Date: Wed, 24 Mar 2010 09:56:21 -0600
From: Katya_Dee <concertoind@gmail.com>
Subject: Specter's Gamble - chapter 7

This is a work of fiction; all the resemblances are completely accidental.
I am the one who owns all the ideas and characters in the story. Contains
violence and descriptive sexual scenes between two males. If you are not
supposed to read it, don't do so. Feel free to e-mail me with praises or
insults (former preferred).


			     *   - VII -    *


            Gabriel grabbed his bag and ripped it open.

   "You just had to say it..." he muttered while rummaging inside the bag.

   "Say what?" Desmond frowned.

   "About the Salamanders showing on my doorstep within the next two hours,"
Gabriel grumbled.

   "Right," Desmond snorted. "It's my fault..."

   Suddenly, Gabriel left his bag alone and walked closer to Desmond.

   "Specter," he murmured, and Desmond blinked. They were standing really
close to each other now. So close, Desmond could feel Gabriel's breath on
his face.

   "What?" he asked suspiciously.

   Gabriel leaned in even closer, and Desmond was almost positive he was
about to kiss him. "What the hell..." he thought in defeat. "We just might
die because of this stubborn jackass... Might as well..."

   He parted his lips ever so slightly, and when Gabriel murmured:

   "What hand do you shoot better with?" Desmond just blinked like someone
who has troubles understanding simple questions.

   "Huh?" he said finally.

   "Left or right? What hand works better with the gun for you?"

   "Right..." Desmond muttered, feeling completely bewildered. What does
this have to do with...

   "Okay," Gabriel breathed, and suddenly, there was a soft `click!' of
handcuffs, and a second later, Desmond felt cold metal hugging his left
wrist. He jerked backwards, but he was too late. He stared at the handcuffs
with disbelief.

   "What the hell!" he finally said, anger boiling up inside his chest.
Anger and something that suspiciously resembled disappointment. "Are you
completely out of your mind?!"

   Gabriel handcuffed them together. Desmond's left wrist was securely
attached to Gabriel's right one. The assassin jerked backwards again, but as
a result, he almost fell down, dragging Gabriel with him.

   "I would be out of my mind," Gabriel regained his balance and yanked
Desmond back up on his feet. "If I didn't ask which hand you can shoot
better with. For me, it doesn't matter. I can use both hands equally well,
but I didn't know about you."

   "What are you... Why are you... What the hell?!"

   "No time," Gabriel muttered and dragged him towards the bag that was
sitting on the table. He shoved a gun into Desmond's hand, grabbed one
himself, and dragged still resisting (mostly, by pure instinct) assassin
into the kitchen.

   "What the hell..." Desmond said again, thinking that he wouldn't mind
unloading the gun into the damn bastard's head right about now. Then he
decided against it, thinking that it would be a stupid move to make, since
the intruders are almost inside, and the bastard's dead weight would just
slow him down. That and he wasn't sure if the damn asshole took the spell
off the kitchen window yet.

   "I am not going to let you out of my sight," Gabriel said quickly and
took the safety off with a dry click. "You can bitch about it later. Right
now, aim and shoot, that's all."

   Bitch about it?! Desmond was about to burst into a string of brilliant
obscenities that were burning the tip of his tongue, when the front door
flew open, and Desmond shut his mouth and did exactly what that bastard told
him to do. Aim and shoot. To be honest, this was his only choice right now.

   "Not bad," the bastard muttered after several bodies dropped on the
floor. "Now go!"

   Desmond didn't have any time to even open his mouth, let alone ask
something like, "Where the hell to?" Gabriel dragged him towards the window,
and for one horrible second, Desmond thought that the bastard completely
forgot about his own spell, and that both of them are going to endure
shitload of pain for whatever was left of their lives, when Gabriel kicked
the glass, and Desmond realized that the spell wasn't up.

   "You, son of a bitch!" Desmond thought furiously while being dragged out
of the window. "You were bulshitting me this whole time! There *was* no
spell on the damn window!"

   "There was a spell," Gabriel muttered after they ended up diving into the
flowerbed face-first. "And no, I can't hear your thoughts. I just read you
somewhat okay by now..."

