by Nicole S
He was pissed off when they found him in the woods two days ago, his
binoculars trained intently on the action in the former mining town. He
usually didn't let his guard down. The serenity of being alone without Mac to
annoy him or Jackie irritating him relaxed him more than he thought. The whole
day yesterday was spent cursing at himself for being so stupid. This morning,
he reasoned with himself that he couldn't blame himself for getting caught;
there were motion detectors everywhere. The Director would
understand...wouldn't she?
Now he was miserable; he knew what the poachers were going to do to him.
They kept trying to feed him, to fatten him up, telling him to drink lots of
water to keep his skin hydrated. He shivered and hoped the Director sent
someone to get him soon.
Vic could hear the wind howling outside; the very small, thick window at the
top of his cell afforded little light, but at least kept out the cold of
winter. This building was old, at least 100 years. It was an old RCMP
outpost, in the middle of a town, across from what used to be the saloon. The
town was in northern Alberta and had been abandoned many years ago, after the
gold rush was over. The buildings were remarkably sound for being at the mercy
of the elements for so long.
He took a small sip of water, not wanting to please his captors. He didn't
eat much either, various plates lay stacked in the corner, holding untouched
food. Vic lay back on the cot, wishing he had a cigarette. The craving came
to him as soon as the bars slammed shut in front of his face yesterday.
Memories of prison flooded his mind, hence the craving. All you did in prison
was sit around and smoke.
Suddenly, he saw movement in the corner of his eye. Slowly, he turned his
head to look at the person coming in the door. He hoped it wasn't more food,
the items that he had tasted were pretty awful. I must be hallucinating,
that guy looks just like Mac...wait, it is Mac.
Vic suppressed a smile as he stood—he didn't want to look too grateful.
"Veec-tor...in jail again?" Mac was swinging the key to the door around on
one finger.
He hated it when he called him that. "C'mon, Mac, let me out."
"That's it? Just let me out, no, hi, how are you Mac? No, how have
you been, long time no see?"
Vic sighed and frowned, feeling the anger boil up inside him. "Just...just
let me out of here."
"What's it worth to you?"
"Excuse me?"
"What's it worth to you to get out of there?"
"Worth? What are you talking about?" He knew damn well what Mac meant but
wondered just how far he would go.
"I'd say this was worth about 1,000; 2,500 bucks, at least." Mac smirked,
he was just doing to Vic what Dobrinsky had done to him that day when he needed
him to watch that van.
Vic stared at Mac in disbelief. "You...you want me to pay you to get me
out of here? This is your job."
"I need a little extra spending money, and I don't think you're in any
position to argue."
Vic stood up to the bars, "No way am I paying you one cent."
"You don't want to be released? Fine with me, see you later, Vic."
As Mac turned to leave, Vic lunged forward, thrust his arm through the bars
and grasped the back of his collar.
"Don't you fucking leave me here, Ramsey!"
Mac stepped back as Vic pulled on the collar of his jacket. He smiled, he
loved nothing more than to antagonize the former cop. He wiped the look off
his face before turning around to see Vic's expression of rage.
"You leave me here," Vic said. "The Director will kill you."
"I'm not so sure about that Vic. I mean, she's pretty ticked off that you
got caught."
Vic just frowned at him.
"I did come all the way up here to save your butt. Now, are you going to
make it worth my while?"
Vic grabbed Mac's collar again, this time from the front. He looked the
former thief in the eye, before saying very calmly and steadily, "Fuck you."
Mac dropped his jaw in mock horror. "You're swearing at me now? That's it,
I'm not letting you out..." Mac drifted off and pressed the earpiece he was
wearing deeper into his ear. His eyes grew wide, then he frantically spoke
into the part of the collar Vic wasn't holding on to. "Wait, no! You can't,
you can't leave, I...he's still...but...what blizzard?"
Mac then violently ripped the earpiece out and shouted, "Dammit!" He
pounded his hand against one of the bars of the cell, shaking it afterwards, as
he realized that punching steel hurt.
