Author/pseudonym: Loganlover

Fandom: Invisible Man (scifi channel, fridays 8:00)

Email for feedback: Quicksilver_theagency@Hotmail.com

Category: Romance/Drama/Slash

Rating: NC-17

Content Warnings: Graphic sexual activity, violence, rape.

Summary: Darien confronts a dark secret from his past and builds his relationship with Bobby.

Disclaimers: The Invisible Man and its related entities are the property of Stu Segal Studios and the SciFi Channel. This story is written purely for fun, no money is changing hands for this story. Any original characters situations and story are property of the author.

Author's Notes: Special thanks to my Beta Reader and Senior Editor, Lyrica. Her advice, inspiration and contributions to this story have helped me produce a much better piece of fiction than would have been the case otherwise.

There is some offensive language in this story that I never use and don't approve of in `real life,' however it meets the needs of this fictional story, represents the characters, and is an actual quote from a real event (although the particular event is different in this story). I apologize to anyone who finds such language offensive or hurtful.

Several fics have briefly made reference to Darien's *ahem* experiences in prison. Being the Aries that I am, I just had to rise to the challenge and deal with it head-on. (I can resist anything but temptation :-)

Feedback is greatly appreciated. You have *no* idea how much it feeds the writing addiction.

"I don't care who you are,

They collapsed into each other's arms. Long moments passed while they held each other, panting to catch their breath.

Darien was overcome with a sudden burst of happiness and started laughing. He tried to restrain himself but ended up giggling ridiculously.

Bobby grinned at him. "So tell me how much you really don't like that, huh?" his voice making the best of the irony.

Darien tried again for self-control managing to reduce his laughter to mere snickering, as he snuggled into Bobby's arms.

Bobby said, wrapping his arms around his smiling partner. "Let's get some rest, Dare, dinner can wait till morning."

Before Bobby fell asleep, he heard Darien sigh, "Mmm, okay, you're the boss."

Bobby leaned over and kissed his partner good-night. Smiling, he whispered, "Yeah, and don't you forget it, boy."

They settled into sleep, wrapped up in each other's warmth.

****

Darien's eyes snapped open, his heart was suddenly racing. Bobby's words had triggered a long-forgotten memory. He carefully propped himself up on his elbows and shook his head to clear it. He didn't want to startle his partner and disturb his sleep, but mostly, he just wanted to keep his thoughts private while he sorted them out. Taking a deep breath, Darien forced his breathing back into its normal rhythm. `Its just Hobbes, here with me' he told himself. `Just Bobby. Everything's okay now.'

His gaze wandered across Bobby's bedroom, looking at the beige carpet, the rattan dresser and chair, and the light from the street filtering in through the window, reassuring himself that he wasn't in prison any longer. `You're safe now, Darien, you're safe,' he repeated to himself, as if by sheer repetition could make it feel true and make himself believe it. He lay back down on the mattress, burying his head in the pillow. `Just go to sleep, everything's fine.' Eventually, he drifted into a restless sleep.

***

Bobby rolled over in bed and prepared to sink back into a deep slumber. In the back of his mind, an alarm went off telling him that he was alone in bed and shouldn't be. Odd, because he nearly always slept alone. Although he and Darien had begun `sleeping together' a few weeks ago, neither of them had actually stayed the night until tonight. He slid his hand across the bed under the warm blankets and confirmed his suspicions. The slight depression in the sheets that Darien had occupied was now cold and empty. He realized now he had no idea what Darien's normal sleeping habits were like. Maybe the guy always got up in the middle of the night. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He opened a bleary eye to peer at the bedside clock. It was 2:10 in the morning.

Worried, he sat up and quietly called, "Fawkes?" No answer. "Darien?"

He got up, and was about to grab his bathrobe from off the chair, then thought better of it and headed for the closet. Sliding open the door, he pulled out the black silk robe that he'd bought on a whim but hadn't worn yet. It would make a better impression on Darien than the ratty cotton one he usually wore. He threw it on, tying it loosely as he walked out into the living room. The absolute quiet of the darkened room was disturbed by the faint tinkle of wind chimes in the distance.

Bobby looked toward the noise. The curtains draped across the sliding door billowed gently, caught by a light breeze. He walked across the room, bare feet padding silently on the deep carpet. As he drew open the door and stepped out onto the balcony, the scent of the soft ocean breeze greeted him. The gentle roar and whoosh of the surf gave rhythmic accompaniment to the wind chimes.

Darien sat in a corner on the balcony floor, ignoring the comfortable chairs provided, wrapped in a blanket, staring out at the ocean.

Bobby leaned against the door jamb. "You planning on sleeping sometime this week?"

Darien's gaze didn't waver as he spoke quietly, "I can't do it, Hobbes."

"Sure you can. Just put your head on the pillow and stop thinking for awhile." Now he was sure the kid was in some kind of trouble. Darien hadn't even cracked a smile at that remark.

Darien shook his head slowly, "I can't go to prison again, I couldn't survive it again."

