Wild Night: Breathless

Breathless. Chris Larabee had forgotten the feeling of waiting in the night. Too much time behind the desk and not enough in the field had blunted his instincts, and at first he had felt dull and slow, nervous. Settling into the shadows of the alley with the brick at his back and the scent of rain in the air, he felt the edge sharpening, and didn't know if it was the whetstone of tension, or the presence of the man next to him that brought that blade to hardness.

Vin Tanner. Just a soft breath and a darker shadow a few paces away. The surveillance had come up on the spur of the moment; a phone call from an informant late on a Friday night after the other members of Team Seven had left the office. Chris and Vin had stayed behind to finish paperwork, planning to grab a casual beer together before going their separate ways for the rest of the weekend. Instead they were waiting out Ingacio Garza in an area of town known for illicit sexual liaisons, drugs, and illegal gambling in a variety of unsavory establishments. This was Tanner's world, the half-shadows of Denver's dark side. He worked undercover with Ezra far more than Chris had ever done. Chris's recall of those days was of an adrenaline high as potent as a hit of heroin to a junkie, and even now the residual addiction to danger sent a fizz of anticipation through his body.

Two hours ago, Chris would have said that he wanted nothing more than that quiet weekend at the ranch. Asked now, he would have laughed at that man and his settled world. He gave Tanner a wolfish grin. The Texan edged closer, his shoulder brushing Chris's. "I'm movin' in. See if I c'n spot Ignacio b'fore he slithers away."

Chris caught Tanner's forearm, the flesh warm and iron-hard beneath his fingers. Tanner's blue eyes glinted in the low light that leaked into the alley from the street lamp. Laughter, reckless and contagious, flared in their depths, and Chris knew it was kindling in his, too. Vin's clasp tightened on his arm in response. "Won't be long."

"I've got your back," Chris promised and Vin's raised his head so that the fine, clean bones of cheekbone and jaw gleamed pale. A smile that was more a matter of the muscles easing at the corner of his mouth and a lift of an arched brow spoke of what those words meant, then he was moving quietly out into the street.

Chris watched him from the shadows. The bar across the street from the alley was active; the street hardly less so. Male and female prostitutes were trolling the area looking for johns. Vin was leaning against a phone pole, more in darkness than light, slim and long-legged in faded jeans and a black T-shirt. He looked like bait, and Chris felt something stir deep in his belly that wasn't nerves, and wasn't protective worry, but something altogether different. He swallowed hard, denied it, only to feel it move again when one of the male prostitutes approached Tanner. He watched as the man set a casual arm over Vin's shoulder, draw close, his groin moving suggestively against Vin's. Chris's throat went dry, and for the space of a breath, he swore he felt that brush of flesh against his own body. Then Vin laughed, said something, shook his head. The prostitute ran a finger along Vin's jaw, shrugged and sauntered off in search of a willing mark.

*Jesus!* Chris leaned his head against the wall at his back. The stroke of that man's forefinger down Tanner's cheek might as well have run the length of Chris's cock, pooling heat in his groin. What the hell was this? Stress? Some weird refraction of the close friendship between himself and Tanner? A physical reaction by his charged-up nerves? He'd accept any of those as logical, but wasn't sure that logic held any sway with him at the moment. He opened his eyes, swore. Vin had vanished.

A soft breath of laughter, a slip of a shadow, and Vin edged into the alley. Chris gasped and Vin grabbed him, pushed him back against the brick wall, pressed his own body flat against Chris's, sharp shoulder blades digging into Chris's chest, his heart pounding fast, the curve of his ass snugged into the hollow between Chris's iliac bones and tight against his crotch.

Chris's cock filled with blood, and all logic fled as Vin's buttocks nestled against his growing erection. He shifted, trying to find an inch of space, but was so tight against the wall, and so swollen that about all he did was ignite a slow, aching burn in his sex.

"Shit!" Vin uttered a soft expletive. He moved, the pressure of his body eased. "Garza --" he whispered. "And company." He turned quickly, trapping Chris between his arms. "Sorry `bout this, cowboy," he breathed, almost laughing. And kissed him.

