PYGMALION

 

by DocPaul

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve: Not to dream all my dream, let’s act the rest.

 

Day Twelve: Saturday, 1:13 am

 

 

Jonathan let himself into Max’s place. Putting his bag and overcoat across the back of the sofa, he stretched. So this was what tired felt like. Surprising. His body had gone numb about twelve hours ago, so to actually feel anything was a shocker in itself.

 

“Hey.”

 

Jonathan stopped in mid-stretch at the sound of Max’s voice coming from the doorway. He stood in the hallway, leaning against the door jam. He was wearing nothing but a pair of drawstring pants he sometimes slept in.

 

“Hey back.”

 

“Sorry I called.”

 

Jonathan shook his head. “I would’ve been pissed if you didn’t. Maria and the babies?”

 

“They’re fine. She’s holding on. Just barely. I’m pretty concerned about Michael. He hasn’t said much, and even for Michael, the silence is too…”

 

“Much?”

 

“Yes. Something like that.” Max went into the room. “You hungry?

 

Jonathan reached out and grabbed Max pulling to him. “Yeah, I’m hungry. Starved.” Before Max could respond, Jonathan was already springing into action.

 

Jonathan tightened his hands on Max's hips and pulled him hard against his body. There was a wall behind them - the small wall separating the kitchen from the living room. He opened his eyes to keep it in sight, never removing his mouth from Max's. He backed the younger man against the wall, pinning him there with his weight. He released Max's mouth, dragging his tongue across stubble-rough cheeks and then down, licking a trail from the swollen lips to the nipples left bare from a lack of a shirt.

 

Jonathan heard a groan above him as he latched on to one and tugged gently with his teeth. He worried at it for a moment, sucking and biting, enticing gasps of pain and pleasure from his partner. When it was swollen and throbbing with heat he switched to the other nipple, tonguing carefully, tasting the muskier bite and taste of Evans. Hands cradled his head, clutching on to him, holding him close as Max made throaty sounds of encouragement. He turned his head and nipped at those hands, swirling his tongue suggestively over the thumb. Deep brown met unfathomed black as he did so, both sets of eyes dark and hot.

 

Max's eyes widened and darkened further when Jonathan continued downward, sliding to his knees before him. Jonathan rubbed his cheek against the hard throbbing length barely concealed behind the thin drawstring pants, felt it pulse against his skin. His own body was more than aroused, swollen and achingly hard in his slacks, throbbing in response. He nuzzled for a moment longer, smelling the unmistakable scent of semen, breathing in the heat and arousal of his partner. His tongue darted out and ran up the bulging material and he heard Max's growl of lust.

 

Jonathan surged to his feet and grabbed two handfuls of hair, yanking Max's head back, tilting it up. He took the younger man's mouth in a voracious, sucking kiss, drawing Max's tongue as far into his own mouth as he could. He felt Max's knee thrust between his legs, bringing them closer still, hungry hands scrambling at his waist to release the top button. He shifted so he could rub his aching body hard against the smaller man's, moving against the hand that was reaching to pet him.

 

Max tore his mouth away, gasping. "Jonathan! Oh, god, Jon..."

 

"What, baby?" he panted, trying to draw air into lungs that seemed to have forgotten how to work.

 

"Don’t ruin the mood by calling me baby!” Jonathan laughed at that. “This is good. It's so good, man...so good..."

 

"Yeah," he growled before delving back into the dark recesses of Max's mouth. He plunged his tongue in and out, fucking the younger man's mouth rapidly, hands wandering at will. Max's hands were busy kneading and squeezing the muscles of his biceps, rubbing against him hard, seeking added touch.

 

Jonathan was ready to have Max take him right here, right now. God. He was more than a little ready. He was all but begging him to take it one last step further.

 

Reluctantly Jonathan dragged his mouth away from his partner's, observing the swollen lips, heaving chest, and hearing the pounding heartbeat. He leaned in to nuzzle at Max's ear, rimming the outer edge before whispering, "I have to have you, Max. I want more, much more. I want to feel you buried inside me. Fucking me 'til I scream."

 

A raspy voice moaned, "God, yes."

 

"Bed? Now?" Maria had said to stop over thinking it, to just show up ready and willing, and Max would more than likely be onboard. Thinking only wasted time. He already knew what he wanted.

 

A hesitant nod. "Are you sure? Jonathan, this is…"

 

"I won't make it much longer, Max. I need you, now. It's already gone on too long. I spend my days obsessing and daydreaming about getting fucked by you." Jonathan drew Max's hand down to his raging hard body. "I want you, Max. I’ve always wanted you. Gotta have you..."

 

"Yes...." Max breathed. "Let's go."