   "Yeah?" Desmond spat out a daisy. "Then read this..."

   "No time," Gabriel hissed and jerked him up.

   Desmond was prepared to start running, and he blinked so rapidly that his
eyelid started twitching, when Gabriel just stood there instead.

   "Move it, asshole!" he growled softly and jerked the handcuffs.

   "Wait," the bastard said tightly. "Wait!"

   "Wait for what?!" Desmond almost exploded. "For them to blow you a
kiss?!"

   "Just shut up and wait..." the bastard looked at him. "I am not
suicidal," he said quietly.

   Desmond gritted his teeth but stopped talking. They stood there for
several excruciatingly long minutes. Finally, Desmond heard shouting from
the kitchen, followed by quick footsteps. He glanced at Gabriel who stood
very still. "What the hell is he doing?" Desmond thought desperately. "What
the hell is he..."

   Then there was someone by the window.

   "Over here!!" the man shouted wildly, and Gabriel suddenly gripped
Desmond's hand tightly, as if he were drowning. Desmond instinctively
wrapped his fingers around his ("*That damn bastard! I can't believe he...*"),
trying to figure out exactly how much time he might have left in this world.
If the Salamanders get them, then probably a few days. Those are going to be
very painful days, Desmond thought almost indifferently. Suddenly, there was
that oh-so-familiar dry zapping sound that made Desmond wince, and then
there was an agonizing shriek of pain.

   "Now we run," Gabriel muttered, and they did just that.

   "Damn it all to hell..." Desmond thought while zigzagging through dark
streets, the ring of the handcuffs digging into his wrist. "There indeed was
a spell... How did he do that? He didn't even move! Oh, damn it all to
hell!"

   Finally, after what seemed like forever, they stopped running, and
Desmond tried to figure out where in the world they were.

   "Where... Are... We...?" he said, trying to catch his breath.

   "Not... Sure..." Gabriel admitted.

   "Great..." Desmond straightened up. "Take off the damn cuffs! This is
idiotic!"

   "No..." Gabriel shook his head although it was hard to tell in the dark.
"I'm not gonna let you hurt Sam..."

   "I won't..." Desmond started saying, but Gabriel interrupted him.

   "Yes," he said. "You will. To make me miserable, admit it..."

   Yeah, he was right, Desmond shrugged to himself.

   "So what..." he said, his breathing is somewhat okay by now. "You are
going to keep us chained together for how long? Ever?"

   "No," Gabriel snorted. "Until I figure out how to keep Sam safe, that's
all."

   "Forever," Desmond said dryly.

   "Let's move," Gabriel sighed. "This is an old neighborhood. I am pretty
sure we'll find an empty house around here somewhere... Just for this
night."

   Desmond didn't say anything; he just followed him silently. He'll get out
of these damn handcuffs on his own, he thought darkly. This son of a bitch
is going to fall asleep eventually. Desmond will definitely be out of the
bloody handcuffs by the time sun comes up. And then... Oh, sweet mother...
"Then I am going to introduce him to the brand-new wonderful levels of
pain... I am going to..."

   "This one is empty," the bastard said thus jerking Desmond back to
reality. He blinked and looked at the house in front of them. It wasn't just
empty. It looked abandoned.

   "Well," Desmond thought melancholically. "At least there is no need to
worry about the owners coming back in the middle of the night..."

   They walked inside and Gabriel carefully called:

   "Anyone here? Hello...?" They were greeted by silence, and Gabriel
exhaled with relief. "One less worry," he muttered.

   Desmond followed him into what used to be a living room silently (not
like he had any choice), thinking that he should just go ahead and shoot
this bastard point-blank right now. For some bizarre reason, he didn't want
to do that. "That's because I want to make him to hurt a hell of a lot later
on," he thought furiously. Yeah, that was the reason. What else could be
there, right?

   They stumbled around in the dark and finally found something that
resembled an old mattress.

   "That'll do," the bastard said almost cheerfully, and Desmond just
gritted his teeth when he was dragged down. "Here..." the bastard dug in his
pockets for a minute and shoved something into Desmond's hand. "I don't know
about you, but I am hungry."

