Rat and Fox

ADULTS ONLY

Contains explicit male/male sex.

Pairing: Roger/Vinnie.

Summary: After bringing Vinnie home from his ordeal in South America, Roger decides to stay in New York for a while. Vinnie discovers that having Roger around suits him just fine. Fourth season AU.

Disclaimer: Wiseguy belongs to Steven J. Cannell Productions. No infringement intended.

Vinnie Terranova sat in his jail cell, cataloguing his injuries. It was something he tried to do every day. He had to be prepared for the day when he’d walk out of this Salvadoran prison; he had to know what his limitations were. His hand was definitely broken. Probably also a couple of ribs. His jaw ached, but it moved okay. He hurt between the legs, too, but he’d stopped bleeding. He knew about rape from his previous prison experience. That didn’t make it any less painful, but it did make it a little less frightening. He knew how to force himself to relax and get as little damage as possible. There were assorted other aches and bruises. One of the jailors had a blackjack, and seemed to be working his way over Vinnie’s entire body with it. His head was woozy and he was weak from hunger.

Let’s face it, he was a mess. But it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed with some good food and some rest and a couple of bandages. At least so far. But he was in no shape for any daring escape plans, even assuming he had any. He was exhausted and miserable and stuck in this jail cell, and he wasn’t going anywhere without some outside help.

So where was the cavalry? How long had it been? A couple of months, maybe more? He couldn’t properly keep track of time. He’d counted the days at first, marking them with scratches on the wall, after the second meager meal of each day. But then they moved him, and kept moving him, every couple of weeks, from one dingy, rat-infested prison to another. It was the best way of making sure no one could find him and free him, better than a whole squad of militia or a large, well-defended prison that would scream “Important Political Prisoner Being Held Here.” His current cell was in a run-down concrete building in a sleepy mountain village. There were only six guards. What difference did it make? One guard or a hundred, he still couldn’t get through the solid steel bars of his cell. He was here until someone came and got him out, and they couldn’t do that if they couldn’t find him. He just had to hope that his captors made a mistake. And that someone was still looking for him.

* * *

He’d dozed off after dinner. He sat up on his cot, rubbing his aching head. What was that noise that woke him up? It was sharp, like a gunshot. And there was shouting. And the sound of men running….

The door of his cell burst open. A man in fatigues rushed in. A man wearing round, wire-rimmed glasses.

“Frank!” Vinnie pushed himself to his feet. Pain shot through him in half a dozen places. Frank McPike, his field director, his friend, had come to get him out. Vinnie wanted to cry. But there was no time.

“Come on, Vince, let’s go,” Frank urged, grabbing Vinnie by the arm and half-dragging him out of the cell.

Adrenalin exploded in him. Vinnie forgot his pain, forgot his happiness at seeing his dear friend again, forgot everything except running, getting out of there.

They stepped over two bodies in the hallway. At the end of the hall, gun in hand, Roger Lococco stood lookout. As soon as he saw Vinnie with Frank, he nodded briefly. “Okay, let’s fly.” He was already running when Vinnie reached him.

“Roger….” Vinnie lurched out of Frank’s grasp, caught up a handful of Roger’s shirt with his one good hand.

Roger glanced back, took Vinnie by the arm and pulled him along. “Come on, Buckwheat. Reunions later.”

Past two more dead bodies, and they were out in the street. It was dusk—even better than late night for missions like this, when the lowering sun confused vision with shadows and blinding light. Vinnie’d been unconscious when he was brought to this prison, he didn’t know the layout of the town. He squinted to see dusty buildings, a rutted street, battered jeeps and vans. They ran past them all, Frank catching up to snag Vinnie’s other arm and help pull him along. Vinnie was running as fast as he could, but even when he was in the best of health, he couldn’t keep up with Roger Lococco. Neither could Frank, although he was in good shape for his age. So Vinnie wasn’t the only one slowing Roger down. The blond ex-Company agent swore under his breath as he ran.

Shots rang out. Roger darted off to the side, dragging Vinnie into the shelter of an alley, whirling as he did so to return the fire. Frank pulled Vinnie’s arm, trying to keep him moving.

“Go, Vince,” Roger hissed at him. “I’ll catch up.”

Vinnie allowed Frank to drag him away, down the alley and up another side street. Shots split the air behind them. “Frank, where are we going?” he managed to choke out as he ran.

“Jeep and driver waiting,” Frank spat.

They turned another corner, and Roger caught up with them. “This way.” This time he didn’t wait for the other two, but ran ahead. Vinnie and Frank struggled to keep up.

There was a sound of screeching tires, and a jeep flew around the corner towards them. Vinnie froze. The jeep came to a lurching halt beside them. The driver was a woman—dressed in fatigues, dirty blond hair wild, adrenalin grin on her face. “Let’s go, girls,” she called out. Roger jumped into the seat beside her. Vinnie and Frank scrambled into the back. Before the jeep’s doors were completely closed, it was spinning its wheels in the dirt, making a caroming U-turn and speeding away. You can’t fishtail a jeep, Vinnie thought crazily. But she had done it.

Soon they were out of town, bouncing and lurching along what was no more than a jungle track, at speeds that had Vinnie’s heart in his throat. I got busted out of prison, just to die in a flaming jeep accident in the middle of nowhere…. Frank was gripping the side of the jeep with all his might, trying not to be tossed out. He was grimly silent.

Roger grinned over his shoulder at Vinnie. “Vince, meet Johnny Lou Tilly. Your driver to hell.” Roger might be grinning, but the hand that gripped the dash was white at the knuckles.

Vinnie smiled weakly. He had to shout over the sound of the jeep’s engine, the body metal creaking, the tree branches snapping. “Nice to meet you, Johnny Lou.” The driver—to his great relief, come to think of it—ignored him.

The jeep ride was probably no more than fifteen minutes altogether, although Vinnie could swear he lived a hundred lifetimes in those minutes. But finally, the jeep blasted out into a clearing, where a UH-60 army helicopter sat waiting. As soon as the jeep ground to a halt, the four of them piled out, raced across the clearing and into the helicopter. Johnny Lou Tilly strapped herself into the pilot’s seat and began to flip switches. The helicopter’s engine began to whine, and the rotors slowly started to turn. Vinnie huddled in the back of the helicopter’s empty interior. Frank sat beside him, put his arm around Vinnie’s shoulders.

