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'Work work work work work work' If he didn't answer his phone it was going to have a nervous breakdown, and Backstrom thought maybe he'd keep it company. It wasn't that he regretted his and Valentine's... encounter. There were already far too many regrets in his past to throw sex and cuddling into the mix. But it did give his imagination actual, real life images to go with the cries and moans he heard coming from Val's room on the nights he brought a trick home with him. And the combination of sound and memory made him horny as hell. Cutting down the drinking didn't help, and neither did Val's insistence that together they followed the diet Doctor Deb had given him. It was no change from the low fat foods his brother had been torturing himself with for years. But for Backstrom it meant a rebellion of his digestive system and struggling to sleep after a stressful day at work, too much black coffee and nothing to cushion his general feelings of denial and hunger. Val had tried teaching him yoga and meditation techniques, but quietening his mind was harder than starving his body. The only thing that helped was going to his AA meetings. Because listening to the inane problems of others sent him straight off to the land of nod. At least the cacophony of sex noises had stopped. He reached for his phone, knocking a thankfully empty glass over as he searched blindly for it on the floor beside him. Niedermayer's number was on the screen and reluctantly Everett answered the call. 'What?' 'Body found in a warehouse close to the dock.' 'You deal with it.' 'Lieutenant... we know he isn't, but he looks a lot like Valentine. Scary likeness.' 'Bastard.' They were learning too fast that his risk-taking half-brother was an easy button to press. 'Fine. Send someone to pick me up.' At least he wouldn't have to listen to the early morning sex reprise. ~ Backstrom picked his way carefully through the debris on the floor of the warehouse, heading for where his team were grouped around the open end of a shipping crate, in one corner of the otherwise open space. �This whole area�s been sold to a development company,� Niedermayer informed him when he was close enough. �The director and the chief architect were looking around when they heard screaming. They called the police and by the time the first officers arrived, he was already dead.� �Who was?� Gravely pointed inside the large, steel crate and felt his stomach roll over. He was glad he hadn�t eaten yet. Inside, it was a jail cell: bucket, empty tray, iron bedstead with a thin mattress on it. And on top of that lay the body of a young man, just a kid, maybe late teens, early twenties. In the dim light he did look like Valentine; similar hair, similar facial structure. He wondered if their eyes were the same colour. The kid's ankle was cuffed and chained to a metal loop set in the centre of the floor, enough chain for him to get from one end of the crate to the other but no further. He was naked, covered in cuts and bruises, and two clusters of cigarette burns, high on his chest. �Cause of death?� �Single stab wound to the throat. It would have been quick, unlike the rest of his torture.� �Whoever was holding him here probably heard the cops coming, knew it was over and killed the kid so he couldn�t identify him.� Somewhere behind him, Niedermayer asked, �What kind of sick is this?� And he knew the answer. �The bogeyman.� ~ Backstrom left the scene to forensics and strolled out into semi-fresh air, pulling his phone from his jacket. It rang a couple of times before Valentine answered. �What�s up honey?� �I need you to come to the SCU.� �Why?� He was immediately suspicious, and Backstrom knew he should have responded to the �honey� thing. �Why do you need an excuse? You�re always hanging around these days.� �I like your couch.� �You like the company. And we like yours.� �Now I'm definitely suspicious. What�s this about?� Backstrom took a deep breath. He didn�t want to say it over the phone. He honestly wasn�t sure what impact it was going to have. �It�s nothing to do with any shady deal you may or may not be involved with. I just need your help with something. Pretty please?� He heard a reluctant sigh then, 'Okay.� �Thank you. And don�t call me honey.� He ended the call and turned to find his team standing behind him, huddled, awaiting instructions. �Why do you people follow me everywhere?� �Because you�re the boss, Boss.� Gravely smiled sweetly. �Why is Valentine calling you �honey�?� �Because he lives to wind me up.� He glanced at the rest of them and mentally split them up. �Niedermayer, Almond, follow the body to the morgue, report back on the PM. I want to know who the poor kid is and how long he�s. Gravely, Moto, I want anything forensics can give us immediately, then hassle them until they give you everything else.