…”

“Keep heading back to your hotel?” He reached across the console separating them and squeezed Wes’ knee playfully.

“I am not heading back to my hotel,” he argued. Although, he actually was and hadn’t noticed that that was exactly where they’d been headed. “What are we doing, Trav?”

“Using this damn potion as an excuse to go rip each other’s clothes off?” His hand tightened on Wes’ leg again, this time moving farther up the length of lean muscle.

Wes sighed in frustration. He couldn’t deny that he hadn’t quite had enough of his partner, not by a long shot. And damn, did his hand feel good on him right there, hot and strong. Safe. A simple touch that changed everything.

He was certain there was only one way to decrease the discomfort he was currently in, and that was by following Travis’ suggestion, like it or not. “Okay. Point. But why are we doing this? It can’t just be the love cologne working overtime, can it?” Oh gods, please let it just be this fricken cologne…

Travis bit his bottom lip, chewing a bit as he thought. He knew what his answer to this question was: Hell no. He’d been attracted to Wes since the day they’d met. Those blue eyes and the crew cut he’d worn back in those days, they were too much to resist. But he couldn’t say that, not quite yet, in case this really was just the potion talking on Wes’ end of the bargain. “No clue. And you know me, I don’t much care.”

Wes snorted. “Truth. God, I hope we’re not going to regret this.”

I know I won’t, Travis told himself. “Things really can’t get any worse, can they? I mean, we’re already in therapy, right?” Wes just prayed he was right. “This just might tack on a few extra sessions…”

They rode in relative silence until they reached Wes’ current residence, a swanky hotel that Travis wouldn’t have been caught dead visiting, let alone living in. But that was a moot point now, because if he refused to enter, he’d be SOL, wouldn’t he? And that just wasn’t an option, not when he finally had Wes right where he wanted him. Metaphorically speaking… for the moment.

As they entered the lobby, Travis looked around, noticing all the little touches that made this such a high class place. Polished wooden counters. Smartly dressed staff ready to assist at a moment’s notice. Mirrored walls gilded with gold. Someone obviously had entirely too much spare money.

“Elevator’s this way,” Wes muttered, grabbing Travis’ arm and pulling him to the left. He punched angrily at the buttons until he heard a faint ding. Travis found himself shoved through the doors the moment they opened enough for his broad frame to fit through.

“Easy man, you don’t want to damage me yet.”

Wes flicked his eyes to his partner briefly. “Wanna bet?” He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from elaborating on that urge. That distinct urge to tie him down and have his way with him. Repeatedly. All because the scent of that infernal cologne was tickling his nose again, causing a rise in his suit pants that he couldn’t control. If there was one thing Wes hated, it was losing control in any manner. Swallowing hard, he looked out of the corner of his eye to find Travis watching him closely.

A small quirk of his lips was all that told Wes that he’d been busted. Caught. He breathed a hefty sigh, wondering if it was any use trying to fight the need building in his chest. He gave his partner a little more obvious look and found him still staring. Still smiling. Broadly. He was so fucked. “Trav?”

“Yeah, buttercup?”

Wes closed his eyes for a moment, grounding himself with the movement of the elevator rising, concentrating on the vibrations of the walls around him, thinking of anything but the delicious smell coming from the man beside him. He edged a little farther away, trying to put as much space between them as he could. “Nothing,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. He was desperately fighting a losing battle and he knew it was hopeless.

A muted whimper was Travis’ only warning before Wes launched himself at him. Two pale hands hit his chest moments before Wes’ mouth latched onto his, biting, sucking, and begging. He stumbled backwards until his shoulders met the elevator wall behind him. Opening his mouth to Wes, he sucked his partner’s tongue into his mouth, responding eagerly.

Wes opened his eyes and was assaulted by the image of himself pressed against Travis reflected in the mirrored walls of the cage surrounding him. A helpless noise rose from his throat and he vowed silently to see this through to the end. The sight of his mouth locked onto another man’s, and that man’s arms wrapped around him tightly, hugging him close, was the most arousing vision he’d ever seen.

Another faint ding echoed in the confines of the elevator and Wes found himself being flung back this time. Before he could orient himself, he felt Travis grip his arm again, growling, “Get the fuck out, Detective Hotpants, and show me where your damn room is.”

Despite himself, Wes laughed. Travis taking control, now that was a new one. And he liked it. A lot. More than he should, probably, but he’d analyze that tidbit later, when he was alone again.

Fuck me. He pushed that idea out of his head, fast, and focused on the here and now. On Travis. On getting this freaking stubborn door open. He ran his keycard through the slot one more time, only to be denied again when a dark-skinned hand reached around him, taking it from his fingertips.