Hobbes was totally confused; he frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "Who said anything about prison? You're not a thief anymore, you're on the right side of the law now." Bobby tried hard to avoid making that statement into a question. He hoped fervently that Darien wasn't about to come out with any sudden confessions to contradict him. Their last run-in with his old burglary partner, Liz, had been nearly disastrous. Pissed off at the Agency and feeling rebellious as always, Darien had accepted Liz's offer to help her steal a witness protection file from the FBI. Bobby had the unenviable task of arresting Darien and hauling his ass back to the Agency. If the Fat Man could have thrown Darien back in prison then, he would have. But since Darien and the gland were an inseparable package, he had no choice but to keep him working at the Agency.

Still, he mused, the kid handled himself well in the end, and things seemed to be going smoothly with the Agency since then. "And besides," he tried to sound reassuring, "you don't think the Agency would give up their 17 million dollar investment, do you?"

Darien didn't look up, he just kept staring out to sea. "Yeah, I know. But I never intended to go to the Pen in the first place. And I was always determined to stay out every time I was released. And every time, sooner or later, I'd end up back there. Who's to say it can't happen again?"

Hobbes cocked his head to one side. "You think about this a lot?"

Briefly, Darien glanced up at him. "Not recently... not until tonight. Something you said reminded me of…." His voice trailed off, and his eyes returned to their distant focus.

Hobbes knew that people didn't usually credit him for being as perceptive as he really was. He could draw very accurate conclusions about people and events with minimal information. That often worked to his advantage, allowing suspects to reveal more than they otherwise would. Now, that perception made him acutely aware that something had happened to his partner in prison. Something that had frightened Darien then, and was upsetting him now. He obviously had kept it buried deep under layers of that defensive, devil-may-care attitude of his.

Too tired to bother with social niceties or even the usual Fawkes-Hobbes banter, he cut straight to the heart of the problem. He sat down next to Darien and, keeping his voice low, asked, "So, what happened?"

Darien shivered as he heard the inevitable question, and tried to keep his face from revealing the conflict that was knotting his stomach. For a moment, he contemplated ducking the question the way he usually avoided all personal questions. He sucked in a deep breath, and mixed with the smell of the sea was the scent of Bobby. His friend. His partner. His lover. Maybe it was time to let Bobby know something about the real Darien. To let him in.

Darien closed his eyes, took a leap of faith, and started talking. "I've never told this to anyone but ..." he took a shaky breath and let it out quickly as if pushing himself to continue. "Prison life is.... difficult... weird... in some ways." Tongue-tied, he awkwardly searched for the words he'd never spoken before. `God this is hard,' he thought. `What's Bobby gonna think about me after this? How can I make this sound better than it was? Should I even try to?' Darien bit his lip and stared into the distance, as memories he'd thought long buried and forgotten boiled to the surface.

"There are these guys, at least in some of the bigger prisons like Solidad, who are really dangerous - to other inmates. I mean, they'll do anything, hurt anyone to get what they want. Real predators, on the streets and in prison. They usually have a couple of guys, hangers on, who support them, like groupies or gang-

bangers. These guys sometimes do sex services for their `man,' but more often they `tap' weaker cons or new guys to get service for him or for themselves."

Darien hesitated, his thoughts in turmoil. `How much of this do I really need to tell Bobby? How much can he hear without being hurt by it?' Darien forced his gaze away from the horizon to look at Bobby. He wanted to know how Bobby was reacting to this, but was afraid of what that reaction might be. Bobby hadn't moved from Darien's side, and seemed to be watching him intensely. The sky was overcast with clouds, and no moon or stars were visible, making it difficult for Darien to read his expression in the darkness. He hadn't said anything or interrupted Darien's story so far, and Darien wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Tapping is when you get knocked on the back or shoulder, usually in a very public place like the exercise yard or cafeteria where everyone else can see - just to make sure that as many people notice as possible. When you get tapped, you've got two choices. You can submit and go with the guy right then - knowing you'll be expected to perform sex, probably a blow job, but possibly more." Darien drew his legs up in front of him, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees. "Once that's happened though, once you give in, you can count on it happening again, and again, whenever the mood strikes them."

"What's the other choice?" Bobby asked.

"In the Pen, they say a con's got two choices; he can fight, or he can fuck. It's especially true for thieves and cat burglars, guys like that. Non-violent criminals. If you're in for murder or something, other cons are less likely to test you. If a guy looks and acts dangerous, he'll get left alone. But you need to be ready to back it up. To prove that you can't be messed with, you've got to be ready and willing to kill someone if necessary, or get killed trying. There's no bluffing in prison, and I wasn't willing to risk a longer sentence for killing someone behind bars. So, if you're guy who looks like me and hates violence as much as I do? Come on! There's no way I was gonna convince anyone I was that tough." Darien looked up into Bobby's eyes, swallowing hard, "If you get tapped, well, basically you're screwed."

Unwelcome visions flashed through his mind. Images of being tapped, the feeling of being a target, the gut wrenching fear of what was coming, and the sly, vicious expression on the guy's face when he did it.

Bobby's dark eyes narrowed and he fixed Darien with a piercing gaze. "But you turned them down anyway."