Vic snickered, "Who's swearing now?"
"Oh man..."
"What? What's this about a blizzard?"
"They had to go, the weather was getting worse."
"What? Who's they?" Vic suddenly grew even angrier as he realized what
happened. "That was our ride, wasn't it?"
Mac lowered his eyes to the floor. "Something about a blizzard," Mac
shrugged. "I don't know, high winds, the helicopter had to take off or else
crash."
"Helicopter? You let our helicopter go? So we're stuck here in the middle
of nowhere with no means of escape. Thank you very much, Ramsey."
"You don't have to yell at me."
"Yell at you? I should be punching you! If you would have just gotten me
out of here, like you were supposed to, instead of being such a...such an
asshole, we would be on our way home by now."
"Hey, you swore at me three times now, that's enough."
Vic pulled Mac forward, just short of banging his head on the bars. "I'll
do more than fucking swear at you."
"That's four."
Vic took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He still had a deathgrip on
Mac's collar. He didn't want to let go, lest he punch him out. He needed Mac
to get him out of this cell. He thought for a minute before speaking.
"Look, Mac, when is the helicopter coming back?"
"Uh, it's not."
"What do you mean, it's not?"
"Well the blizzard is supposed to last a couple of days. The cleaners are
going to, um, blow up the place soon."
"Blow what, the building the poachers are in?"
"Uh, no, the whole town."
"The whole..." Vic laughed then sighed. "So what you're saying is that if
we don't get out of here soon, we're gonna blow up real good?"
"Looks that way."
"Shit!" Vic released his grasp on Mac, who straightened his jacket. "Look.
When I was surveying the area, I noticed that the poachers worked out of the
old saloon across the street. If we can get over there and get to one of the
snowmobiles parked around back, we can get out of here before they blow the
place sky high."
"But I don't know how to drive a snowmobile."
Vic suppressed his frustration by breathing in. "I do."
"Do you even know where we are, Vic? We're in the wilderness; a snowmobile
isn't going to get us far."
"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. There's a cabin about 20 km south of here,
where I stayed the first night. If we can get there, we can contact the
Director."
Mac thought about this for a minute, then smiled at Vic. "You know, what I
said earlier, about the money, I was just joking. You're not going to hit me,
are you?"
"Hmmm, we'll see about that. Come on, let me out."
Mac licked his lips and cautiously opened the door. Vic brushed past him
and stealthily went up the corridor to the front room. The guard was
unconscious, a small needle, which had administered a tranquilizing shot, poked
into his neck. Vic looked the man up and down then turned to Mac.
"How much time do we got before this guy wakes up?"
"Half an hour."
"Good. I'm going to take his snowsuit. See if there's a parka for you in
the closet. Check if there's helmets as well."
Mac went over to where Vic indicated and pulled out an olive drab parka.
"There's three helmets in here, and this thing." He sniffed it and almost
gagged. "Yuck, it smells like mothballs."
"Well put it on, it's going to be cold out there."
"It's ugly."
"But it's warm."
"But it's ugly."
Vic stopped undressing the unconscious man, stood and looked at Mac. "This
isn't a fashion show, if you freeze to death, don't blame me. Why didn't you
wear something warmer?"
"I didn't want to look like a loser. Or better yet, I didn't want to look
like you."
Vic ignored the remark and went back to work, taking the suit off of the
other man. If he gauged his height right, it should just fit. He slid the
black leather snowmobile suit on his frame easily. He took the leather gloves
as well.
"Here," he threw the guard's boots to Mac, "these should fit.
"I am not wearing another man's footwear."
"Mac, you didn't give us much of a choice when you let the helicopter leave
without us."
"It wasn't me; it was the blizzard."
He looked over at Vic who was a vision in black leather from his suit, to
his boots, to his gloves. It fit him perfectly, hugging every curve, showing
off his ass. Mac had to admit his partner did look good. Unfortunately, he
was going to look like a homeless person if he put that parka on.