� They started to disperse. �One other thing. I want any photographs handed around in brown envelopes, nothing transparent. I don�t want anyone seeing the evidence who shouldn�t.� They frowned, but they�d adhere to the request until they knew why he�d made it. After that, they�d make up their own minds. ~ Paquet was waiting for him back at the station. �Valentine is in your office.� �Good. When you make up the board on this case, do it on something with wheels. Nothing on display, at least at the start.� She nodded, didn�t ask questions. Maybe she knew more about Valentine than the others did. HIs office was empty, so he crossed to the window and leaned out. His brother was sitting on the metal steps of the fire escape, texting, so he swung himself out and strolled over to lean against the railing next to him. Val looked up. �I'm here. Why the summons?� �You told me once,� Backstrom started quietly, calmly, without accusation or blame. As gentle as he knew how to be. �You said the man who abducted you died ten years ago.� The smile left Valentine�s face. �He did.� �What happened to him?� �There was� a fire at his house.� Backstrom waited. �A couple of weeks after I got away from him, someone set light to the house and they found his body in the kitchen.� �Someone?� Valentine looked up at him, lips sealed. �Fine. How do you know it was his body they found?� �The news said so�. Why?� �We found a kid this morning, in a shipping crate inside a warehouse. He�d been chained up, tortured and raped before being murdered. There are cigarette burns on his chest in the exact same place you have your tattoos.� �Shit.� Val raised a hand to his face, shoulders hunching, trying to make himself small. Backstrom hated to see it, hated himself for causing it. �Hey. We�re going to catch him. And we'll make sure he doesn't get away with anything as easy as burning to death. Okay?� Valentine nodded, quick movements. �I need you to tell me everything you can remember about him. Then I need you to give the best description of him as you can to Paquet while I tell the others.� �I can�t.� �Can�t what?� �Describe him.� �You must be able to. You looked him right in the eye....� 'You don't understand.' Valentine got to his feet and pushed passed, putting some space between them. �I�ve spent a decade trying to forget him and what he did to me.' He voice cracked and his eyes were shining with unshed tears. Backstrom nodded. �I know.� �For months, every time I closed my eyes he was all I could see. I didn�t sleep for weeks. I was a mess, taking anything that would scrub it from my head. You�re asking me to go back to that!� �I�m not. Not to that. You�re a different person now. You�re clean and you�re going to stay that way. I'll be with you every step of the way. But I need you to help me stop it all from happening to anyone else.� Val's shoulders dropped. �That�s a shitty thing to put on me.� Backstrom approached him slowly. He could be so fragile sometimes under the affectations and eyeliner. �I know. I�m sorry. But if it�s the same guy, I want to get him off the streets. And so do you.� He could feel the tension radiating off him. �Please.� As miserable as he looked, Valentine nodded, and Backstrom closed the gap between them. �Come here.� He wrapped his arms around his brother and held him in a bear hug until the tension in him relaxed a notch. �You know the worst thing?� Val murmured, voice muffled by shirt until he turned his head and rested against Backstrom�s chest. �Tell me.� �It was knowing no one was coming for me. No one was looking. If I was going to survive, I had to save myself.� He closed his eyes. �I had nothing till you took me in. No one.� He only spoke when he could trust his voice not to break. �You have me now. You have� all of us. My team. Even Lou-� Val went stiff in his arms. �I know, you can�t forgive her, not entirely.� Backstrom wasn�t sure if he could either, now. Valentine relaxed by increments, finally pliant and warm. Backstrom missed this, missed having another human being close to him. He felt hot breath through his shirt and closed his eyes. This was both the most inappropriate time and inappropriate place possible for vivid flashbacks of the night Valentine had� propositioned him? Seduced him? Interrogated him? He wasn�t sure how to describe what happened between them but whatever had, this was not the time or place to be thinking about it. �Don�t get hard,� Val murmured, low voice like honey, which didn�t help, �we�re being watched.� Without letting him go, Backstrom raised his head and turned it to look. 'Noseymayer, you voyeuristic perv!' 'Sorry, Sir.' �I�m comforting my brother. What do you want?' 'They found something at the scene. A pendant. Might have belonged to the victim but it's quite unusual and it looks expensive.' Backstrom reluctantly let his arms fall from around Val, beckoning Niedermayer out and holding his hand flat. Valentine didn't even look up, which was enough of a warning that the emotional outburst hadn't been a play for sympathy. The pendant in the evidence bag was heavy, gold, with a circle of what might have been real rubies set in the centre. 