Darien remembered a favorite quote that seemed to sum it all up: `Sometimes, after you've made a mistake, there can be a luxurious amount of time before disaster strikes.'

Not really wanting to, yet unable to stop himself, he pushed his thoughts back to that day when he turned another con down by deliberately ignoring the tap. The memory was like…an oily fire, smudged and noxious, making his stomach clench and his chest tighten. He'd had just finished his workout in the exercise yard and gone in to shower when the guy who'd tapped him that morning walked in, fully dressed and slapping a tightly rolled newspaper against his open palm. Behind him, backing him up, were his three most constant hangers-on. They were all grinning, but their matching expressions were nasty caricatures of good humor. One was popping open the buttons of his dingy green shirt in time to the whap!, whap!, whap!

of paper on flesh. Darien knew instantly that a fight was inevitable, and that the outcome was, too. Four against one. No one there to take his side. No one to help him. Even if he yelled, whoever came might only make it five against one. Or more.

The memory rushed at him, vivid, loud and hot; images, sounds and pain that hadn't faded with time. The agony as his face smashed against the concrete floor, as his arms were wrenched up behind his back, was as fresh as if it had happened only yesterday, and he touched his cheek, half expecting to find it bloody and broken. It reassured him when his face was smooth and clean, slightly cool from the breeze, but it didn't stop the memories.

"Hey, lookie here, it's the pretty-boy." He could still feel the hot breath on his face, the voice twisted and leering. Their words were as fresh and frightening as they had been that night. "You need to be taught a lesson, boy, and we're gonna enjoy taking turns being the teacher." And if the memory of being grabbed, punched, and slammed down onto the cold, wet floor was vivid, the rest was…Technicolor. Stereo.

He'd fought, but the odds made it useless. The few hits he scored only made them tear at him with more violence, kick and punch with more anger. And then the worst of all--worse than the pain in his face and arms, worse than not being able to breath as his face was shoved into a pool of water tinged with his own blood--the helplessness, the vulnerability as he was held down, unable to move, his legs shoved apart, the searing pain that obliterated the agony of his bashed face and the fire in his bruised muscles and the screaming of his lungs. Twin knives of anguish and humiliation stabbed white-hot through his mind as they'd raped him. Laughter and animal grunts filtered to him through the fire. The hot, disgusting scent of their bodies. The harsh, revolting touch of their hands. Fingernails and rough concrete grinding at his skin. Killing anger flared and then died.

He remembered thinking that he could have killed, then. If he'd been able to get loose, to turn on them. He could have killed, but they took even that away, pounding it out of him. Then, finally, they'd left him alone on the cold, rough floor, too used up to feel anything other than grateful to be alive, too shocked to wish for more than the quiet peace of unconsciousness. He remembered lying there as the shower beat down on him and turned cold. He remembered watching the edges of the cast aside newspaper turn pink with his blood and began to unfurl.

Darien shook himself, trying to cast aside the memories. He shivered, despite the pleasant weather and the warmth along his arm and his thigh from Bobby's body. He didn't remember Bobby moving closer. Darien cleared his throat trying to speak, his mouth had gone dry. "Yeah, well... that was the first time I got my jaw broken." He gave Hobbes a sidelong glance, a weak half-smile on his lips. "Joke."

Bobby was so still he seemed to be holding his breath.

"Actually, I damn near got my skull crushed." Darien's voice trailed off. He kept his gaze fixed in front of him, avoiding Bobby's eyes. He wanted so badly to talk with Bobby about this, to let him know what had happened, but his insides were being chewed up by the anxiety of not knowing how he would take it. Finally, he looked up into Bobby's eyes, his expression riddled with pain. "A couple of them jumped me…in the showers…it was really bad…" He tried continuing, but his voice faltered. He just couldn't tell Bobby the details of what happened, what he'd gone through. Remembering it was bad enough, saying it out loud, that would be like ripping his gut open with a knife. He skipped ahead, "I spent about a week in the infirmary after that and was moved to a new cell on the far side of D block."

Bobby crouched in front of Darien, facing him, and placed his hand on Darien's knee. "Shit, kid. I'm sorry." His voice was low and gentle. "I mean, I'm really sorry if I said anything to remind you of something like that."

Darien looked at Bobby, surprised. "Oh, no. That wasn't what you made me remember. Well, that was part of it, but not all of it. I just had to tell you that part because…well, because you wouldn't understand the rest without knowing that. What you made me remember was the guy who saved me, I guess… if you could call it that."

"See, my new cellmate was....startling. I've never met anyone like him. He was black, about 30 years old, and the meanest looking son of a bitch I'd ever seen. He was at least six inches taller than me, and all muscle, with these scars crisscrossing his cheeks. He had tattoos on his arms, but his skin was so dark I couldn't see them until… he had his arm wrapped around my neck. Everything about him said, `don't even think about messing with me.'

Bobby's eyes were wide, "Sounds scary as hell."

Darien managed a small grin and nodded, "Yeah, it does sound that way, but it wasn't really. He wasn't what you'd think. He spoke really, really well, and he had this beautiful voice; deep, rich and warm, that just surrounded you when he spoke. His name was Richard Winston Hamilton the third," Darien raised an eyebrow and grinned at Bobby, "How's that for a moniker"?