 

Max followed Jonathan and twice trailed his fingers up and down the fine silk of Jonathan's dress shirt where it defined and stretched across his back. Jonathan threw a look over his shoulder the second time, eyes smoldering with barely banked heat and growled, "Undress me."

 

The wanton look on Max's face only fueled the fire now raging out of control. He could do that. No problem. He could do it in his sleep.

 

Jonathan steered them toward the bed in the far corner of the room, turning as he touched the edge of the mattress, pulling Max back into his arms. Their lips met and fused, tongues tangling in hunger, desperate for the taste of each other.

 

Jonathan tugged on Max's arms and raised them to encircle his neck, exposing a large patch of bare midriff as his shirt hung open from where Max had already unfastened it. Their skin touched. Jonathan moaned and slid his hand around Max’s back stroking the smooth skin and firm muscle, feeling the ripples and twitches his touch generated. Max's hands got busy working on the buttons and fastenings of Jonathan's pants, brushing against the obvious bulge that was outlined against the fabric. Hurry. Damn, if he didn’t hurry, Jonathan was going to ruin a perfectly good pair of Armani sear cut slacks. Jonathan groaned against Max's mouth as those incredible fingers delved in and freed him, warm skin on his heated flesh, cool air rushing against him. A thumb smoothed over the tip, probing at the tiny fissure, spreading the pre-cum that had already leaked out.

 

"Yeah, touch me like that....just like that, Max..."

 

"Like me touching you?" Max whispered against Jonathan's chest, nuzzling into hard nipples.

 

"God, yes...ohhh..." The fingers stroked, caressed, cajoled, drawing breathy gasps and moans from him. Strange. He was nothing but a bundle of endless feelings all firing and shoot about at once. Glorious. It felt glorious. He felt Max smile against his chest. "Keep touching...don't stop,...don't stop...oh, shit..."

 

"You can let it go. I’ve got you..." Max released the last fastening and Jonathan’s pant fell unhindered to the floor puddling at their feet. Max watched the material drop, his eyes moving hungrily up Jonathan’s form. All those years. Women. Too numerous to count, and god he loved everything about their bodies! But it was almost shocking that he never noticed how incredible men looked. The male form. It was amazingly powerful, angular, and defined in the hardness of muscles. But would he want other men? Or just admire their forms? Jonathan. He wanted Jonathan. There was no one else.

 

"No..." Max pushed himself back from Jonathan and watched as Jonathan just sat down on the bed, almost resigned. “I wanted to tell you…show you,…oh damn!”

 

Jonathan couldn’t even talk. This couldn’t be happening. Max wouldn’t just pull back, not now. Not this far into it. “Max, I can’t…”

 

“No, you don’t understand. It’s not that! I…it’s just...” Max swore. He was ruining this. “It’s all the women. I know how to do this. I’ve done it before with women. So it’s not what you think.”

 

“Then what the hell is it?” Jonathan asked quietly.

 

“It’s just different, okay? All those women? It was just sex and it didn’t matter.” Max closed his eyes for a moment. Why was this so damn hard? “I didn’t want to just do this…to make it just sex, because it’s not.”

 

Jonathan went real still. “What is it, if not sex?”

 

“I’ve never been in love before. It means more.” Max moved next to Jonathan on the bed, pushing him further and further back in a slow crawl. Jonathan couldn’t breath. His heart stopped. He never knew what it was to want something, until Max gave it to him.

 

“What did you say?” Damn. He could feel a hint of moisture behind his eyes, a touch of control slipping. If Max Evans turned him into a bawling baby he was going to kill him.

 

“I said I love you. And the reason I’ve been holding off on this was because in an old fashioned way, I wanted it to mean something more than just us getting off. Something more than pleasure.”

 

Jonathan couldn’t find his tongue. “Max, I…”

 

Max laughed softly. Jonathan speechless was worth everything. He shoved him back from the lounging position gently onto the bed, flat on his back. "I want to taste you...drink you. Then I want to make love to you until you can't see straight."

 

"Oh..." came a faint voice below him.

 

Max moved his body along Jonathan’s leaning into him to kiss him again as his hand moved down Jonathan’s body, his fingers fumbling in his haste to touch every inch of him. Max leaned down to take his first taste. A few months ago, if someone suggested he could actually enjoy this, he would have shot the person with his gun. Now he just reveled in Jonathan’s gasp, felt an increase in excitement when Jonathan’s hands grasped his hair. He was growing it out just for that reason. He loved the feel of Jonathan’s hands in it when he started to lose control. Flavors and scents exploded in his mouth. Max decided to keep this new favorite thing he was doing to himself. He really wasn’t up to a long intense discussion with Isabel over how much he really liked sucking cock.