'That's his.' Valentine stepped back, staring at the charm and its broken chain. 'He wore that. It...' He swallowed and it sounded like he was forcing his next words out. 'It was what I stared at so I didn't have to look at his face.' Niedermayer's expression was confusion and the dawn of realisation. 'You know who we're looking for?' Backstrom held up one hand. 'I'll explain. But only once. Get everyone together.' He handed back the evidence bag and waved him away. He glanced at Valentine. 'All right?' 'No.' 'I'll send Paquet out here. I think she knows already.' 'She does.' He didn't ask how. Instead he climbed back in through the window and yelled for Nadia. A couple of minutes later he left them in the window, Paquet perched inside, Val on the ledge outside. Slowly, quietly, he pulled closed and regarded the four other members of his team. �Listen up. Ten years ago, Valentine was working as a prostitute. He was picked up by a man in a black car and driven to a remote house where he was raped and tortured for three days. He escaped, and a few weeks later the house where he'd been kept was torched, and a man's body was discovered in the kitchen. He's always believed the body they found was that of his abductor. I don't think it was. I think his abductor is still alive and killed our vic this morning.� Ignoring the four expressions of horror and Niedermayer's surreptitious glances in the direction his office door, he walked over to the table and pulled the first set of crime scene photos from the envelope they'd been tucked into. He held up the one of the victim's burned chest. 'Valentine has these same cigarette burns, masked by tattoos. And he recognised the pendent found on the floor of the crate.' Moto was the first to speak. 'Did he torch the guy's house?' It was almost laughable. 'Valentine? No. He knows who did, but I don't care about that. Whoever did it had their reasons. I don't need to know who or why. What I care about, is catching this bastard before he takes another kid.' 'Is it significant that the man we found this morning looks like Valentine?' Backstrom stared at Niedermayer, hoping he would retract or at least rephrase the ludicrous question. He didn't. 'The detectives among us would call that the attacker's type. He clearly likes young goths.' Backstrom fanned out the photos of the victim. They weren't easy to look at. The kid did look like Val, at least how he�d looked ten years ago. 'Do we have a name for the victim?' 'Not yet.' Almond, as softly spoken as ever, and for once he appreciated it. 'He doesn't just look like Val, he has the same body type. That isn't something the rapist bastard wouldn't have known just by watching from a distance. Find out if our vic was a prostitute. Maybe our guy samples before he buys.' The thought made him feel sick. He too looked across at his office and knew he was going to have to ask. Sliding the photos back in to the envelope, he kept one out and handed it to Gravely. 'Someone out there must be missing him.' She took the photograph and nodded, and with a soul deep sigh, Backstrom headed back to Valentine. He waited until Paquet had sketched a likeness so good, that when she showed the finished picture to Val he vanished from the window and they heard him throwing up over the railing. She mouthed 'sorry' to Backstrom as she passed him in the doorway and he gave her the best supporting smile he could muster before taking her place in the window and waited for Val to sit back down. The way he curled himself against the frame and picked at the loose strands of wool at the ends of his sleeves, was painful to see. Reaching out, he squeezed Valentine�s shoulder awkwardly. He was terrible at this stuff. �Is there a possibility that the guy who took you picked you up some time before?� He looked repulsed. �You mean� paid me for sex?� Backstrom couldn�t remember his job ever being this difficult before. �The kid we found this morning has similar looks and is a similar body type to you.� �You don't think he'd� I mean. I�m not that boy anymore.� �He isn�t getting anyway near you.� He wasn�t surprised by the strength of his feeling on that point. Valentine stopped picking at his sleeves and reached out, running the tip of his index finger over the back of Everett�s hand. �I�m� I mean, do you� When I�.� Distracted by the touch, it took Backstrom a second to stop him from stuttering. �You�ve nothing to apologise for, no I don�t regret it, and can we not talk about it here?� The corner of Valentine�s mouth curled up in a half-smile and he nodded, pressing a little harder as he traced the fragile bones from Everett�s knuckles to his wrist. �Stop that.� It would have been more convincing if he�d pulled his hand back, or said it slightly louder with more conviction. But it took a sharp knock on the door for Valentine to stop and their heads to snap up in unison. Gravely was poking her face into his office. 