“I am not looking forward to another ride with that crazy woman at the wheel,” Vinnie said softly.

“Nice to meet you, too, Vinnie,” Johnny Lou called out, as she took the joystick and the helicopter lifted from the ground. Damn, how could she have heard that?

Roger sat down on Vinnie’s other side, laughing. “Better look out, Buckwheat. She can shake this thing like a pinball machine, drop you out the side without losing a beat.”

“Shut up, Roger,” Frank growled.

“Hell, I wouldn’t do that, Roger,” Johnny Lou drawled. “Came all the way down here to save the man’s hide. Wouldn’t want to lose him now. Might dump you, though.”

Vinnie grinned. Grumbling Frank. Cocky Roger. And one of Roger’s loony buddies, apparently. He was alive, he was free, and he was on his way home.

Suddenly, the adrenalin wore off with a vengeance, and all his aches flamed on. His ribs burned and his broken hand throbbed. Vinnie groaned, head spinning. He laid his head on Frank’s shoulder, slid an arm around Frank’s waist, and passed out.

* * *

Vinnie was vaguely aware when the helicopter landed in southern Mexico, and he was helped onto a stretcher and loaded into a small plane for another flight. This time, Johnny Lou Tilly sat in the back with Frank and Vinnie and Roger. A mat was rolled out on the deck of the plane, and Vinnie was allowed to lie down and rest. There was another change of planes in Mexico City; this time, there were doctors who fussed over him, stuck needles into him, wrapped his broken hand and ribs. He slept again, all the long flight to Washington, D.C.

* * *

“Vinnie, wake up. We’re here.” It was Frank’s voice, and Frank’s hand gently shaking him. Vinnie opened his eyes reluctantly. He was having this wonderful dream that Frank and Roger had come to take him home, and he didn’t want to wake up….

But it wasn’t a dream. There was Frank standing over him, and he was lying across three airline seats, and he was home. Vinnie struggled to his feet, grinning. Frank took his arm and help him walk down the plane’s narrow aisle to the door, down the jetway and out onto the tarmac. It was true. It was real, and it was finally over.

Vinnie pulled Frank to him, enveloped him in the fiercest hug he could manage, ignoring the stab in his ribs. Tears formed in exhausted but happy eyes. “Frank,” he sobbed. “You saved me. You came for me, Frank.”

Frank hugged him back, tightly. “It’s okay, Vinnie. You’re okay. Everything’s okay….”

Vinnie glanced up, over Frank’s shoulder. Roger was standing about ten feet away, watching the two of them, with a very strange expression on his face. Eyes narrowed, biting his lower lip. Was he feeling left out?

“Roger,” Vinnie said, stepping back.

Frank held on. “What is it, Vince?”

Vinnie looked at Frank. “It’s Roger, I’d better go talk to him.” But when he looked back, Roger was gone.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Three days in Bethesda Naval Hospital, being poked and prodded and patched up. Hours of debriefings. Vinnie’s mother and stepfather flew in to Washington to fuss and fawn over him. His mother was simultaneously overjoyed to have her son back, and furious that he would dare to be nearly killed. She wept copious tears either way and prayed loudly in Italian. His stepfather, former mob don Rudy Aiuppo, made speeches about family and loyalty and old Sicily at which Vinnie could only nod and smile knowingly. Frank ever hovered around like a nervous mother hen.

The only player in this little drama who was conspicuously absent was Roger Lococco. “You’d think he could at least stick around long enough for me to thank him,” Vinnie complained to Frank, as they sipped tea on the couch of the Bethesda safe house.

Frank was not the one to go to for sympathy concerning another of Roger’s disappearing acts. “Well, Vinnie, what did you expect?”

“I don’t know, Frank. I know he likes to make these quick exits, but this time… I don’t know, there was something funny about the way he was looking at me outside the plane.”

Frank’s exasperated look said plainly that he thought there was always something funny about Roger Lococco. “Have you tried to contact him?”

“I called his place in Stockton, but he isn’t there. Hell, he could be anywhere. I guess he’ll call me when he’s ready, he always does. I just wish he didn’t always have to make it so hard to be nice to him.” Reunions later, Roger had said in the hallway outside Vinnie’s prison cell. Vinnie planned to hold him to that.

Frank sighed. “I owe him thanks, too. I’d never have gotten you out of there without him.”

Vinnie grinned. “How did you manage to find him?”

“I didn’t. He found me. The whole rescue mission, the intelligence, everything—it was all Roger’s show.” There was a tight expression on Frank’s face. “He just turned up one night, in the middle of the night, all twitchy, like he hadn’t slept in days. ‘I know where Vinnie is,’ he says to me. ‘Let’s go get him out.’ ” Frank shook his head at the memory. “I said, ‘Let’s go to the R.D.’ ‘No,’ he says. ‘Just you and me and my pilot. Right now. Or I’ll go without you.’ So what the hell, I went.” Frank looked up at Vinnie with a rueful smile, and shrugged. “No finesse, just a quick smash and grab. We got in the same way we got out, by helicopter, flying low, under their radar. Then we jumped out and started shooting. It was the craziest damned idea I ever heard.”

“Just crazy enough to work,” Vinnie said.

“Just that crazy.”

* * *

Vinnie gave the cab driver a ridiculously large tip, then stood for a moment on the sidewalk, drinking in the sight of the house he grew up in. Finally, he was back in Brooklyn. Sighing happily, he started up the front steps. Frank had wanted to come back with him, but work intervened, as it so often did. Vinnie didn’t really mind. After three weeks of constant attention from physicians and family and Feds, he was looking forward to the chance to just sit on his couch and watch TV and enjoy his own company.

He didn’t have any luggage; he’d been lucky to come back from El Salvador with his skin. Vinnie opened the front door and stepped into the hallway.

And froze. Lights were on; the television blared. Vinnie reached for a gun he didn’t have, swore, slipped into the kitchen for the baseball bat he kept behind the refrigerator. Holding it awkwardly with one hand, he crept into the living room.

And there was Roger Lococco, sitting on his couch, beer bottle in his hand, bag of chips on the coffee table in front of him, watching a football game on ESPN.