The first seconds stunned Chris. Then a flood of sensations washed over him: Vin's lips, soft and warm, offset by the prickle of stubble on upper lip and chin, and the tang of sweat on his skin. The brush of Vin's hair against his neck, the strength of his palms set on either side of Chris's face, and the pressure of that slim body against his. A kiss was just a kiss, and Chris's mouth wasn't listening to his brain at all. Lips weren't enough, and as natural as breathing, Chris's tongue probed Vin's lips, was taken in. As quickly and easily as that, the kiss was deeper and hotter than he'd ever imagined. His hands drifted from Vin's shoulders to his hips and he cupped Vin's ass cheeks, feeling the warmth of skin burning through the worn denim --so worn that it didn't take much for the friction of his fingers to burrow through the parting threads and find the smooth curve of buttock and thigh. He widened the gap in the denim to slide two fingers through the threads, stroking and pressing into that muscular crease.

Vin gasped into his mouth, and Chris pulled him close, hard flesh and denim rubbing together: no doubt now in his mind as to what his body was doing, and unable to stop what instinct demanded. Vin tore away; his breath was hot and moist on Chris's throat. Chris thought he'd ignite under the blue flames burning in Tanner's eyes, and the thrust and rub of groin and pelvis would have rocked him to climax if a quick-moving shadow hadn't fallen across the alley opening, and he and Vin broke quickly.

Their bodies were apart, their eyes locked. Vin was panting, low and quiet, and looking at him as if he didn't know that the world had just shifted beyond recognition. Instead there was laughter, a challenge, the hot dare of danger and arousal in his eyes. There wasn't a dare that Chris Larabee wouldn't take, and with an easy shrug of shoulders and conscience, he shed all his preconceived notions of sexuality and safety, and moved his spine from the wall at his back.

Chris's sudden movement set Vin back, and in the wide blue eyes, he saw that his reaction wasn't quite what Vin expected. Hell, it wasn't what *he* had expected, but he knew what he wanted, and he was never a man to let go short of his target.

The acknowledgment of desire was fleeting as a shadow over the moon, quickly supplanted by the recollection of what their real purpose was, no matter how far off track they had fallen. Still unwilling to let slip the promise of those few moments, Chris gave Vin a quick, feral grin and brushed past him toward the open street.

Tanner's arm came around his waist, pulling him back to the shadows. "Feller with Garza is Louis Richmond. He knows me on sight," he warned, casting a glance towards their retreating prey.

Chris was as loathe as Vin to lose sight of their quarry. "We'll stay back, then." Recognizing the same hunting instinct in his partner he shot him a wicked smile, hinting that what he had in mind for cover was beyond innocence. He saw that blue fire again and wrapped his arm around Vin's neck, casual as if they had been lovers for a long time. He pulled him forward into the light with Vin's arm settling around his waist. He wanted to laugh, the blood singing through him at the feel of Tanner's slight body drawn close and pliant against his side. "Lovers out for a night on the town," he whispered roughly, and gave in to the temptation to nip lightly at Vin's ear. He pulled Vin's head close against his shoulder to screen his features from eyes that might recognize him. "Relax," he said, "I won't let you fall."

Vin's fingers fumbled for his, weaving through them, and he snagged his free hand through Chris's belt loop. Awkward at first, they found their stride quickly, as if they were used to walking in a tangled embrace. Chris kept his eyes on Garza and Richmond, holding his cheek pressed to Vin's forehead. The skin was warm, with a moist, salty tang like the ocean. As their quarry stopped at the corner waiting for traffic, Chris pulled up sharply, using Vin's own ploy to screen his face, claiming his mouth without warning; the quick brutality making Vin stumble slightly, his hands grasping at Chris's shoulders. Chris raised his lips from Vin's to whisper, "They're splitting up. Richmond's getting a cab ..." Breath brushing against Tanner's mouth, seducing even as he explained, then capturing Tanner's lips once more; effective as a shield, but unable to resist making the kiss more than it needed to be.

"Gonna lose Garza," Vin murmured when Chris ran out of breath.

"Garza can go to hell," Chris rasped, but he caught Vin close around the waist, the both of them slightly unsteady as they took up the trail. Chris wondered fleetingly how much more trouble it would be if they just shot Garza.

"We could shoot him," Vin whispered breathlessly against Chris's ear, and he had to choke back a wild peal of laughter at the mirror-image of their thought processes.

Garza was moving faster, his hands stuck in his pockets, and Chris wasn't sure that Garza didn't have a gun in his hand to go with the fast-twitch nerves of a junkie. He looked pretty frayed; he was glancing from side-to-side as if he could scent pursuit, and he was drawing them farther into unfamiliar territory. Unwilling to pull the plug after coming this far, Chris decided to let Garza run out the line a bit more.

