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The Rocky Mountains cast a giant shadow as the sun sank behind them. The sky flushed a deep pink like the blush on the women who milled about the gathering. Pall Malls were detestable, the paper was sweet softening the burn. The Italians were notorious for their decadence in the states. It had given rise to American twists on many Italian dishes he could still taste on his lips. The tomato sauce had been sweet with the slow roasting of the fruit for hours, a labor of love that was slowly dying. The boys he worked with on the drug drop were barely past their balls dropping. Some couldn't grow the mustaches their nationality considered a defining trait of manhood. They had seen a few gun fights and some would never see beyond their first.
Raoul kept his distance, though the youths could be attractive, their wise cracking and squeaky voices grated on his nerves. He was no teacher and coaching a boy though deep seeded homophobia so they wouldn’t feel bad about sucking his cock was not a part of his sexual appetites. Ever since he had left the Gravel Wars three years ago, he was unsatisfied. He had taken many men and women to bed in those years, but they had been of little substance. No one satisfied the deep longing resting in the pit of his soul.
Seeing Rene happy had been of little comfort. Truly he wished the best for his only brother, but he could not help the pangs of jealously that throbbed like a day old wound. The scars were scabbed over now, faded into a lovely scar, but he did not dare to stretch it. He had left after his brother returned to Teufort. Missions came and went like sand through a glass, each face he saw an indistinguishable grain. This one would be no different. He was here to kill the eldest Smaldone brother, for the rival Mussos that were gaining an foothold in town.
When Tony finally popped up from the tunnels with the cargo, Raoul put out his cigarette, and helped heave the drugs and illegal porn up off the dolly. The loading truck was turned on billowing exhaust into their faces as they put the drugs inside. These would be heading out to Denver as an exchange with the DiMaggios tonight. By the following moring, the cocanie would be up nostrils of business executives and the addicts on the streets alike.
Sunlight was fading fast, the last three boxes needed to be loaded. He got behind the box while Tony got on the other side, his back to the street. Raoul braced his knees for the lift when he heard the motor of a car. Pop pop pop pop pop! Came the report of a machine gun. Raoul ducked behind a box quickly. A hole exploded through an inch from his face. The shooters screeched off down the road as quick as they came.
“Help!” Tony cried through a wet choke. Raoul went to his side, but saw it was too late. Tony had been struck multiple times through his back, some high enough to pierce his lungs. The dying man gripped Raoul’s hand. Gore gushed from his mouth in rivers.
“We’ll get a doctor,” he lied “you’ll be okay.” His terrified expression went slack. His eyes gave one last shine of life, before flickering out. Raoul stood from the other man, checking the driver at the front of the truck.
The old man had been shot through the neck. He slumped forward on the steering wheel. Raoul ducked into the tunnel, leaving the drugs. He walked through the tunnels till he finally popped up on Union behind Magpies. He walked through the kitchen heading to the phone. The manager was surprised, but one look at Raoul’s face told the story. He took Raoul to the back office, and left him to make a phone call.
He called, let it ring once then hung up. When he called back the phone was answered immediately.
“Did you see who did it?” Gustano Smaldone’s voice was thick like strong black coffee. There was a hard edge to his voice.
“No, they killed Tony and Edurado.”
“Did you finish loading cargo?”
“No, it’s still there.” He heard shuffling on the other side.
“I’ll send a clean up crew. You need to scope out the bars, no doubt the ones who did the hit will be celebrating. Get information, but do not engage.”
The other line clicked and the dial tone sounded in his ear. He placed it back on the receiver and left.
Gray’s Tavern was a quaint bar, the outside was gray cement, with only a small red and white sign indicating what it was. It was popular with some of the Italian gang members. He sat at one of the stools infront of the bar ordering an old fashioned. He wasn’t a fan of bourbon on most occasions, but given the choice between that or whiskey he would take the former every time. He listened in on conversations as they floated in the air around him. There were a few construction workers complaining about the art center that was still underway. He heard snippets of two men discussing the Musso family opening up a restaurant in town.His drink was dwindling down to its last dredges. It’d been an hour of nothing important, his buzz was a low frequency vibration in his brain. He’d go into the east side next, there were a few Sureńo bars in the upper east side where the cops rarely went.
