Kelly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gonerunningaway) wrote2012-08-30 04:02 am
gonerunningaway) wrote2012-08-30 04:02 am
Entry tags:
- canon-compliant,
- character: captain oliver queenan,
- character: original female character,
- character: original male character,
- character: robert messer,
- character: sean dignam,
- fandom: the departed,
- for: a big bang,
- pairing: sean dignam/robert messer,
- rating: nc-17,
- setting: pre-canon,
- type: fic: chaptered fic
Tide-Water Dogs, Chapter Three
Title: Tide-Water Dogs, Chapter Three
Fandom: The Departed
Rating: NC-17
Word Count (this chapter): 4,325
Warnings this chapter (highlight to view): Explicit sex.
Chapter Three
Soares isn’t a bad one, not really. Sean doesn’t like her on principle—she’s a lawyer, she’s an ADA, the DA’s office has been failing at taking down Costello for years no matter what the undercovers have given them—but she’s not actually bad. She’s pretty enough, a short black woman with her hair cut close, great figure, but he’s not interested in her because she’s a lawyer alone. He might be otherwise.
“Detective, the trial starts in a week and a half. I need to know you’ll be ready.” She sounds like she wants to be here about as little as he does. He assumes it has to do with his charming personality.
“I’ve been ready for months,” he shoots back. “I know my answers.” The good thing about this is that she’s picking up the tab for lunch, even if it is just sandwiches she had delivered. He takes a bite of his, pastrami on rye with plenty of mustard, and hopes some trooper gets in his face this afternoon. Preferably one he doesn’t like, maybe Ellerby, that shitstain staff sergeant.
“It’s a matter of phrasing things so they’re not stricken,” she says patiently. “We need to have these men put away for life to send a message.”
He snorts and swallows. “You think you’re sending a message? Lady, they’re more afraid of Costello and French than they’ll ever be of you. By the way, I gave you plenty of evidence on both of them. Why the fuck haven’t they been arrested?”
Her expression goes flat. “I can’t discuss that with you. You’re a witness.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Making sure my testimony isn’t stricken. Apparently, I can’t say ‘fuck’ on the stand. I already know I’m supposed to answer questions and not say shit that’s beyond the scope of the question. I might be a Southie, and I might be a cop with only a BS, but that doesn’t make me stupid.”
Her jaw tightens. That’s gratifying. “I am aware of that, Detective. We still need to review your testimony, and you need to make sure you can hold your oh-so-infamous temper during cross-examination.”
He grins wolfishly. “Even your office knows about that? That’s fucking excellent. Now, what kind of shit do you want to go over?”
When he gets back to the office after detouring for a cup of coffee, Queenan looks tenser than ever. So Hardison still hasn’t called. “We might be moving on something tomorrow,” Queenan tells him. “Easley gave me some information from a payphone. He wants to meet.”
Sean nods and doesn’t bother losing his suit jacket. “Same place?”
“No, down under the Longfellow Bridge. You drive.” Queenan tosses him the keys again, and they head out of the office.
Easley’s waiting, leaning back against the railing that looks over the river, casual to anyone who doesn’t see his grip on his briefcase, his knuckles white. “I found something,” he says without preamble.
“Yeah, what’s that?” Sean asks him. It’s important. Any idiot could see that. Anyone who’s been where Easley is can also see he needs a little pushing; the set to his jaw, his grip, the way his brow is furrowed, his tight shoulders all give him away. “Someone lifting pens from the supply closet? Or something bigger, like staplers?”
Good. Easley looks like he’s going to swing that briefcase at him. “The head of technological development made a call today. There’s a sale happening, some prototypical chips to another firm. This other firm is based in Iran.”
Sean keeps his face impassive. “That’s all you got? A phone call? What are we supposed to do with that?”
“You mentioned files on the phone,” Queenan says smoothly. He’s known how to play off Sean the whole time; Sean’s only learned how to play off him the last couple of months. “Where are they?”
“They’re kept in a locked room on the third floor. There’s a numeric keypad.” Easley smiles faintly. “I’m authorized. And the call was bugged, Detective.”
“What do the files say?” Queenan prods. “Is there anything we can use? How explicit was the conversation?”
“Yeah. They include some contracts with a company owned by the Iranian firm, as well as a Taiwanese shell company. The conversation was handled in coded language, but it’s clear if you know what they’re talking about.” Easley looks at Sean. “Despite what you think, Detective, I’m good at both my jobs.”
“You have one job,” Sean says, that mouth of his running ahead before he’s fully considered it. “You have one job right now. You’re not a cop.”
“Detective,” Queenan says, all it takes to rein Sean in. “We’ll secure a warrant, Easley. Do you have anything we can take to a judge?”
“I’ll swear an affidavit if it helps, just a whistleblowing employee.”
“That would get you fired once they found out, and they would find out it’s you. We’ll speak to the DA’s office. The warrant should be served by early next week.”
“As fast as you can, Captain.”
“No, we’re going to take our fucking time,” Sean mutters, and Easley ignores him.
“The sale’s being finalized on Wednesday.”
“The warrant should be signed by Monday,” Queenan assures him. “We’ll arrest you tomorrow if we have to in order to get it signed.”
“Fine by me.” Easley blows out a breath. “I can keep doing this, you know. If you need me to, send me to another company. It isn’t terrible.”
Lucky bastard, Sean thinks.