“Roger!” Vinnie straightened up, lowering the baseball bat, torn between exasperation and joy.

Roger turned and grinned at him. “Hey, Buckwheat. Wrong season. Baseball’s over.”

“Damn you, Roger!” Vinnie laughed, dropping the bat and going over to the couch. Roger put his beer bottle down on the coffee table and stood. Blue work shirt, tight faded jeans, cowboy boots, wavy blond hair. Cocky grin and a twinkle in his eye. Vinnie almost couldn’t breathe. He threw his arms around his friend, and held him tight.

He’d expected to be pounded on the back a few times, then pushed away—Roger’s usual reaction to Terranova affection. Instead, Roger melted into the embrace, clinging with bone-crushing strength, face buried in Vinnie’s neck. Vinnie was surprised, but not at all displeased. “Thank you, Roger,” he whispered into Roger’s hair. “Thanks for saving me.”

Abruptly, Roger pulled away. He laughed once, looked at the floor, face pink. “No problem.”

Vinnie hooked Roger around the back of the neck with his good hand, and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. Take that, for running out on me, he thought. Even more surprising, Roger didn’t resist that either, although he turned several shades darker pink. “Easy, Vince. If I’d known you were going to ravish me, I’d have brought champagne instead of beer.”

“The beer’s just fine.” Vinnie picked Roger’s bottle off the coffee table and drank deeply.

“There’s more in the kitchen. Sit down, I’ll go get us some.” Roger stepped quickly around Vinnie, as if in escape, and headed to the other room.

“Well, thanks, Roger, it’s real nice of you to invite me into my own house.” Vinnie sat on the couch, grinning, and finished Roger’s beer. A few moments later, Roger joined him, with fresh beers for them both.

“You’re looking good, Vince.”

“You too, Roger. So how come you took off like that? You didn’t even give me a chance to say thank you.”

Roger shrugged. “You seemed pretty involved. I didn’t think you needed any more attention.”

“You mean Frank? Come on, Roger. I was hoping after you two worked together in Lynchboro you’d get to like each other a little more.”

“Yeah, right. After he reams me out for screwing up his case, and tells me about twenty times a day how much he wishes Vinnie were here. Yeah, I got real fond of Frank in Lynchboro.” Was there just a trace of real hurt feelings under all that sarcasm?

“Well, anyway, you shouldn’t have let Frank scare you off.” He knew he’d ruffle some feathers with that one.

Sure enough, Roger bristled. “I wasn’t scared of him, I just didn’t feel like listening to him tell me what a jerk I am any longer.”

Vinnie decided to let him off the hook. He draped an arm around Roger’s shoulders. “Well, anyway, I’m glad you’re here now. I hope you’re planning to stick around for a little while. You can stay here if you want. You already seem to be making yourself right at home.”

“Nah, I got a place. Tilly’s staying with me. We’ll be around for a while.”

“Tilly? That crazy pilot? Roger, are you and her…?”

Roger laughed, held up his hands in protest. “No way! Are you kidding? She’s just a friend. I haven’t seen much of her in a while. She drives me crazy.”

“I need to thank her too.”

“Well, come over and hang out. I’m sure she’ll be happy to drive you crazy, too.”

“I’ll do that.”

They settled in to watch the game. Unfortunately, Vinnie had a problem. He’d sat on the wrong side. He’d trapped the arm with the good hand on the back of the couch behind Roger; his free hand was still wrapped and splinted, and couldn’t hold his beer bottle. He liked having his arm around Roger, and didn’t want to risk losing the moment by trying to move. On the other hand, he wanted his beer.

Well, Roger was being amazingly accommodating today. Maybe Vinnie’s luck would hold a little longer. He stood. Roger looked up at him questioningly.

“Roger, move over. I need my other hand free.”

Roger laughed, shaking his head; then, with the air of one indulging an importunate child, he moved over to allow Vinnie to sit on the other side of him. Vinnie put the arm with the splinted hand around Roger’s shoulders, picked up his beer bottle, and grinned. Now, this was what he’d been waiting for, all those weeks in that Salvadoran prison. His own couch, a game on TV, a good friend by his side. And a beer.

Roger slid down on the couch, the back of his head resting against Vinnie’s arm, and put one booted foot up on the coffee table. Legs apart, his tight jeans emphasized the sizable bulge at his crotch. The top button of his shirt had come open, revealing the soft mat of golden hair on his chest. He absently caressed the neck of the beer bottle held in his lap.

Vinnie found himself casting repeated surreptitious looks at the man beside him. Roger was a good-looking guy; Vinnie had always thought so. Smooth and powerful and dangerous. A coiled snake, Vinnie’d called him, soon after they met. Was he aware of what he was doing, holding his beer bottle over his crotch like that, stroking it like it was part of him? One or two long-simmering fantasies came boiling to the surface. Vinnie wondered what it would feel like to slide his hand through the fur on Roger’s chest, under his shirt, to find a rosy nipple beneath that rough blue cloth. But he knew he’d better not try to find out. Roger was skittish as a colt when it came to male affection; Vinnie didn’t want to scare him off, now that he’d finally gotten him this close. So he tried to concentrate on the game, and content himself with the feel of Roger’s side pressed against his own, strong shoulders under his arm.

Vinnie shifted his weight, his jeans binding against his hardening cock. Jeez, he needed to find a girlfriend fast, if sitting next to Roger Lococco on the couch was going to make him this horny. Maybe he’d call up Gina Banducci, she was always good for a few laughs. It had been too long since he’d hung out in the neighborhood.

In a while, Vinnie began to feel like the kid who finally gets his arm around the girl at the movies, then lets it go numb because he doesn’t want to move it. Not to mention that the quick beer-and-a-half he’d downed had gone right to his bladder, as well as his head. Well, this cozy little scene had to end sometime. Reluctantly, he disengaged his arm and got up.

“Stay there,” he ordered. “I’ll be right back.”

But when he got back from the bathroom, Roger had moved to the easy chair. Vinnie sat back down on the couch. “Did I miss anything?”

“No. They punted.”