Bobby sat back, leaning against the balcony's railing, still facing Darien. "So was he another thief....like you?"

"Nope. Hit man, professional assassin, though he was in on some lesser charge the time." His expression grew serious again. He took a breath scented with sea air and Bobby.

"The first night I was back on the block was rough. Of course, everyone knew what had happened to me and they didn't waste any time warning me that it was going to happen again. As soon as they called lights out, the catcalls started. It was really dark, and the cells were all arranged around this large atrium - so every voice was good and loud." Darien paused, listening to the surf, bracing himself to continue.

"This one asshole in particular had nothing to say except "How's your hole?" Darien clenched his teeth, nearly choking on the words.

Bobby reached out to him carefully, gently laying a hand on his arm. Reminding Darien that he was sitting on a dark balcony, not a bunk in a prison cell, and that a man who would never consciously hurt him was sitting there with him, keeping him safe.

Darien shook his head slowly, looking down at the floor. "He just kept repeating that; yelling it every couple of minutes, as a reminder... and a threat."

He barely heard Bobby's quiet whisper, "Shit, kid. How could you stand it?"

"After a few minutes of this, Richard got up smooth as can be, walked to the cell door and in this amazing, booming voice that just echoed off all the walls, he shouted, "How's your mother's hole, and the dog she rode in on, you faggot!"

"There was this ringing silence afterward that was just profound. Everybody just shut up." Darien smiled wistfully, glancing up at Bobby, "and I was on the floor! I mean, nearly rolling on the floor laughing. It was so totally incongruous. This amazing, rich voice with such precise diction he could have been reciting Shakespeare from a balcony somewhere…and what came out of his mouth... well it just blew me away."

He paused a moment, drawing a deep, shaky breath before continuing. The ocean surf seemed quieter now, the clouds overhead had cleared and Darien could see a few stars. "What he'd just done... he'd just announced to everyone that he had decided to defend me. I think I was laughing half because what he said and the way he said it was funny, and half just because I was so relieved to have an ally."

"After that, Richard made it clear that he was `interested' in me. If I was willing to service him, be his… partner," he glanced at Bobby, "that's `punk' in prison lingo. If I'd do what he wanted when he wanted, then he'd make sure I was left alone by all the predators." Darien avoided using any of the more crude phrases that described this relationship, counting on Bobby's perceptiveness to understand.

Darien sighed, hoping he could relax now that he had the worst out. "You see, Richard was a bit of a lone wolf. He didn't have a gang hanging around him and he had no interest in playing any of those games. But no one was willing to mess with him, he was just too damn dangerous. So," he shrugged, "we had an arrangement."

Darien didn't know what else to say. He'd run out of words. He hugged his knees tighter, trying to hide how his hands were shaking in nervous reaction. He didn't know how Bobby was going to react, and the anguish of uncertainty fueled runaway thoughts, `God, I hope Bobby takes this the right way. No, he's gonna freak. He'll think I'm weak, worthless, scum. Shit, maybe I shouldn't have said anything.' Anxiety was eating at his insides, and he felt hollow and empty. For long moments, the only sounds were of the surf and the wind off the ocean.

Bobby moved in closer, resting his hands gently over Darien's. "Dare, I don't know what to say here," he began slowly.

`That's it, he hates me,' Darien thought. He couldn't look Bobby in the face, afraid of what he might see there.

"We all have to make choices in life. You did what you had to." Bobby put his strong hands on Darien's shoulders, his eyes full of concern. "Its just that now, you're torturing yourself by second-guessing and looking for the `do-over' button. Let me tell you, my friend, it don't exist."

Darien forced himself to look into his partner's eyes. He saw pain reflected there and worry. He tried to relieve Bobby's concerns. "It…, it wasn't too difficult for me. I mean, I liked Richard quite a bit, and I've always been bi anyway." He rushed ahead, wanting to get this explanation over with. "And Richard was a

really interesting guy, I guess, for a hit man. You'd never have guessed that about him just talking to him. I mean, he could be scary as hell, but he could also be really warm, and caring, and..."

Abruptly, Bobby dropped his hands from Darien's shoulders and stood up, offering a hand to help Darien up. "You going to be okay now?"

Darien accepted the offer, his lips drawing up in a wry half-smile, though his eyes gleamed. He realized Bobby had cut him off, not wanting to hear any nice things about Richard. "Yeah, I'm okay," he replied. Darien thought, `Is Bobby actually jealous? That's kind of cute.' He was suddenly aware of a rush of desire, wanting to kiss Bobby Hobbes, to hold him, and more. Oh yeah, much, much more. It settled in his chest, this aching feeling of neediness. `Jesus, where the hell had that come from?'

He suppressed that need for the moment as he followed his partner back to bed. Trying to lighten the mood, Darien reached out and stroked Bobby's butt, picking up the edge of the silk robe in his fingers, "Hey, this is nice. Can I wear it in the morning?"

Bobby smirked at him, "Wiseass."