 

Hot. Jonathan tasted of heat. Heat, salt, sweat and a slightly bitter flavor; a delicious combination that piggybacked with the other scents and tastes he had already discovered; the total package of one incredibly sexy man. He pulled back, enough to give him a little maneuvering room, then he sucked the head into his mouth, running his tongue all across the top of it.

 

"Ohmigod....Max...Mmmmmax..." Hands clutched at his head, fingers scrambling for purchase.

 

He ignored everything but his driving need for this and plunged a little further down in the heat. The reaction was electric: Jonathan groaned low in his throat and shoved upward against him, forcing the rest of himself into Max's mouth. Max grunted and swallowed, taking it all in. That was the bonus. Jonathan completely vulnerable and under his control.

 

He sucked voraciously, like a starving man, needing to taste him, bitter and the salty. Max drank eagerly. He could feel the striations in the skin under his tongue; felt and heard the thundering pulse racing through the hard shaft, tasted the salt of the skin itself. Veins rolled beneath his tongue as it slid frantically up and down, working...working... Jonathan moaned above him, hands caressing at his head. Feeling the growing tension, the blood rushing faster and harder towards the organ as other fluids began to move along different paths, it wasn’t long to feel the taunt stillness of Jonathan’s body as he exploded, a low cry hanging in the air. His. Definitely his.

 

"Max...?" Jonathan's voice sounded shaky, breathless.

 

"Hang on..." Max reached for Jonathan, shifting him so he was on his stomach. He would prefer to see him this first time, but he really wanted to rest against his back, holding him so close so he could talk in his ear. He had done this a few times with women in his acquaintance, but this time was different. It was Jonathan, and it was a deeper connection for them. Rubbing his unshaved face and late night whiskers along the skin of Jonathan’s back, Max closed his eyes to the rasp of it against the skin. Strangely sensual. It worked for him. Taking his time, he reached into his bedside table for condoms and supplies he put there months ago.

 

"Please, Max...god, don't tease..." The wait and anticipation was killing him. He had imagined it in his head, the preparation, a cleaning ceremony in preparation, and so many other scenarios, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t back off to change the circumstances. This was perfect.

 

“You want a reach around?” Max asked chuckling softly as Jonathan swore.

 

“I swear, if you don’t just get on with it, I’m going to kill you!”

 

Testy! Max reached around to close around Jonathan's straining cock, pumping him briskly in time to the tiny thrusts he made with his lower body. Jonathan moaned incoherently, arching into his hand, pressing against his body.

 

Taking lubrication, Max quickly prepared Jonathan, taking his time to stretch the muscles and lubricate. They had come this far many times, but never the final step. It was his fault. He had held back. Nothing ever meant this much to him. He had spent a small lifetime fucking up relationships, and somehow moving at a snail pace with Jonathan was all about not doing that again. Somewhere in his past, he moved too fast, too thoughtlessly, and it cost him everything. He couldn’t let that happen again. Not this time.

 

"Mmm--oh, yeah...oh, god, Max...anytime. Now would be good." Jonathan moved against the fingers, pressing back. Jonathan protested when Max moved away from him.

 

Max kissed his back. "Just taking my pants off," he whispered hoarsely.

 

"Max..." The impatience and irritation in Jonathan’s voice made Max smile slightly as he buried his face in Jonathan’s loose long dark hair at his neck..

 

“C'mere." Now or never.

 

"Ohhhh....damn..." Jonathan breathed out as he and Max finally made the last connection. Shit. That was…painful, intense, erotic, hot, and fucking irritating at the same time. Max was going so slow and carefully that Jonathan was conflicted between being grateful and moved by the consideration, or just impatient.

 

"Christ,..." Max swallowed heavily as he was engulfed by Jonathan. He could feel himself throbbing inside of Jonathan, feel his body throbbing around him. It was incredible…the rush of blood through the thin walls of skin caressed and massaged him, Jonathan's pulse felt like staccato beats pounding along his sensitive cock, the heat of his body seemed to sear him, branding him. "I love you," he whispered hoarsely as he rested his head against Jonathan’s back. Love. Being in love made a huge difference.

 

They rocked together gently for a long moment. Jonathan, who was once tired, suddenly couldn’t remember feeling more energized. Then the hunger that had engulfed both of them began to rise again and movements became more urgent, more frantic.

 

Max groaned when Jonathan flexed and encouraged him to speed up. The difference between a male and female lover became apparent. With Jonathan he rarely felt the need to be careful, because Jonathan never felt delicate or fragile. Max leaned forward and bit Jonathan gently on the neck, sucking on the pulse point. The low moan was encouragement enough that Max did it again, biting a little harder this time. Jonathan's answer was to flex his muscles again.

