A/N: Thanks you guise for the great feedback. The number of alerts and favorites on this story exceeded all my expectations. I'd only appreciate if more of you who alerted it (it means you obviously want to read the continuation, am I correct?), let me know why you want to read it, or whatever. Just interact with me people! Reviews are like chocolate for the Muse and this Muse has a sweet tooth! :)

Also, great thanks to MinuteCloser2Failing for pestering me to write the next chapter. Trust me, without her (or is it him? I never know, lol) it would take much, much longer . . .


Pretty Boy - Chapter Two


It takes all Morgan's will not to hit the bastard, not to - at least - spit into his face. This upsurge of rage that made him throw the guy through the room is about enough for one day. Now he has to think of a way to get himself and Reid out of this mess. At least none of them were shot.

"You okay?" he asks the kid as they are being ushered into a booth.

"Yeah." Reid massages his wrist and stops abruptly when he notices Morgan's eyes on his fingers. "Not even a sprain." The kid wants to be tough when he's nothing but.

Derek likes him, more than he'd ever admit. He thinks there's no place for someone this young, this frail in the FBI but Gideon vouched for him and Morgan has to admit Spencer Reid is damn brilliant and this can be useful in their line of work.

Now, however, he would find use for both, brain and brawn.

"Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan," their foe reads his badge in a mocking tone. He's such a douchebag. "This gets me all hot and bothered." He looks at Derek for a long moment and neither of them drops their gaze. Derek knows this guy is an alpha personality type and it's unusual for a gay alpha male to be attracted to another alpha. He must see himself as something even more than that. The ultimate leader. His narcissistic ego is bigger than the fucking Empire State Building.

It's obvious now that Reid was more than right about this lead. The only problem is that neither him, nor Hotch really took it seriously. The man in front of them is obviously their unsub, Derek is also 99 percent sure that this is, in fact, Antonio Solano himself. What makes it really unfortunate is that - even though Hotch knows they're here - he has no idea they're being held captive.

"Com'ere." Solano commands glaring at Derek and Derek doesn't even blink. He crosses his arms on his chest and he knows he won't budge. It has nothing to do with behavioral analysis now, or with deliberate provoking the other man. No, it's much more primeval. The very nature at its loudest. His own alpha ego won't be ordered around! And even if a voice in the back of his head whispers that maybe right now is not a good moment for bravado, that maybe he should play along for a while and find his opponent's weak points and use them to his advantage, his ego wins.

No, he won't succumb to this man.

Solano's face breaks in a sly grin. "No?" he sneers. "All it usually takes is the right leverage. What's yours?" Solano walks from side to side and Derek involuntary adjusts his position. It's almost instinctive and he notices it a split second before the predator in front of him - he's subconsciously shielding Reid.

Solano motions for one of his muscle-men and the guy whose arm is as big as Reid's waist grabs the kid and pulls him out from the booth.

Derek's body lunges forward against his will - because he shouldn't show weakness! - and Solano laughs. Derek knows he's made a mistake. Solano pulls out the knife and touches Reid's cheek. He leans closer to Reid and sniffs.

"He's not interested in me," he says. "And I'm not interested in him." He glares at Morgan for ten beats of Morgan's terrified heart. Damn, Solano really does know exactly what Morgan's leverage is and Morgan doesn't even try to deny it anymore. He can't. "You wonder how I know? I have a gift, I can sense gay," Solano explains sweetly. "Let's make a deal," he continues unhurriedly, tracing Reid's cheekbone with the tip of his knife. "You will take off your jacket. And your tee. I want to see your naked chest. But do it slowly. If you comply, I will tell those dogs not to bite."

Derek's blood freezes in his veins.

This is surreal! He wants him to what? Here? And then . . . what? . . . He can't move. For a very long moment - which probably isn't really all that long, it's simply his mind working overtime - he feels void in his intestines. Big, black, sucking void. His knees are weak and he wouldn't trust them to support him now. He's terrified, his heart is in his throat, nearly choking him, making him gag, and he hadn't felt like this in years . . .

Because Derek knows he has to abide by the sicko's rules. Just like before, many years ago, he's got everything to lose if he doesn't. Only then . . . he hadn't known he wouldn't lose anything, he had simply been a kid who had been threatened and lied to. Now? He has no idea if Solano is bluffing or not, but he can't risk Reid getting hurt, even if everything in him screams, "No!"

And then . . .

He's never going to find out what he would really do, because the back door open with a loud 'bang' and a short, fat man enters the room, bringing with him the air of strength and authority.

"Tony?" he asks with a warning in his voice. Derek's eyes, still trained on 'Tony's' face, note a twitch of his mouth, a constrained fury. "What's the meaning of this?"

The newcomer finds FBI badges, his eyes shot fireballs and 'Tony' along with his bodyguards vanishes as fast as their legs can carry them. The short, fat guy ignores Reid, glares at Morgan, his lips twisted in something that might be interpreted as a smile with a great dose of good will and hands them their badges and guns.

"I know why you're here," he seethes. "And I don't want you here."

Reid looks from the man to Derek frantically, he's about to open his mouth but he closes them, opens and closes, several times. The man only looks at Morgan.

"Do you understand?"

"I understand," responds Derek, pocketing his badge and holstering his gun. "But I'm not the one making decisions."

"Convince those making decisions then. We'll deal with in on our own."

"It's not how it should be done."

"It should be done how I want it done." The man's tone is even, certain. He's the sole king of this realm. "Go. Away." He orders and this order cannot be disobeyed.

So Morgan and Reid leave the pub but both of them know this is far from over.


n.t.b.c.

To the Guest (if I knew how to contact you I would have answered ages ago, but since you're an anon... well...) and to everybody else who has the audacity to pester me to continue this story - no, it's not going to be continued. Things happen, people lose interest, their muse changes mind, or they simply change fandoms. Or, god forbid, they sometimes have Real Life. Fanfiction is a hobby for both, me and you, it's supposed to be fun. There are no obligations - oh, wait there are - on the readers. Readers, if they enjoy the story, should let the author know they do and it's really, really nice if they tell why in more words than three. That's the only reward we get for writing those stories and for sharing them with you. There's no other gratification. And if I want to keep the story on this site, because it got a couple of very nice and sweet reviews, that's my choice. It reminds me that writing is worthwhile. So it stays.

To everybody else, who simply stumbles upon this story and is disappointed that it's not continued - I'm sincerely sorry. As I said to the pesterer above - muse sometimes changes her mind. I've gone through three or more different fandoms since not-finishing this story... And if it's any consolation, it was never supposed to be a Reid-centric story. It was supposed to be all about Morgan. I think most of you are here for Reid, and that's also the vibe I got from reviews, that's probably one of the reasons I didn't feel encouraged to write more. Again - I am sorry.