******

The dream was a familiar one. Darien was asleep in his prison bunk, warm and comfortable under his blanket. A hand appeared under the blanket, and rested gently on his back. A low voice whispered softly in Darien's ear as a hand rubbed his back in soft circular caresses. The hand moved gently southward, fondling then stroking his backside. Strong hands pulled at his boxers, sliding them down his legs, then returned making long leisurely strokes tracing the full curve of his ass, down to his inner thigh and balls. "Ah, sweet Darrie," the voice said, "you have such a fine ass. So sweet and soft." Darien's pulse quickened as he began to wake slowly. Before conscious thought, his hormones kicked in and a wave of heat washed over him, settling between his legs.

Richard often woke up horny and Darien had come to accept being woken up this way. Warm and relaxed from sleep, it took little time or effort to be ready for his protector…his lover. And Rich was a gentle, if demanding, lover, though prison seemed a most unlikely place to find one. A second hand joined the one already stroking him, spreading his cheeks, exploring and teasing his opening. A rush of sensation and desire fueled another wave of heat. Darien squirmed, lifting his hips slightly off the mattress to adjust for

his growing erection.

Rich took full advantage by sliding one hand in front of Darien's hips and fondling his cock.

The sensation sizzled through his body, attacking his mind and leaving him momentarily breathless. "Mmmm," Darien moaned softly, writhing in pleasure.

"You're hot for me, aren't you Darrie," the soft voice continued, lips so close to Darien's ear they tickled. "Damn, you're so hot…so nice. A tongue, warm and wet traced a line up his neck to his ear. Hot tongue licking his ear, teeth nibbling on his earlobe, and the prickly rasp of a day's beard growth rubbing against his neck - getting hotter by the second. Your `old man' always takes good care of you, and don't you forget it boy."

The hand stroking Darien's cock disappeared briefly, returning to his ass a moment later. Lubed fingers teased at his opening, pushing firmly inside and gently stretching him. A shock of nervousness was followed by a blast of intense desire. Irresistibly, his hips writhed in response, alternately grinding his needy cock against the mattress and presenting his ready ass to his lover. His breath came in short, deep gasps, and he spread his legs as much as the bunk would allow, to give Richard access. This was expected, indeed, required by his relationship with his protector.

He was lucky in some respects. Some punks were prostituted out, trading sex for cigarettes, drugs or other contraband as ordered by their `man.' As the stronger partner, Richard could have done that to Darien, and he'd have no recourse - no alternatives. He'd seen such punk-prostitutes beaten severely for refusing to cooperate – he'd heard of some being killed. Thus far, Richard stuck to their agreement of an exclusive relationship. Grateful for that, Darien was determined to please Richard in any way necessary to keep it that

way.

The fingers slipped out of Darien, and the mattress depressed as Richard moved in behind him. Strong hands gently supported his hips, lifting him up and back. Those powerful hands slid around the back of Darien's thighs, stroking him, then slid upwards to separate his asscheeks. He shivered in anticipation.

At the first nudge of Richard's cock against his opening, Darien licked his lips, positioning himself and relaxing as much as he could. No matter how many times he'd lived through this scene, Darien always gasped in surprise at the first moment of penetration that brought a rush of pleasured sensation while violating his boundaries. He moaned softly as Richard entered him, sliding into his body and filling him. The feeling was deep and full, slick and erotic, and totally mind-blowing. As always when getting fucked, his mind spun, consciousness subverted to pure lust, sensation and desire.

Being quiet was his biggest problem, but the prison's notorious lack of privacy made it a necessity. He wanted to cut loose with full-throated moans, to groan, yell, scream…everything. Overwhelming sensations flowed through him as Richard eased into a familiar rhythm, long slow strokes that made Darien writhe in pure pleasure, deep, rich and dizzying, alternating with bouts of faster, harder stroking that drove him to the edge of orgasm. He fastened his mouth over the edge of his hand, eyes shut tight, wanting to scream with

pleasure. God, he loved this! In spite of having no choice in this, in spite of being forced to submit to Richard, and maybe even, in an odd way, because of it. Strong, erotic pulses slammed through Darien's body and devoured his psyche.

Between long, deep strokes and rapid pistoning, Richard whispered to Darien; "Ah, sweet Darrie. Ah Baby, you're so good….so hot." Soft lips brushed against his back, and a hand fondled and stroked his cock. That delicious combination of physical stroking and luscious sweet talk was usually enough to send him into orbit. Richard loved making Darien come, he got off on it. Darien didn't know if that was from an honest satisfaction in pleasing his partner, or from the feeling of power and superiority it gave Richard when Darien responded to him. He never asked, fearing what the answer might be.

Rich was practically slamming into him now, grinding deeply at the bottom of each stroke, setting off fireworks in Darien's mind. Darien felt completely open to him, hungry for him, desiring each stroke and wanting more. Incredibly close to coming, he could hang there indefinitely. Tortured by the combination of absolute pleasure that seemed to go on forever and the aching need for blissful release. When Darien needed that extra `push' to go over the edge, Rich's language went straight into the gutter. The voice in Darien's ear whispered between strokes, "Oh Darrie, you're such a slut. Such a hot, bitchy slut." He ground his cock in deeper. "You love it don't you Baby? Show me how much you love my cock….come for me Baby."