 

"God, you're killing me...man, you feel so good...tight, hot...I'm in you, Jonathan...I'm inside you." Max was definitely babbling, and Jonathan seemed unaware of it as the slick sweat of their bodies poured over him, and all he could feel was Max and for the first time in his life, everything.

 

Max angled his penetration and found that one spot that caused a cascading reaction from Jonathan. The shivers and shudders that racked his body were echoed through Max’s when Jonathan tightened around him. Their movements became faster, harder. And Max reached around to finish Jonathan off as he thrust hard into the willing body, holding his thrust as Jonathan's body tightened around him, muscles clenching, milking his orgasm. He shuddered for long moments, shaking from the intensity as Max’s mouth opened in wonder. Oh, damn!

Sex was good. This was different. The surging energy hit him first in the small of his back, along his spine, and seemed to travel through his entire body at an alarming rate, firing all the synaptic pathways along the way. His eyes had to have rolled back in his head, as he felt his body explode into a billion points of light, and for a cosmic second, suspended, he could feel Jonathan along side him, immersed and coalesced with every molecule of his being.

 

Then it was done. They lay there, Max still buried deep within Jonathan, both men panting and shaking from the intensity of the sensations--and the emotions. It wasn’t stopping. The sensation kept sweeping through them in waves. Max remembered hearing a scream, but he couldn’t honestly say if it was Jonathan or himself.

 

Max rested his head against Jonathan’s back, with Jonathan lying wasted under him. Warm, moist air moved across his ultra sensitive skin and he arched slightly into it. He brought a hand up to tangle into the long silky black strands of Jonathan’s hair, reflecting for a moment that they were indeed as soft as they looked.

 

"Jonathan?" No response. "Jonathan?"

 

"Yeah." The utter contentedness in his partner's voice surprised him and he forgot for a minute what he wanted to ask.

 

"You okay?"

 

"If I were any more okay I'd be dead." The voice was muffled under him. Max gripped a handful of Jonathan's hair and pulled his head back gently, staring at him.

 

"You sure?"

 

"I'm fine. Better than fine. Fucking fantastic." Max laughed softly at that. Jonathan wasn’t one to give into bouts of profanity. “Of course, I’d like to add ‘Ouch’, and ‘Damn, you weigh a ton.’” Max took the hint and rolled off the older man and watched as he slowly turned over. They sat for a moment staring at each other, uncertain what to say, until suddenly they both laughed, their grins spreading across their faces.

 

“Max?” Jonathan frowned at the clock. Hours had gone by. It was already after three, actually almost four.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“A few things.” Jonathan waited until Max came out of his resting pose. “First, that was very different from anything I've ever experienced.” That was something in itself. All his experiences with Max were so much above all his others, but this one had just hit a higher orbit.

 

Max’s face remained silent for a moment. Shit. He forgot about the whole alien orgasm thing, and whatever it was he did during sex must have made a huge difference. Honestly though, what just happened between them was light-years beyond even Max’s experience. That was a whole new level. Max remembered Michael mentioning experiencing something this surreal and intense with Maria as well.

 

“Not that I’m complaining. Actually, I am definitely not complaining. I just want to say, ‘wow’, and add that we can definitely do that again.” Max smiled at that. Good. Now that they got past that roadblock in their relationship, he wasn’t going back. “Second, I’m sorry I couldn’t come home when you called. I should’ve been here.”

 

“You came home early for Jim and Amy. I understood that you couldn’t cancel this time too. It wasn’t a problem.”

 

“Mrs. Mulhoney died, Max. That is definitely a problem. Maria is sick, and Michael is silent. My place is here with the rest of you. I don’t like this. I actually hate it.”

 

Max was surprised at the passion Jonathan was showing. He knew Jonathan and Maria had a complex and unfathomable relationship, but this was the first time he realized that Jonathan thought of the entire group as his responsibility, maybe even family.

 

“You’re here now. That’s cool.” Max ran his hand down Jonathan’s chest, his eyes growing heavier at the sensual feel of the slightly damp skin. “And was there anything else?”

 

Jonathan bit back telling Max about Vanessa. Later. Now was between them, and them only. This was private. “Actually, I was going to ask if you were going to feed me until I realized it was actually very close to already being morning.”

 

Max moved closer to Jonathan as the larger man held out an arm and let him in close. They liked sharing a bed, but it wasn’t like either of them was really into snuggling. It just wasn’t the same. They shared the bed. Slept together. Sex. But they both liked their space.

 

“Are you asking me if I’ll respect you in the morning, and at least feed you before I throw you out of my bed?”

 

Jonathan yawned and stretched. Oh yeah. He was going to feel it in the morning. “It was my virginity, Max. It has to be worth at least a few slices of bacon, maybe some fresh fruit, and an egg over easy.”