“We won’t be able to once you testify,” Queenan tells him. “Even if your testimony is technically sealed, someone’s going to leak it. But we might have a case against most of the higher-ups if we play this right. Keep doing your job, don’t act out of the ordinary when we serve the warrant, and this is going to be fine.”
“And do not try to do shit yourself,” Sean adds. “Great way to get our case trashed.”
“I understand that, Detective.” Easley should; when he’s provably a cop, he’s a detective himself. He looks at Queenan, his grip on his briefcase easing. “That’s all I have for now. I’ll keep looking.”
“You’re doing a good job,” Queenan says, which Sean has to admit is the truth. Easley’s holding up under the strain better than most would, and he brought solid information. “I’ll call the ADA when we get back to the office.”
Easley nods. “I need to head back. This is a late lunch hour for me.”
Queenan nods back. “Go ahead. We’ll be seeing you soon. Just keep your head down. You’re doing fine.”
Sean nods in agreement, and Easley tips his chin to both of them. They leave before he does; Easley turns to look out over the water of the river, and Sean and Queenan get in the car. Easley should wait ten minutes or so, make sure the connection isn’t made, same as Sean used to. It’s the smart play. As long as Easley keeps making those, he’ll be fine. So will their case.
In the car on the way back, Queenan calls Darlene and asks her to find him a White Collar ADA he can get to have a warrant signed. Once he’s closed his phone, he says to Sean, “We’re going to spend the rest of the day pulling together what we need for the warrant.”
“Sounds fucking fun.”
That doesn’t take too long; the bug records, rather than transmits, so they can’t pull that for the judge to hear. Sean heads out just after five, once he finishes typing a report about meeting with Easley for the judge to read over. Queenan’s still working on something when Sean leaves, probably hoping Hardison will call, and Sean chooses not to address that. Not yet. It’s only been two days. Sean was later than this a few times when big shit happened. It’s unsettling, knowing Queenan was probably like this when he didn’t call; no one’s ever worried that much about where he’s been before.
Instead of hitting the gym, he takes the T home, where he changes and goes for a run. Only two miles, but it’s enough to get him settled in advance of the date, and it’s an excuse to take a hot shower. Then he brushes his teeth, shaves again even though he doesn’t really need to, and finally gets dressed—slacks and a button-down, no tie. After pocketing his cell phone and pager, he stares at his shoulder holster. Trial’s in a week and a half; right now is the perfect time to get rid of him. He’s the first prosecution witness, according to Soares. That means the crew has a tight timeline for offing him if they’re going to get Middlebrook and Williams off the hook.
Christ, he wishes he could have nailed Fitzy with good, solid evidence, but a couple of other drug- and gun-dealing murderers are something.
At the same time, though, it’s not like he and Robert are coming back here if they go back anywhere, and he’s not leaving his gun in reach of someone else. That’s an argument for leaving the gun behind, a pretty fucking strong argument, and he’s not planning to wear a sports coat or anything to hide it.
For the first time in months, he ejects the cartridge and locks it and his gun in his safe before leaving the house.
It feels freeing and risky, all at once.
Like Queenan said, the T has been getting old, older since he pointed out it would. Sean walks to the restaurant instead. He leaves early, early enough that, even with the few miles, he has plenty of time to waste. He spends it in a drugstore, looking at their selection of birthday cards. Unfortunately, they don’t have one that says, ‘Happy birthday, ever going to talk to me again?’ that he can send his sister. Besides, he has no idea where he has her address or if she still lives wherever the hell it was. Virginia, he thinks it was. Or maybe it was West Virginia. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter; he last had it four years ago, and she hasn’t made an effort in six even when he did send her cards, which means he’s not even spending the couple bucks on a card and postage on her. It’s not worth it.
Robert’s not there yet when Sean does walk into the restaurant, just under ten minutes early. He says to the hostess, “I’m waiting on someone,” and takes a seat, glancing at the other customers as he does. No one he recognizes. It’s too high-class for most of the fuckers who don’t eat much more than frozen meals and takeout, or what their wives or girlfriends cook if they have them (or his mother, in Fitzy’s case), and it’s too low-class for French and Costello, which means he probably wouldn’t recognize anyone.
Robert’s only a couple of minutes later, and Sean stands when he sees him. Robert smiles at him. He’s wearing a dark green shirt that looks good with his hair and goes with his eyes, pants that make his legs look long and his ass look great. Once Robert says to the hostess, “Messer, party of two,” it settles the fact that hey, yeah, it’s a date.
That doesn’t bring the anxiety roaring back like Sean thought it would. He hasn’t thought a lot about it all week; he’s been rehearsing his testimony in his head or trying to figure out the Hardison problem during his off hours, or else actually at work, and he’s been deliberately blocking it out.
Apparently, his mind’s been figuring it out without him. That’s just fine with him. He had it figured out before his mind did. This is just catch-up, making things even.
After they’re seated, Robert says to him, “You look great.”
Sean smiles for a second. “You too.” He thinks for the briefest moment before telling Robert, “I’ve never done this before.”
“Been on a date?” Robert asks, almost smirking.
Sean grins back. “Not with a guy.”
“That’s not a problem for me if it’s not a problem for you,” Robert assures him, which actually works. He flips his menu open. “You’ve never been here before, you said?”
“That’s right.” Sean opens his, too. Most of the names of the dishes are at least familiar.