Already, it had turned back into just another evening at home with a friend. Vinnie sighed. It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself attracted to a male friend. Sometimes he did something about it, sometimes he didn’t. It was never anything serious, just a way to let off some steam. There had been rumors, back in the days when they were both working undercover on the Mel Profitt case, that Roger liked to blow off steam that way, too. Vinnie had wondered if he and Roger might meet up some day in Profitt’s playroom. But Roger’d hung out an “Off Limits” sign a mile wide—at least where Vinnie was concerned. Vinnie had never dared to put it to the question.

* * *

After Roger had gone home, Vinnie prowled around the house restlessly, unable to get the memory of Roger’s body pressing against his out of his mind. He thought he’d settled the question of Roger’s availability a long time ago, but now he reconsidered every sign and signal. The first day they’d met, Roger had invited Vinnie up to his hotel room in Stockton to share a trio of Finnish hookers supplied by Susan Profitt. Vinnie had wondered then if he might be expected to share himself as well. But Roger had stayed in one bed, Vinnie in the other, and only the women had passed between them. Still, there had been times he’d felt Roger’s eyes on him, almost as palpable as a physical touch.

Vinnie, sated, blonde hooker sprawled across him, looked over to the other bed. Roger was lying face down, knees drawn up, with one of the blondes kneeling between his legs, slowly working a hand, shiny with lubricant, up Roger’s ass. Roger looked over with a hazy smile, his face pink and muzzy with sweat. Vinnie’s tired cock stirred, eliciting giggles from the woman on top of him. He’d never seen anyone being fist-fucked before. He hardly knew that it was possible. Roger’s half-lidded smile widened. Then, suddenly, the woman between Roger’s legs pushed, and her hand disappeared inside him up to her forearm. Roger gasped and buried his face in the pillow….

The memory could still get Vinnie hot. He looked down at his hand, briefly picturing the elusive and often infuriating Roger Lococco helpless on the end of his fist…. But Roger had never again invited Vinnie to share bed partners, or his bed. And several weeks later, when Mel Profitt sent Vinnie and Roger to Tennessee to check on his cocaine business, Roger had thrown a fit when he’d been expected to sleep in the same room with Vinnie, in Ernest and Lottie Haynes’s small country house. After they’d gone upstairs to their bedroom, Vinnie had called Roger a homophobe, just to see what reaction he would get. Roger didn’t deny it. Vinnie didn’t know how to reconcile this with Roger’s reputation as a wanton sexual adventurer.

But once they’d returned to Vancouver, Vinnie had been distracted by Mel’s beautiful sister, Susan Profitt; and soon enough, he found that just staying alive and one step ahead of disaster was almost more then he could handle. He’d firmly put any further speculation about Roger Lococco’s sex life out of his mind.

* * *

Several days after Vinnie returned to Brooklyn, he visited Roger in his new home. It was almost a carbon copy of his loft in Vancouver—a large, open warehouse space, broken only by support beams at regular intervals. There was a couch and a glass coffee table and a braided rug defining the living area, and on the near wall were kitchen appliances. A Harley-Davidson motorcycle was parked in one corner. Several assault rifles and pistols hung on one wall. The major differences between this place and the one in Vancouver were the raised sleeping loft in the far corner, and the absence of Roger’s welding equipment and twisted statuary. Vinnie prowled around for a few minutes, then joined Roger at the couch for coffee.

“Well, it’s definitely you, Roger. But where are all the weird sculptures?”

Roger shrugged. “Don’t know how long I’m going to be here. I’m not looking forward to a New York winter.”

Vinnie suppressed the impulse to urge Roger to stay. Roger would do what he wanted anyway, and all pushing him ever accomplished was to make him push back. “So where’s Johnny Lou?”

Roger gestured toward the sleeping loft. “With any luck, she’ll sleep all day.”

Vinnie sat on the couch—on the opposite end from Roger, leaving plenty of room between them. Roger was giving off his usual “Don’t touch me” vibe; there would be no cuddling today. “Why do you let her stay if she drives you so crazy?”

Roger shrugged and changed the subject. “What have you been up to since you got back?” Was there was just a hint of accusation in his voice? Whatever it was, it wasn’t with me.

Vinnie told himself he was letting his imagination run wild. “I went out with Gina Banducci a couple of times. Had dinner with Frank last night.” Frank had not been thrilled to hear that Roger was staying in town.

“Great,” Roger grumbled. “He didn’t try to talk you into going back to work, did he?”

“No, of course not. He doesn’t want me back at work any more than you do. Lay off Frank, will you? Jeez, one of these days I’m going to lock the two of you in a room together until you learn to play nice.”

“You tried that once already, in Lynchboro, remember? It didn’t work.”

“Well, I’m going to keep trying. I know you two would like each other if you’d just give it a chance.”

“Ah, Vince. Just because you like everybody and everybody likes you, doesn’t mean they’re going to like each other.”

Vinnie grinned. “So, are you telling me that you like me?”

Roger was spared having to answer by the entrance of Johnny Lou Tilly, coming down the steps from the sleeping loft, yawning and running a hand through her still-wild hair. She was dressed only in a man’s undershirt and boxer shorts. Vinnie saw that she had a tattoo of a snake on her left arm. But the figure that filled out the thin cotton cloth was definitely female. It was a strange sight.

“Coffee?” she drawled sleepily.

Roger gestured toward the kitchen area. She ambled over to the sink, pulled out a mug at random and shook it out.

“Clean cups right in front of you, Tilly,” Roger called out. “I have a dishwasher, I don’t have to go out to the pump to wash them.”

She shrugged, put the mug down, then picked up one of the delicate porcelain cups set out by the coffeepot. She turned to Roger with a grin, holding the cup with exaggerated daintiness between thumb and forefinger.

“God, Roger, you’re such a queen.”

Vinnie nearly spit out his coffee at hearing Roger called a queen.

Roger shot back, “Not everybody drinks out of Mason jars and keeps goats in the kitchen….”

“No, you just fuss over everything like an old woman.” She poured coffee as she spoke, then came to stand before the coffee table, bending to scoop a couple of ball bearings from the ever-present bowlful. “And leave your sex toys lying around the living room.”

“Sex toys!” Vinnie laughed while Roger glowered.

“You’ve heard the saying, ‘Everything can be a weapon’?” Johnny Lou grinned. “To Roger, it’s ‘Everything can be a sex toy.’ ”

Roger leaned forward and plucked one of the metal balls out of the bowl. “If I penetrate you with this, Tilly, you won’t think it’s a sex toy.”