 

Max laughed. Hell, it was worth a lot more than that. “I’ll go out for Krispy Kremes.”

 

“You do love me!” Jonathan said dramatically for effect.

 

Max became serious. “Don’t ever doubt that. I’ve had a hard time coming to this Jonathan, so it wasn’t something I’ve done lightly.”

 

“I know.” Jonathan had to appreciate the man Max was shaping into. It was a novelty to him. In all the world he never thought to find what he had found in Max. It was reshaping his life.

 

~~~

 

Michael hung up the phone and looked over at Sean, who was cooking. This was becoming a habit. The food was good, but he really didn’t want to become a roommate with Sean DeLuca.

 

“That was Walter. I arranged for your car to be delivered to his garage instead of the loft. Walter said he would take care of the cost, and you can pay him on Tuesday. He’s going to do a quick systems check, and start generating a list of what needs to be replaced. Once Maria and I move back home, I’ll arrange for the car to be delivered there, and then we can start working on it.”

 

Sean started to whistle. Lovely. Fucking lovely. His car. “Great! I can’t wait. All you classic car owners are too snotty with your wheels.”

 

Michael just snorted as the phone rang again. Yeah. Wait until Sean had his dream car and they would see how giving he was going to be about sharing  it with others. He hadn’t noticed Maria coming down the stairs. She had slept in that morning. The darkness under her eyes and the tremor in her hands was concerning him greatly. He had piled on another blanket and left her to rest.

 

Maria came up behind him and answered the ringing phone. Startled, Michael turned and listened. It was obviously for her, but he frowned at the look on her face. She was listening to the caller, and her face shuttered. What little color she had was suddenly gone as it drained from her face. Michael could see the shake in her hands, as she sank down heavily in the nearest chair. Cussing, he told Sean to put on some tea, and he blanketed himself around her, as he took the phone.

 

“Who is this?” Sean winced at his angry voice. That was the voice that made secretaries and rookies cry. Guerin wasn’t a subtle man. Going to the door, he answered a knock.

 

“Morning, Cap Max.”

 

“Can the ‘Cap’ part, Sean.” Max said as he and Jonathan entered the kitchen.

 

Jonathan took in the scene immediately. Michael was getting ‘sporty’ on the phone with someone, and Maria…oh damn! Jonathan quickly went to her. Taking her hands in his, he could feel the shaking and the ice cold creeping. This couldn’t be happening. Maria was crying softly, and suddenly she put her head down on the table and sobbed.

 

The room exploded. Drawers and flatware went flying, and pictures flew off the walls. Michael ducked as a large platter exploded over his head. Shoving the phone at Jonathan he barked for the man to take care of the asshole on the other end, as he quickly pulled Maria onto the floor and out of the way of flying objects and quickly tried to calm the twins.

 

Sean slowly rose to his feet as the room suddenly quieted. Looking around, he swore. Someone was going to have to clean up this mess, and his suspicions were he was that someone. Searching quickly, he found a cup that wasn’t broken and made a large cup of hot tea, extra sugar. Handing it to Michael, he couldn’t take his eyes off Maria. In mere moments, she had seemed to sink inside herself, and now she looked so incredibly small. Wasting.

 

Michael helped Maria drink the tea through chattering teeth. Swearing and concerned, he picked her up to put her in a hot bath. Sean went back to making tea. He and Max started to clean the room, making note of broken dishes needing to be replaced. Jonathan was pacing the room in anger, his voice never raising above a low roar as the very ice in his demeanor could be chipped away as glaciered permafrost.

 

Jonathan stood there in the room, tall and dark. He was in black pants and a Henley shirt unbuttoned at his neck with the sleeves up. The flash of his watch caught Max’s eye as it flicked and flittered about. Jonathan’s hair was long black silky hair was held back with a leather tie, and his one hand was on his waist as he talked coolly in the phone. It was his eyes that disturbed Max the most. Their usual impenetrable blackness was heated with a gleam, a spark, and it was disconcerting to feel so enthralled.

 

“Yeah, I could fuck him right now too.” Sean said softly in Max’s ear.

 

Max looked over his shoulder at Sean checking Jonathan out and something hit him hard. Jealousy. It more than bugged him that Sean was looking at Jonathan as something desirable, but literally it pissed him off to no end.

 

Sean, ignoring Max’s withering stare, but knowing what it contained, just smiled his usual teasing grin. “Of course, such a magnificent beast…think I’d rather be fucked by it.”

 

“Sean, I swear if you don’t shut up…”

 