“Their chowder isn’t the best, but they have some great steak and seafood.”
He glances at Robert. “Good seafood, not good chowder?”
“I don’t know how it works, I only know it’s true.”
Sean snorts and looks back at his menu. There’s no real way to ask what usually happens at the end of a date between two guys, not even for him and his bluntness. It’d make him look stupid, and he’s not having that.
Their waiter is pretty usual, maybe a little more uptight than ones from other places Sean’s eaten. Just for that, he makes his order detailed. Conversation stays free and easy, the same as when they met on Sunday. They get their checks separate, and after, Robert asks, “Do you want to come home with me?”
Sean hardly has to think about it. “Yeah, I do.”
Robert smiles in a way that has Sean feeling like he’s fourteen and about to get laid for the first time all over again. He smiles back and follows Robert to his car. Just before going to the passenger side, he pulls Robert down to kiss him hard. He might not have been on a date with a guy before, or any real date in more than a year, and might not know exactly where this is going, but he knows how to kiss, and the only differences from kissing a woman are that Robert kisses as fiercely as he does and that he’s kissing someone a lot taller. That’s not even an issue at this point, not with how Sean’s pants feel a little tight.
Once they’re in the front door, Robert asks, “Do you want coffee or anything? I could make a pot.”
“Not really,” Sean says frankly, and steps right into Robert’s personal space. He smirks and Robert smiles back, leaning down to kiss Sean again, just as hard as that first time.
Once they separate, they make it to the couch, Robert’s hand on his back, and Robert asks, “Have you ever done anything with a guy?”
“No.” Sean kisses Robert again, lightly, and adds, “But I’m not shy.”
“Good.” Robert drops a hand to Sean’s leg, palming upward, and Sean watches, his breath turning unsteady the second Robert’s hand is on his dick through the thin fabric of his pants. “You don’t feel shy.”
Sean catches Robert in a kiss, biting his lip, before he answers. “I’m not.” He’s also not ready just yet to touch Robert’s dick, but give him a couple more of these kisses and he will be. Instead, he rests one hand high on the front of Robert’s thigh and slides the other down Robert’s arm. There’s another difference from being with a woman: the muscles.
Robert’s hand leaves his dick, but it’s to pull Sean a little closer, make them touch all the way down their legs and up to Sean’s shoulder, and that’s just fine with him. They kiss again, and it turns almost harsh, the way their teeth clash and they bite each other’s lips and shove their tongues in each other’s mouths.
Sean can’t remember being this hard in a long time, not even after that dream.
It’s the second kiss like that that has Sean groping Robert through his pants. It’s not as weird as he thought it’d be. It feels natural, touching him like this, the hardness under the leg of Robert’s pants, and he follows that line up to his crotch and cups his balls. Robert turns and uses his greater weight to turn Sean with him, pressing Sean back against the arm of the couch, and bites his neck without sucking at it. No hickey above his collar, and that’s good. Still, that bite makes Sean’s hips rise, and when he’s caught his breath again, he asks, “You have a bedroom somewhere in this place?”
Robert grins, grabs him through his pants. “Yeah.” Then he stands. “Come on, this way.”
Sean gets up and, when Robert turns, grabs his ass. Robert retaliates the same way, and they almost end up back on the couch. Somehow, they get up the stairs instead, and there’s Sean, in the middle of some other guy’s bedroom.
He pushes Robert to the bed once Robert’s pants are off, which makes him laugh, and Sean drops to his knees. He takes a moment just stroking Robert’s dick. He has to get used to the different grip he has to use, the heaviness and how he’s slightly thicker, the clean soapiness over a musky sort of smell, and the small sounds Robert makes, because he’s never had another guy’s dick in his hand before. Then he asks, “Got a condom?” because he knows plenty about safe sex, straight and not, and has no desire to risk catching anything.
“Yeah.” Robert opens his nightstand drawer and grabs one, handing it to Sean, and Sean rips it open before rolling it on him.
Mostly, he’s curious. He’s wondered some, at the restaurant and definitely here, and he wondered a little when he got head in the past what it was like to give it (which maybe should have been a clue he wasn’t a straight motherfucker after all), but this isn’t all he wants to do. He’s still going to try, though. Why the fuck not?
He runs his hands up Robert’s legs, the coarse hair under his hands another new feeling, and takes the head of his dick in his mouth. The latex tastes gross, and his dick feels heavy on Sean’s tongue. Above him, Robert gives this quiet little moan that makes Sean so much harder, and he starts to move his head and his tongue, sucking hard to make up for his lack of experience and inability to go very far down. He pulls off after about a minute and looks up.
“Not the main thing I want to do.”
Robert’s fucking hot. His pupils are blown, face flushed down to his neck, and Sean’s finally getting a good look at Robert shirtless. He’s in good enough shape—he mentioned he’s a runner, so it makes sense—and he has a light sprinkling of chest hair. Somehow, Sean finds even that a turn-on.
“What’s the main thing you want to do?”
Sean stands, shucking his pants and boxers. He’s already barefoot and shirtless, and once he steps out of his pants, he catches Robert giving him a slow once-over. “I’ve been wondering.” He leans down, kissing Robert deeply. When he pulls back, catching his breath, he says, “I want try being fucked.”
Robert’s breath catches. “You’ve never—”
“Nope.”