Thumbing through some ones he paid for his drink and left a decent tip. He stood from the bar, right when the door opened. He did a quick glance at the man barely registering him at first. His brain made the connection slowly, though his body reacted right away. His heart beat raced, and he took a mental note of the exit, where his knife was, and whether he was armed.
The man had walked towards him, not realizing who he was with the mask on. He took a seat leaving an empty stool between the two. His short brown hair was still slicked back as it always was, as if he wore a hat all day. The slouch hat wasn’t tucked under his arm, no doubt he realized it was too flashy in a city like this. The Mexicans wore bandanas. The Italians wore borsalinos. Anyone caught with anything that looked even remotely close were stopped and frisked by the cops. It was best to not even bother with the damn things. His shirt was blue and black checkered plaid that was offensive to Raoul’s eyes. He at least knew to match them with a pair of black jeans.
He flagged down the bartender and ordered a jack and coke on the rocks. Everything about him was repulsive, yet he wanted to stay and talk to his former nemesis. The bartender began mixing the drink when he noticed the money on the bar.
“You staying or going?’” The bartender asked in a joking manner. He was a young man with a twang to his accent that marked him as a transplant from the south. Raoul glanced at the sniper one more time.
“I’m staying.” He said in his voice, the one he knew the man would recognize. Raoul took his seat yet again. He felt the stare boring into him, even when the bartender gave the other his drink.
“Same as the last?”
“Yes.”
Raoul took a second to steel himself. Their eyes connected in an instant. The sniper was gripping his glass tightly, as if trying to break it. Raoul forced a confident smirk that sent a shock of anger through the other man’s eyes. Come what may he was ready for this.
“Are you not even gong to say hello?” he asked in a mock hurt.
“What the hell are you doing here?” The sniper whispered harshly.
“I’m here for a friend, obviously.” The taller man seethed quietly for a second. Then he released the tension in his shoulders, releasing a huff of what almost sounded like a laugh.
“As long as you’re not here for my friendship, maybe we could talk?”
Raoul smiled. He scooted over a seat, sliding his drink with him.
“I’d quite like a conversation.”
They sat in silence for a minute, still stewing in the knowledge they were here together. Raoul was not superstitious like his brother or mother, he didn’t believe in fate, and he never trusted their use of bones and entrails, but this felt like fate. How else could they come to be here together in this moment? After years of separation, why had they found each other now?
“I guess you could say I’m here for a friend too. I got a decent endorsement to come find him.” Raoul read between the lines. He swirled his drink and raised an attentive eyebrow.
“Have you had any trouble finding your friend?” The man laughed, as he scratched his neck.
“I guess you could say that. I know who my friend is, but he’s not an easy person to get in contact with. I’m only in town for the weekend, I have to meet him by then.”
“What are you doing here then?” Silas lifted his drink and took a hearty swig draining the glass.
“I’m staking out the place. I hear that a close compatriot of my friend frequents this bar. I figure he might be able to give me an idea of where he is. I’m out of leads otherwise.”
“Do you know what this associate looks like?” He traced the rim of his low ball glass. Silas sighed deeply, hailing another drink.
“Only a vague description that describes most of the Italian men here. The best I’ve got is a name.” Raoul felt pity for his formal rival. It was no easy task tracking down someone who didn’t want to be found. He was given such a short timeline as well.
“If you’d like assistance, I would gladly oblige.” Silas studied him quizzically. He took a sip from his fresh made drink, giving an appreciative nod to the bartender.
“Why would you want to do that?” Raoul floundered for a second, he had hoped he wouldn’t have to give reason to wanting to spend time with this man. They had been quite cordial bordering on friendly even before Rene stuck his nose in it. He was a professional however, and would never have sex across enemy lines. That didn’t mean he didn’t consider it at times. The taller man was unconventionally attractive, his gentle nature was there in the crinkles near his eyes from too many large smiles. His laugh lines not quite canyons as they were shallow trenches. He looked like smiles came to him as easy as shooting, and why not with a smile like that. Wide and welcoming, he had caught a glance of it a few times, when he sat in silence watching the other shoot his team mates. There had been other times but he did not feel like drudging up old wounds.
“A professional courtesy, to show there are no hard feelings for all the unpleasantness of our prior arrangement.” Silas considered this a moment.