“Peace! I’m just sayin... Of course, the man is spoken for, and as it happens, so am I. But I’m not dead, and the energy off that man is totally worthy of drool. My own sweet chicken-pot-pie delight has that same intensity when she’s lawyering, and damn if I don’t crawl all over her just begging for attention. Total turn on.” Sean’s eyes darkened as he let his brain take him on a journey to the truly sick and depraved. “High heels. Love them. Wonder if Mac would like to…”

 

Max put an elbow into Sean’s gut smiling at the ‘omphing’ noise. Sometimes even a little information was too much, and in Sean’s case any information ran in that vein. But he was right. Jonathan was oozing sex appeal in his take-charge role. Max cleared his throat and tried to clear what had happened earlier that morning out of his mind. Michael couldn’t take see him and Jonathan going at it in the living room.

 

Michael came down the stairs as Jonathan finally hung up and both Sean and Max had the room in some order.

 

“Maria?” Jonathan asked with his concern etched on his face.

 

Michael shook his head. “She’s asleep.”

 

“What happened?” Sean asked and Max took a seat on the edge of the table as well. Their curiosity was overwhelming. Michael couldn’t talk about it. It made him so angry. They ambushed her, hurt her during a time when she had no defenses left.

 

Jonathan suppressed an urge to go upstairs and check on Maria himself. Clearing his throat, he sat on the edge of the table across from Max. “That was a representative for Mrs. Mulhoney’s family. Seems that they didn’t want the added cost of burial and were happy to let Maria and Michael do that, but what they aren’t happy with is that Mrs. Mulhoney’s entire property was burned, and she left next to nothing.”

 

Sean frowned. Of course the elderly woman had nothing. That was how they found her. Penniless. Alone. Barely surviving. Did her family think that she somehow won the lottery?

 

“Guess they never realized how much of their mother’s livelihood was being supplemented by Maria, and the rest of you. She lived in a nice home. She was warm. She was fed and loved. Her surviving children thought she had money. They found out they were wrong, and now they’re threatening to sue Maria for damages. Suddenly after years of neglect and disinterest in their mother, they find that they need some consolation in the tune of half a million dollars.”

 

Sean stood up in a hurry and walked around the room in anger. “That is bullshit! Bullshit! How can Maria be held accountable? How?”

 

“It’s their contention that Maria put their mother at risk by not installing security system throughout all the lofts, and that she is ultimately responsible.”

 

“Pay them.” Maria said quietly from the stairs. It didn’t matter. Mrs. Mulhoney was gone, and God help her, she was responsible. Maria choked back a sob. Her fault. Looking at Jonathan, she waited until he made direct eye contact. “Jonathan, can you take care of this for me?” Maria ran a small delicate hand over her own face. It was pale and trembling, almost translucent. “I just…I can’t.” Maria didn’t wait for a response. She went back up the stairs to be alone.

 

Michael grabbed the hot water, and quickly made a cup of tea adding in sugar, and then even more. “She’s right, Jonathan. You take care of this.” Michael looked at the man and in a flash of understanding, they knew what was to be done. “I’ll trust you to keep her interest.”

 

“Not one red cent…understood.” Jonathan said.

 

Michael went up the stairs, he looked back at the three. “They will not use her grief against her. Maria was Mrs. Mulhoney’s family, not those vultures. They will not be paid for their abuse and neglect. You do it right, or I will.”

 

“Oh Lord,” Max said softly. Grabbing Jonathan’s arm, he squeezed it hard. “Please make sure you do this right. Michael…if Michael has to deal with it there’ll be bloodshed.”

 

Jonathan got off the table and came to stand in front of Max. “I need to go to the office and check with the Foundation lawyers. Maria is the Foundation, so it’s only fitting they safeguard her interest. You need me to drop you off?”

 

“No. I’ll stay close to Michael and Maria. Michael is walking a short fuse right now. He might need someone to pull him back.”

 

Jonathan nodded, and reaching down he kissed Max, then paused and kissed him again, longer and harder. He was slightly thick voiced when he said goodbye. “I’ll be back. I’ve got my phone. Just call if you need me. And, Max,” Jonathan waited until Max made eye contact. “We’re going to need to have a little talk about what the hell happened in this kitchen this morning.” Jonathan gestured at the damage.

 

Max nodded, and watched Jonathan leave. Jonathan hadn’t been told about the alien stuff, but after what happened between them earlier, maybe it was time. It took him a few moments to realize that Sean was watching with interest. The warmth on his neck wasn’t embarrassment. It was just hot in there.

 

“Mmmm, mmm, good.”

 

“Shut up, Sean.”

 

~~~

 

The man reached over for the phone. Taking it and cradling it between his neck and shoulder, he quickly acknowledged the caller.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“My job. Did you want something?”