'What have you got?' 'We've identified the victim.' Valentine followed Backstrom out of his office. 'Where's the case board?' He obviously caught Paquet's pointed glance at their boss because he turned and glared. 'Please stop trying to protect me.' 'I thought you wanted my protection?' He smiled, teasing. 'Out there where the bad man is. Not in here.' 'We have plenty of bad men in here,' Nadia teased right back. Backstrom waved one arm. 'Fine. Put it up.' 'Our victim is John Bryant. He is seventeen years old and has a juvenile record for theft.' 'Where are his parents?' 'Dead. Both died in a road accident when he was four. He was taken into care but seems to have run away so often that in the end people stopped looking for him.' He couldn't help but compare the boy's life to Valentine's. Why Lou had let her son follow in her footsteps, he would never know. In the dark corners of his treacherous brain he was starting to rethink his whole stance on using hookers. If that happened, he was in serious trouble. He must have zoned out because the next thing he knew, Valentine was leaning against his arm and reassuring him that he was okay because he'd found an over protective big brother to live with. That just made Backstrom feel guilty about everything else. Paquet tacked the victim photo to the centre of he board and Valentine looked as if he was regretting his bravado. �So there�s a good chance he was a prostitute. Last known address?� �A tenement building in Old Town.� �Go check if he still lived there. Talk to his neighbours. Take Almond.� He checked his watch then looked at Valentine. �Where did you used to work?� �You mean, where did I used to sell myself to men in back alleys?� Val interpreted his expression correctly and apologised. �Old Town.� Backstrom glanced at his watch then at Niedermayer. �We�ll go out there tonight, see if anyone recognises John Bryant, if they remember who picked him up.� Niedermayer nodded, obedient as ever, and Valentine piped up, �I�ll go with you.� Backstrom laughed. �No, you won�t.� �They won�t talk to you. Prostitutes and cops don�t make good chat buddies. I speak the language.� �He�s right.� �Almond, if you say that Valentine�s right ever again, I�ll give Gravely your balls as earrings.� Both parties cringed. �I appreciate that.� Gravely even made it sound almost like she meant it. He knew what was coming next. �But at the risk of making things worse, Valentine is right. The boys on the street will talk to him, they won�t talk to us.� The last thing he wanted was Valentine out there with them, for all sorts of reasons. But he didn�t want to scrutinise most of those reasons too closely, and he wasn�t prepared to explain any of them, which made it easier to agree than to argue. �Fine. But I want eyes on him at all times. If anyone so much as looks at him funny, I want them arrested and him out of there. Understood?� Everyone nodded except Valentine. �Everyone looks at me funny,� he pointed out. �Just trust me, okay? Give me some time out there.� �Time for this sick psycho to grab you again?� �You said you wouldn�t let him near me.� �As long as you do as I say and don�t walk brazenly into danger.� �I�ll make sure no one messes with him.� Niedermayer stepped forward. �I can play sugar daddy.� �What?� At least three of them chimed in at once. �I can be all over him.� �I�� Backstrom wasn�t sure he�d heard that right. �What?� He glanced at Valentine, who looked more than pleased with the plan. �He�s suggesting we go under cover.� He glared from one to the other. While it was a better plan and would ensure someone was at Val�s side with a gun and a badge, the idea of Niedermayer being all over him wasn�t as funny as he�d once found it. �Fine But if I see a single inappropriate move made on my brother by anyone,� he looked pointed at Niedermayer, �I�ll start breaking fingers. I know how, Gravely showed me.� Valentine nudged him in the side and he turned. �Spoil sport.� But he could tell, just by the amusement in those dark eyes, that he been rumbled regarding the sentiment behind the warning. It was definitely something they were going to talk about later and that wasn�t going to be any fun either. �Go put on your gay sugar daddy outfit,� he instructed Niedermayer. �Gravely, find us some cars that won�t stick out in Old Town, or make us look like potential customers.� ~ Almost a year ago, Valentine had asked him to set him up with Niedermayer and to his credit, he had tried. It wasn�t his fault if Valentine had failed to turn the man�s head. Or maybe he had, and something else had kept Niedermayer from taking him up on what had to be the most obvious invitation of his life. Tonight, the idea of them together was making him feel nauseous, and so was the sight of young boys selling themselves to old perverts. Valentine was a pretty boy, he would have been popular. He would also have been brutalised and abused by men who should have been jailed for even thinking about it. �Do we even have a vice department in this city?