THE MERMAID KILLER

BY L MONSTER

PART I

The Blue Mermaid pub seemed to be having a slow night when Special Agent Nico di Angelo of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit walked inside. There were a couple of customers in the far end of the bar, then a few more scattered around the dining area. A group of five took up one of the booths, but that was it. Some country tune was playing in the speakers at an appropriately loud volume. Loud enough so Nico didn't have to hear his own thoughts.

Thank fuck, he thought as his eyes left the customers and began to take in the decor.

It was the typical pub one would expect for a small coastal town like Buckville, Massachusetts: all kitschy buccaneer and ahoy-thar-be-a-shipwreck motifs. Clunky wrought iron decorations, pirate flags adorning the walls alongside roughly hung nets with starfish and 1950s mermaid memorabilia. An eerie mermaid tank hung over the bar wall, its blue fluorescent lights casting an equally eerie glow on the polished surface of the bar.

Nico wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, especially not anyone on his team, but this wasn't too far off from his own personal tastes, which came as a surprise because he had been growing increasingly tired of mermaids as of late.

He went to the bar.

"What have you got in tap?" he asked the pretty bartender. She had sandy blonde hair tied back in a messy bun and was wearing a black crop top with the words I'll bring the bubbles! in bold blue letters. A uniform, potentially.

She began, "Sam Adams, Bud Light, Coors, Corona, Blue Moon, Stella—"

"Sam Adams."

"Coming right up."

He took a seat by the bar and began to study the sticky menu before him. Despite his many years' worth experience as a Special Agent, he wasn't particularly used to being on the road. The BAU operated directly from Quantico, but Nico had proven himself a valuable asset on the field and whenever there was a case that required the presence of his unit across the country, well, he was usually the man.

He didn't mind, really. It kept him on his toes, but he had to admit that one of the hardest things about his job while on the road—profiling homicidal maniacs aside—was eating healthy. It did not appear that the Blue Mermaid would be providing that alternative either. Burgers, fries, chicken wings and fish and chips. Nico's stomach pulled into a knot. He'd had breakfast at the hotel, but he hadn't had time to stop for lunch, unless you counted the seventeen cups of coffee he'd ingested through the day. He was starving—his stomach grumbling confirmation—but he had no appetite for what he suspected was frozen food. He had his current case to blame for that.

The waitress came back and set a moisture-beaded frosted glass on a mermaid-shaped coaster. "Did you want to order?"

Nico's eyes returned to the menu. A lesser man would have sighed at the disappointment and frustration that suddenly overcame him, and he wondered how much of it was on account of a lack of health-conscious options from the Blue Mermaid kitchen. "What do you recommend?"

She shrugged, her eyes on the TV that hung on one of the corners. She said, "The fish and chips are alright."

"Sure," he said, already regretting it.

At least the beer was good.

He was halfway through his drink when the door opened and Special Agent William Solace of the FBI's Boston Field Office's Art Crime Team walked in. He had changed out of his FBI polo and was looking comfortable in black jeans and a blue flannel shirt. Nico returned his attention to his glass.

"Hey," said Solace as he took the empty seat next to Nico.

"Special Agent Solace."

The bartender returned with Nico's food and set the plate before him. It was a huge portion of greasy fried fish and thick-cut fries, and a small dip bowl of ranch.

"Is there anything I can get you?" she asked warmly. Considerably warmer than when she spoke to Nico. Flirtatious, even.

"I'll have a whisky sour. With Canadian Club if you have it."

"Good choice," she commented appreciatively. Nico's mouth twitched. Nothing good about Canadian Club in his opinion, but he wasn't the one drinking it so why the fuck would he care. Unless… No. He interrupted his thoughts abruptly and turned his attention to his food. The fish was fresh, at least.

"How was your meeting?" Solace asked.

"Better than yours, from what I hear."