 

“I want you to stop what you are doing. I didn’t hire you to bomb a loft or Captain Valenti’s car. I brought you here for a very specific purpose.”

 

The man put down his tools and leaned back in his chair. “That is true. The others are part of a different job, and actually that job is proving to be much more interesting.”

 

The voice on the other end lost control, the ironclad control that never slipped. “I don’t care who hired you, or what the job is, I want these acts of terrorism to stop! Today. You are messing in areas that I don’t want messed with, and I think you realize how dangerous it is to make an enemy of me.”

 

“There is nothing I can do. I hold three current contracts. Two for another client, and one more for you. If you wish to cancel your future job, fine. It will cost you the fee. But the other two are already paid for, and those I cannot abort.”

 

“I see.” There was a pause at the other end. “Dangerous business you are in, Chameleon.”

 

“The only game in the book.” He hung up the phone. A man’s word was everything. Pierce should know that.

 

~~~

 

“Maria, please eat something. Anything. I’ll go out for barbeque or hamburgers. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll get it.”

 

Maria just shrugged. She couldn’t eat. Too tired. Maybe in a little bit. If she just slept for a few more moments…

 

“Maria.”

 

“I’m fine. I just need to rest a few more moments.” Maria turned over and looked at Michael leaning over her on the bed. “Please? I’m just so tired.”

 

Michael sighed in defeat. Damn. He had hurt her so badly yesterday, and now this. Too much. It was too much. Normally Maria was strong enough to face anything, but she was so drained from fighting, and now there was no fight left in her small body.

 

The babies. She could’ve held on when she thought they could be taken from her early, when they were developed enough to survive on their own in a just a few weeks. But Alex’s words had changed that. They needed her. Far beyond the pregnancy. For the first six years of their lives they would be joined with her in a shared telepathy, and without that connection they couldn’t live. There was a slim chance that their human genetics would alter that path and they could survive. Neither of them was willing to risk it, so they couldn’t take the babies early. Nature had to decide when the time was right for the birth, and suddenly Maria was looking at eight to ten weeks longer…and she was so tired already.

 

They weren’t going to make it. If Maria died, the babies died with her.

 

“I want to go home,” she said softly. “I want my cat and I want my mother. I’m so tired.”

 

Oh, god. Michael looked at his hands. His powers, his soul and his blood. He’d give all of it to them if that would make them strong, make them live. He couldn’t fight any harder. Like Maria, he was running only on fumes, scraping the bare bottom. Maria was right. Maybe if they just rested for a few more hours, everything would be alright...

 

~~~

 

“Maybe we should give Comm…Guerin a call?”

 

Hanson tossed himself down in his chair. They had just spent the last few days running down all the possibilities on their dead man, and working with the man that seemed to have a memory loss. What happened in that alley was still a mystery, but what Hanson had was a long series of endless reports of people waking up and taking trips to places far from their home. The strangest thing was that in the last four months, it seemed that Roswell was the ultimate destination.

 

“Call Michael?” Sam seemed to be pondering his partner’s request. “Okay. We could call Michael. Why?”

 

“What?” Courtney looked at her partner in confusion.

 

“Why? Why are we calling him?”

 

“Our case has stalled and…”

 

“I see.” Hanson did see. Looking at his young blonde partner, and trying to believe she was older than she claimed to be, he really did see. “You want to call the ‘Commander’ in because we’re stalled. Perhaps he can rush to our rescue and solve our case? Or did you just want to see the ‘Commander’?”

 

“I…look, Carl...”

 

Hanson got up and checked his watch. Long day, and it was enough. He had a date for dinner, and as amusing as his partner could be, he was tired.

 

Hanson. Strange man. Slow. Methodical. Often he lost touch with his thoughts, but he got the job done in his own way. Some made the mistake of confusing slowness with stupidity. His partner had a major lust thing going for Michael Guerin. One that wasn’t returned, and never would be.

 

“Sam. My name is Sam, not Carl.” Maybe it was time to clarify that. It really hadn’t mattered before, but recently, Hanson was picking up indications from his partner that he didn’t like.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Look, I didn’t really mind you calling me Carl, but it’s not your special name for me, is it? No, it’s because you can’t be bothered to pay attention to me. Fine. Not a problem. But being that the case, I prefer that you call me by my name. Sam. I’ve had it for thirty-four years, and my mother really thought it was a good one.”

 

Courtney was shocked. He had never contradicted her. Never raised his voice. He always seemed to be in eternally good humor. He was on the inside with the Commander’s group. That wasn’t hard to figure out. He knew things that he kept quiet, and she had caught the King and the Commander both talking to him in a low voice several times. She needed him. All in all, she was actually getting to like this human. His love of the strange and the bizarre was almost a kinship to her own tastes.