   Desmond frowned and tried to figure out what it was that he was holding
in his hand. A bar of chocolate, he realized finally. He almost told the
damn asshole what exactly he could do with his bloody chocolate, when his
stomach grumbled. "Dammit!" he thought and ripped the wrapper off. The
chocolate was gone in less than three minutes and Desmond regretted that
fact. He threw the crumbled wrapper on the floor and wished for a cigarette.
He didn't have any on him. He gritted his teeth again. Pride is pride, he
thought finally, but cigarettes are different from anything else.

   "You have any smokes?" he asked gloomily.

   "Dammit..." the bastard muttered. "I forgot!"

   Well, shit.

   "We'll get some in the morning," the asshole was saying meanwhile. "I
still have all that money I got from you during the poker game."

   "I am going to kill you," Desmond said dully.

   "Now?" the bastard sounded genuinely curious.

   Desmond was really tempted to actually do it now.

   "Shut up, Rayhe," he said through his clenched teeth. "I am going to
sleep, so try not to jerk this damn chain too much."

   "Hey, Specter..." the bastard said softly and Desmond turned his head to
look at him. He was as close to Desmond's face right now as he was in that
kitchen, a bit ago. Gritting his teeth was starting to hurt Desmond's jaw.

   "What?" he sighed. "Now you are going to ask me what side I sleep better
on? Or if I snore?"

   "You don't snore," the bastard said with a chuckle. "I've heard you
sleep."

   "What the hell do you want?" Desmond asked tiredly. "Just bloody say it
already or shut up, so I can go to sleep. Unlike you, I don't find this
whole situation so amus..."

   The word he was about to say, was `amusing.' He never finished the
sentence because Gabriel leaned closer, and this time, he did kiss him.
Desmond was so startled that he literally froze. Then he started to get more
and more pissed off.

   "What the hell..." he pushed the bastard away with his right hand. "What
the hell?!"

   "I am sorry about earlier," the bastard didn't look or sound even
remotely uncomfortable right now. "I had to get the cuffs on you and it
seemed like that was the only way I could do it without you resisting it."

   Desmond stared at him without blinking, his anger reaching a very
dangerous mark of `Red.'

   "Shut up," he hissed finally. "I swear, if you say anything else, I'll
blow your fucking head off!"

   "Oh, Specter..." the bastard sighed and locked the fingers of his left
hand on the back of Desmond's neck. Then he pulled him towards himself
almost forcefully, and before Desmond could even think about reaching for
the gun for real, he was kissing him again.

   "That's it," Desmond thought. "That's it! I am going to kill him right
now! Right bloody..."

   That was when he realized that not only was he kissing the damn bastard
back, but also that his fingers somehow ended up burying themselves into
that goddamn soft-looking hair of his. He cursed silently at his traitorous
fingers, and then thought, "It *is* soft..."

   Gabriel pulled away just slightly, enough to mutter:

   "I wanted to, but we really didn't have any time..."

   This time, it was Desmond who pulled him forward. "Shut up already," he
thought, and closed his eyes when Gabriel's left palm cupped his chin,
caressing his jawline with the thumb. Gabriel's mouth tasted like the
chocolate bar he finished several minutes ago, his tongue gentle and very
dominant at the same time. Desmond didn't care. He let him dominate his
mouth, pulling slightly on his hair. Oh, that damn soft hair... Gabriel
moaned slightly into the assassin's mouth, and it made Desmond shiver. "That
would be the good way," he thought and breathless laughter escaped his
throat.

   "What?" Gabriel pulled away just a little.

   "Just thought of different ways to moan," Desmond muttered and pulled him
closer again.

   Eventually, they ended up collapsing onto that old mattress, their
handcuffed hands locked on one another. Gabriel's mouth was nibbling on
Desmond's neck, and when it got to the spot where neck smoothly transforms
into a shoulder, Desmond moaned louder than he expected himself to moan.

   "Ohhh..." he breathed. "God..."