She casually dropped the ball bearings back into the bowl. “Yeah, yeah. I’m quaking in my boots.”

Roger growled, “Oh, go put some clothes on. You’re giving me a headache.”

She looked down at herself, still grinning. “Oh yeah, that’s right. You don’t like looking at women.” She set her cup on the coffee table, then turned and headed toward the stairs.

“Bitch.”

“Faggot,” she shot back, without turning around.

“Fuck you, Tilly.”

She threw a grin over her shoulder. “Yeah, you would if you could.”

Roger reached for the bowl of ball bearings; Johnny Lou took off running up the stairs, laughing. “And quit wearing my underwear,” Roger muttered, as she disappeared into the sleeping loft. Roger leaned back on the couch with his face in his hands. “God, what a pain in the ass,” he groaned.

Vinnie shook his head, laughing. “I can’t believe you let her talk to you like that.”

Roger sighed. “Outside of killing her, I’ve never been able to figure out a way to stop her.”

“Then why do you put up with her?”

“She’s one of the guys.” He shrugged, hesitated for a moment. “She saved my life. At least three times.”

“Oh yeah? How’d she do that?”

“See this?” Roger held out his left hand, pointing to a small, round scar on the back. He turned his hand over, revealing a matching scar in the middle of his palm. “The first time I ever met Tilly was in Cambodia, seventy-six. I was alone, running ops for Ketcher. He told me there would be a driver and jeep waiting in a certain location at a certain time to get me out. I’d be driven to an airstrip where a chopper would be waiting to fly me into Thailand. But the chopper was leaving at twenty-two hundred sharp; if I didn’t make it there on time, I was on my own.

“Ketcher—the bastard—apparently thought it would be funny not to mention that John Tilly was a woman. When I saw her—and she was even scrawnier then than she is now—I thought, there is no way I’m letting this gutter rat drive me to the airstrip.

“I went to the driver’s side, told her to get over. She just looked at me and said, ‘I’m driving.’ I started to try to talk to her. She pulled out a twenty-two pistol and shot me right through the hand.”

Vinnie sat there with his mouth open. Roger chuckled. “I’d have killed her right then and there, except I couldn’t drive with a hole through my hand. I didn’t have any choice but to get in and let her drive. Well, you’ve seen her drive. We picked up pursuit before we were halfway there. She outran them all. We made it to the airstrip with about thirty seconds to spare.”

Roger shook his head at the memory. “If I’d driven, we never would have made it. If she’d even stopped to argue about it, we wouldn’t have made it. She did the only thing she could, to get us both out of there alive.”

Vinnie was less than impressed. “So she shot you in the hand for wanting to drive. What else?”

Roger laughed briefly, then continued. “It was about a year later. Four of us were on a mission—Walker, Carl, Tilly, and me. We had standing orders from Ketcher—no heroics. If one of us got caught, the rest were to keep on going.

“I got caught. I was as good as dead. But Tilly said orders be damned, friends come first. She came back and got me out. When we got back, she told Ketcher she was through. She stood up in front of the whole team and said, ‘Someday, I might be the one to get caught. And none of you assholes would have the balls to tell Ketcher to go to hell and come and get me.’ She was wrong about one thing. I would have.”

Suddenly, Vinnie felt a whole lot better disposed toward Johnny Lou Tilly, who not only risked her life to save Roger, but told Ketcher to go to hell in the bargain.

“After that, I did most of the driving. I’m good. But I never saw anybody who could drive like she does.”

“So how did she ever learn to drive like that?”

Roger shook his head, grinning. “Tilly’s family… they’re all mountain men, right out of Deliverance. They make Ernest and Lottie look like city sophisticates. She’s got about ten brothers, each one meaner and uglier than the next. I don’t think her folks even noticed that one of their kids was a girl. Her mother died when she was little, and her father’s stone crazy. They all grew up like wild animals.

“When she was ten, she was driving an old beat-up pickup truck down rugged mountain trails, forty miles to the nearest town for supplies. At twelve, her brothers had her running ‘shine all over the county in a souped-up Plymouth Fury. She outran every county sheriff and state cop who ever tried to stop her. When she turned sixteen and got her license, she started racing stock cars on the southern circuit. By the time she joined the Company, she could drive anything on wheels over any kind of terrain. They taught her to fly helicopters and small aircraft. She’s the best there is.”

“So what about the third time Johnny Lou saved your life… ?” Just then, the woman in question returned, dressed in jeans and tee-shirt, her hair still uncombed.

“Got anything to eat?” she asked.

“We’re about to go out to lunch,” Roger said, to Vinnie’s surprise. That hadn’t been part of the plan. He was further surprised when Roger continued, “Why don’t you come with us?”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Italian, probably.”

She made a face.

“Not too many places around here serve road kill, Tilly. Come on, a little pasta won’t kill you.”

She shrugged. “Okay. Got a jacket I can borrow?”

Roger got up, sighing, and walked over to the coat rack. “Aren’t you going to take a shower first?”

“Nah, I took one last month,” she drawled. Vinnie could only hope she was kidding.

“You’re such a pig.” Roger tossed a black leather jacket to her, took his favorite brown leather bomber jacket for himself. “Why can’t you wear your own clothes?”

“I didn’t bring that much with me, Roger. I didn’t know I was going to be staying.” She shrugged into the jacket, several sizes too large for her. She looked more like a ragged street urchin than a Company driver. Vinnie got up and fetched his own jacket, wondering just what he was getting himself into by going out in public with these two.

* * *

At the restaurant, Roger told them to go have a drink while he took care of a little business. He disappeared before Vinnie could protest. Shaking his head at yet another of Roger’s vanishing acts, Vinnie bought beers for himself and Johnny Lou. They sat at the bar to drink.

“What do you suppose that’s all about?” Vinnie complained.

She shrugged. “Who knows? Roger likes his little mysteries.”

“I wonder… I’ve been trying to make him get along better with another of my friends. I wonder if this is the payback.” He winced, then, realizing how that must sound.

But Johnny Lou just laughed. “And I’m the torture he’s inflicting on you? That sounds like Roger.”

