I Spy a Dark Obsession

He obliged, pumping hard and fast, enjoying the staccato slap of their skin. Their balls smacking together. The friction sent him higher, little shocks rippling along his cock. Already close. Reaching around Cory’s hip, he grasped the other man’s cock, surprised that it had lost some of its hardness. He stroked it in time with his thrusts, bringing it to life, hoping to bring Cory as much pleasure as he was getting.

His orgasm hit hard, and he released Cory’s erection. Buried himself to the hilt and emptied his balls into the kid’s ass. When the last shudder went through him, he carefully withdrew and removed the condom. Tied it off and tossed it in a nearby trash can. Climbing back onto the bed, he saw that Cory was stretched out on his stomach. He turned the kid over and arched his brows.

“You never came.”

Cory flushed, not meeting his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Happens sometimes. I’d be glad to finish sucking you off.” He grinned and licked his lips suggestively.

The younger man glanced at the clock. “N-no, I… that’s okay.” “You have somewhere you need to be?”

“What?” Those baby blues were startled. Guilty.

“You keep looking at the clock. If you’ve got somewhere to go, I won’t keep you.”

“N-No. I mean, y-yes.” Cory closed his eyes.

“Is this thing we have going becoming too domestic for you?” he asked. “If you’re ready to move on, just say so, kid. I’ll be sorry because I really like you, but I’ll wish you nothing but the best.”

“You like me?” he asked in a small voice.

“I do. You’re sweet-natured, cute, adventurous in bed. What’s not to like?”

“Oh, no.” Cory’s face paled, his eyes enormous.

And with that, the warning bells that should’ve gone off about twenty minutes ago began to clang in his head. “Cory,” he said calmly. “Tell me what you’ve done.”

“I think they l-lied to me. They s-said you were a d-dangerous criminal. But you’ve been so nice to me. Nothing at all like a criminal.”

Ah, fuck. “Who said this?”

Cory sat up, wringing his hands. “A couple of men. They claimed to be undercover FBI. But they weren’t, were they?”

“Unlikely. I’m the one who’s undercover, and you got played. Get dressed and hurry.” Bastian jumped from the bed and reached for his jeans, removed the gun, and laid it on the chair close at hand. He began yanking on his pants. “Was one of them a big Mexican with a pockmarked face?”

“Yes,” Cory whispered, pulling on his own jeans.

“Shit. What did they offer you to lure me here tonight?” He tried to keep the betrayal and bitterness from his voice. He wasn’t lured, precisely, but was a willing participant in his own downfall. Cory was a victim also, too innocent for his own good.

“Five thousand. I wondered about that, but they claimed the FBI could expense the cost of paying me. But the real FBI couldn’t do that, could they? Jesus, I’m so stupid!” Hands shaking, he pulled on his shirt.

“How much time do we have?” He jammed his feet in his shoes, palmed the gun.

“Five or ten minutes. They said they’d take you into custody, then pay me the money.” Cory swallowed hard. “But they planned to just kill us both, didn’t they?”

“That’s exactly right.” Digging his phone out of his pocket, he placed a call to Michael, cursing when it went to voice mail. “It’s me. I’m at the motel and things have gone FUBAR. They got to Cory and set me up, but he got suspicious of their story and confessed to me. We’re going to try and make it to the compound, but it could be too late to make a clean break out of here. Could use some backup. See you.”

He pocketed the phone and dug a card from his wallet. Handed it to Cory. “If we get separated, you find a place to lie low and call that number. One of our men will pick you up and take you somewhere safe.”

“Thanks. I don’t deserve that much.”

“We’ll discuss who’s the bigger idiot later. Let’s go.”

Easing the door open, Bastian peered into the night. Nothing moved in the dim light under the awning that covered the row of rooms, nor in the parking lot. He waved at Cory to follow, and stepped out, half expecting to be greeted by a hail of bullets. Even that scenario beat being trapped in the motel room, though, like pigs waiting for slaughter.

Grabbing Cory’s arm, he took a couple of steps toward his new car — and two forms rounded the corner not twenty feet from them. Both men were big and carried guns. One of them jogged wide, cutting off his route to the car. Tio.

“Run!” Bastian shouted, shoving Cory in the opposite direction. Bracing his feet, he brought his arm up, knowing in his gut that he was so fucking dead, but someone was going with him. Making a split decision, he fired at the closest man, the one under the awning, as the pair fired back. A bullet whizzed past his face to embed in the stucco of the motel wall, and a punch hit his thigh, burning. The man he hit went down, a dark stain blossoming on his chest.

As Tio fired again, Bastian turned and bolted in the direction he’d sent Cory. Rounding the corner of the building, he spotted Cory hauling ass across the lot next door, heading for the shadows. Bastian had to buy the kid time to find a hiding place and make the call for help. Using the wall as cover, he lunged around the corner and popped off two shots at Dietz’s favorite lapdog, gratified when the man dove for the ground between two parked cars. If he hadn’t hit the bastard, he’d at least slowed him down.

Bastian took off, the pain in his leg beginning to register. With every step, agony ripped through his thigh, but he pushed on. Across the street, into an alley next to a dry cleaners that was closed for the night. Emerging from the other end, he limped more than ran across the next street, into another alley, footsteps gaining from behind. His foot snagged something in the darkness and he tripped, landing on his hands and knees in slimy garbage. Lost his gun as it went skittering into the gloom.

Gunshots erupted at his back and he lurched up, stumbled on, shards of brick exploding to his right. Sweating, breathing hard, he reached the end of the alley — a corridor that ended in a tall, high fence.

Panting, he braced one hand on the fence and laid the other on his jeans, over the wound. His pants were soaked with blood and now he could feel the warm liquid squishing in his shoe. Dizziness assailed him, and he knew the bullet had probably nicked an artery. He was trapped.

It was over.

Putting his back to the fence, he leaned against it, determined to die on his feet. Tio jogged up and stopped a few feet away, gun pointed squarely at Bastian’s chest, crooked smile glinting in the scant light.

“Where’s your traitorous boss?” Bastian asked.

“Close. Not that it will matter to you in a moment.”

“Figures, since you two are practically married,” he taunted. “Do you scream his name when he fucks your ass raw?” His hope was to incite Tio to deliver a quick death.

The taunt backfired. The big man crossed the space in two strides and slammed the butt of his gun into Bastian’s head.

The night shattered around him and he fell. Hit the ground and rolled to his side, instinctively trying to protect himself. A boot connected with his stomach and he gagged, tried to scramble away. Another blow caught his ribs, another his chest. They rained down until he stopped moving, strength gone, floating somewhere above the intense pain.

As though conjured from his worst nightmare, Tio’s silhouette loomed over him. Slowly, he raised his arm, aiming his gun at Bastian’s skull.

“Adios, Chevalier.”

Distantly, Bastian heard a shout, the deafening explosion of a gunshot.

Then nothing.

Thank God he hadn’t sent the team home when Bastian called an end to the op.

“Hang on, buddy,” Michael said, as Ozzie whipped the surveillance van in a sharp turn toward the motel. “We’re coming.”

They’d listened just a while longer, grumbling but respecting Michael’s sixth sense. His crazy instinct not to call it so soon. To wait. The kid’s confession had chilled their blood, and when he said Dietz’s men were on the way,