A/N: There's a little twist in this chapter - hope you don't kill me - LOL! I got this idea and had to run with it....have to have just a little drama or the story would be a little too boring, wouldn't it? Thanks as always for the continuing feedback - you guys are what keep me going!
"Justin! In case you didn't hear that fucking horn that's been blowing for the last couple of minutes, that's our cab out there! What are you DOING?" Brian yelled up at his partner as he stood by the front door, suitcase by his feet.
He heard a loud muffled thump, along with a "Shit!" and an "Ow" before Justin came into view at the top of the steps. "I can't find my allergy medicine. You know I can't leave WITHOUT it! And I just stubbed my fucking toe on that atrocious door stop you insisted on bringing here!"
"That doorstop, as you so colloquially put it, is my Tim Rose sculpture, I'll have you know. I would have thought an artiste such as you would have already figured that out. Just because you insist on using it as a doorstop to keep your studio door open isn't MY fault," he growled. "Now find your fucking medicine and get your tight little ass down here so we can get married, damn it!"
Sticking out his tongue in response, he yelled, "All RIGHT! Keep your pants on….Oh, I forgot, that's foreign to you, isn't it?" Getting a look of frustration and a scrunched-up face from the brunet, he shortly came back into view, holding up his pill bottle triumphantly. "Ta-da!" he proclaimed, shaking it for emphasis.
"Wonderful….now pick up your shit and let's go!" Brian demanded impatiently, hands on hips.
"Okay, okay," Justin answered, as he picked up his one medium-sized suitcase and half-carried, half-dragged it down the steps, a loud clacking sound reverberating throughout the open space as he trudged down the staircase to meet his fiancé, who sighed in a display of barely-controlled frustration.
As the horn from the cab once again sounded, Brian rolled his eyes and said, a little more calmly this time, "Are you ready to go now, Sunshine?"
"MORE than ready, Mr. Kinney," the blond answered formally, stopping briefly to let go of his suitcase and, reaching up on his tiptoes, bestow a short kiss on his partner's lips. "Too late to back out now, buster."
"Well, then, it's a good thing you're young, blond, and got a great ass," Brian murmured, as he couldn't help reaching down to briefly squeeze the other's butt cheeks. "Although, maybe I can still find a hot little flight attendant on the way to Vermont."
"Take even one sideways glance at anyone else and I'll be trading seats with a passenger that's got false teeth, no hair, and weighs 400 lbs.," his partner warned.
"On second thought, you're looking more attractive by the second," Brian obediently responded.
Justin smiled. "That's more like it. Now get in gear! The cab's out there – what are you WAITING for?"
Rolling his eyes and curling his lips inward, he smacked Justin's ass before picking up his own suitcase and holding the door open for his partner to follow him. It's going to be a LONG flight to Greece.
Justin and Brian settled comfortably in their seats, waiting for the plane to depart from the gate. Seated in the last row of the first-class section, it afforded them some sense of privacy, since they were separated from the rear coach section by a partition and the seats across from them were miraculously empty for this flight.
Now that they had survived their last-minute trip to the airport, and were finally settled into their seats for the first leg of their journey, the brunet couldn't help reaching over for his partner's hand, stroking it affectionately with his thumb. Justin smiled at him tenderly. "We're really doing this, aren't we?"
"Yeah, looks that way," Brian replied, smirking. "You must have caught me in a weak moment."
"Right. You don't fool me, Mr. Kinney. You don't do anything you don't WANT to do. That's what makes this so special," he added gently, smiling.
"Well, some guys will do anything for some great fucking," he replied solemnly, his twinkling eyes the only thing that betrayed his real thoughts. "So you better be prepared to put out, you little twat."
Justin laughed softly. "I'll do my best. IF you can keep UP with me, that is."
"Don't worry, I can keep it UP as long as YOU can," he assured him, grinning. "But we're not going to be UP in the air long enough to test that theory on the way to Vermont. Guess it will have to keep until we can test it out long distance on the way to Greece," he drawled seductively. Checking first to see if anyone was observing them, he quietly leaned over and placed a short kiss on the full lips. "Besides, I plan on keeping you quite occupied later tonight, after I make an honest man out of you."
Justin deadpanned, "How very Seven Brides for Seven Brothers of you. A shotgun wedding – yee haw!" His attempt at comedy was rewarded by a quick jab to his side, before the flight attendant began to walk through the aisle to conduct the final pre-flight boarding as the jet's engines came to life.