Solace laughed. It amazed Nico how easy laughter came to him, even halfway through a homicide investigation. True, Solace had only recently joined Nico's taskforce three days ago, on loan from the Art Crime Team as a consulting expert who probably didn't see a large share of violent murders on his day-to-day, but he had seen that last crime scene, and it had been a gruesome one. Nico would not be forgetting the details anytime soon. He couldn't. That was his job. No wonder he had no appetite.

Solace said, "Ugliano is not that bad. His temper, I mean. He puts it on, but really, he's a sweetheart."

Nico's face went slightly slack with shock at hearing Solace refer to SAC Gabriel Ugliano—Senior Special Agent, Assistant Director in Charge and an absolute legend in the Bureau and Nico's direct boss—as a sweetheart. And there it was again, that uninhibited laughter.

"Your face, I swear," Solace laughed, then leaned in to bump Nico's shoulder with his own. He continued, more soberly, "That guy's an asshole. He grilled me for about two hours on the phone. My ears are still ringing."

"Serves you right," Nico said, though he didn't entirely agree. SAC Ugliano was ruffling more than a few feathers by reprimanding a member of the ACT. Solace wasn't his underling by any means, and yes, he was on loan to the BAU, but Solace's fuck ups—however flimsy they were, however much Nico disagreed—fell under the Boston Office's jurisdiction, and Ugliano had no business grilling him for fuck shit.

Solace gave him a sardonic smile. "I'll live. Did you hear back from Buckville PD?"

"We'll have the coronary report tomorrow morning at the earliest."

Solace made a soft, unamused sound. "Well, they're dragging their feet."

Nico closed his eyes and shook his head. "The body was frozen."

Solace visibly bristled at that. "Yeah, about that. Fuck that! These Buckville PD assholes and your SAC expect me to recognize the water-soluble ink patterns on a body stuck in a freezer before the fucking ice melts while the body is out of refrigeration on a fucking July afternoon and now they're taking their sweet time waiting for the vic to thaw naturally before they can give us a coronary report? Fuck every single fucking one of them, for fuck's sake."

It was an intriguing thing how Solace's tone could shift from lighthearted to no bullshit in under two seconds. This was, if anything, a refreshing reminder that Special Agent William Solace was not the ray of sunshine that everyone who worked with him had led Nico to believe when he went around asking questions about his new temporary partner.

Solace feeling comfortable enough to do that in Nico's presence… Yeah. That was a nice feeling.

But Solace had done little to keep his voice down and he had started to draw a few looks from the other patrons sitting about them.

Nico leaned in and said calmly, "Simmer down, Will."

It was with belated, muted shock that Nico realized he had called him Will, not Solace.

Solace turned to him abruptly, bright blue eyes widened with momentary surprise. Nico watched in rapt attention as something like a smile began to draw itself upon Solace's handsome features when the bartender suddenly placed a drink before him.

"Holler if you need anything."

Nico stuffed his mouth with whatever was on his fork, and he couldn't tell if it was fish or fries. He'd called him by his first name, for fuck's sake. What was he thinking?

Well. He knew perfectly well what he had been thinking.

Over the past few days they'd visited a crime scene that had been rendered no less gruesome by the fact that it was inside an industrial-sized walk-in freezer; floor, walls and ceiling splattered with coagulated, frozen blood, and spent hours upon hours reading reports from the local Police Department, grilling witnesses and potential suspects. And that had not stopped them from fucking their brains out on their second night upon meeting each other.

Yes, that was what had been going through Nico's mind as he used Special Agent William Solace's first name in vain for the first time.

Solace seemed to be going through the recollections of the night before as well because he raised his glass and downed half of it in one go, just as Nico attempted to swallow the inedible fare of fish that might have been chips or the other way around.

The song playing on the speakers was gritting on Nico's nerves. He came up with something to say quickly. "Chief Dare still thinks there's a link to my unsub, though I'm not so sure. Doesn't fit the profile."

Solace nodded. They'd discussed this before they parted ways this morning, abrupt and awkward after their nightly activities, and he seemed to agree with Nico's early speculations—despite them being merely speculations—that this crime did not seem to have been perpetrated by Nico's Mermaid Killer.