“No, thank you, I’ll be okay.” They fell silent for a few moments, Raoul mentally kicked himself. He needed to find something else to say, to save this.
“How have you been since our last assignment together?” Silas asked suddenly. Raoul took a second to process the question. Should he tell the truth? What harm could it do really?
“After our time together I took a bit of a sabbatical, I stayed in Teufort longer than I should have for reasons I can no longer explain. After a year there I moved on, taking assignments with private friends, they tend to require more discretion and more money is paid for that courtesy. And you?”
Silas took a drink. He was drinking a considerable amount for someone who was on a stakeout. Raoul made a note of it but made no move to intervene. Silas was a grown man, he could handle himself.
“I left right away, originally I had planned on finding… someone, but after a year it became clear, if he wanted to be found, I would have been able to. I took on contract after contract just losing myself in the work to avoid how it all felt. Eventually though, you have to move on so I did. I took to finding this friend because of the pay, but mostly to see the mountains.” The tall purple sentinels were too far for hiking, though they were viewable from this distance. A rising horizon that was kissed by the sun every dusk.
“Seems an odd spot if that’s why you’re here.” Silas laughed.
“I didn’t know that till I got here, though you can still see them even this far away. Reminds me almost of home, though it is colder here.” He gave a self deprecating smile.
“Why not go home?” Silas’s smile faded instantly. He spun the glass against the table making it slide away from him. He wasn’t meeting Raoul’s eyes and he almost told SIlas to forget the question.
“My parents disowned me when I got home. They found out about my tastes after finding an old magazine I hid in my floorboards. I could have gone anywhere else in the country I guess, but knowing they were on the same land mass made it difficult. They’re so old we’ll probably never make amends and I guess I’m okay with that, at least I’m trying to be.” Silas sighed leaning against the bar. “I wonder if they regret raising me now, my father asked what the hell they did wrong to mess me up, and I didn’t have an answer.”
Raoul sat with that, unsure what to even say to try and comfort the other man, if that was even his place. Silas looked ashamed of himself for what though Raoul could not say. It was his turn to take a long drink that drained his glass. With the liquid courage melting into his bloodstream Raoul summoned the words.
“Fuck them, if they can not love you for the man that you are then that is on them. Disavowing family for something they can not change about themselves is abhorrent. Regardless of how they feel about how you express love, you are their family, you should be more important to them than who you lay with.” Silas gave a weak smile.
“I won’t go that far, but I understand the sentiment. Thank you.”
“Surely it can’t be all bad news, have you seen any new movies? Perhaps taken up with some new music?” Silas chuckled softly.
“I saw this one movie about humans in space. This crew gets stuck out on a space station and are underattack from a giant black alien that had a long tail it would use to impale people. The movie ended on a huge cliffhanger, I want to believe everyone ends up okay, but what are they going to do make another movie?” Silas laughed at the absurdity. “What about you? Any movie or such?”
“I can’t speak much for movies, but I have tried to listen to the newer music, can’t say I care for most of it. Just noise that says nothing deeper. Though that Bowie does have some decent sounds, even if he ruins it by opening his mouth and caterwauling through the song.” Silas laughed.
“Perhaps you are too old for newer things.” Raoul smiled at that.
“My ears have aged like wine, they require a decent pairing to be satisfied.” Silas laughed, quiet yet deep like the sound was emanating from the core of his being.
The door opened and both men glanced out the sides of their eyes at the man walking in. He was short in stature, but slim and hard like the edge of a knife. His emerald green eyes flitted across the establishment, his eyes falling on the group of young men in vests and button ups. He approached them with a quick purpose that telegraphed a deep rage. He stood before the men, a dark shadow over their previous merriment.
Raoul kept an eye on Silas, who seemed intent on finding out who this newcomer was. His eyes had locked onto the other man, his posture growing rigid. If he had a gun he would have put a hand on it Raoul imagined.
“What the hell are you four doing here?” The bar had died down, all eyes now on the scene before them, even the bartender had stopped making drinks to watch as posion dripped from the words of the shadow man.
“Luciano, we were… we were just having a drink.” One of the men said meekly, chancing a glance at the man towering over them. The tall man knocked all their glasses into the man, they shattered on him who raised his hands to shield himself.