Travis flipped the card over, leaned into Wes’ back and slid the card into the reader, getting a green light. “You had it backwards, genius.”

A shiver of anticipation sped up Wes’ spine with the touch of hot breath on his skin. He turned his head slightly, enough to catch Travis’ eye, and glared at him. “You’re pressing your luck,” he countered. When Travis leaned just a tiny bit closer, causing the tip of his nose to brush his cheek, Wes remembered that this was not the time to be angry with his partner. They could discuss this incessant name calling later. Much, much later.

Swallowing his heart back into his chest, Wes squeezed the door handle until it clicked and opened inward. He stepped to the side and allowed the other man to enter first, watching the sway of his hips intently as he made his way inside. Wes was pretty certain Travis was putting a little extra umph into his walk, mostly for his benefit. It worked, too.

He watched Travis make his way to the middle of the living area, bracing his backside against the back of the leather couch. A smile crossed Travis’ face as he gestured for Wes to actually enter the hotel room and move a little closer. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stand in the doorway, Wes?” Hands met hips in a playfully impatient look.

The blonde took that as an invitation, crossing the distance between them in a few long strides. Stopping inches before Travis, he reached out with one foot, tapping at the worn sneakers crossed before him. Taking the subtle hint, Travis uncrossed his ankles, bringing his feet to rest in a more natural hip-width position. Wes took advantage of the space between his partner’s knees and insinuated himself between them.

Placing one hand on each of Travis’ thighs, he leaned in close to one ear and whispered, “Yeah, actually I do have better things to do.”

Travis couldn’t hide the quiver of expectation at the husky sound in his partner’s voice, coupled with his nearness. The waves of desire rolling off of Wes had him tongue-tied. He barely squeaked out, “Really?” Tearing his eyes off the determined set of Wes’ mouth, he tried to put on some courage. “Like what?”

“Well,” Wes drawled, lifting a hand slowly, “I thought I’d start with you.”

His hand tugged at Travis’ belt, pulling it through the buckle easily. The button holding his jeans closed proved to be a bit more of a challenge, requiring the use of both hands, leaving Travis feeling deprived of their warmth. He shifted his hips slightly, giving Wes a better angle to work with and to alleviate the pressure he was suddenly feeling against the front of them. “So,” he faltered, “what… where exactly did you plan to start with… me?”

Blue eyes flashed devious intentions. Wes allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up in the slightest hint of a grin before lowering himself to his knees. “I thought right about here would be a good place to begin, don’t you?” With one hand, he cupped Travis’ growing erection.

Travis, unable to do more than nod, watched Wes release his cock from the prison of his too-tight jeans and boxers. He caressed the length of him with the palm of a hand, making him harder and more eager. Taking that suggestive grin and turning it to one laced with pure evil, Wes nestled closer and took Travis into his mouth. Allowing himself to savor every inch of mocha skin, Wes took his time working his way up to the patch of dark hair at its base.

It was inevitable, Travis decided, that his knees would buckle the moment Wes made eye contact. Leave it to friggen Wes to even think about making eye contact at a time like this. Travis’ eyes had only barely fluttered open when he’d noticed his part – no, lover now, it had to be lover – watching his every reaction. Once he knew he was being watched, he couldn’t take his gaze from the blonde’s face. Or his mouth, to be completely honest. The sight of those full, pink lips gliding along the length of him was his undoing. A content hum of pleasure rumbled in his chest. “So… so damn good,” he breathed.

Wes couldn’t help but grin around his mouthful of man. It was something completely new for him and he was shocked at how much he loved the feel of the smooth skin stretched over hard-as-steel muscle. And the smell of his body… sweat and flesh and man all combined into one addicting fragrance he couldn’t get enough of. Burying his nose in the nest of hair surrounding Travis’ cock, he inhaled deeply, taking in all that was his partner and relishing it.

His hands worked their way behind Travis’ body and gripped his ass, pulling his hips forward so he could take him even deeper. Travis gave a muffled moan of encouragement and Wes complied, alternating between sucking and teasing with his tongue. Slowly, he pulled back, eyes locked on Travis’, and released his cock from his mouth. “You taste as amazing as you look,” he said. “And god, you smell good. Did you rub that crap all over you when I wasn’t looking?”

It was a feat to even shake his head. “No, just…” he faltered as Wes started stroking him methodically. “Just my neck, Wes. I…” His eyes pressed closed and his hips jutted forward, reaching to prolong the touch.

Wes stood, coming back to eye level with his lover. “Then why,” he kissed the line of his square jaw, “do you,” he pressed his lips to the crest of his cheekbone, “smell so,” another kiss, this time to the corner of his eye, “damn delicious?”