"Won't know for sure until we read the coroner's report," Will said. "Sometime next week, I'd guestimate. Should we make a day of it tomorrow?"

Solace's tone was playful enough, despite being spiked with some remnants of bitterness from his recent outburst. Nico supposed it had everything to do with Ugliano's phone call from earlier today.

He didn't even stop to consider how much he'd love to take those words seriously. Nico hadn't taken a personal day off in… six months?

"We've a meeting at eight with the owner of the art gallery where the vic worked at," Nico said soberly. He finished his drink and pushed his plate aside, despite barely having eaten a third of it.

"You're not eating that?" Solace asked.

Nico eyed him momentarily, taking in Solace's tone of surprise. He was in great shape. Well, fuck that, every field agent was supposed to be in great shape. Although Nico himself was on the trimmer side—and despite his best attempts, couldn't seem to put on weight as much as he tried—he could readily tell the difference between his own lean sinewy body and Solace's bulkier muscular frame. It had been more than evident the night before, as they rutted against each other, stark-naked with the lights on. The man filled up his clothes in all the right places alright, when he was wearing them anyway.

"You're welcome to it."

Solace's voice picked up. "Hell yeah, if you don't mind."

They ordered another round of drinks as they talked about nothing in particular. Nico learned that Will had been working for the ACT for about eight years. He had a Masters in Art History and was apparently a lunatic for nineteenth and twentieth century American contemporary art, but his family had connections. Nico already knew that. He'd shared little with Solace, and mostly listened. He found he didn't mind.

They spent another hour sitting there, drinking, eating. Solace downing his whisky sours to wash down Nico's unfinished fare while Nico drank his beer in a conscious attempt to clear away the taste of death that seemed to permanently cling to the back of his throat.

"You've got an appetite," the bartender had said at some point—this time in unequivocal flirtatious tones—as she leaned on the surface of the bar directly before Solace. "Are you sure you don't want to order anything for yourself?"

Solace caught Nico's eyes momentarily, and Nico forced himself to look away.

"Nah. I'm good. Did you want anything else?" he asked Nico.

"No."

"How much do we owe you?"

Nico did not fail to hear the word we, and ordinarily, he wouldn't have thought twice about it, given that the Bureau would be taking care of their expenses as usual, but this felt different. Because they'd had sex and we sounded very good right about now.

The bartender brought up the bill and Nico—this being mostly a BAU investigation despite them being on the Boston ACT's backyard—paid.

The Blue Mermaid pub was walking distance from their hotel. Nico had chosen this place specifically because even if he couldn't stomach much food while on the road, he knew well enough that didn't apply to alcohol. And dregs from the night before had been building up inside of him through the day. He'd needed a drink somewhere nearby that would not require him to drive back. He hadn't expected Solace would have the same idea as him. Meeting up with him at the Blue Mermaid had not been planned, but it hadn't been unwelcoming either. A surprise, yes, but not an unwelcome one.

Whatever stood between them was too new to be too thoughtfully considered.

They walked side by side in silence until they reached the hotel and got into the elevator. Their rooms were on the same floor. Nico knew this because, last night, they'd gone into Solace's room, only a few doors down from his own. The elevator lurched to a stop and they began their silent march up the carpeted hall.

Alcohol and a small dinner made for an interesting effect on Nico's bloodstream. He wasn't hammered, hell, he wasn't even buzzed, but he was distinctly relaxed, and he wanted company. He really, really wanted company tonight.

As if knowing what Nico had been thinking while they walked down the hall, Solace said, "So, are you married?"

A belated question, if Nico had ever heard one. He hadn't asked last night.

"No."

"Seeing anyone?"

They'd stopped before Solace's room. Nico hadn't been aware of it until he recognized the number on the door.

"No," he said again.

Solace stared at him from under long, golden eyelashes. He wasn't moving, but Nico could feel the awareness. It was thick and alive, pulsing between them.