   Apparently, that was pretty much the same as opening the floodgate,
because the minute Gabriel caught Desmond's reaction, his mouth became
incredibly hungry. Desmond clutched onto his fingers desperately, when all
the nibbling, and biting, and sucking started to make him lightheaded. Then,
quite a while later, Gabriel finally unbuttoned his shirt and was fiddling
with his belt buckle.

   "You know..." Desmond muttered breathlessly. "If you take the damn cuffs
off, it'll be even better... And easier..."

   Gabriel undid the buckle and the zipper, and was now pulling Desmond's
pants off. The assassin lifted his hips to help him with the task.

   "Nope," Rayhe said contentedly. "The cuffs are staying on..." he glanced
at Desmond. "I am kinky," it sounded like he was smiling, but it was
difficult to see in the dark.

   "Bastard..." Desmond muttered half-heartedly and then his head flew back,
hitting the floor behind the mattress, and the next thing that came out of
his mouth, sounded like, "Ohmyfuckingodooohhh...."

   Oh God, that mouth of his, Desmond thought hazily, trying his best not to
buck his hips into the back of Gabriel's throat. It was a difficult task.
Velvet... Warm melting velvet, that was the only thing floating in Desmond's
mind right now. Gabriel's right arm was stretched upwards, due to the
handcuffs, and Desmond wrapped his fingers around the other man's hand,
digging his fingernails into his palm.

   Gabriel's left hand was almost as good as his mouth - fingers rubbing,
and stroking, and massaging, and...

   "Ohhhgoddd..." Desmond howled when mouth and hand combined did something
indescribable.

   His hips were slowly getting the mind of their own; Desmond couldn't
control their movements anymore, it seemed.

   "I am..." he tried to speak, but it was as difficult as controlling his
hips right now. "Ohhh... I am... Ah, God! Gab... Gabriel, I..."

   The familiar tingling sent a wave of coiling heat into the pit of his
stomach. He started to feel the tightening that usually made him slow down,
but right now, he wouldn't even think about slowing down. The meowing sounds
started to tickle his throat, and right when he was about to burst out with
a scrambled string of unintelligible obscenities, he felt strong fingers
wrapping around his base quite firmly, and then the melting velvet was gone.

   "Wha..." he muttered weakly, trying to raise his head. "No... Don't...
Don't stop... No... Please..."

   He was begging and he didn't care. Gabriel traveled back towards his
face, placing light open-mouthed kisses on his chest, those fingers still
squeezing him firmly.

   "I want this to last longer," he muttered right before he started to
dominate Desmond's mouth again. Desmond closed his eyes, tasting his own
scent on Gabriel's tongue, running his fingers through that goddamn soft
hair. The heat reluctantly crawled away from the pit of his stomach, and now
Desmond wasn't shaking as bad as he did several minutes ago. Gabriel took it
as a sign to finally let go of him, and his fingers unwrapped. He stroked
the assassin's face with his fingertips and muttered:

   "Specter... Hey, Specter..."

   Desmond slowly opened his eyes and looked at him questioningly.

   "Have you done this before?" Gabriel whispered, and Desmond regained
enough control to be able to snort.

   "What do you think?" he asked in a low voice. Gabriel kissed the corner
of his mouth.

   "I mean," he whispered again. "Have you had this done to you?"

   "What do you think?" Desmond repeated.

   "I don't know," Gabriel muttered. "That's why I am asking... I don't want
to hurt you..."

   "Really," Desmond hemmed. "I'm sorry... The whole
head-cracking-handcuffing-electrocuting-me thing must've confused me..."

   "That's not... Ugh..." Gabriel breathed and buried his face in the
assassin's neck for a second. "I am..."

   "Yes," Desmond interrupted him softly. "I've done this before... It's
been a while though," he added.

   Gabriel raised his head and looked at him.

   "I don't want to hurt you..." he said again and stopped speaking when
Desmond grabbed his left hand and wrapped his mouth around two of his
fingers. "Oh my God..." he said a minute or so later in a low voice. "Oh my
God..."

   "Mmm?" Desmond asked, opening his eyes slightly.

   "Do you have any idea how you look when you are doing this?" Gabriel
muttered, his eyes locked on Desmond's face.