“Looks like you all finished. Now get the fuck back to den.” He stood back and the men rushed past him like the devil was on their heels. He took a long draw off his cigar, sliding out a black leather wallet he place a couple of bills on the table. He slid it back and walked towards the door, the anger replaced with an unnerving calm. He left.
Silas was on his feet in an instant. He started to walk away, but seemed to remember his drinking partner.
“I’m sorry, I think that’s my friend, I need to go.” Raoul almost waved him off. He could let this chance meeting go, continue his drinking in a different bar and follow his own mission, but a wild thought possessed him.
“I’ll drive you see if you can get a bead.” Raoul slapped a hundred dollars on the bar top, not caring about the change when he had destiny to chase. They ran out to Raoul’s car. A sleek 1954 Corvette with a V8 engine, deep maroon like the blood pumping through his veins. They saw a black 7 Ford Thunderbird peel out, Luciano in the driver’s seat. Silas ran to his van and came out just as quick with a rifle and scope.
They hurried into the car, and Raoul let off the clutch and floored the gas. Off into the night they flew like owls ofter a quick mouse. Raoul caught up to the Thunderbird who was creening through downtown. He flew down Santa Fe towards the highway exit that would take him to Belmont. If he got through Belmont to the Mesa they would be in Italian territory, Raoul couldn’t let him get that far. Silas rolled down the window, sticking half of his body out.
Raoul tried to keep it steady, but it was hard has Luciano realized he was being followed, he took evasive measures. He threaded himself through the other cars, nearly side swiping a four door 1971 Chrysler New Yorker. The man driving laid on the horn, but the mobster kept driving. Silas had to shrink back in to avoid his head getting taken off.
“Can you corner him?” He asked. Raoul tightened his grip on the wheel and cut a hard right on to the side walk. He took out a few light poles sending electricity rocketing behind them in bolts that cause screams and no doubt some injuries. He rejoined the road when he saw an opening in the traffic that was stopping to see the chaos.
Luciano turned left cutting across four lanes towards the hospital, where the streets narrowed. Raoul followed close behind. There would be a long stretch with a ton of stop lights, too dangerous for Silas to pop out the window again. They would have to push him towards the west side near the free way. Raoul pulled up on the right side of Luciano. He turned into the other man. Luciano pulled a gun from his side pocket and began firing. Raoul fell back to avoid the bullets.
“Can you get me up next to him again?” Silas asked pointing the rifle beyond Raoul’s chest.
“I can if you’re sure you’ll get the shot.” Silas smiled.
“Have I ever missed you?” He asked cockily. Raoul couldn’t help his smirk. He leaned into the clutch again and they were side by side with Luciano as he made a right turn, their car bouncing back up on the sidewalk as they followed. Raoul could see Luciano readying his gun again. He heard the pop of Silas’ gun like a crack of fireworks. Luciano slumped over, the car jerked quickly to the left. One second its wheels were on the road, the next Luciano’s car was flipping into incoming traffic.
Raoul faded into the flow of traffic. He took Northern through the town, quickly becoming just another car amongst all the congestion of the night goers, off to enjoy the town.
“Now that you have your man, what are you going to do?”
“Making sure I killed the right bloke would be a good idea. Though the first name matched and so did the description so I think we’re good.” Silas relaxed into the seat resting the barrel of his rifle across his chest. In the corner of his eye Raoul could see that the other had been hit.
“Are you alright?” Silas tried to chuckle but hissed in pain.
“He got my shoulder pretty good, I got a medkit in my van back at the bar. If you want to drop me off I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Nonsense, I will see to your wounds. We still have much to talk about.” Silas put a hand over his shoulder to stem the bleeding. As they drove a string of police and ambulances streamed past, sirensblaring.
“What made you want to help me? Did all those head shots ruin your brain?” Silas said in a half joking manner, as if he was waiting for a certain answer. Eyes almost hopeful.
“Perhaps it was a moment of temporary madness.” Silas’ face fell but he recovered quickly.
“Any chance that madness could last for a few beers after you patch me up?” There was a hopeful edge to his voice, as if he was unable to guard his desires.
“There’s a chance it might.”
Silas insisted on driving himself to the secluded railways back behind the bridge. There would be no passenger carts thundering by with loads of people. Train travel in the States left much to be desired. The Americans threw all their public transport into buses that barely ran on time. There would be no eyes wandering upon them.