"Do you wanna come in?" Solace asked. He wasn't whispering. He might have asked him at what time they would meet tomorrow for breakfast before they went out on the field again.

"Yes, why not."

The room was dark as Solace ushered Nico inside. The door swung shut, the deadbolt hit home, and Solace's arms closed around Nico.

Nico was conscious of the way Solace's muscular body crowded him against the door; of his broad shoulders and strong arms. Nico drew his hands up those muscles, relishing the feeling of strength and hot red blood underneath his fingertips.

Solace's fingers quickly found and unbuckled Nico's holster. He clearly had experience doing that, whether on himself or on other agent lovers, Nico didn't care. He busied himself working the buttons of Solace's shirt, which was a difficult task as he was distracted by Solace's swift attempts at taking Nico's own shirt off. They worked mechanically for a few seconds, but it did little to down the heavy awareness and the thick atmosphere of what Nico recognized as imminent sex. They had one night's worth of experience under their belts, after all.

Solace was quicker than Nico in the end, and before Nico even realized it, Solace had pulled his jeans and briefs down to his knees and he was leaning forward and sucking one of Nico's nipples into his mouth as Nico's cock rudely poked him back.

"Ahhh," Nico moaned, unable to keep his voice down. He knew he wasn't particularly expressive in his day-to-day exchanges, but then again very few people tended to suck his nipples with such wanton abandon as Solace was doing now.

Nico's uncharacteristically clumsy fingers worked Solace's belt buckle, pulling the offending object and tossing it away with a groan which was mirrored by Solace as he began to nibble on Nico's collarbone.

"Fuck," Solace whispered thickly, thrusting up as Nico tugged his jeans down and their cocks poked each other crudely, then slowly, as if reintroducing each other. Solace hadn't turned on the lights like he had the night before, and Nico considered how much he preferred it this way. Not because Solace wasn't something to look at—on the contrary, Nico had seldom had sexual partners that even remotely resembled the sculpted, irresistible figure that was William Solace—but their professional positions had not escaped Nico's calculating mind. He was, far and beyond, Solace's superior, as far as experience at least. And darkness helped, because he did not feel superior to him in the slightest. Quite in fact, he was ready to submit to him this time. Not last night, he realized, but tonight. Yes. Nico had made up his mind as he released that little moan he had been hoping to keep trapped in his throat. That quiet, high and submissive little moan as Solace sucked on his other nipple and dug his fingers into Nico's ass cheeks.

"God, I've been thinking about this all day," Solace muttered between kisses to Nico's upper pectoral muscles, his shoulders, his neck. Nico's entire body throbbed with pleasure at both the words and the actions.

After much clumsy fumbling, Nico's fingers finally managed to pry Solace's thick cock out of his pants and it fell on Nico's palm like a heavy tribute. He closed his fingers around it, feeling the hot skin and throbbing life pulsing through it.

"Beautiful," Nico whispered, grabbing onto it for dear life and giving it a firm stroke. "This is fucking beautiful."

It really was. After days, weeks, years devoted to analyzing and categorizing ways in which people died. After so much death, Solace's cock on his hand was the most beautiful thing Nico could think of. A life-affirming thing.

Solace's quiet laugh was far from discouraging. Raw and desperate, and yes, perhaps a little vulnerable—Nico couldn't blame him after the events of the last few days—was wonderfully welcome.

Nico lost his shoes and socks somewhere on their trip from the door to the bed. As they tumbled down on the mattress, Solace pinning Nico down with hands and mouth and tongue and teeth, they lost each other in minutes of pleasurable physical contact. There wasn't a part of Nico's body that Solace didn't kiss.

Well. With the exception of Nico's mouth, which was made obvious by the way Solace's tongue prodded everywhere from his ears to the crook of his elbows, yet it did not land for a moment on Nico's lips.

It didn't matter. This was a fuck and nothing more. A quick, earth-shattering fuck between deathly intervals. A stolen moment in which to feel alive.