   "Mmm," was all Desmond said before closing his eyes again. Finally, he
let Gabriel's hand out of his mouth. "Should be good," he muttered, and
Rayhe nodded, his mouth immediately latching onto Desmond's neck.

   Fingers trailing down his chest, stroking very lightly, running over his
hip, making his back arch off the mattress... "Tickles..." he mutters, and
Gabriel laughs softly into his neck, making him shiver. And then there is
that sensation that he remembers so well, intrusive at first, almost to the
point of uncomfortable, but uncomfortable doesn't last. It dies away rather
quickly, and is replaced by the need to "Move, move, move, goddammit!" Move
he does. Rocking his hips, impaling himself, rotating, those fingers
searching, until finally...

   "Oh, holy hell, yes!"

   Meowing sounds again, but this time Desmond is not sure who is making
them – himself or Gabriel. Because the minute Desmond's hips buck wildly
upwards, Rayhe starts to shake, as if the mere sight of the assassin's
out-of-control body is about to undo him. Desmond is trying to say that it's
okay, that he should be fine now, that he is so bloody ready, but he can't
speak because this feels so...

   "Ohmyfuckingod!!"

   ...good that the speech becomes an issue. Finally, he mumbles something
incoherent, and to his enormous surprise, Gabriel understands him perfectly.
Then the fingers are gone, and then there is that feeling again,
uncomfortable, intrusive ("*Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit...*"), and his breath
hitches in his throat. Gabriel freezes immediately, his back rigid, eyes
wide. He lifts himself up on his arms, almost smashing Desmond's palm with
that bloody chain, frown on his forehead. Desmond takes a deep breath, his
body relaxing, remembering, and finally, welcoming.

   "Move," he whispers but Rayhe doesn't. He still has that worried look on
his face. "Move!" Now there is urgency in Desmond's voice.

   "Specter, I don't..."

   "Goddammit!" Desmond has no patience for this right now, so he slams his
right hand into the small of Gabriel's back and throws his own hips upwards
at the same time. That results a surprised yelp from Gabriel, a flash of
pain laced with pleasure for Desmond, and incoherent mumbling from both of
them. And then – finally! – he moves. Slowly, so mind-blowing slowly, his
hips rotating, searching for the right angle. He knows he found it when
Desmond's body does that out-of-control thing again. Rayhe reaches for him
with his left hand, but Desmond immediately bursts into a furious `No!'
Gabriel looks down at him, startled. Desmond tries to speak.

   "If you..." he gasps. "If you want me to last longer than this... Don't
do that... Because if you do... Oh, God... I'll be done for..."

   Gabriel nods slowly and then his hand caresses Desmond's neck instead.
Then, after decades of slow rocking, after the eternity of
`oh-my-God-don't-you-stop's, after all the breath is about to be gone for
good, the rhythm changes. It becomes faster, jerkier, more and more
uncontrollable, desperate somehow. Desmond's eyes roll all the way back into
his head, eyelids fluttering, lips trembling. The only thing he can mutter
right now is:

 "God-God-God-God..."

    ....and he keeps on saying that, he doesn't even know that he keeps
stuttering it, spitting it out, his breath is nothing but a series of sobs.
Then finally, he *is* done for, and his body convulses, his back flies off
the mattress, lifting Rayhe's body along. His left hand is a blind puppy
looking for its mother. He needs to grab onto something, it doesn't matter
what. He grabs onto something so hard that he thinks his joints are about to
pop.

   And then Gabriel makes this incredible sound in the back of his throat,
and then both of them are nothing but two broken convulsing puppets,
twitching, and sobbing, and spasming...

   Desmond realizes that he is holding onto the chain of the handcuffs for
dear life, and slowly unwraps his fingers, thankful that he didn't grab onto
Gabriel's hand instead. He would hate to break it. Rayhe's head is buried in
the crook of the assassin's neck and his mouth keeps kissing the side of
Desmond's throat. Then they just lie there for a while, silently, holding
each other, wrapped in a blissful bubble of
"I-Don't-Give-A-Damn-What-Happens-Right-Now."