Vinnie considered a moment, then asked, “Why do you talk to him like that? All those digs about him being gay?”

“‘Cause it drives him crazy,” she said cheerfully.

“You know you have an unfair advantage over him.”

“You mean, ’cause if I’d been a man, he’d’ve cleaned my clock a long time ago?”

Well, at least she was straightforward. “Yeah.”

“I get little enough advantage being a woman in this business. I take what I can get.”

“But Roger’s supposed to be your friend. Why do you have to have an advantage over him?”

She stared at him. “Did he tell you about when we first met?”

“Yeah. He said you shot him in the hand because he tried to drive.”

She frowned at him. “I got hired to do a job. A job I’m damned good at. I spent two days doing recon before the pick-up. I knew every twig and rock on the route, you think Roger did? He shows up twenty minutes late and already under pursuit, did he tell you that? Son-of-a-bitch Ketcher told me, if Roger’s late just go without him. But I figured I’d wait, we could still make it, just barely. Five minutes later I’d have gone. Then here comes this clown, who never even had a driver’s license till he got to Nam, wants to stand around and argue with me about who’s going to drive. Do you think for one minute he’d have hesitated if I’d been a man?”

Well, when she put it like that…. “Well, okay, but still—that was a long time ago. No need to still be needling him on it.”

“Aah, every time I ease up on him, he starts thinking he’s going to drive.”

Vinnie laughed with her. “So… do you think he’s really, you know….”

“Queer? Hell if I know. Doubt if he knows. Roger’s sex life is a conundrum for the ages.”

“I’d heard, though, that he sometimes liked to do it with guys.”

“Hell, Roger doesn’t care what he fucks. As long as he doesn’t have to look at it in the morning.”

Just then, Vinnie felt a hand descend onto the back of his neck. Roger, grinning wickedly, stood behind them, his other hand on Johnny Lou’s neck. “You two look nice and cozy. What are you talking about?”

“You, of course,” Johnny Lou was quick to answer. “Your boyfriend thinks I’m too rough on you.”

Roger’s hand tightened on her neck. “You want to eat before or after I kill you?”

“Well, after’d be a good trick, wouldn’t it? Did your test results turn out okay?”

“You crazy bitch.” But Roger was laughing.

* * *

Frank gazed at Vinnie with sorrowful blue eyes. “He’s in love with you, you know.”

“What, Roger? Come on, Frank, you’ve got to be kidding.” Vinnie sipped his coffee and shook his head. It was the day after his visit with Roger and Johnny Lou. He’d told Frank all about it over dinner.

“You didn’t see how he was when he came to me, to go and find you. He was hurting bad, and he couldn’t hide it. Nothing that happened to him with Ketcher, or the whole Isle Pavot thing, strung him out like thinking you might be dead.”

“Yeah, but Frank. He won’t let me get near him.”

Frank looked at him strangely. Vinnie suddenly realized that Frank hadn’t necessarily meant sexual love. And that he’d just told Frank that he wanted to get Roger into bed. Vinnie’s face grew hot.

Frank looked away for a moment, a flash of pain on his face. Vinnie swallowed uneasily. “Frank… ?”

Frank looked back, and sighed. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe that’s why? The guy was practically abandoned by his parents, used and abused and raked over the coals by Ketcher, saw just about everyone he ever cared about get killed. You’re about the only friend he’s got left. Then he nearly lost you too. What do you expect? He’s probably scared to death to let you get any closer.”

“Why, Frank. You sound like you actually like the guy.” Whatever that moment had been, it was past. Vinnie still felt a little strange, though. Especially hearing Frank talk about love and Lococco in the same sentence.

“I don’t have to like him to understand him. And to see how he feels about you.”

“Frank… how would you feel about it, if Roger and I….” Vinnie didn’t even know how to say it.

The pain was back in Frank’s face. “Vince, all I want for you is the best, whatever that happens to be. If it were up to me, it wouldn’t be Lococco. But it’s not up to me.”

“I swear I’m going to make the two of you like each other one of these days.”

Frank laughed humorlessly. “Don’t count on it.”

* * *

It was a few weeks later. Vinnie yawned as he turned the key in his front door. He and Gina had gone to Coney Island, talked and laughed for hours. It was fun; it was relaxed and easy and natural. And it was like being out with one of the guys. He’d kissed her goodnight at her front door and declined the invitation to come in. All evening, a certain wavy-haired blond had kept intruding on his thoughts, as he seemed to do every evening these days. But Vinnie was more determined than ever to get Roger Lococco out of his mind. Even if Frank was right, and Roger was in love with him, that was all the more reason to stay away from him. He wouldn’t be able to get away with just a buddy fuck, and the thought of trying to have a real relationship with Roger scared him half to death. Not that he didn’t love Roger, he did, but hell, Roger’s occasional hit-and-run visits were enough of a disruption in his life. He couldn’t imagine what living with Roger on a day-to-day basis would be like.

He felt a little guilty about using Gina to try to stop thinking about Roger, though. Well, he hadn’t made Gina any promises, they were just out for a good time. So Vinnie didn’t feel like he’d led her on, not really. But he wasn’t going to be able to go on like this; he was going to have to tell her all they were ever going to be was friends.

He flipped the light switch in the living room. And jumped back in panic as Roger Lococco leaped up off the couch and into a fighter’s crouch, almost before he’d come fully awake.

“Roger! What the hell are you doing here?” Vinnie barked, his heart pounding wildly.

Roger straightened up, suddenly weary and disoriented. “Sorry, Vince. I just came by to talk. I guess I… fell asleep.” He looked like he needed it, too. Dark circles under his eyes stood out starkly against pale skin. So why wasn’t he home sleeping?

“It’s three in the morning, Roger. I was out on a date. What if I’d brought her home with me?”

Roger just stood there, blinking, for a moment. Then he lurched for his jacket, slung over the back of the couch. “Sorry. I’ll get out.”

“Wait.”

Roger stopped halfway to the door. Vinnie took a deep breath. “You scared the shit out of me, Roger, is all. It’s okay. You know you’re always welcome here.” He stepped into the room, slapped Roger on the arm. “I’d give you a key, but you obviously don’t need one.”

Roger relaxed fractionally. “I didn’t mean to stay so late. I should go.”