Travis turned his face into Wes’ wandering kisses, bringing their mouths together again. “I don’t know,” he admitted, not caring just as long as they got naked sooner rather than later. “Because you want me?” He snaked his arms around Wes’ waist, rubbing his back and bringing him in close, chest to chest, hip to hip.

“God do I want you,” he confessed. “Now.”

“Aw,” Travis teased. “You like me, you want to fuck me.”

“You idiot, yes, yes I do.” Fast and rough and hard and right this goddamned minute!

“What do you say?” He knew he was treading on dangerous ground here, but the temptation to push all of Wes’ buttons was too hard to resist. Besides, he was interested to see just how far undone Wes could become.

“Now,” he growled into Travis’ neck, nipping lightly at the skin there.

“Wrong answer, lover boy,” he teased. “How about you try please.”

“How about I bend you over the back of my couch and we call it even?”

Travis swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “Yeah, we could do that, too.” Please? The simple fact that his pants were already halfway down his ass and his cock was bobbing free had nothing to do with his sudden change of heart. It was that sound in Wes’ voice, that utter desperation to rut like a couple of animals in heat, that was just what he was wanting to hear. The sign that Wesley Mitchell had finally lost all control.

Mission accomplished.

Wes, struggling to hold on to his remaining bit of dignity, fumbled with his belt three times before Travis’ hands reached out to help him once again. “Let me, buttercup,” he joked, breathless with need. He’d waited for so long, years, really, for this moment and he wasn’t sure if he could make it another five minutes.

“Please don’t call me that.” He groaned and leaned his head back, concentrating on the feel of Travis’ hands so near his aching cock.

“Aw, but they’re so cute,” he joked, “just like you. Little tiny delicate flowers.”

“I am not,” Wes grated out, pushing Travis’ hands away from his waist, “a delicate little fucking flower!” He jerked open the front of his suit pants and freed his own cock, praying that he could keep it together for just a minute longer.

He jerked Travis forward, kissing him roughly before forcing him into a pirouette of sorts. Having been pushed forward unexpectedly, Travis caught himself against the back of the couch, surprised by Wes’ aggression. He’d never admit this out loud, but he was also extremely aroused by the manhandling he was suddenly getting at the hands of his partner.

Wes leaned in and whispered, "Stay right here." He disappeared and returned a moment later with a bottle of lube leftover from some unremembered previous encounter. Yanking Travis' pants over his seductive hips, Wes gave them a final tug, watching as they fell to the floor. That pool of denim and cotton surrounding the worn sneakers made him smile. "I need you like crazy, Trav." A hand lazily caressed the mocha skin of his well-rounded ass.

"I'm here for you and if you don't hurry, I'm going to start without you."

"You wouldn't dare," Wes challenged, two fingers slipping between Travis' cheeks. He stroked his entrance lightly, eliciting a sexy squirm and a whimper from his lover. "Yeah, I didn't think so." Wes opened the tube of lube and squeezed it directly onto the other's skin, making him jump.

"Where do you keep that shit? The freezer?"

Laughing, Wes rubbed it into his skin, working one finger back between his cheeks and then inside. Travis opened his mouth but no words emerged. Gasps and groans were the only sounds he was capable of making, pressing backwards against Wes’ hard thighs and intrusive fingers.

“Yeah, I see that smart mouth isn’t so smart now, is it?” Wes loved having the tables turned on Travis. It wasn’t often that he was the one getting the snark in. “Want more?” The grunted reply was more than an answer. Wes maneuvered a second finger deep inside his partner, resting his forehead against the small of Travis’ back.

“Damn you, Wes, that’s not what I wanted more of,” he begged. “Please, for the love of…”

Wes rumbled out an inarticulate reply of his own, feeling his cock leap to attention at the sound of Travis begging. Begging! God, did he enjoy the sound of that. Replacing his fingers with the head of his cock, he pressed against Travis, littering his bare skin with a thousand and one butterfly kisses. When Travis’s groans turned to cries of desperation, he knew he was finally ready.

He got close to Travis’ ear, quietly suggesting he hold the fuck on before thrust into the man he had bent over his couch. Travis stumbled forward, caught himself, and pushed back into the next drive of Wes’ hips. Each pump of his hips was met with an equal push backwards, driving Wes insane, pushing him to move faster, to fuck harder.

Travis was weak in the knees again, panting, moving with Wes’ rhythm, unable to resist, to be able to do anything but ride the wave of desire to its end. His head fell to the edge of the couch, his grip tightening. He could hear Wes’ breath coming in harsh pants, the sweat from his chest and brow dripping onto Travis’ back. They were both close, dangerously so.