"Whatever. Look, wear what you want, but if you loose some appendages to
frost bite, don't blame me. Now put a helmet on, and let's go."
Reluctantly, Mac put on the parka and boots. He didn't even want to think
about putting on the other man's toque and scarf. He zipped up the parka and
plunked the helmet on his head. At the last minute, he grabbed the mitts off
of the desk.
Silently, they crept across the street to the saloon. The wind was howling
even more, blowing snow around to drift against the north-west side of the
buildings. Vic was right, there were three snowmobiles parked out back in a
makeshift garage. Vic checked the fuel on each of them, taking the one with
the most gasoline. He started it and told Mac to get on the back.
As they started to pull away, the poachers came out of the building, guns
blazing. Mac turned and pulled his weapon, firing back at them.
Vic pressed down on the thumb accelerator, willing the machine to go faster.
The two machines were gaining on them. Finally, Mac took them out one by one,
leaving them alone to fend for themselves in the cold. About 10 minutes later,
a light was seen and a large bang was heard as the cleaners fulfilled their
duty and blew up the town.
Mac listened to the drone of the engine as they sped down a frozen river,
holding on to the handgrip behind him. Vic was right, it was cold out here in
the open. His legs were getting sore from holding on, so he put his arms
around Vic, relaxing slightly. He was shivering all over; the wind cut right
through his thin trousers and lashed his exposed neck. He thought his ears
were going to fall off, even though they were somewhat protected by the helmet.
Vic felt Mac slump against him and knew he was on his way to hypothermia.
His own thumb was sore from pressing on the accelerator, but he was warm with
the leather, insulated suit. "Just 15 more minutes, Mac," he whispered under
his breath.
True to his word, 15 minutes later, they pulled up beside a small log cabin.
Vic cut the engine and jumped off, then dragged Mac inside. He slammed the
door behind him, surprised that the small structure still held some heat from
two days ago. He dumped Mac in one of the chairs, then took his helmet off
before lighting a kerosene lamp and hanging it on a hook above his head.
He then turned his attention back to Mac. Gently, he removed the helmet,
noticing Mac wore no toque or scarf. His ears and cheeks showed patches of
white, indicating frostbite. Vic shook his head, then slapped him, gently.
"Mac...Mac, wake up."
"Hmmmm?"
"Wake up, we escaped. Come on, you can't sleep, not until I get you warmed
up." He took his pulse, it was slow but strong. He shook the younger agent,
rousing him to consciousness.
"Why don't you just let me sleep?"
"Because, you'll die." Vic sighed, "As much as I don't want to help you,
the Director would have my hide if you died. Come on, sit up, I'll get you
some water."
Vic went over to the plastic, blue water jug and poured Mac a glass of
water. "Drink this."
Mac took the glass from Victor and took a shaky sip. "I'm so cold."
"I'm going to make a fire, hang on a minute, okay?" Vic busied himself,
making a fire in the wood-burning stove.
Mac looked around at his surroundings. His vision was a little fuzzy, but
he could make out a cupboard, a dresser, a bed and another chair. There was no
electricity.
Soon, the little cabin was getting warm. Vic pulled the covers back off the
bed and brought the heavy comforter over to warm it by the fire. Satisfied, he
put the covers back on the bed and went back to Mac.
"Come on, let's get you into bed."
"I'm cold, Vic," Mac whimpered.
"I know, you'll get warm soon. Let's get you out of those cold clothes."
"Shouldn't you put more clothes on me?"
"No, they hold the cold. You have to strip down and get into bed to get
warm while your clothes warm by the fire."
Vic helped Mac strip, then got undressed himself before sliding into bed
beside him.
"Woah, what's going on here, Vic?"
"The only way to get you warm is to share body heat."
"Can't you just give me some hot rum or run a warm bath...if there is a
bath."
"No, that would put your system into shock; we have to warm your body
gradually."
Vic reached out and put his arms around Mac, bringing him close. He was
freezing.