The inside of the van was as small as Raoul feared. The bed was built into a wall with the bed being flippable to make more space. For now they kept it up while Raoul disinfected the wound with some rubbing alcohol. Silas made a grimace at the cleaning but no words of protest or screams of pain. Raoul had doubted he would, the man had survived his own Medic, and if the Blu was sadistic as the Red, he had no doubt experienced worse with no anestethic.
“Have you treated a wound before?” Silas asked to make idle conversation.
“Oui, many times.” There was a clean exit wound, all Raoul had to do was sew him up. Then what? They could talk for a few hours, but was that really where they wanted to leave this? Raoul felt a pang of attraction as he stole a glance into the other man’s ocean blue eyes. There was a never ending warmth behind them, like Normandy beach on a warm July day. The water placid and inviting to all who saw it.
He readied his spool of thread, stringing the needle with deft fingers. He but the point at the opening of the wound. He’d done his best to clean the area, even cutting off a sliver of flesh that had clung to the wound. Now there would be pain, but he would try to make that quick.
“Are you ready?” He searched the other’s eyes for any misgivings about what he was about to do, but all he found in those twin pools was trust.
“Go for it.” Raoul pierced the skin poking it out the other end of the wound. He pulled it through and Silas gave a low hiss his fists clenched tight. He tried to be as quick yet competent, but he was no healer. He had to dig for the other end of the flesh a few times, yet Silas didn’t complain. When he finally finished, his fingers were sticky with Silas’ blood, and he had not even gotten to the exit wound.
“Turn around, I need to get the other end.” Silas did as he was bid his shirtless back flexed under his finger tips. He resisted the urge to run his fingers down the other man’s spine. Instead he blew a stream of air into Silas’ ear. The man jumped at the sensation
“Oh fuck you!” He laughed glancing over. Raoul could kiss him if he dared put himself out that far. He’d repair the other then they would see what happened. There was no need to rush this night when dawn was still hours away.
“Do you remember the day you shot me in the dick?” Silas asked. Raoul paused a second in his sewing.
“I do, why?” Silas seemed to relax with the brief reprieve, though he tensed as soon as the needle slid through his epidermis. He only had three more stitches and then he could kiss the wound better.
“I thought that was the worse pain I could ever go through, when you finally put one between my eyes I was so relieved to be dead. I don’t think I’ve gone through anything that compares to that still.” He finished his stitches and hesitated, he was joking to himself about kissing the wound, but now that he could rest his lips on the puckered flesh he felt strange. Gently he lowered his lips and placed them against the wound.
“You have my deepest apologises for that.” Raoul murmured. Silas stiffened under the touch, the Frenchman could see the rise of gooseflesh on his arms. He slid his ungloved hand across the other man’s shoulders, his finger tips tracing a small circle on the Australian’s shoulder before letting his hand fall away.
The Frenchman was trying not to be too forward, incase he was misreading the situation. The sniper turned to face the other man, their faces merely inches away from each other. There was something their in those sunny eyes. A want that was a reflection of his own. Silas glanced down at his lips, it was quick, but Raoul caught it. Slowly he closed the distance allowing the Australian time to pull away. Please. He thought as he closed his eyes.
Their lips met and the world focused in this singular moment. The world around them stopped existing, everything before or after this was no longer on either of their minds. As their lips moved against each other in twin want the Frenchman’s hands began to roam across the other man’s chest. His fingers found the soft buds. He circled them at first, sometimes cutting his finger across in a diagonal, almost flicking the nipple, but not that harsh, yet. Silas made little growls in the back of his throat. Raoul wanted to see this wild bushman lose control.
His first twist of the nubs beneath his fingers was experimental. He felt the Australian’s breath hitch against his lips. He increased the twist sharply drawing out a growled out moan. The Frenchman bit the sniper’s bottom lip. He chanced a glance at the other man and was rewarded with a face flushed red and eyes closed. He was trusting him with all of him.
Raoul broke from the other’s lips to worry at his neck. Biting a section of flesh and sucking it up through his teeth. His right hand slid to the growing need in Silas’ pants. He traced the outline with feather light fingers, just grazing the outer jeans. He felt the breath start to grow heavy under his teeth. He released the skin that was an angry red mark against the slightly tanned skin.