"Tell me more about the place in Vermont," Justin urged his partner. Brian had only given him some perfunctory information the other day.
"Okay – if it will keep you QUIET for a few minutes," he teased, still holding onto the other hand lightly. Another mature sticking out of the blond's tongue was his partner's only response.
"At the risk of sounding like a pansy, it's called the Whispering Inn. It's a small luxury suites hotel that was converted from an old schoolhouse. Our suite is on the top floor – wouldn't want to disturb the other more conservative guests with our boisterous rounds of entertainment tonight," he explained, getting an innocent-looking face from the blond – and has a large balcony with the hot tub. The website also mentioned it has a king-sized bed and a wood-burning fireplace to keep your tight little ass comfy-cozy before and after our other warm-up exercises."
"Aren't you considerate?" Justin murmured, smiling. Inexplicably a little shy, he asked, "When is our ceremony?"
"Right after dinner. I knew better than to marry you on an empty stomach," he teased, receiving a jab this time from the blond. "There's a small room right off the main lobby where you sign all the legal mumbo-jumbo and they hold informal wedding ceremonies. That IS what you wanted, right? Nothing fancy?" he asked, looking at Justin for an honest response. He knew the man he loved so well by now that he could pretty much tell what Justin was thinking at any time simply by the reaction on his face. He was relieved to see that the other man didn't hesitate this time.
"Yes," he verified, smiling tenderly at Brian. "YOU'RE what I want – I don't care where or how the ceremony is done….As long as when it's over, you and I are husband and superior husband."
"SUPERIOR husband? That's a new one…. And I suppose that would be YOU?" he asked, amused.
Justin appeared affronted by the question. "Of course," he answered, as if that was the most stupid question ever asked. "Who ELSE would it be?" he smirked.
"Of course," Brian agreed, twisting his mouth in amusement. "What a ridiculous question."
"Well?" Justin asked.
Puzzled, Brian replied, "Well, what?"
"Tell me more," Justin encouraged him.
Brian smirked – sentimental little twat. "Okay," he said, deciding to humor him. "After the ceremony, you carry me up the steps like Rhett Butler," he whispered in the other man's ear, "and whisk me into the elevator for a short, but very intense, preliminary warm-up session to our official consummation as husband and superior husband," receiving a broad smile from his fiancé, "and then AFTER you carry me over the official threshold, I manage to at least take two steps into the suite before you can't stand it any longer and you tear at all my outrageously expensive clothing until you have me naked and helpless…" The brunet had to stop as he looked at the indignant expression on his partner's face that was priceless and, yes, absolutely adorable. "Are you saying that description isn't accurate?" he asked.
"That would be correct," his partner verified firmly. "Actually, you would only be able to take ONE step into the room before I ravage you."
"Oh…..I stand corrected. I take ONE step into the room before you tear off all my fuckingly expensive clothes and have your way with me."
"Much better," his partner agreed, nodding. "See, you're already practicing how to be the obedient, submissive partner in this marriage."
Justin heard a distinctive, derisive snort before Brian growled good-naturedly, "Yeah, wait until I get your married little ass back in our hotel suite and I'll SHOW you who's the submissive one."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both," he confirmed, before reaching over to playfully snatch another quick kiss from his "superior" husband-to-be, thinking, maybe the little twat's right – he certainly is SUPERIOR for me. "Now I suggest you get a little rest before we reach our destination and I wear your little ass OUT."
"Yes, my little advertising genius."
"And I don't care if you DO think you're superior – you are NOT going to start calling me some cutesy nicknames," the brunet warned.
"Of course not, Dumpling."
"Justin – I warned you."
"Ouch! That hurt, you asshole!"
Getting a dirty look from the older man diagonally across the aisle from them, Brian chuckled. "Already misbehaving. You will have to be punished when we get to our room, dear."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"Oh, I intend to keep them. Now will you PLEASE shut the fuck up for a while?"
"Why?"
"Because you're wearing my BRAIN out! Why do you always have to have the last word?"
"No, I don't…….oh."
Brian smiled as the younger man placed his pillow on the brunet's shoulder and, laying his head there, finally closed his eyes. He saw the slightest hint of a satisfied smile on his partner's face when he couldn't resist reaching down and gently stroking the blond head briefly. As the plane lifted off into the sky, Brian followed his partner's lead and, leaning his head back, closed his eyes, their two hands clasped loosely together.