“Then we’ll go slowly.” Robert reaches for him, his hands on Sean’s lower back and drifting down, and Sean gets close enough to straddle his legs. Robert shifts back so he’s fully on the bed, and Sean follows, kneeling over Robert’s legs. Robert kisses him again, hard as ever, as his fingers trail down in the crack of Sean’s ass. Sean shivers a little at the unfamiliar feel and decides he’ll get used to it while he kisses Robert some more.
He’d accuse Robert of teasing, except that he said he’d be taking things slowly. He is when his fingers touch across Sean’s asshole, which is really a good thing because that is going to take some getting used to. Sean bites Robert’s neck and doesn’t leave a mark on him, except maybe teeth imprints that will fade in a matter of minutes, and he moans. With his free hand, he tangles his fingers in Sean’s hair, pulling him back into a kiss. Then he’s pressing against Sean’s hole, and Sean freezes for a second. It’s what he wants, sure, but it’s also completely different and new. Robert’s hand drops away for a second, and he pulls back to look in his nightstand again. He comes up with a bottle of lube, and it takes both hands so he can get his fingers slick. He turns his attention back to kissing Sean then, and Sean kisses him back, overriding the shock of slippery, wet fingers touching him there, one of them just barely pressing into him.
Robert pulls back from the kiss and tells him, “It’s easier if you push back. And if you can relax.”
“Fuck you, I’m relaxed.” To prove it, Sean kisses him hard, but he does push back against Robert’s finger, and it does make them slip in.
Robert grins against his mouth and says, “I’m the one who’s going to do the fucking, remember?”
Sean laughs, and Robert pushes his finger in further. Being relaxed apparently does make a difference. It would probably make sense if Sean could think about more than the kissing and that finger inside him and the feel of Robert’s dick against his leg.
Thoughts are abruptly driven from his mind when that finger twists inside of him and then turns back and presses, and a spark shoots through him. “Ah fuck,” he gasps, “do that again.”
Robert does, and Sean can’t be bothered with muffling his moan, pressing back toward Robert’s finger. The rest of Robert’s hand presses against him, the slickness getting all over his ass, and he doesn’t give a damn as long as Robert keeps doing that with his finger.
Then he pulls it almost all the way out, and Sean narrows his eyes as much as he can when he feels like this, good and hot and horny and slick inside and just wanting that finger back. It’s only for a moment, though, because another finger is pressing with the first then, which Sean isn’t sure he can take until he remembers to push back and then both are sliding slowly into him.
“You look fucking incredible,” Robert mutters.
Sean’s a little beyond replying at the moment. He’s more focused on the fact that Robert’s pressed against that spot again, and two fingers feel just a little better than one when he does that. If he could, he’d probably tell Robert how goddamn good he looks like this, focused and flushed, his lips kiss-swollen, teeth marks on his neck. Sean abruptly matches those marks on the other side, and then he kisses him again.
Robert’s fingers are moving, pressing him open, and there’s a feeling in Sean’s stomach that he can’t identify. It’s more than just arousal and want, and it’s something different than those too. The closest might be open or even vulnerable, not that he’d ever fucking say it, hardly even to himself.
“You still want me to fuck you?” Robert asks after another minute or so of desperate kissing and of his fingers moving inside Sean.
“Oh fuck yes,” Sean gets out. Even if the feeling is vulnerability, it doesn’t matter; this is too good to not want more.
That unfortunately means those fingers come out of him, and Robert says, “You’re not going to want to be on top your first time, believe me.”
“Fine.” Sean moves over to Robert’s right, dropping down to his elbows, and Robert kisses his shoulder once before getting up to kneel behind him.
His dick is completely different than his fingers, thicker and blunter, and Sean’s abruptly aware of his harsh breathing that he tries hard to steady, of the pressure, of the feel of the slightly rough blanket under his forearms. “Push against me,” Robert reminds him, and Sean does.
There’s a sharpness, gone as fast as it comes, when he stretches, and then Robert’s inside him. It’s not how he dreamed it, and not just because he’s on his knees and elbows instead of on his back, but because it’s so much better. There’s Robert’s groans and unsteady breathing and muttered curses behind him, there’s Robert’s dick moving inside him, there’s Robert’s thighs against his, and there’s Robert’s hand on his dick, stroking almost in time with his thrusts.
Robert keeps his free hand on Sean’s hip, gripping tight, right up until he leans forward and grabs Sean’s shoulder instead. That changes the angle of his dick going into Sean, sending sparks through him. He grits out a moan, his hands fisting in the blanket, and arches his back. He tosses back his head before dropping it forward, eyes squeezed shut, and can hear Robert over him, hissing curses, feel Robert’s chest and stomach on his back, sliding a little as he moves his hips. Then he rubs his thumb over the head of Sean’s dick, and that does it for him.
Sean is definitely not straight. The whole thing is too good for that to even be a question.
After Robert’s finished inside of him and gotten rid of the condom, he tries to catch his breath. “That was better than my dreams.”
Robert smiles and kisses him more slowly than before. “Glad to be of service. Do you want to stay the night?”
“I’d like to,” he admits, “but there’s something going on at work. I need fast access to my gun if I have to go in.”
“Then I’ll give you a ride back.”
He considers a moment. He would like to have another warm body in bed with him for once. “You could stay at my place. Not as nice as yours, but the bed’s comfortable.”