That did it. Between the fondling and fucking, he lost it completely. No inhibitions, no higher mental functions, his lust responded where his rational mind would have been offended. His world exploded in a burst of pure physical need and sensation. With a barely-stifled groan he came in a rush, hot semen covering Richard's hand.

*****

Bobby awoke to noises from the other side of the bed. "Not again," he groaned as he lifted his head and peered across the room at the clock. It confirmed his fears; it was still several hours till dawn. He let his head flop back onto the pillow with a groan. "At this rate, we'd be better off giving up and just staying awake." Glancing over at his partner's restless form, he muttered, "you're turning into a high-maintenance date, y'know."

It was surprising, actually sort of a kick in the ass, but he wasn't anywhere near as annoyed at being woken up in the middle of the night, for the second time, as he should have been. He sighed, contemplating whether to wake Darien, try going back to sleep, or just surrender to insomnia and get up. As his mind lazily circled those options, his attention drifted to other thoughts.

It still floored him, how much he'd come to care about Darien in such a short time. He'd worked with partners before, but usually they didn't get along, only putting up with each other out of professional necessity. Sometimes they were downright hostile. He'd been stuck with partners in the past because most solitary work involved extensive travel, and he hadn't wanted to be away from Vivian. Until she divorced him, and his whole life went to hell. Then, it hadn't mattered where he was, or how much time he spent on the road. So, for the past four years he'd been content to work as a solo agent, free from the inevitable personality conflicts with partners.

Bobby folded his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused, lost in his own thoughts. It still seemed weird to him, but with Darien he'd clicked. More than clicked. Maybe it was because the gland and the quicksilver madness made him more understanding of Bobby's psychological quirks. Maybe they complimented each other's personalities in some bizarre way -outgoing and bossy and responsible versus quiet and introspective and rebellious. Who knew? All he was sure of, was that he got along with Darien better than he had with anyone in years. Maybe ever. And Darien had become important to him.

Bobby rolled onto his side, studying his partner. Darien was sleeping on his stomach, his face half buried in a pillow. Bobby wondered if Darien slept facing the bed rather than the ceiling to hide from the world. He was such a private person, keeping his feelings hidden behind jokes and wisecracks. Bobby always slept on

his back - all the better to notice if anyone tried to sneak up on him in the night. He knew it was probably part of his paranoia, but that didn't lessen the advantage of being ready, just in case.

Darien moved restlessly and moaned in his sleep, mumbling something Bobby couldn't quite make out. Bobby wasn't sure how to feel about what Darien had told him tonight. He was wrestling with so many conflicting thoughts and feelings. He was relieved that Darien had found some refuge from what would otherwise have been a horrible experience of repeated rapes, but his heart was hurting for the price Darien had to pay to get that relief. Part of him just couldn't stand it. This was Darien, his Darien. And he hated the thought of Darien being used like that, no matter what nice things Darien had said about the guy.

He reached out to lightly stroke Darien's back, quieting him. Keeping his voice low, he whispered, "I know you pal, and I know what you were thinking. You think I'm going to hate you or something for what you did, but I don't. You've got more guts than anyone I know, to have survived through that. And you've been through a heck of a lot that no one at the Agency has a clue about."

Darien twitched again, and Bobby placed a hand on his shoulder, preparing to shake him awake from whatever nightmare he was having. Darien moaned softly, his hips moving slowly against the mattress.

A slow smile spread across Bobby's face when he understood what was happening. He flushed with heat as he realized this was no nightmare. Darien was wrapped up in the throes of some lusty dream.

He started to pull away and leave Darien undisturbed, but his hand wouldn't obey. It stayed on Darien's shoulder as his mind froze, fascinated at the sight before his eyes. Darien, in bed, asleep, writhing in the throws of some passionate dream was just too tempting to his imagination. He didn't want to leave Darien's side. He wanted to be right next to Darien, and let his lusty dreams awaken him to find Bobby to play with.

Darien moaned again, his hips shifting gently in response to something in his dreams.

Bobby hovered on the brink of indecision for long moments, then gently moved in closer, stroking Darien's back. If Darien woke up abruptly, he could easily make some excuse about waking him up from a nightmare, but if he awoke in a more receptive mood, he'd be in a great position to be on the receiving end of all that unspent passion.

Darien responded automatically to Bobby's touch, curling toward the warmth of another body. Still asleep, Darien turned onto his side, facing away from that body, and slid slightly backwards, snuggling up against that warm presence, spooning into him.

This was just too good to resist. Bobby reached his arm across Darien, pulling him closer, his hips resting naturally on the curve of Darien's backside. His cock, which had begun taking an interest in all this several minutes ago, was now at full attention and aching for more. Bobby couldn't resist sliding his hips forward, pressing himself firmly against the long lean body next to him. Rubbing his hard cock against Darien's naked skin caused a hot, urgent flash of desire to roll through Bobby's body.