Solace's hair was disheveled under Nico's fingers as he explored his body with lips and tongue, but just before he reached down to Nico's cock, he looked up with blown pupils that grazed up and down the length of Nico's body.

"Yes, very pretty," he said appraisingly, as if Nico were nothing more than a fucking painting or a vase. "Very pretty."

"Fuck you," Nico gasped breathlessly, his cock hard and pulsing and poking Will's well-defined abs.

"If you want," Solace whispered in conceding tones, hands suddenly warm and gentle on the back of Nico's thighs. "But if you're willing, I'd very much like to…" He pressed down and Nico's legs opened up automatically. Yes, he wanted this. Fuck yes.

In a moment of brazen courage, Nico said, "What do you want?"

In response, Solace's finger pressed against Nico's hole, then began to tease the area.

"This. This is what I want."

Nico shut his eyes and grabbed onto the sheets, balling them into his fists as something blunt invaded him. He moaned and didn't give a fuck about how outrageously loud he was being.

"Feel good?" Solace asked huskily.

"Yeah, very good."

Nico leaned into the touch, opened up to the intrusion of a thin, careful finger as it began to enter him, slowly, thoroughly. It was a delicate touch, a delicate stroke. Careful, knowing. Delivering very small pulses of pleasure. A wet, hot mouth closed around the tip of Nico's cock and he moaned in approval. Yes. He wanted it.

"I like doing this to you," the husky voice intoned, and despite the warmth having left Nico's cock, the words traveled straight down his spine to his balls, the finger inside of him touching him knowingly.

"Yeah… it's good," Nico moaned. He could have lost himself in the pleasure easily, but the little voice in the back of his mind spoke up just as quickly, forcing Nico's lips to form the words. "Do you have protection?"

Solace replied with an airy huff of laughter. He reached behind him and Nico saw through glazed eyes that he was fumbling around his jeans, his wallet. He held a little packet of condoms that fell open as he delivered one final, devastating look down Nico's body.

"Got any lube?" Solace asked as he ripped open a packet and slid it down his cock, eyes intent on Nico's.

He didn't have any lube, but being the resourceful man he was, he refused to let that stop him. Nico got to his feet—wobbled slightly—and made his way to the bathroom where he retrieved a bottle of complimentary lotion.

Solace remained unmoving on the bed, and it didn't escape Nico's mind the thoroughly submissive act of sliding back down on the bed and spreading his legs astride Solace's knees, bringing himself into an extremely vulnerable and potentially life-threatening position.

Solace was one unstoppable sensual onslaught as he rained upon Nico with mouth and hands and tongue, kissing and groping his way down his body again, thick cock encased in shiny latex that offered a distinct scent into the air and a promise of blissful oblivion.

His fingers were inside Nico again, coated in lotion this time, delivering carefully targeted thrusts that were meant to stretch and pleasure in ways that made Nico wonder just exactly how many federal agents this fucking guy was fucking on a regular basis, because this was not, definitely not, beginners luck.

But then again, this was something Nico did not want to know.

What he wanted, was to get fucked. And with thoughts of expediting the oncoming and imminent assault on his ass, he moaned and writhed and gasped. "That's good… so good… So fucking good…"

"Simmer down, Nico," Solace teased, whispering the words directly over Nico's mouth. Nico could smell cheap Canadian whisky on his breath, and he'd never thought he'd like it as much as he did, even if the words were a sardonic mirror of Nico's own back at the bar. He also couldn't deny how good it felt to hear his name on Solace's mouth. Will's mouth. Will's beautiful, plump and insolent mouth.

"Are you… going to fuck me… or not?" Nico asked, brazenly.

IN ORDER TO COMPLY WITH THE RATING GUIDELINES SET BY , THE FOLLOWING CONTENT HAS BEEN EDITED OUT BY THE AUTHOR. SHOULD YOU WANT TO READ THE FULL SCENE (AND THE COMPLETED 8-CHAPTER FANFIC, GO TO: /works/60153514/chapters/153496540

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OR

https/story/380659217-the-mermaid-killer

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