“Sure,” Robert agrees. “In a few minutes.”
“Yeah, soon.” Once Sean feels like he can move more easily. He’s taking a shower when he gets home, that’s for damn sure.
Hell, maybe he’ll ask Robert to get in with him. The shower’s probably big enough. Even if he doesn’t, he’ll ask him on another date.
Fandom: The Departed
Rating: NC-17
Word Count (this chapter): 4,325
Warnings this chapter (highlight to view): Explicit sex.
Soares isn’t a bad one, not really. Sean doesn’t like her on principle—she’s a lawyer, she’s an ADA, the DA’s office has been failing at taking down Costello for years no matter what the undercovers have given them—but she’s not actually bad. She’s pretty enough, a short black woman with her hair cut close, great figure, but he’s not interested in her because she’s a lawyer alone. He might be otherwise.
“Detective, the trial starts in a week and a half. I need to know you’ll be ready.” She sounds like she wants to be here about as little as he does. He assumes it has to do with his charming personality.
“I’ve been ready for months,” he shoots back. “I know my answers.” The good thing about this is that she’s picking up the tab for lunch, even if it is just sandwiches she had delivered. He takes a bite of his, pastrami on rye with plenty of mustard, and hopes some trooper gets in his face this afternoon. Preferably one he doesn’t like, maybe Ellerby, that shitstain staff sergeant.
“It’s a matter of phrasing things so they’re not stricken,” she says patiently. “We need to have these men put away for life to send a message.”
He snorts and swallows. “You think you’re sending a message? Lady, they’re more afraid of Costello and French than they’ll ever be of you. By the way, I gave you plenty of evidence on both of them. Why the fuck haven’t they been arrested?”
Her expression goes flat. “I can’t discuss that with you. You’re a witness.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Making sure my testimony isn’t stricken. Apparently, I can’t say ‘fuck’ on the stand. I already know I’m supposed to answer questions and not say shit that’s beyond the scope of the question. I might be a Southie, and I might be a cop with only a BS, but that doesn’t make me stupid.”
Her jaw tightens. That’s gratifying. “I am aware of that, Detective. We still need to review your testimony, and you need to make sure you can hold your oh-so-infamous temper during cross-examination.”
He grins wolfishly. “Even your office knows about that? That’s fucking excellent. Now, what kind of shit do you want to go over?”
When he gets back to the office after detouring for a cup of coffee, Queenan looks tenser than ever. So Hardison still hasn’t called. “We might be moving on something tomorrow,” Queenan tells him. “Easley gave me some information from a payphone. He wants to meet.”
Sean nods and doesn’t bother losing his suit jacket. “Same place?”
“No, down under the Longfellow Bridge. You drive.” Queenan tosses him the keys again, and they head out of the office.
Easley’s waiting, leaning back against the railing that looks over the river, casual to anyone who doesn’t see his grip on his briefcase, his knuckles white. “I found something,” he says without preamble.
“Yeah, what’s that?” Sean asks him. It’s important. Any idiot could see that. Anyone who’s been where Easley is can also see he needs a little pushing; the set to his jaw, his grip, the way his brow is furrowed, his tight shoulders all give him away. “Someone lifting pens from the supply closet? Or something bigger, like staplers?”
Good. Easley looks like he’s going to swing that briefcase at him. “The head of technological development made a call today. There’s a sale happening, some prototypical chips to another firm. This other firm is based in Iran.”
Sean keeps his face impassive. “That’s all you got? A phone call? What are we supposed to do with that?”
“You mentioned files on the phone,” Queenan says smoothly. He’s known how to play off Sean the whole time; Sean’s only learned how to play off him the last couple of months. “Where are they?”
“They’re kept in a locked room on the third floor. There’s a numeric keypad.” Easley smiles faintly. “I’m authorized. And the call was bugged, Detective.”
“What do the files say?” Queenan prods. “Is there anything we can use? How explicit was the conversation?”
“Yeah. They include some contracts with a company owned by the Iranian firm, as well as a Taiwanese shell company. The conversation was handled in coded language, but it’s clear if you know what they’re talking about.” Easley looks at Sean. “Despite what you think, Detective, I’m good at both my jobs.”
“You have one job,” Sean says, that mouth of his running ahead before he’s fully considered it. “You have one job right now. You’re not a cop.”
“Detective,” Queenan says, all it takes to rein Sean in. “We’ll secure a warrant, Easley. Do you have anything we can take to a judge?”
“I’ll swear an affidavit if it helps, just a whistleblowing employee.”
“That would get you fired once they found out, and they would find out it’s you. We’ll speak to the DA’s office. The warrant should be served by early next week.”
“As fast as you can, Captain.”
“No, we’re going to take our fucking time,” Sean mutters, and Easley ignores him.
“The sale’s being finalized on Wednesday.”
“The warrant should be signed by Monday,” Queenan assures him. “We’ll arrest you tomorrow if we have to in order to get it signed.”
“Fine by me.” Easley blows out a breath. “I can keep doing this, you know. If you need me to, send me to another company. It isn’t terrible.”
Lucky bastard, Sean thinks.
“We won’t be able to once you testify,” Queenan tells him. “Even if your testimony is technically sealed, someone’s going to leak it. But we might have a case against most of the higher-ups if we play this right. Keep doing your job, don’t act out of the ordinary when we serve the warrant, and this is going to be fine.”