Wes lost control first, grinding down hard against his lover’s backside, hips and knees and bodies aligning perfectly for that one moment in time. The sound Wes’ orgasm pulled from his throat caused a reaction in Travis that reverberated deeply, forcing his own hot on Wes’ heels. Wes slumped forward, boneless, against Travis’ back, panting, desperate for his dancing heart to slow from a salsa to a waltz.

Already having lost all strength in his legs, Travis was hard pressed to hold the two of them upright for long. Lowering himself to his knees, he pressed his face against the cool leather covering the couch, a nervous giggle escaping. “Wes?”

“Mmm?” Wes had slid to the floor with him, arms around his waist, resting back on his heels. He pressed his cheek into Travis’ sweat-coated skin and inhaled the musky scent of sex and sweat and Travis. It was a heady combination.

“Uh,” he began, not quite sure how to break the news to his partner-turned-lover, “I think I made a mess of your couch.”

Hysterical giggles bubbled up in Wes’ chest. After what had just passed between the two of them, Travis was actually worried about a little spunk on the back of the couch. His body shook with laughter, creating an undeniable urge in Travis to laugh along with him. “Does that mean you’re not mad?”

Wes pressed his lips to Travis’ smooth skin one more time. Yeah, he was actually worried about the mess. This, too, was a first. “Don’t worry about it, Trav,” he reassured him, lightly tracing designs in the moisture on his skin. “It’s leather. It’ll wipe off.”

Travis twisted out of Wes’ embrace and turned so that they were eye-to-eye. “So, buttercup, where do we go from here?” He tried to soften his anxieties by brushing his lips against Wes’. When Wes responded with a smile, he breathed again, confident that he wasn’t going to be abruptly tossed into the hallway with his shoes in his hands.

“Where indeed,” Wes replied, rubbing his neck with the tips of his fingers, thinking. “And I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” Travis confessed, “so, until I do, it’s stuck.”

Wes frowned, but couldn’t hold it for long. He was too drunk on passion to stay mad, even for a minute. “I guess the first step is admitting that we’re not making that second stop this afternoon.”

Travis grinned broadly. “No, I don’t think we are.”

Trapping Travis’ gaze with his own, Wes took a leap of faith by asking, “How about we just go…” He lost his nerve but inclined his head in the direction of his bedroom.

“Yeah, how about we…?” Travis laughed, trying to tamp his glee into something manageable. He stood, reaching a hand down for Wes, helping him to his feet.

Wes rose to his full height, throwing one arm around his partner’s neck, pulling him into a lengthy kiss, sharing desire and passion and hope. “Can we, I mean, can I… can I ask a favor?”

Travis pulled back and scoured Wes’ face for any hint of something unhappy to come. He could sense worry and concern, but even Travis knew that was natural after what had just happened between the two of them, but what else was there, lurking in the shadows of his face? “Yeah, anything man, you know that.”

He couldn’t bear the intensity on Travis’ face, couldn’t stand the nerves making him so unsure of himself. Wes turned away from Travis’ intense scrutiny. “Can we… can we just not talk about this right now?” God, he hated the way he sounded, the hurt he knew had to be showing on Travis’ face. Why was he such a fucking coward suddenly? He just had sex with his best friend, his partner, the one person he trusted with his life. Why was it so hard to accept that he had feelings for him? It’s so sudden, how can it be real? “I…”

“I get it,” Travis interrupted, saving him. “It’s the stud cologne that’s got you all riled up and confused. It’s all good.”

“Ohthankgodyougetit,” he breathed out in a rush, slumping slightly from that weight being lifted from his chest. “Travis, I, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea…”

Travis held up a hand. “I just said it was all good. Ya want me to jump in the shower and scrub myself with that expensive ass body wash you use and see if you still want to jump me, even when I’m clean?” He plastered on his most innocent expression while waiting for Wes’ response.

His attempt to scowl was thwarted by the laughter bursting forth. “Oh lord, no. All I want is for you to get that ass of yours into my freaking bedroom before we do more damage to my furniture!”

Travis saluted, hiked up his jeans, and took off down the hall. Wes shook his head, smiling at the amount of playfulness contained within that boy when he noticed the back of his couch. “God damnit, he did make a mess of my couch! Travis! Come back here and clean this up! I thought you were joking!” He got it everywhere!

“Nuh-uh,” Travis called from the other side of the suite, “you told me to ‘get my fine ass into your freaking bedroom’.”

“I never said it was fine,” Wes disagreed. “Oh, never mind,” he mumbled, grabbing a damp cloth and cleaning it up himself. He figured that he could hold this over Travis’ head later, making him pay for defiling nice leather in such a manner.

Wes couldn’t help but grin at that thought.