� he muttered, and Gravely looked over at him with something akin to sympathy. He saw it and shook his head. �Don�t say it.� �Your concern is actually very touching.� �Stop it.� �Something�s changed between you two.� �Yes. We�ve recently discovered we�re brothers. Half-brothers. It�s taking us time to work things out.� She frowned. �What is there to work out?� He filtered certain words out of his reply. �He�s been living with me for seven years. I spent most of those years wondering why I was putting up with an immature, gay crime lord on my barge. Storing stolen goods in my home, bringing home tricks at all hours of the night and day, having loud - very loud - sex at all hours of the night and day, walking around naked-� �He walks around naked?� He stared. �Out of everything I just said, that�s the part you pick up on? You do realise he�s gay, right?� She ignored that. �Do you walk around naked?� That threw him. �What?� Their conversation was thankfully interrupted by yelling across the road. Niedermayer yelling. Backstrom was out of the car in a second, hearing the car doors of Almond and Moto just up the street, seeing Niedermayer running off down a wide alley, fancy coat flapping behind him, yelling �stop� and waving his gun in the air. Nothing screamed �fucked up undercover operation� than an undercover cop announcing who he was to the world. Backstrom followed, they all followed. His pulse was racing, his heart pounding. �Niedermayer! What happened?!� He didn�t stop. �I turned around and Valentine was gone. I think he was taken.� His theory was backed up by the sound of shouts and bins being kicked over; a fight, further along, behind the buildings they were running between. Niedermayer got there first, but Backstrom knew what he'd found from the way he stopped, gun pointed but wavering. Despite the slight burring of his vision, Backstrom arrived second and he didn�t hesitate. �Let him go or we will shoot you in the head.� A man, just a man, had Valentine pinned to a trash bin, one hand around his throat - squeezing - the other somewhere lower, hidden between them. �You have until I stop talking to let him go or four of us will-� He didn�t get a chance to finish. Val�s attacker was suddenly staggering backwards, grunting in pain, and in the next moment Valentine was yelling like a wounded animal and jumping on him, knocking him to the ground, getting one knee into the centre of the guy�s chest and leaning down to strangle him right back. �Valentine, stop!� Backstrom ran over to them, gasping for breath, leaned over Valentine�s back and grabbed his arms. Val screamed in frustration and fought until he was free and able to reach forward again, to press his thumb against his attacker�s windpipe. �Val�� Crouching down behind him, Backstrom wrapped his arms around him and pulled back, unbalancing himself, causing them both to fall back, his weight cracking something in the guy�s left leg which made him howl. He didn�t care because Valentine was still fighting him. �Stop! Just� stop. It�s over.� Some of the strength ebbed from his struggles. �We�ve got him. It�s over.� Finally, Val went slack, head dropping forward, cries turning to sobs. �Hey�.� Backstrom put his head on his shoulder, face in his neck, and rocked him gently. �He can�t hurt you now, can�t hurt anyone.� Niedermayer turned the perp over none too gently and slapped on the cuffs, ignoring his protests about a broken leg. He recited his rights as if he was considering saving them the paperwork and shooting him right there on the ground. Backstrom sighed to himself. If and when Valentine worked out that he had Niedermayer wrapped around his little finger too, they were all in trouble. When he�d calmed enough that he thought it was safe to let go, Backstrom helped Valentine to his feet, keeping an arm around him as he first made an effort to bury himself in Backstrom�s coat, and then to run away. Backstrom kept his arm tight and pressed a kiss to his hair, murmuring just loud enough, �Stop. You�re safe here.� He settled after that, seemed to come back into himself, and as soon as he set his shoulders back, Backstrom dropped his arm, keeping just his hand pressed against the small of Val's back. He considered saying something to the sadistic bastard as he was dragged off to the car by Moto and Almond, but he wasn�t sure he�d stop at words. Gravely approached them. �Let me look at your throat,� she murmured. Valentine reluctantly lifted his head his and endured a brief examination. �You�ll have bruises,� she told him. They�d be covered by one of his extensive collection of scarves, Backstrom thought about assuring her, but he didn�t say it. Niedermayer was standing behind her, waiting, he presumed, to apologise for allowing the bastard to get his hands on Valentine when he was supposed to be protecting him. �Did you get distracted?