Darien sighed a small moan of encouragement and shifted his own hips to increase that contact. Bobby redoubled his activity, his hands running up and down Darien's length, caressing his shoulders, arms,

waist, hips and long, lean thighs. Another movement from Darien momentarily broke the contact between them. Bobby placed his hand on Darien's hip, tugging him backwards, again bringing their bodies firmly against one another. Another wave of heat surged through him.

In his dream Darien may have come, but in Bobby's bed he was still hard as a rock, wrapped up in the cycle of sleeping and dreaming. Gradually, his awareness of Bobby's presence grew more vivid as the dream faded from consciousness.

Bobby leaned in close, licking Darien's neck and moving up to nibble his earlobe. He breathed into Darien's ear, whispering seductively, "What were you dreaming? Watching you was really turning me on."

The heat from Bobby's body and the touch of his naked skin fueled Darien's desire. He spoke softly, "Mmmm, I was dreaming about how Rich used to wake me up. He used to make me so hot, I loved getting

fucked when he'd wake me up." Darien reached for Bobby's hand, placing it on his rear and guiding his stroking. "Like this, mmm…yeah."

Bobby's warm hands slid down to stroke Darien's ass, caressing the soft rounded flesh and stroking him between his legs, following Darien's lead. Bobby whispered, keeping his voice low and seductive, "yeah, and what else did you do?"

Still hot from his dream, Darien responded to Bobby's attentions like he'd responded in his dream. Wiggling his hips slightly in slow, languid movements he nuzzled encouragement, attempting to reenact the sex from his dream. He responded hotly as Bobby's attentions became more focused.

Darien explained, "there was just something so exciting and forbidden about it, knowing it had to be that way… that I had to submit, and then I woke up and it was you." His eyes shone with fevered desire, his voice growing breathy and rough, "and that was so much better, so much hotter." He moaned softly, enjoying the heat flowing through his body. Bobby pressed himself in tighter rubbing rhythmically against Darien's body. "Mmm, oh yeah…like that," Darien breathed, moving in response to Bobby's actions, inviting more. "Wouldn't you just love it?" Darien asked, enticing Bobby, "waking me up every morning like this? Fucking me till we both come?"

Bobby succumbed to the seduction, practically growling in Darien's ear, "I'd love to fuck you, Baby."

Bobby shifted away for a moment and Darien smiled as he heard him rummaging through the nightstand. Moments later, fingers freshly drenched in lubricant, slid between Darien's cheeks, seeking his opening. Passion flared through his body as the first part of Bobby entered him. Warm slick fingers penetrated him, wrenching impassioned groans of desire from his lips.

Bobby's fingers worked magic, sliding in and out of Darien's ass, stoking hot desire. A deep longing flowed through Darien. Waves of passion sizzled through his body, settling in his loins each time Bobby touched his hot spot. His need was overwhelming now. Hungry for Bobby's touch, and aching penetration, Darien rolled fully facing the mattress and raised his hips, nearly begging for Bobby to take him. His voice was husky and raw "C'mon, Bobby, fuck me."

Bobby leaned in close, licking behind Darien's ear, nuzzling him. His fingers left Darien's body, leaving him feeling empty and achingly needy.

Expecting the thrilling first nudge of Bobby's hot cock against him, Darien was surprised to feel strong hands on his shoulders, turning him over onto his back.

"No, Dare," Bobby said, his voice tight with passion, "I want to watch you. I do want you in my bed every morning, but on my terms," Bobby's dark brown eyes sparkled with a deep fire. "You're with me now. I want you to know who's fucking you."

Darien gazed into Bobby's eyes as if looking into a mirror. Those eyes could be his own, their color was a deep chestnut brown, matching the color of his own eyes and they sparkled with the same passion and depth of feeling that was now swelled within Darien.

Mesmerized, Darien opened himself to his partner, spreading his legs and inviting Bobby in, surrendering to passion.

Never taking his eyes from Darien's gaze, Bobby positioned himself, then pushed firmly forward, penetrating his partner. Bobby entered him slowly, gradually sliding into Darien, filling him until his hips were flush with Darien's cheeks. A wave of lust and desire, and an emotion Darien couldn't name, surged through him.

They hung there a moment, drinking each other in, while Darien's body adjusted to accept Bobby's size. Darien felt the throb of Bobby's flesh inside him and his own body pulsing in response. He smiled at his partner, signaling he was ready and saw lust, desire and a glimmer of something else flash in Bobby's eyes.

He began with long, slow strokes, pulling himself almost completely out of Darien, then sliding back in fully. Each stroke wrenched deep groans from Darien. The sensation was strong, and erotic, and hotter than hell. His gaze locked onto Bobby, Darien felt his own eyes fill with tears, unbidden and confusing. With each stroke from his lover, Darien moaned in pure ecstasy, "oh Bobby….oh yeah, that's it…oh, god," voicing his encouragement. The tears and the half-formed words flowed from him, drowned in passionate groans. He was overwhelmed by Bobby. He couldn't control his reactions, he wanted this so badly.

