You might think that was the end of that. That Black fucked White and just left him in that chair. That he just walked away…
Right?
But that's not how the story ended. It wouldn't be a very good story then. At least, not one worth telling.
Black fucked White, yes, he even came and it was wonderful, having his rival at his mercy. A gun to White's lips, a whispered command and the other man opened his mouth.
Slowly, like the fucking tease Black knows he is.
The barrel of his revolver slid in so easily and if the sight tore White's throat, if he couldn't help grinding his abused cock into Black's knee, hate and lust clear in his eyes...
Well all the better for the story!
But maybe… you think that's all?
Maybe it never crossed your mind that White gave that gun the blow job of its life, that Black could feel it almost as if it was his cock White was sucking. And when the other spy's tongue wrapped around steel like that, almost and then brushing his fingers, when the teeth scraping the barrel felt as if they were abusing him it was all Black could do to keep his knees from buckling, from collapsing on top of White.
Maybe…
Maybe you know that.
But did you know that White came, back arched and biting down on warmed metal? That Black, at that same moment, pulled the trigger? That he stayed in that same position for a long time and that when he pulled his revolver from his dead rival's mouth, when the blood spilled down White's still-warm, bruised lips, Black kissed him?
That, however, may be a lie.
Black could not possibly have kissed White. Could not have licked the blood off reddened lips, couldn't have touched his lips to White's cheek in a gentle kiss and backed so slowly away, eyes fixed on the corpse. On the mark he'd left, the bloody kiss. The next day, he couldn't have stared at the other spy's cheek, the same one he'd so briefly touched, wondering where his mark had gone.
He couldn't have.
Not because he lied to himself and not because he'd forgotten. Not even because he tried to deny it. He didn't. What would be the point?
No, Black could not have done any of these things for a very simple reason.
A White spy with a bloodstained revolver in his lap and an unsuspecting rival. At midnight - the beginning of a new day.
Because, as we all know… in comics, no injury, no matter how grievous, lasts longer than that.