“Why don’t you crash here? We can talk about it in the morning.”

There was a bruised look on Roger’s face. “Nah, forget it.” He started again for the door.

“Roger, wait.” Vinnie sighed. Obviously this was more than a late-night hello. Roger wanted to talk. And when Roger Lococco wanted to talk, you’d damn well better listen, because you never knew when the mood would strike him again. Vinnie went into the kitchen, snagged a couple of beers, and brought them back to the living room. He handed one to Roger, then fell onto the couch, gestured with his beer bottle for Roger to sit down.

Roger stood a moment, staring intently at Vinnie, absently stroking the neck of the beer bottle with his thumb. Then, abruptly, he sat in the easy chair across from the couch, twisted off the bottle cap, and drank deeply. “Who were you out with?”

“Gina Banducci. I told you I’ve been seeing her.”

“You were out with her again?”

“Yeah, Roger, you know, some guys do like to date the same woman more than once.”

Roger forced a sickly laugh. “Is it serious?”

“No, I don’t think so. We have a good time together. But you didn’t come here to talk to me about Gina Banducci. What’s up, Roger?”

There was a long pause. Finally, without preamble, Roger began to speak. “The third time John Tilly saved my life was about two years ago. I guess the whole thing with Herb and Preet and everything was starting to get to me. I started feeling like I didn’t want to be around any more. Tilly told me what a jerk I was being.”

It took a moment for Roger’s outwardly innocuous words to sink in. They left an icy cold feeling in the pit of Vinnie’s stomach. “Roger… are you telling me that you were thinking about killing yourself?”

Roger shrugged, suddenly making light of it. “It was no big deal. I just got a little spooky for a while. Tilly talked me out of it.”

“Don’t tell me it was no big deal. You just said she saved your life. That means you were really serious about it. And where was I when all this was going on? Why didn’t I know about it if you were that depressed?”

Roger stared at the floor, looking as though he regretted ever bringing the subject up. “I don’t know. You were involved… on a case. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Roger, that’s crazy. I thought I was your friend.”

“Vinnie….”

“Well, don’t you tell your friends when you’re in trouble? I can’t believe you told Johnny Lou Tilly but you didn’t tell me.”

“I couldn’t, Vince. I… I’m sorry.”

Shit. Roger was confiding in him, a very difficult thing for him to do, and here Vinnie was yelling at him about it. “No, Roger, I’m sorry. It just scares me to think you were that close to the edge and I didn’t even know about it.”

“Ah, Vinnie. Everything was crazy then. I just didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Well, if anything like that ever happens again, you’d better come to me. You hear me?”

Roger tried to laugh. “It won’t happen again.”

“So, why are you telling me this now?” Roger hadn’t been quite himself ever since they’d come back from El Salvador. Right from that strange stare on the tarmac when they’d landed in Washington, to the uncharacteristic show of affection when Vinnie’d come home to Brooklyn, to setting up a loft in New York and keeping Johnny Lou Tilly around. Now here was Roger on his couch in the middle of the night, confessing to a two-year-old bout with suicidal depression. What was it all about? Vinnie sighed, wishing for once he could just ask Roger a question and get a straight answer.

“I don’t know, Vinnie. I just…. Tilly went back to Arkansas today.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” It was easy to think of Roger as a loner, but after all, he had lived with Preet for more than twenty years. That crazy, sharp-tongued, backwoods car freak was a far cry from the unobtrusive, mute Chinese woman; but still, she was company. And she was someone Roger would turn to when his whole world came crashing down.

“No, it’s just that… when she’s not around sniping at me, I kind of… start thinking again.”

“Thinking about what, Roger?” Vinnie asked quietly.

“Nothing.” Roger’s voice was barely audible.

“Thinking about being depressed? About maybe not wanting to be around anymore?”

“No, I told you. That’s over with.”

Vinnie was not convinced. But Roger was closed up tight. Vinnie sighed. He’d have to get at it from a different direction. “Roger, tell me about the time before. When exactly was it? Where was I when all this was going on?”

“I don’t know. You were running a record company or taking down the Mafia or something.”

Vinnie thought back. Shakala Records. Then the mob wars. Amber Twine. That’s right, Roger hadn’t been around much back then. But Vinnie’d been so involved with Amber, he hadn’t really thought about it….

Involved with Amber…. You were involved… on a case. And when he’d confronted Roger about running off after they’d gotten back from El Salvador—You were involved…. That time, it was with Frank. My God, could Frank have been right? Was Roger in love with him? Enough in love to go into a tailspin over Vinnie getting serious about someone else?

“Roger, it was Amber, wasn’t it? She was why you wouldn’t talk to me. In fact, she was one of the reasons you were so depressed in the first place.”

Roger laughed, all his defenses suddenly back in place. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m not. That’s it, isn’t it? You couldn’t stand seeing me with Amber. You were jealous. Just like you’re jealous of Frank.”

Roger stood up, and grabbed his coat. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to this crap.”

Vinnie jumped up, stood between Roger and the doorway. “No you don’t, Roger. You’re not going to run away from it this time.”

“Fuck you, Vince.”

“Yeah, you would if you could.” Johnny Lou’s biting comeback was out of his mouth before he could stop it; Vinnie winced and cursed himself at the stricken look on Roger’s face. Well, there was no turning back now. If he’d stopped to think about it, he would have told himself that starting a relationship with Roger would be a big mistake, even if Roger was in love with him—they’d never be able to make it work, and they’d both just end up getting hurt. And Roger couldn’t take any more of that kind of pain. But he hadn’t stopped to think, he’d just blurted it out, and if he didn’t go through with it now, he really would hurt Roger, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that.

“You could, you know,” Vinnie said softly.

Roger just stared at him, a hundred emotions playing across his face; fear, pain, longing, and hopeless misery. Then he took a deep breath and smoothed it all away.

“I know.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Roger looked away, biting his lip. “It’s no good, Vinnie. You know damn well it wouldn’t work.”

“No, I don’t know that.” The fact that Roger was probably right only made him disagree all the more vehemently. “I do know that I care about you. And you care about me. And lately, I can’t think about you without wanting to touch you. And I can’t stop thinking about you. I know we’re not exactly the world’s ideal couple, but we’ve got to be able to figure out something.”