“And do not try to do shit yourself,” Sean adds. “Great way to get our case trashed.”
“I understand that, Detective.” Easley should; when he’s provably a cop, he’s a detective himself. He looks at Queenan, his grip on his briefcase easing. “That’s all I have for now. I’ll keep looking.”
“You’re doing a good job,” Queenan says, which Sean has to admit is the truth. Easley’s holding up under the strain better than most would, and he brought solid information. “I’ll call the ADA when we get back to the office.”
Easley nods. “I need to head back. This is a late lunch hour for me.”
Queenan nods back. “Go ahead. We’ll be seeing you soon. Just keep your head down. You’re doing fine.”
Sean nods in agreement, and Easley tips his chin to both of them. They leave before he does; Easley turns to look out over the water of the river, and Sean and Queenan get in the car. Easley should wait ten minutes or so, make sure the connection isn’t made, same as Sean used to. It’s the smart play. As long as Easley keeps making those, he’ll be fine. So will their case.
In the car on the way back, Queenan calls Darlene and asks her to find him a White Collar ADA he can get to have a warrant signed. Once he’s closed his phone, he says to Sean, “We’re going to spend the rest of the day pulling together what we need for the warrant.”
“Sounds fucking fun.”
That doesn’t take too long; the bug records, rather than transmits, so they can’t pull that for the judge to hear. Sean heads out just after five, once he finishes typing a report about meeting with Easley for the judge to read over. Queenan’s still working on something when Sean leaves, probably hoping Hardison will call, and Sean chooses not to address that. Not yet. It’s only been two days. Sean was later than this a few times when big shit happened. It’s unsettling, knowing Queenan was probably like this when he didn’t call; no one’s ever worried that much about where he’s been before.
Instead of hitting the gym, he takes the T home, where he changes and goes for a run. Only two miles, but it’s enough to get him settled in advance of the date, and it’s an excuse to take a hot shower. Then he brushes his teeth, shaves again even though he doesn’t really need to, and finally gets dressed—slacks and a button-down, no tie. After pocketing his cell phone and pager, he stares at his shoulder holster. Trial’s in a week and a half; right now is the perfect time to get rid of him. He’s the first prosecution witness, according to Soares. That means the crew has a tight timeline for offing him if they’re going to get Middlebrook and Williams off the hook.
Christ, he wishes he could have nailed Fitzy with good, solid evidence, but a couple of other drug- and gun-dealing murderers are something.
At the same time, though, it’s not like he and Robert are coming back here if they go back anywhere, and he’s not leaving his gun in reach of someone else. That’s an argument for leaving the gun behind, a pretty fucking strong argument, and he’s not planning to wear a sports coat or anything to hide it.
For the first time in months, he ejects the cartridge and locks it and his gun in his safe before leaving the house.
It feels freeing and risky, all at once.
Like Queenan said, the T has been getting old, older since he pointed out it would. Sean walks to the restaurant instead. He leaves early, early enough that, even with the few miles, he has plenty of time to waste. He spends it in a drugstore, looking at their selection of birthday cards. Unfortunately, they don’t have one that says, ‘Happy birthday, ever going to talk to me again?’ that he can send his sister. Besides, he has no idea where he has her address or if she still lives wherever the hell it was. Virginia, he thinks it was. Or maybe it was West Virginia. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter; he last had it four years ago, and she hasn’t made an effort in six even when he did send her cards, which means he’s not even spending the couple bucks on a card and postage on her. It’s not worth it.
Robert’s not there yet when Sean does walk into the restaurant, just under ten minutes early. He says to the hostess, “I’m waiting on someone,” and takes a seat, glancing at the other customers as he does. No one he recognizes. It’s too high-class for most of the fuckers who don’t eat much more than frozen meals and takeout, or what their wives or girlfriends cook if they have them (or his mother, in Fitzy’s case), and it’s too low-class for French and Costello, which means he probably wouldn’t recognize anyone.
Robert’s only a couple of minutes later, and Sean stands when he sees him. Robert smiles at him. He’s wearing a dark green shirt that looks good with his hair and goes with his eyes, pants that make his legs look long and his ass look great. Once Robert says to the hostess, “Messer, party of two,” it settles the fact that hey, yeah, it’s a date.
That doesn’t bring the anxiety roaring back like Sean thought it would. He hasn’t thought a lot about it all week; he’s been rehearsing his testimony in his head or trying to figure out the Hardison problem during his off hours, or else actually at work, and he’s been deliberately blocking it out.
Apparently, his mind’s been figuring it out without him. That’s just fine with him. He had it figured out before his mind did. This is just catch-up, making things even.
After they’re seated, Robert says to him, “You look great.”
Sean smiles for a second. “You too.” He thinks for the briefest moment before telling Robert, “I’ve never done this before.”
“Been on a date?” Robert asks, almost smirking.
Sean grins back. “Not with a guy.”
“That’s not a problem for me if it’s not a problem for you,” Robert assures him, which actually works. He flips his menu open. “You’ve never been here before, you said?”
“That’s right.” Sean opens his, too. Most of the names of the dishes are at least familiar.
“Their chowder isn’t the best, but they have some great steak and seafood.”
He glances at Robert. “Good seafood, not good chowder?”
“I don’t know how it works, I only know it’s true.”
Sean snorts and looks back at his menu. There’s no real way to ask what usually happens at the end of a date between two guys, not even for him and his bluntness. It’d make him look stupid, and he’s not having that.