With a deft hand he cupped the erection, massaging the bulge. The bushman was keening like a bitch in heat.
“What do you want?” he purred in the other man’s ear. His own need pressed against the other man’s clothed ass.
Silas took in a breath, stuttery and flushed.
“I want you to fuck me, please.” His voice was a lust smothered husk. Their lips met again, their tongues dancing together in an excited tangle. The rouge’s fingers unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans. Silas helped him pull down the pants and underwear leaving him completely open to the air. Raoul broke the kiss and spat in his hand beginning to stroke the attentive member with shallow teasing strokes. The bushman pressed his back into the Frenchman’s chest.
“I’m not gong to be able to unbutton my collar.” Silas half joked half moaned. Raoul smiled against his neck, placing a chaste kiss over the red flushed bruise.
“You should show them, let the world know you were mine.” Before the other could respond he kissed him deeply, pouring years of want into one searing kiss. He felt the penis under his deft hand twitch and stain with want. He squeezed a bit tighter around the sensitive head. Silas’s hips thrusted forward on reflex to the pleasure.
“You move so excitedly for me.” Raoul breathed into Silas’ ear.
“I can’t help it when you touch me like this.” Raoul kissed the shell of his ear.
“We’re only just beginning.” He increased the pace on the dick in his hand. It was so hard now he could etch Silas’ name into a diamond with it. With a deep growl Silas came all over his chest, a few over achieving splirts landing on the man’s cheek. Raoul licked it off greedily, savoring the sour taste. He gave the cock a few more pumps, but he was far from done.
“Get on your knees.” He said as he released the other man. The Australian obeyed, getting on all fours on top of the bed. The Frenchman began to shed his own clothes, allowing them to join the bushman’s on the floor.
He bowed to be level with the winking brown eye. He licked a thick strip over the tense muscle. The sniper shuddered as the tongue began to porbe his tender ass. Raoul dipped his tongue pass the tight ring of muscle, tasting the man underneath him. His hands found the twin globes of the man’s ass. He gave them a tight squeeze, as he switched between pulling out his tongue to lick the other man’s crack and plunging the tongue inside. Soft shallow breathes kept puffing past the kiss bruised lips of his lover.
He pulled away from his meal of the man’s ass to tease the eye with his finger. The needy ring flexed when he prodded, trying to suck him in.
“Such a needy little ass.” He praised the other. His left hand massaged the mass of muscle and fat under his hand. He pressed two fingers in, drinking in the moan that escaped Silas’ mouth. He stretched the hole with his fingers, scissoring them open. The shudders that wracked the bushman’s body, encouraged his minstrations. His left hand trailed from the ass down to the reawakening dick. The Frenchman kissed the top of the ass he had just eaten. His hand helping to encourage the bushman back to erection.
He explored the warm wet insides with his probing digits, looking for that one sweet spot. He pressed and prodded blindly, listening to the noises coming from the other. When his middle finger finally poked the bundle of smooth nerves, the man underneath him let out another low keen. He focused on the spot with his other finger, nudging the bundle softly, scraping his nail against it’s tender skin.
Silas was starting to pant from the pleasure, his head laying against his forearms.
“Stop teasing me, you damn sadist.” Raoul chuckled at that.
“Is that how we ask for things we want now?” He scolded lightly. He gave the bundle a rough poke making the other man’s breath hitch.
“Please,” He demured, “Raoul please, fuck me.”
How could he not oblige such a sweet plea.
“Do you have lube?” He glanced around the enclosed camper van, nothing immediately stuck out to him.
“I have some mineral oil for my knives.” Silas turned to face him, his face flushed red. “It’s in the drawer right there.” He pointed to a small brown drawer behind Raoul. The Frenchman disentangled himself and opened the drawer. The little clear bottle was surrounded by folded rags, and other cleaning instruments for guns.
He poured a generous amount on his hand, stroking his own cock. A few swipes and he was slick enough. He capped the bottle and placed it back in the drawer. He grabbed the bushman’s hips, lining himself up with his other hand.