Pittsburgh State Correctional Institutional – Greensburg, PA – Same Day
The disheveled, dark-haired man, stubble clearly visible on his face, paced back and forth in the nondescript, cement chamber, nervously waiting for his visitor to arrive. As the minutes ticked by, his impatience grew. Noticing a thin man wearing glasses out of the corner of his eye, he turned to verify it was the visitor he had been waiting for.
"What TOOK you so fucking long!?" Prescott demanded, as soon as David Kingsley took a seat opposite him at the plain, metal table.
"YOU try going through all the hoops they require of you when you try to get into this place," the red-haired detective responded defensively. "It's worse than trying to break into Ft. Knox."
"That's funny – I didn't have that much trouble getting in," Prescott complained. "You ought to try seeing it from the OTHER side. I'm about to go fucking crazy in here."
"That's kind of ironic," Kingsley replied, "since you were trying to prove you were insane to KEEP from being sent here."
"Just shut up and listen to me!" Lane snarled. "You owe me big time for keeping your ass out of jail. If it hadn't been for me, you would have wound up here WITH me when you admitted your part in the wiretapping and fraud, instead of just having to pay a fine."
"You? Who put me up to it?" Kingsley countered. "If I hadn't agreed to plead guilty, YOU no doubt would have been convicted instead, and you would have had even MORE time added onto your sentence."
"Yeah, well, it was a small price to pay for all that extra money you got, now wasn't it?" Prescott noted. "So I figure you owe me, Kingsley," he repeated to the smaller man. "And I'm ready to collect. It would be worth it for me if I had to come clean if only to see your ass here in jail WITH me."
The man considered Prescott's warning for several seconds before his shoulders sagged a little in resignation. "So just what do you want from me?" he finally asked warily.
"Two things. I want Sinclair taken care of," he said flatly. "That imbecile is one of the main reasons I got convicted. If he had done his job properly, that jury never would have convicted me. He assured me my so-called expert witness would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was not responsible for my actions, and you saw what a fucking terrific job he did for me. If I no longer have a life, that man doesn't deserve one, either," he explained, the hatred apparent on the haggard face.
"You're not saying what I THINK you're saying," the other man whispered fearfully.
"That's EXACTLY what I'm saying," Prescott growled. "And don't go giving me that high and mighty innocent look, Kingsley. I know the type of circles you run around in. I'm sure you can find just the right candidate for the job, can't you?" he pressed, as he glared at the other man, who shrunk back slightly from the intense look he was receiving.
Finally, Kingsley responded, "Maybe. For the right incentive."
"That won't be a problem," Prescott assured him. "I may be in prison, but I still have access to any funds you need to carry out your assignment. You will need to go through an intermediary, however, to get access to it."
"An intermediary?"
"Yes. You will need to get in touch with Aiden. He already knows what he needs to do once you contact him and let him know the details. He will provide you with half of the money up front to have our friend carry it out, and the other half once the deal is done. Understood?"
"Yeah. Okay, I guess. I'll take care of it." The man hesitated briefly, dreading what other "favor" Prescott would demand from him. "You said there were a couple of things. What is the other favor?"
Prescott smiled at the thought of what he needed even more than getting that incompetent S.O.B. Sinclair out of the way.
"Whoever you find to take care of Sinclair, tell him that if he comes away clean, there's one more party I need to attend to on a permanent basis. And I will pay him DOUBLE for that pleasure. That arrogant bastard Kinney. If I can't have Justin, then neither can HE. Understood?"
Kingsley swallowed the large lump in this throat. He was getting in much deeper this time, and he wasn't sure it was a position he wanted to be in. But what choice did he have now? He did not want to join Prescott in jail. He never should have gotten involved with Prescott in the first place, but it was too late to back out now. Taking a deep breath, he finally answered quietly, "All right. I'll get in touch with Aiden once I find the participant and get my instructions from him."
Prescott smiled broadly. "I THOUGHT you'd see it my way, Kingsley," he told the other man, as the detective rose to leave. He patted the wiry man on the shoulder as he said in closing, "I always knew you were a smart man." Nodding briefly in parting, Kingsley walked determinedly toward the exit, waiting for the corrections officer to open the door.
Prescott sat back down at the table. Enjoy your little tryst with my Angel while you can, Kinney. YOUR hell is just beginning. Feeling better than he had in days, Prescott rose and walked back toward the exercise courtyard to work off some of his frustration before it was time to be placed back in his cell.