 

“Look, Car…Sam. I’m sorry that I got your name wrong. That was my mistake. But, this thing about the case, I still think we need the…Guerin’s help on it.”

 

“Well, we’re not getting it, okay? Guerin is out sick. Off until after his maternity leave. He only comes in for specials, and with his home being bombed mere days ago, I doubt he’ll be in for awhile.”

 

Dammit! Courtney tried to understand what the problem was. As far as she could tell, the main loft that the Commander lived in hadn’t been touched, and the rest were expendable. As long as he was okay, nothing else was a consideration.

 

“This case was a ‘special’, so maybe we should report to him.”

 

“I think that if we’re supposed to report any findings it would be to Max. He’s the acting Captain in the interim.”

 

Courtney just snorted. Max Evans. Whatever. Acting Captain or King, he would be the last person she would confide in or report to. The previous King had been a dud in his past life, his dupe was equally vain and cruel, so there was little reason to put great faith in this version as well.

 

Hanson looked at his watch one more time. “Look, maybe you should take a hint. The ‘Commander’ is otherwise engaged, literally married and expecting a baby or two. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re alive, so hounding him, or trying to get his attention is pretty futile. My advice is to save yourself the trouble and hang up this obsession you seem to have. For God’s sake, he doesn’t even remember your name.”

 

Courtney stared at her partner as he made his way out of the bullpen. So, he wasn’t as clueless as he appeared on the surface. She had already suspected that. In working their cases, he was pretty spotless, almost compulsive, and that touch of compulsion made him slow and meticulous. Next to someone like Michael, Hanson appeared to be a slow buffoon, but it was more a matter of comparing a hare to a tortoise. Different approaches, but the same end. The disturbing fact was that he had noticed her fascination with the Commander, enough to actually emphasize her name for him.

 

Picking up the phone, she tried to think of what to do about the situation. Difficult to say or decide.

 

“This is Courtney. Is there any news?”

 

“None. The meeting in your alley appeared to be Nicholas intercepting a few of Larek’s Walkers.” There was discussion on the other end. “Did they get to the Royals?”

 

“No. So Nicholas is here. Figures he would turn up. But I saw an old friend of ours the other day. I don’t think he saw me. He’s close to the Royals, and had to know they were here for some time.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Freddie. He’s deadheading and doing sets at a local color called Club Hell. The owner is an Alex Whitman. The interesting thing is Alex Whitman and the Princess Vilandra are an item. Hot and heavy. Rumors are they’re pretty tight.”

 

The silence was long and painful. She could almost hear their brains working, endless thoughts and questions hitting her in a barrage.

 

“How close is she to the Commander?”

 

Courtney looked up at the evening crew in the bullpen. It was pretty silent. “Very close. Too close. She shares a loft with another woman just across the way from the Commander. Far as I can tell, he sees her often enough.”

 

“And the Commander’s mate and unborn children?”

 

Courtney swore and her mouth tightened. The Commander’s mate. Her voice was bitter and tight. “Her too. Vilandra is close to both of them, and I can’t find a way into the group.”

 

“Take out Vilandra.”

 

Courtney paused. No. That was too close. Michael thought of Vilandra…Isabel Evans...as family. She technically was family. He wouldn’t take her loss well.

 

“Negative. That can’t be done. It is unadvisable.” The young woman tapped the front of her teeth. Think, dammit. Think! “She’s not the same. None of them are. The Commander is magnified. Intense. Powerful. The King…he’s different too. I almost could respect him and follow him. Vilandra, or Isabel as she is now called, works with the homeless and the abused. She is completely different. The added humanity seems to have counterbalanced the worst of what they once were. I don’t think she is a threat. They aren’t like their dupes.”

 

The damn fucking Dupes had all of them fooled for years. No one was told that two sets were made, and only one set was the real Royals. They had thought the Dupes were the Royals, and what a damn disappointment that had been! Rath, the dupe of the Commander, was led around by his dick by the Dupe Vilandra. A puppet. Their hope had been an idiot, mindless puppet.

 

“We can’t take a chance. She is never to be trusted. If somehow Kivar were to find her again, it could go badly.” Always Kivar. It always came back to him and Vilandra.

 

“What of the Six? She is needed to complete the outer pentagon. Five to the outside, one in the center. She has a place in that Destiny. She and her consort.” Five of six…always six. Six aliens allied in their native world, all friends until they grew to hate. Six was the new world number as well

 

“The threat is too great. We only know that the Commander’s children will be important. The others are inconsequential. Remove the possible threat. That is an order.”

 

Courtney sighed. “That might take some time. They are on alert. All the attacks are too close to them. It has them on edge. I’ll do my best.”

 

“Do that.”