He pressed in slowly till his balls rested on the taint of the other. Silas tensed from the intrusion. Raoul leaned forward to press a kiss to the other’s spine inbetween his shoulder blades. He started with slow deep thrusts into the other man, poking around for that spot. Silas arched his back, slipping the dick inside of him deeper. When the sniper growled out a low wanton moan, he knew he found it. He increased his speed, keeping his thrusts deep. Each one struck the bushman deeply, a chorus of moans and growls escaping from the other.
“You mewl like you’re in heat.” He tutted. The other stiffened a little.
“Fuck you.” Raoul gave Silas’ ass a light smack.
“Actually, I am fucking you.” He snapped his hips into the other quickly the sudden speed punching the air out of the other. He pumped his hand in tandem with his thrusts. Choked moans and low growls escaped the other. The warmth around him was clenching tighter everytime he pulled out, it sucked at him deeply, worrying over his head. He couldn’t get enough of how the other was breathing heavy, only a few curses came out between puffs, whenever he pulled out. As if he was being filled with so deeply by Raoul’s cock there was no room in his body for breath. He was going to come soon.
“You’re doing so good for me.” He purred. “Now I need you to come nice and hard for me, mon cher.” The words seemed to throw the other over the edge. He came again in his hand, soiling the sheets beneath them.
Silas’ walls enclosed him in velvet, he released inside that tender heat. He basked in that heat for a few second more before pulling out of the other. The sniper rolled onto his side looking back at Raoul. His face was shaded in bliss, his soft full lips beckoning him for another kiss.
The Frenchman crawled into bed with the Australian. They stared into each other’s eyes wordless, drinking in the presence of the other. Raoul traced the curve of Silas’ face with his left hand.
“Will you stay the night?” Silas asked, he was trying to hide the hope in his voice, but Raoul heard it.
“Oui.” And even longer, if you let me. The bushman tentatively leaned forward. The spy met him. He kissed him like it was the only thing in the world he knew how to do. Deeply, trying to ask to stay without words. He would stay with this man forever if he would only let him. He moved till he was straddling the other, but did not break the kiss. He would be ready for another go in a minute.
He cupped a cheek as his tongue slid possessively over the other. He’s mine.
The next morning, he woke to the smell of eggs and toast. Silas was standing in the kitchenette in a pair of boxers. Raoul came up behind him and kissed the purple bruise on the other’s neck.
“Bonjour, mon cher.”
“Good morning, you’re awfully cuddly.” The Frenchman took a deep breath in of the other man.
“You could say I’m in a good mood.”
“I can tell.” Silas smiled but it fell too quickly for his liking.
“Is something wrong?” He took a step back and the other did not turn to face him.
“Now that my business is done, I’ll be leaving soon.” This had been the part he had been dreading. This saying goodbye.
“That is how things tend to be when a contract is finished.” He answered neutrally.
“I don’t know where I'm going afterwards." There was an implication there. One he hoped he was reading correctly.
" What a coincidence, I was planning to head there myself." The Australian turned around to face him. The eggs were neglected.
" When will you be off?" He'd be gone today if he needed to.
"Give me till nightfall."
They kissed chaste and slow, till the eggs burned.
Veneciano Smaldone seemed to be trying to look through him.
"You didn't find out who ordered the shooting?" he asked.
"They did not frequent any of the bars I checked." Veneciano shook his head.
"That's a shame." He reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a long silver tube. He opened it and slid the fat cigar out. He placed it between his lips and reached in his jacket again, producing a lighter. He flicked the flint till a flame sprouted, touching it to the end of the cigar.
They weren't alone, but he wasn't the least bit intimidated by the men standing guard. Raoul kept a neutral face but the desire to smile was hard to suppress as the mobster took a long drag. He released a cloud of smoke into the air.
"We'll have to put more feelers out. Someone is going to take credit for this." he took another long drag. This time a coughing fit escaped him. His face turning red.
"Sir?" Raoul asked, feigning concern.
"It… It's nothing." he choked out between coughs. But soon he was doubled over grasping at his throat. The cigar falling from his hand to roll under the desk. He followed soon after his knees hitting the floor, his head smacking into the desk on the way down. The guards rushed to his side.
Raoul began walking out. A smile playing at his lips.
The airport was mostly dead. He rushed to the gate with a suitcase in hand hoping he'd still be there. Silas stood with his own suitcase at a coffee kiosk. He smiled when he saw the Frenchman approach.
"Ready?"
"Oui, let's go."