The line ran to a dark side street, and before Chris could decide whether to follow or let go, Vin pulled him into the recessed doorway of a bleak store front. "'S a dead end," he said hoarsely. Chris didn't want to ask how he knew so much about this part of the city. Forgetting that five minutes ago his only thought had been how to deal with the hard-on between his legs, he bent down and with the ease of long practice, drew his gun from his ankle holster. He was on the scent; danger sending a frisson of a shiver down his spine. Wishing that cat-like, he could see into the darkness he shoved a forearm across Vin's chest, forcing the slighter man to take a step back, raising an impatient growl anger from the Texan that made him grin.

One step onto the pavement, one step off the curb, and suddenly an engine roared to life in the darkness, tires squealing and coming out of the night like a bat out of hell. Chris was caught mid-step and wrong-footed. A bullet zinged past, so close that it burned the skin on his arm, and he stumbled forward into the intersection.

He was hit from behind with the force of a thrown javelin. He twisted, his gun raised as he rolled to his back, only to find himself buried beneath a slight fury in a black shirt and blue jeans. The car flew past like a bull out of a chute, spewing gravel and exhaust, lightless and rocking on its struts, then gone.

*Shit!* Chris's head dropped back against the pavement. He closed his eyes, thought about how many places he'd bruised and abraded while his blood pounded furiously through him.

"Chris! Larabee --" Vin's voice, urgent. His hands were warm on either side of Chris's face, the length of his body laid over his; bone and muscle, heartbeat and breath. If he could stop his lungs from pumping like a bellows he might enjoy this ...

"Chris!"

His adrenaline levels dropped back a bit. He opened his eyes to find Vin's blue ones so close that he couldn't focus, and so worried, that he started laughing and found he couldn't stop. Vin's hands were moving over his body now, feeling for breaks and bruises. "Y'all right, Chris?"

He caught his breath, cleared his throat, waited for the shiver of laughter to subside. "Yeah, I'm all right." He lay still and let Vin feel him up a bit more while he decided what to do. He knew the moment when Vin's exploration of his body changed from frantic to slow, like sweet honey flowing. He was stretched out over him, and Chris felt the hard rise of an erection building against the hollow of his groin, his own body slower to respond, but not unwilling.

Vin was the one breathing faster now, and Chris moved his hands down Tanner's back, still holding the gun in his right hand, feeling the ridges of Vin's spine; piano keys to his knuckles. His left drifted to his buttocks; the frayed edge of the rent in the denim now wider than it had been, and twice as tempting to his fingers. He watched Vin's eyes darken as he found the flesh there and slid his fingers to rest over the curve of his ass, brushing along his inner thigh. The catch of Vin's breath spoke of vulnerability and need, but Tanner braced himself on his forearms, putting distance between them, yet at the same time pressing his cock into the hollow of Chris's hip. White teeth showed briefly. "You want a piece of what you've got a hold of there, cowboy?"

Chris's eyes widened. Maybe he did. It had been a long time; stress and solitude forcing celibacy on him. Jerking off provided sexual relief, but not the real connection with flesh and blood a body craved. The stretch of Vin's body across his, the pressure and warmth of him that seemed made to fit into the shallow hollow of Chris's pelvis, the taste of him on Chris's mouth ... The twist of arousal in his gut and groin brought a flush of heat to him, and he licked his lips.

Wicked. Vin's eyes danced. "Hell, this here place's a little more public n' even I like, Larabee. Never knew ya was so bent," he snickered, and with a twist of his lithe body was on his feet, holding out his hand to pull Chris upright.

Chris lay on the ground, his hesitation having nothing to do with doubt, and everything to do with the way Vin looked in the dim light, those damn jeans that clung to every swell of muscle, the stretch at his crotch, the fabric thin there, too, and faded. The flag of his hair in the night wind made him look wild and dangerous. And as he stood looking down at Chris, maybe just a little scared. Something flared in Chris, and he took Vin's offered hand, uncoiling as easy as oil. And when he was on his feet, he didn't release him, but with one hand, pulled him close, within inches. The predator in him backed Tanner up fast against the parked car. He flicked a finger down Vin's cheek like the strike of a match. "You like to do it in public, Vin?" he asked, lust and curiosity roughening his voice to a smoky rasp.