Their waiter is pretty usual, maybe a little more uptight than ones from other places Sean’s eaten. Just for that, he makes his order detailed. Conversation stays free and easy, the same as when they met on Sunday. They get their checks separate, and after, Robert asks, “Do you want to come home with me?”
Sean hardly has to think about it. “Yeah, I do.”
Robert smiles in a way that has Sean feeling like he’s fourteen and about to get laid for the first time all over again. He smiles back and follows Robert to his car. Just before going to the passenger side, he pulls Robert down to kiss him hard. He might not have been on a date with a guy before, or any real date in more than a year, and might not know exactly where this is going, but he knows how to kiss, and the only differences from kissing a woman are that Robert kisses as fiercely as he does and that he’s kissing someone a lot taller. That’s not even an issue at this point, not with how Sean’s pants feel a little tight.
Once they’re in the front door, Robert asks, “Do you want coffee or anything? I could make a pot.”
“Not really,” Sean says frankly, and steps right into Robert’s personal space. He smirks and Robert smiles back, leaning down to kiss Sean again, just as hard as that first time.
Once they separate, they make it to the couch, Robert’s hand on his back, and Robert asks, “Have you ever done anything with a guy?”
“No.” Sean kisses Robert again, lightly, and adds, “But I’m not shy.”
“Good.” Robert drops a hand to Sean’s leg, palming upward, and Sean watches, his breath turning unsteady the second Robert’s hand is on his dick through the thin fabric of his pants. “You don’t feel shy.”
Sean catches Robert in a kiss, biting his lip, before he answers. “I’m not.” He’s also not ready just yet to touch Robert’s dick, but give him a couple more of these kisses and he will be. Instead, he rests one hand high on the front of Robert’s thigh and slides the other down Robert’s arm. There’s another difference from being with a woman: the muscles.
Robert’s hand leaves his dick, but it’s to pull Sean a little closer, make them touch all the way down their legs and up to Sean’s shoulder, and that’s just fine with him. They kiss again, and it turns almost harsh, the way their teeth clash and they bite each other’s lips and shove their tongues in each other’s mouths.
Sean can’t remember being this hard in a long time, not even after that dream.
It’s the second kiss like that that has Sean groping Robert through his pants. It’s not as weird as he thought it’d be. It feels natural, touching him like this, the hardness under the leg of Robert’s pants, and he follows that line up to his crotch and cups his balls. Robert turns and uses his greater weight to turn Sean with him, pressing Sean back against the arm of the couch, and bites his neck without sucking at it. No hickey above his collar, and that’s good. Still, that bite makes Sean’s hips rise, and when he’s caught his breath again, he asks, “You have a bedroom somewhere in this place?”
Robert grins, grabs him through his pants. “Yeah.” Then he stands. “Come on, this way.”
Sean gets up and, when Robert turns, grabs his ass. Robert retaliates the same way, and they almost end up back on the couch. Somehow, they get up the stairs instead, and there’s Sean, in the middle of some other guy’s bedroom.
He pushes Robert to the bed once Robert’s pants are off, which makes him laugh, and Sean drops to his knees. He takes a moment just stroking Robert’s dick. He has to get used to the different grip he has to use, the heaviness and how he’s slightly thicker, the clean soapiness over a musky sort of smell, and the small sounds Robert makes, because he’s never had another guy’s dick in his hand before. Then he asks, “Got a condom?” because he knows plenty about safe sex, straight and not, and has no desire to risk catching anything.
“Yeah.” Robert opens his nightstand drawer and grabs one, handing it to Sean, and Sean rips it open before rolling it on him.
Mostly, he’s curious. He’s wondered some, at the restaurant and definitely here, and he wondered a little when he got head in the past what it was like to give it (which maybe should have been a clue he wasn’t a straight motherfucker after all), but this isn’t all he wants to do. He’s still going to try, though. Why the fuck not?
He runs his hands up Robert’s legs, the coarse hair under his hands another new feeling, and takes the head of his dick in his mouth. The latex tastes gross, and his dick feels heavy on Sean’s tongue. Above him, Robert gives this quiet little moan that makes Sean so much harder, and he starts to move his head and his tongue, sucking hard to make up for his lack of experience and inability to go very far down. He pulls off after about a minute and looks up.
“Not the main thing I want to do.”
Robert’s fucking hot. His pupils are blown, face flushed down to his neck, and Sean’s finally getting a good look at Robert shirtless. He’s in good enough shape—he mentioned he’s a runner, so it makes sense—and he has a light sprinkling of chest hair. Somehow, Sean finds even that a turn-on.
“What’s the main thing you want to do?”
Sean stands, shucking his pants and boxers. He’s already barefoot and shirtless, and once he steps out of his pants, he catches Robert giving him a slow once-over. “I’ve been wondering.” He leans down, kissing Robert deeply. When he pulls back, catching his breath, he says, “I want try being fucked.”
Robert’s breath catches. “You’ve never—”
“Nope.”
“Then we’ll go slowly.” Robert reaches for him, his hands on Sean’s lower back and drifting down, and Sean gets close enough to straddle his legs. Robert shifts back so he’s fully on the bed, and Sean follows, kneeling over Robert’s legs. Robert kisses him again, hard as ever, as his fingers trail down in the crack of Sean’s ass. Sean shivers a little at the unfamiliar feel and decides he’ll get used to it while he kisses Robert some more.