Bobby plunged into Darien again, slipping into a faster rhythm, and Darien's hips responded thrusting toward Bobby to increase the pressure already grinding into him. "Oh, shit…yeah,…oh yeah," Darien

was panting rapidly, struggling to breathe, lost in the ecstasy. "Oh god, oh Bobby… love it.. so perfect.. so…" Darien's eyes closed as he surrendered to pure sensation. He was flooded by the emotions surging through him and by his hunger for Bobby, wanting him, desiring him, needing him desperately. Each stroke overwhelmed him, filled him with a rush of sensation, lust, desire, and….Bobby. As if his entire body, his skin, his mind, his every cell was being infused with Bobby. As if Bobby was somehow becoming a part of him.

In a flash, Darien understood; he loved Bobby Hobbes. He was `in love' with him. Deeply, truly, hopelessly in love. For the first time in his life. He'd loved other people, his family, Kevin, girlfriends like Casey, but he'd never fallen for anyone in that romantic, ridiculous, head-over-heels way. Never before this. And Bobby loved him back. Suddenly, Darien realize what Bobby meant by "on my terms." That was why he wanted them face to face. Bobby loved him. That was what he meant. That was why he wanted to see him, to watch him, because Bobby wasn't fucking him; Bobby was making love to him. Holy shit. He was in love with Bobby, and Bobby loved him back. More than his body being fucked, Darien felt his soul was being made love to. Amazing.

His thoughts were derailed as Bobby picked up the pace, drowning Darien in wave after wave of pure passion. He felt wide open, receptive. His head fell back on the bed. He was lost in rapture. "Oh yeah, that's it….More." Darien loved it. Wanted it. "Yes, perfect… so damn perfect." Lust and desire swallowed his mind as he surrendered to pure sensation.

Bobby's hand wrapped around his cock, sending another burst of white heat exploding through Darien. "Oh god, …oh Bobby, …..love it, …love you." He no longer knew what he was saying. Half-formed words and

inarticulate moans flowed from him, riding on waves of pleasure. Bobby was stroking his cock, sliding his fist up and down his shaft, running his thumb over the sensitive tip - rushing him toward orgasm.

His body tightened, approaching crisis. He groaned deeply, his voice breathy and raw as Bobby slammed into him, flesh smacking against flesh. Getting thoroughly fucked. The rhythm grew faster and more intense. The sensuous pounding from Bobby's cock was too much. Bobby drove into him again and again, pushing him near the crest of orgasm. Then Bobby's eyes shut, and he cried out Darien's name and froze above him. In the sudden stillness, Darien could feel the pulse of Bobby's cock buried deep within him and a rush of heat flowing there. Bobby was coming. Inside his body. That thought, so erotic and intense, sent Darien over the edge. Deep groaning gave way to cries as his thoughts suddenly converged, focusing with laser-like intensity on the sensation as he came, then in a flash, his mind dissolved as wave after wave of hot come shot from his body. Like riding a cresting wave, his whole body seemed to sigh, as he slid down a river of sensation, pulse after pulse, sweet, fluid and slow. He ground himself against Bobby's hips, sending more pulses rolling through him as he clutched tightly to the body above him, hanging on, clinging to Bobby.

Slowly, very slowly, they collapsed into each other's arms, exhausted, sated, and oblivious to anything else. Bobby slid out of Darien's body, sliding down next to him on the bed. Darien grabbed an old T-shirt from the floor and wiped himself off, cleaning up a bit before settling down again. He pulled the blanket back up from where it had been scrunched, at the bottom of the bed and snuggled under it with Bobby. Soon, Darien found himself listening to the soft, rhythmic breathing of his partner. Sleep seemed to be eluding him however, so he remained for awhile, watching his partner sleep, amazed at how strong his feelings were for this man.

******

Darien sat on the balcony and watched the light growing in the sky, slowly revealing the beach and ocean beyond. He was thinking how his life had changed so much in such a few years. He'd been in Soledad for fifteen months, had some hard times there and been released, feeling like scum. A three-time loser, a disappointment to his family, an all-around fuck-up. He'd met, loved and lost Casey. Then the Agency had screwed up his life, bonding him to a job he hadn't wanted and a gland that drove him periodically insane.

Because of his work and his past, he had virtually no friends now. People at the Agency were co-workers, not much more. And who knew how long he'd go on living with this gland in his head? Something could go wrong with it any day and that would be it. Game over. Ever since Kevin had died, Darien had struggled with depression. At times it seemed there just wasn't much to live for, no excuse to keep breathing.

But Bobby had changed all that. Bobby Hobbes was his partner, his friend, his lover. He relied on Bobby to watch his back, guide him through this weird profession, and just generally make his life bearable. He still thought it weird that a gung-ho, government-loyal, paranoid, ex-Marine could come to mean so much to him, but Bobby did. He made life worth living, scary as that thought was. Even more, he was in love with Bobby Hobbes. And now, Darien knew, he meant just as much to Bobby. Maybe he wasn't such a fuck-up after all. He smiled as golden light began to dance across the water; the sun must have just cleared the eastern horizon. Darien got up and headed back inside to Bobby, wondering what this new day would bring.

END