Surprise flickered in Vin's eyes, like he hadn't expected Chris to play that game. "It's not the where, it's the who with," he said.

It was like fencing with flaming swords, dueling words with Vin, double-edged and dangerous. So much more dangerous than pursuing a creep like Garza. Hot blood rushed through Chris, and he knew he wanted that taste and heat again, too sweet to give up. He thought he had the upper hand in this contest, and then Vin struck.

His arms caught Chris at waist and neck, he seized Chris's lips in a searing kiss, tongue slipping and stroking against Chris's as his hand plunged past the waistband of the black jeans. A smooth, hot palm and strong fingers kneaded his ass cheek, teasing the inner curve where it dipped to the cleft.

Dizzy with kisses, the tug of Vin's fingers through his hair, the fierce trail of breath, tongue, and teeth down his throat, across his jaw. He didn't know where to move, where to put his hands, what would happen next ... and didn't care as long as Vin kept up that maddening assault on flesh and senses. He gasped when Vin pulled away, his hands still tangled in the longer hair at the nape of his neck. Those eyes drilled him as Vin jerked his head back towards the alley. "Semi-private room back there," he said breathlessly. "No waiting."

Hell, sex was sex, and arousal was arousal, and either demanded more than a solo hand in the dark. Right now, Chris's blood was running so fast, and he was so hot and hard that he knew he'd never make it back to the truck, and looking at Vin's taut, flushed face, and swollen mouth, he was willing to bet that Vin's thoughts were along the same lines.

"I've never been too high on waiting," he drawled, slow and suggestive. He moved in on Vin; his left arm dropping to below his buttock and that damn tease of a rip. The skin was still soft and heated, and Chris teased a small circle on the flesh. Vin snaked an arm around his waist and they moved faster now than they had been after Garza and Richmond, driven by a greater urgency to find the darkness and each other, careless of debris and the cool mist of rain that was falling. Chris was so hot he wondered why there wasn't steam rising from his body.

They spun into the alley. Vin backed Chris flat against the wall, pulled his T-shirt from the waist of his jeans, slid callused palms up the rake of his ribs, clever fingers finding the pebbled nubs of his nipples. Chris shivered, his hands splayed against the bricks, scarcely able to breathe as Tanner rolled his nipples to hardness, then shoved his shirt up high enough to expose them to the night air and his mouth. Chris moaned, a low, needy sound that he didn't recognize as coming from his own throat. He cupped one hand around the back of Vin's head, the right hand with the gun still clasped in it sliding down his back, and Vin arched like a cat being stroked, pressing into the curve of Chris's chest and belly. At the slide of cold metal, he looked up at Chris, grinning. "Easy there, cowboy. I think I surrendered," he said.

Surrender ... Chris had given up long ago, and he made a sound half laugh, half frustrated growl. "I'll put it away."

Vin's eyes glittered. "Naw, let me," he said, and slid a hand down Chris' belly to his waist, stroking down the bulge of his cock, the long muscle of his thigh. Dropping down on one knee in front of him, and close. Chris felt him fumbling with the cuff of his jeans and the ankle holster, then give the fabric a neat quick tug to straighten it out. He smiled, thinking of Vin's careful attention to detail when it came to his firearms, and wondered how much of that concentration and care he'd bring to lovemaking. He looked down at Vin, met blue eyes that were nearly black with wanting. Locked in like that, Chris swallowed, Vin so close to his groin that the heat of the Texan's body seared through the black denim. He canted his pelvis slightly, inviting.

Vin's eyes narrowed a bit, mischief in them. "Since I'm down here," he rasped softly, and Chris thought his knees would buckle as Tanner tugged at the rivet on his jeans, and Chris's cock felt like it would burst right through the fly as Vin struggled with the zipper, muttered something obscene about Chris's preference for tight jeans, and heard him give a small breath of triumph as the zipper gave way, and the constriction eased. Then gently, his briefs were eased over his sex, and cool air and cool mist hit his skin. He moaned, low and needy as Vin's fingers closed over his erection, and he bent his head.