� Backstrom growled before Niedermayer could start explaining himself. �Saw something you liked?� �One of the boys was telling me about seeing John Bryant getting into a black Lexus on the night he vanished.� �And you were giving him your complete and undivided attention?� �Leave him be,� Valentine murmured, not loud enough for Niedermayer to hear him. Backstrom glanced down and saw the little smile curving Valentine�s mouth. He wasn�t going to hear the end of it when they got home. �Besides, I might have wandered off.� �Might have, or did?� �Did.� Niedermayer was staying quiet, he noticed. Willing to let Valentine take responsibility but not willing to lay the blame as his feet. God, did that mean something? Did it mean Niedermayer was finally falling for Valentine�s charms. What would that even look like? To Valentine, he said, �I�ll deal with you later.� To Niedermayer, �For letting him wander off when I specifically told you not to let him out of your sight, you can go back to SCU and once you�ve got that asshole�s name, charge him with the abduction, rape and murder of John Bryant, and the abduction and rape of Gregory Valentine. There will be more, but those should hold him for now.� Niedermayer smiled and nodded, almost as if he was bowing. �It would be my absolute pleasure.� ~ Backstrom stripped and stepped into the shower, lifting his face to the water. Gravely had driven them home, and at the bottom of the barge stairs, Valentine had pecked a kiss to his cheek before vanishing into his bedroom. He�d left the door ajar but Backstrom had left him to his space. He�d needed a shower and a beer, and for once he�d decided not to mix the two. He hated watered-down alcohol of any type, but beer was the worst. Washing the shampoo from his hair, he was almost done when the bathroom door opened and Valentine stepped inside, naked, to join him in the shower. He looked this time, raking his gaze over Val�s body, hair to toes and back up. �You are way too God-like to be in here with me.' Valentine closed the gap between them, splaying his hands at Everett�s waist, tilting his head up. �You have a very low opinion of yourself. I look at you and I feel safe, I feel� loved. There are people who are beautiful on the outside, and people beautiful on the inside.� �But I�m beautiful on both?� Laughing, nodding, Val wrapped one hand around the back of Backstrom�s neck and sealed their mouths together. It was easier the second time around to allow himself to touch; sliding his hands across Val�s back, pinkie fingers finding the swell of his ass before wrapping his arms around him. Having Val�s tongue in his mouth was swiftly becoming his new favourite pastime, one of the sexiest things he�d ever known. Before Val had started this, he�d never, even in his wildest dreams, imagined that any man would get a rise out of him like this, never mind his flamboyant young tenant. But he was growing harder by the second. He needed to breathe, to clear his head, so he pulled back, ignoring the quiet squeak of protest, and loosened his arms. Letting go completely was beyond him right then. �We so shouldn�t be doing this.� �Why? Who are we hurting?� �If people found out-� �No one would believe it.� He wasn�t so sure. �Gravely was fishing tonight.� �You are a detective. You work with detectives. I�d be surprised if they didn�t think something was up. But never, in a million years, are they going to reach this conclusion.� The mature adult inside him, the big brother, wanted to protest, to argue, to at least to try stop, but the rest of him wanted everything Valentine was offering. He wanted to touch everywhere. He almost had a heart attack when a warm, capable hand wrapped around his dick and gentle fingers stroked his balls. �Jesus, Val�. You don�t have to-� �Stop talking. Get it into your head that I want to.� �Why?� �Haven�t we already covered this? Besides, the water�s getting cold.� �I don�t know if I can do this in a bed.� �Why? Would that make it real?� Val reached behind him and turned off the shower. Backstrom knew he was teasing, didn�t rise to the bait. Turning and opening the sliding door, Val caught Everett�s hand as he stepped out, briskly towel-dried himself with his other hand before drying Everett too, taking his time about it. When he finished, he dropped the towel and crowded back in. Valentine kissed as if he had all the time in the world, tongue exploring, mouth welcoming. He was casually stroking Everett�s dick, nowhere near enough to get him off, just stoking the flames, learning what he liked although he thought they were probably alike in that too. He broke off, rocked back on his feet and asked, �Please can we take this to my bed?� �Let�s take it to mine.