He’d accuse Robert of teasing, except that he said he’d be taking things slowly. He is when his fingers touch across Sean’s asshole, which is really a good thing because that is going to take some getting used to. Sean bites Robert’s neck and doesn’t leave a mark on him, except maybe teeth imprints that will fade in a matter of minutes, and he moans. With his free hand, he tangles his fingers in Sean’s hair, pulling him back into a kiss. Then he’s pressing against Sean’s hole, and Sean freezes for a second. It’s what he wants, sure, but it’s also completely different and new. Robert’s hand drops away for a second, and he pulls back to look in his nightstand again. He comes up with a bottle of lube, and it takes both hands so he can get his fingers slick. He turns his attention back to kissing Sean then, and Sean kisses him back, overriding the shock of slippery, wet fingers touching him there, one of them just barely pressing into him.
Robert pulls back from the kiss and tells him, “It’s easier if you push back. And if you can relax.”
“Fuck you, I’m relaxed.” To prove it, Sean kisses him hard, but he does push back against Robert’s finger, and it does make them slip in.
Robert grins against his mouth and says, “I’m the one who’s going to do the fucking, remember?”
Sean laughs, and Robert pushes his finger in further. Being relaxed apparently does make a difference. It would probably make sense if Sean could think about more than the kissing and that finger inside him and the feel of Robert’s dick against his leg.
Thoughts are abruptly driven from his mind when that finger twists inside of him and then turns back and presses, and a spark shoots through him. “Ah fuck,” he gasps, “do that again.”
Robert does, and Sean can’t be bothered with muffling his moan, pressing back toward Robert’s finger. The rest of Robert’s hand presses against him, the slickness getting all over his ass, and he doesn’t give a damn as long as Robert keeps doing that with his finger.
Then he pulls it almost all the way out, and Sean narrows his eyes as much as he can when he feels like this, good and hot and horny and slick inside and just wanting that finger back. It’s only for a moment, though, because another finger is pressing with the first then, which Sean isn’t sure he can take until he remembers to push back and then both are sliding slowly into him.
“You look fucking incredible,” Robert mutters.
Sean’s a little beyond replying at the moment. He’s more focused on the fact that Robert’s pressed against that spot again, and two fingers feel just a little better than one when he does that. If he could, he’d probably tell Robert how goddamn good he looks like this, focused and flushed, his lips kiss-swollen, teeth marks on his neck. Sean abruptly matches those marks on the other side, and then he kisses him again.
Robert’s fingers are moving, pressing him open, and there’s a feeling in Sean’s stomach that he can’t identify. It’s more than just arousal and want, and it’s something different than those too. The closest might be open or even vulnerable, not that he’d ever fucking say it, hardly even to himself.
“You still want me to fuck you?” Robert asks after another minute or so of desperate kissing and of his fingers moving inside Sean.
“Oh fuck yes,” Sean gets out. Even if the feeling is vulnerability, it doesn’t matter; this is too good to not want more.
That unfortunately means those fingers come out of him, and Robert says, “You’re not going to want to be on top your first time, believe me.”
“Fine.” Sean moves over to Robert’s right, dropping down to his elbows, and Robert kisses his shoulder once before getting up to kneel behind him.
His dick is completely different than his fingers, thicker and blunter, and Sean’s abruptly aware of his harsh breathing that he tries hard to steady, of the pressure, of the feel of the slightly rough blanket under his forearms. “Push against me,” Robert reminds him, and Sean does.
There’s a sharpness, gone as fast as it comes, when he stretches, and then Robert’s inside him. It’s not how he dreamed it, and not just because he’s on his knees and elbows instead of on his back, but because it’s so much better. There’s Robert’s groans and unsteady breathing and muttered curses behind him, there’s Robert’s dick moving inside him, there’s Robert’s thighs against his, and there’s Robert’s hand on his dick, stroking almost in time with his thrusts.
Robert keeps his free hand on Sean’s hip, gripping tight, right up until he leans forward and grabs Sean’s shoulder instead. That changes the angle of his dick going into Sean, sending sparks through him. He grits out a moan, his hands fisting in the blanket, and arches his back. He tosses back his head before dropping it forward, eyes squeezed shut, and can hear Robert over him, hissing curses, feel Robert’s chest and stomach on his back, sliding a little as he moves his hips. Then he rubs his thumb over the head of Sean’s dick, and that does it for him.
Sean is definitely not straight. The whole thing is too good for that to even be a question.
After Robert’s finished inside of him and gotten rid of the condom, he tries to catch his breath. “That was better than my dreams.”
Robert smiles and kisses him more slowly than before. “Glad to be of service. Do you want to stay the night?”
“I’d like to,” he admits, “but there’s something going on at work. I need fast access to my gun if I have to go in.”
“Then I’ll give you a ride back.”
He considers a moment. He would like to have another warm body in bed with him for once. “You could stay at my place. Not as nice as yours, but the bed’s comfortable.”
“Sure,” Robert agrees. “In a few minutes.”
“Yeah, soon.” Once Sean feels like he can move more easily. He’s taking a shower when he gets home, that’s for damn sure.
Hell, maybe he’ll ask Robert to get in with him. The shower’s probably big enough. Even if he doesn’t, he’ll ask him on another date.