The moist warmth of breath, the slow play of knuckles against tender skin, and then Vin licked him. The delicate, careful tease at the slit of his cock, the sensual swirl of Vin's tongue over the heated, taut skin, the lap and suck that drew cum to the head ... Chris's hands left the wall to gather in the waves of Tanner's hair. His breath was slow, even; willing control even as the sensation building in his thighs and spine threatened to break over him. *Not yet, not yet*. Vin's fingers tightened, suppressing the tide even as he took Chris deeper in his mouth, the muscles of his jaw working as he swallowed.

Chris shuddered. The world spun out and narrowed down to the center of his body. A moment, suspended. Chris panted, twined his fingers through Vin's hair, moved his hips and felt the rasp of a bearded cheek against his cock. Vin's warm breath washed over him and a sudden touch of cooler air made Chris open his eyes to watch Vin fight to open his own fly and free his cock. Hunger ripped through him, and he thrust his hips forward, wanting, needing more. Vin leaned into him, took his cock in his mouth once, quick and hard, leaving him wet and trembling before he rose. Urgently, and almost angry at being left on the brink, hurting and hot, Chris gripped Vin's shoulders, took a hard quick kiss, tasting his salt, his semen on Vin's lips.

Tanner tore his mouth away, stood there panting slightly, eyes wild and reckless, as if nothing mattered but this one moment. "You still want that piece a' my ass, Chris?" he asked, sliding his lips across Chris's before what he was asking really had time to sink in, and when it did, when he saw Vin peel his jeans down those narrow hips and step to the side, opening the gate of Chris's arms, his heart stuttered in his chest. Chris swallowed hard, watching as Vin set his forearm against the brick wall, spreading his legs so that there was no mistaking his actions as being anything but an invitation to be taken.

Chris would have moved in hard and fast, but Vin glanced over his shoulder; a split-second of hesitation that cut to the pit of Chris's stomach. He wanted this too badly to back off, but not badly enough to cause pain. His hand drifted lightly down Vin's arm in a caress and he bent his head to place a kiss on the curve of shoulder and neck before he pressed against Vin's chilly body, covering him with warmth. His cock nestled between Vin's buttocks and he slid his hands over the rim of Vin's sharp pelvic bones, the palms and fingers bridging the narrow basin and brushing the rigid sex lightly. Vin gasped, trembling beneath his touch.

"Think you can find your way in the dark?" he breathed, and Chris chuckled into the shell of his ear.

"Ain't never gotten lost." His fingers slicked lightly across Vin's erection before finding the puckered hole behind his balls. He pressed in, fingers firm but not forceful, and felt the ring of muscle loose and ready. Still he hesitated, aching.

"Just do it," Vin said softly. "I want you to fuck me ... I'm more than ready for you," offering reassurance.

"Vin ..." Soft breath, aching need. Vin pressed back against him, and Chris parted his cheeks, awkward for a moment, remembering the first time he'd made love to another body, clumsy and hurried. He felt and positioned his cock and with Vin still easing back into him, found and slid into the warm chasm of Vin's body.

The heat, the tight clench of the muscles sheathing him, the movement of Tanner's body as he took Chris inside and adjusted to his length and fullness; Chris' heart took up a pounding rhythm in his chest, doubt burned away like ashes in the wind as instinct flamed. His body knew what to do; he moved and rocked, closed his eyes and let the world narrow down to two men, in the dark, flesh and blood. He stroked harder, deeper and heard Vin hiss one word, "Yesss ..."

Sweat built and burned down Chris's forehead and temple. He bent his mouth to Vin's neck and sucked at the salty skin, his hands girdled Vin's hips, holding him steady as he rocked and rocked, Vin making small gasps as Chris's cock raked over his prostate. Chris slid his hands around to Vin's cock, brushing the throbbing shaft on the way to bracing his palms against the brick wall and Vin went rigid then cried out softly as a warm jet of semen flowed over Chris's fingers, the scent of it sharp and sudden. Chris closed his eyes, cast his head back. Vin's body clenched hard, pulsed as his climax burst; orgasm ripped and boiled through Chris's body and he surged hot and fast into Vin, slick heat wrapping around him as he came.

He cried out, tears sliding from the corners of his eyes to mingle with the rain falling from the skies. His chest ached, his heart raced light and fast, settling slowly to a normal beat as Chris realized the rain was cold on his skin, and Vin was starting to shiver. Still sheathed in Tanner's body, he wrapped his arms tightly around the narrow ribcage as his cock softened and slid away. He breathed in the scent of sweat and rain that lingered on Vin's skin, brushed his lips over the satiny crown of his shoulder, the ridge of clavicle and the peak of bone at the cap.