Mac tensed up and wrapped his own arms around himself. Vic did feel very
warm. Slowly, he relaxed and began to warm up, a sleepy feeling coming over
him.
Sometime later, Mac woke as he felt cold air hit his back; it was dark. Vic
had gotten out of bed to put another couple of logs on the fire.
Vic quickly stoked the fire then jumped back into bed. The only bad thing
about using wood to heat the place was that you had to get up in the middle of
the night to put more fuel in the stove. He heard Mac shift beside him in the
darkness.
"You awake?"
"Sort of."
"You hungry or thirsty?"
"No."
"Let me know if you need anything."
"Hmmmm." Mac rolled over and snuggled against Victor. He didn't know why
he did it, but it felt good. A few minutes later, he could feel Victor's
strong arms come around him again and start caressing his back. Mac sighed and
snuggled in closer, putting his head on Vic's naked chest.
Victor could feel himself harden. He tried everything he could not to be
aroused, but it was no good. He would be fooling himself if he denied his
feelings for the other man. Mac was beautiful, and he wanted him. As far as
Vic could tell, Mac wasn't exactly holding his arousal back either. A hardness
dug into his hip, and he could swear that Mac was kissing his chest.
Mac very gently kissed Victor's chest. He was warm now, incredibly hot as a
matter of fact, in more ways than one. He let his hands travel over Vic,
feeling his hard muscles, his slight belly, the fine hair that covered him.
Men were a delicacy as far as Mac was concerned, to be enjoyed periodically but
with a fierce hunger.
Slowly Mac dragged his fingers down Vic's belly to the hardness that he
hoped was there. When he found what he was looking for, he let out a happy
sigh. He let his hand come around the hard member and held onto it for a
minute to see what would happen.
Vic sucked in his breath as he felt Mac grasp his cock. He let him fondle
it for awhile before pulling his head up for a kiss. Their lips met briefly, a
mere peck to test the waters.
Mac rolled on top of Vic, kissing him harder, bringing moans from him.
Slowly he ground their erections together, his hands coming up to cup Vic's
face. His tongue entered the mouth before him, sweeping the moist interior,
teasing the tongue inside.
Vic dug his fingers into Mac's shoulders; the friction between their
erections was driving him insane. He felt Mac grind against him, sucking on
his tongue, rubbing their nipples against each other.
Faster, Mac writhed against Victor, breathing heavily, sweat coating his
body. For an instant, he was in pure bliss, the feelings overwhelming him,
until he came onto Victor's belly. Vic wasn't far behind, coming with a grunt
as the fluid covered them both. Mac kissed Vic again, then rolled off of him,
sated and ready to sleep.
Vic got out of bed and got a cloth to clean them up. He put another log on
the fire while, then went back to bed. He faced away from Mac, their buttocks
pressing together. "There's your payment, Ramsey." he said before falling
asleep.
Morning came with a pounding on the door.
"Mac, Vic...are you in there?"
Both men sat up in bed and looked at each other. "LiAnn," they both said at
once before scrambling to get dressed. Vic reached the door first, flinging it
open, letting her inside.
"LiAnn, hey, you found us, great!"
"Yeah, the Director thought this would be the first place you'd go to. The
storm blew through quickly, so the helicopter got through after all." She
looked at both men, "Are you guys okay? You look flushed."
"We...we just woke up."
"Yeah," Mac interjected. "We're just so happy to see you." Mac strode out
the door to the waiting helicopter.
Vic checked that the fire was doused before going back to the bed and making
it. He smirked as he looked down at the covers, remembering last night.
"You ready to go?" LiAnn asked.
"Yeah, I'm ready." Victor picked up the leather snowmobile suit, locked the
door behind him and left.
ictor Mansfield was behind bars again. This time it wasn't because he
got set up by his colleagues; this time he was being held hostage. The
Director had sent him to gather data on poachers, and he got caught. Strangely
enough, these poachers weren't interested in fur or animal pelts—they were
interested in the skin of people.