� Backstrom had a bedroom, towards the front of the barge, bigger than Valentine�s but seldom used. He swiped the pile of clothes from the mattress and pushed back the comforter. Then he stopped and stared at the pillows for a second until Val bounced down and held out his hand, wiggling his fingers. With a smile, Backstrom knelt down, took Val�s hand and leaned in to kiss him. Somehow they got comfortable, finding an arrangement of limbs that worked for them; facing one another, Valentine almost in Backstrom�s lap. It was the first time Everett had touched another man�s dick and it was easier than he�d thought. It looked like his own after all, and Valentine was so responsive, even if he was quieter tonight than he was usually. �Don�t restrain yourself on my behalf.� Val smiled. �I often make a lot of noise for show. Sex with strangers is like two peacocks strutting around one another. I� I don�t think you need any pretence.� He shook his head. �I don�t. Be yourself.� With a filthy smile, Valentine practically bent in two to drop a kiss to the head of Everett�s dick, licking his stomach as he straightened, leaning over to kiss him again. Everett tangled the fingers of his other hand in Val�s hair, messing it up on purpose, expecting him to pull back but he didn�t. He loved it, practically purred, and Everett scraped his nails over the scalp just to see what would happen. Val moaned into his mouth, a sound which went straight to his dick. He would never have believed that Val could be aroused by being with him, let alone this. The next time he put his head back, Backstrom touched chaste kisses from his jawline down his long neck to the smooth base of his throat. Val�s hand missed a beat as he stretched his neck and pressed it against Everett�s mouth. He bit, very very gently, reaching to pinch first one nipple then the other. Val shuddered, grip tightening for a second, before he shifted, moving closer, wrapping his legs around Backstrom�s waist so that their dicks touched. �Let me,� he murmured, barely more than a whisper, and curled his hand around them both, sliding them together. The last time, Valentine hadn�t touched him because he hadn�t let him, but Val�s hands were incredible, finding little places on his body that set his nerves alight, circling his nipples, scraping fingernails over his ribcage. He could feel his orgasm building, it had been years since he�d been with anyone who wasn�t a prostitute and it felt different, more intense. He brushed his hand over Val�s fingers and slipped his hand down to stroke their balls, pulling gently at the sensitive skin. �Fuck.� Val stilled and came, and Everett felt every pulse against his dick, orgasm hitting hard. �God. Oh God�.� He got his breath back while Val untangled himself so that Everett could lie back, sticky but not willing to move to clean up, especially when Val settled into his side, head on his chest. hand over his heart. For a few minutes, Val was quiet, and Backstrom thought he might have fallen asleep until he heard, �You do know you�re not a conquest, don�t you?� �I'm hurt, I�m a real catch.� He lifted his head. �You know what I mean. I just thought� you didn�t want to do this in my room�.� �It�s not because I don�t want to be a notch on the bedpost in there. I�d be honoured, if there�s anymore space-� �Cheeky.� �It�s because I like your room.' He wasn't sure it made sense but Val didn't push, instead he stared at Everett as if he was trying to see his soul. 'The way you look at me sometimes, it makes it hard to breathe.' Everett lifted a hand to Val's shoulder. �I want to look at you with more love than that bastard ever did.� He saw the tears just before Valentine put his head back down, and he could feel them damp on his skin. 'You already do,' was the last thing heard before he fell asleep. ~ By the time Backstrom was up and dressed, Valentine had made coffee and toast. 'You realise we're doomed, don't you?' He asked between bites. Val looked at him from over his mug, eyes dancing with happiness that nothing was going to touch this morning. 'Why?' 'Because I'm not actually gay.' It wasn�t until Valentine closed in on him that Everett realised the short red dressing gown was in fact all he was wearing. Even tied, it didn't leave much to the imagination. Then again, Everett no longer needed his imagination and his empty hand found its way to Val's bare back without instruction. 'That hasn�t seemed to matter so far,' he whispered, following it up with kisses to Everett's mouth and throat. He wanted to say, had been going to say, that there were things he had no intention of doing. But saying no before he'd tried wasn't like him, and he found that whatever his intentions, his body might actually be willing to give things a try before ruling them out. �Of all the people I�ve ever met, it had to be you, didn�t it?� Val nodded slowly. �Oh, sod it.� Backstrom could only hope he wasn�t going to fuck this up the way he fucked up everything else in his life. �I�ve got work.� �Me too.� �Try not to do anything very illegal today.� �I�ll try.� Backstrom wanted to make him promise, but he knew that was never going to happen. |