"You all right?" he whispered, and felt a quiver of laughter ripple through Vin's belly and then rise up to bubble from his throat.

"Ain't never been righter." He turned in the circle of Chris's arms, his hands sliding up to catch the back of his neck and kiss him. Something that had coiled in Chris, loosened, a feeling that he wouldn't have called fear, just pride. Maybe thinking that he hadn't been skilled enough, or right enough, and wondering -- a bit -- why that should matter. Vin tugged lightly at the wet ends of his hair. "Hell of a way to end a surveillance. Think we could maybe make it SOP?" he asked, that glint of humor tempered by the movement of his hands slipping gently down Chris's body. He tugged up the briefs and damp denim, shaking his head. "Damn, Larabee. You're gonna cut off the circulation to some mighty vital parts if ya don't loosen these up." Then still smiling, mischief curling the corner of his mobile mouth, he kissed Chris quickly before stepping back to pull up his own jeans, shoulders against the brick. He slanted a glance towards Chris. "I'm good, Chris ... maybe I should ask you? You all right?"

Chris stood, his hands on his hips, looking down at the rain-wet pavement. The rain had slicked down his hair and droplets gathered on the ends and ran down his neck. Was he all right? Hell, he'd just made love to his best friend, his subordinate; had broken all the rules of nature and law. Was he all right? He raised his head, saw Vin looking at him, his head canted, a brow arched inquisitively. Rain-wet, slightly pale in the dim light of the alley, the posture of his body, the only betrayal of his wariness. Chris paused, bemused, not by what he was feeling, but by what he wasn't. No shame, no regret, no loss. Just the warm tingle of satisfaction and the sense that whatever tonight had been, it wasn't the end of what could be. He looked into those blue eyes and he laughed. "Pretty damn sure of yourself, aren't you?" He straightened his shoulders, looked up at the rainy sky. "Yeah, I'm all right, Vin. C'mon, partner. Lets get outta here before we both get pneumonia."

They walked quickly back to where they had parked the Ram. The rain had dampened the enthusiasm of the clubbers and the streetwalkers. Music still throbbed from the bars, but the doors were closed and the streets were empty. Always relieved that his vehicle was intact on these streets, Chris disarmed the security system on the truck and they climbed in. Once inside, Vin reached for the flannel shirt he had discarded earlier while Chris rustled through the heap of clothing on the back seat to find a sweatshirt. He pulled off his wet shirt, used it to towel the rain from his hair, then tossed it over to Vin before tugging the sweatshirt over his head. He turned the key; the big motor roared comfortingly to life, and they pulled away from the curb, heading towards more familiar, if not much less dangerous ground.

They rode in silence for a while. Vin looked pale, tired, his head tipped back against the high seat. Chris knew the streets as well as the back of his hand, could just about close his eyes and see the map in his mind. But he couldn't see ten minutes into the future.

He was tired of asking himself questions.

He pulled to an abrupt stop at an intersection as the driver in the car in front of him decided not to chance running a yellow light. Vin sat up, blinking, slightly disoriented. He looked around taking in landmarks. He sighed, stretched. Gave Chris a grin, maybe remembering.

"Wild night," Chris said, his voice edged with laughter, everything seeming a bit surreal now.

Vin drew in a breath before he replied with a question. "You sorry it's over?"

Chris looked both ways, the light remained red. His heart gave a thump in his chest. He swallowed, wondering if there was more to that question than polite conversation. Knowing instinctively that there was, and knowing, too, how he would answer. "It doesn't have to be."

He let it float there, delicately phrased and intimate in the dark cab, waiting.

Vin turned his head, the streetlights reflecting in his eyes, offering humor and hope to Chris. "In that case, my apartment's thataway," he drawled.

Chris steered the truck clear across three lanes of traffic to the turning lane. Impulsively, he reached over, tangled his fingers in the damp curls at the nape of Vin's neck. A moment's surprise, then heat as Vin leaned over and captured Chris's lips with a soft moan.

Chris caught the flare of a green light in the corner of his eye. He pressed the kiss harder, quickly, then accelerated easily around the corner, taking his time, knowing that his questions had been answered. He thought of angels and fools rushing in. He looked at Vin, the blood is his veins running high and hot as fire, and grinned. No one had ever mistaken him for an angel.

The End