Roger still wouldn’t look at him. “No.”

Well, he wasn’t going to beg. Short of throwing Roger onto the floor and raping him—and the thought had its appeal—there wasn’t much else he could do. Maybe Roger was right, they should just let it go. “Okay, Roger. If you’re really not interested in even trying, all you have to do is say so. I’ll love you either way.”

Roger swallowed, rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I’m not interested.”

Vinnie sighed and stepped aside. “Okay. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

Roger stepped past him, staring at the floor. He strode quickly to the doorway. But then he stopped, one hand on the doorjamb, shoulders slumped. He stood that way, back to Vinnie, for long moments before finally turning around. There were tears in his cool green eyes.

“I….” He cleared his throat and began again. “I’m interested.”

Vinnie’s heart threatened to burst. He stepped up to Roger, smiling gently, and took his face in his hands, tenderly kissing the tears away. “It’s okay, Roger. It’s just me. Everything’s going to be okay.” He started to put his mouth on Roger’s.

Roger flinched, resisting briefly before allowing Vinnie to kiss him. Vinnie pressed his mouth lightly against Roger’s, gradually deepening the kiss, running his tongue along Roger’s lips, patiently waiting for Roger to allow him entrance. Finally, Roger gave a tiny sigh, let his lips part and his tongue meet Vinnie’s. Vinnie responded with increasing heat, sliding his arms around Roger’s hard body, pulling him close. Roger let his jacket fall to the floor and returned the embrace, crushing Vinnie to him with sudden urgency. Roger’s hands dug into Vinnie’s back; his mouth devoured Vinnie’s hungrily.

Vinnie tried to pull back and catch his breath. Roger was going to eat him alive. “Roger, wait, let’s….”

“No.” Roger’s mouth stopped any further talk. He pulled Vinnie’s tee-shirt free from his pants, ran his rough hands up Vinnie’s spine, then down over Vinnie’s butt, squeezing the firm cheeks. They ground their groins together. Vinnie gave up trying to urge them towards the bedroom. His cock was throbbing painfully. It was going to be fast and furious, this first time; they’d have to save the finesse for later. He worked his hands between their bodies, trying to unbutton Roger’s jeans. The top button took long, frustrating seconds; the remaining buttons pulled open easily. Vinnie slid his hand beneath the waistband of Roger’s shorts, momentarily surprised to find that he wore boxers, then remembered Johnny Lou in Roger’s underwear and was unable to suppress a brief giggle.

Roger pulled back, confused and defensive. “What?”

Vinnie wrapped his hand around Roger’s hard cock, gratified by the instant slack-jawed reaction on Roger’s face. “I like ’em better on you than on Johnny Lou Tilly,” he whispered, stroking Roger’s cock, running his hand down the shaft, releasing it to cup Roger’s heavy balls in his palm.

Roger moaned and pressed his face into Vinnie’s shoulder, thrusting his hips into Vinnie’s thigh. Vinnie gripped Roger’s cock firmly and pumped it steadily. Roger, making little noises into Vinnie’s neck, fumbled with Vinnie’s belt, and unzipped Vinnie’s jeans, and soon Vinnie was gasping as Roger’s expert hands found his cock, and worked him with the same rhythm.

Roger came with a strangled cry, burying his teeth almost painfully in Vinnie’s neck, cock spurting its milky fluid into Vinnie’s hand. Roger’s gasping turned nearly to sobs, pushing Vinnie over the edge; his orgasm soon followed. They stood, bodies pressed together, sticky hands in each other’s pants, in the middle of Vinnie’s living room. Vinnie smiled. It was hardly the scene he’d imagined for his first time with Roger, but then, one rarely got the expected from Roger Lococco. He was happy just to have the man finally in his hands.

Then Roger pulled away with a tentative laugh and stood there, jeans unbuttoned and shorts pulled down below his wilting cock, an impish and slightly shy smile on his face. He brought his hand up to his mouth, and licked Vinnie’s salty cum from his fingers. “Nice.”

Vinnie laughed. “Roger, you are something else.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, Buckwheat. Next time we’ll go to my place. I got toys and games that’ll make you scream.”

Vinnie reached out and took Roger’s cock in his hand, surprised to feel it respond, hardening again already. “I don’t need any toys, this is all I want. And Roger,” he squeezed to emphasize his point, “don’t call me Buckwheat.”

Roger moved to Vinnie, sliding his arms around Vinnie’s waist and resting his head on Vinnie’s shoulder. “You keep that up, I’ll call you Lord and Master or anything else you want.”

“Vinnie. Just call me Vinnie. Do you think we could make it to the bedroom this time?”

“Maybe. If we hurry.”

Vinnie kissed Roger’s hair, and released his cock. “No hurry. We got all night. And a lot more nights after this.”

* * *

Vinnie rubbed his eyes, watched the sky lightening outside his window. Roger rolled over, tucked his arm around Vinnie’s chest, and rested his head on Vinnie’s shoulder.

“Fuck me, Vinnie,” Roger whispered.

Vinnie yawned. “Jeez, Roger, don’t you ever sleep? I fucked you once already.” And you fucked me, and we sucked each other off, and every other damn thing you could think of. If this is how it is without any extras, I don’t know if I’ll survive your “toys and games.”

“I want you to fuck me again,” Roger insisted. He stroked Vinnie’s chest, smiled up at him.

“Later. I’ll fuck you tomorrow. Or later today, whatever. You act like you never had sex before.” Or like you never will again. “I’ll still be here when you wake up, Roger,” he said gently. “Go to sleep now.”

“You’re out of shape, Vinnie,” Roger mumbled drowsily. “Going to have to toughen you up.”

Vinnie laughed. “Yeah, right. You’re already asleep, you just don’t know it yet.” Vinnie took Roger’s chin in his hand, bent his head down to kiss him. Roger turned his head so that Vinnie’s kiss landed on his cheek. We’re going to have to work on that, too. But we’ll have time, you’ll see.

* * *

Several weeks into the most imaginative and exhausting affair Vinnie had ever experienced, Vinnie lay sprawled on the couch in Roger’s loft. Roger sat turned towards him at the end of the couch, smiling lazily at him. Vinnie hadn’t been home in two days; Roger’s “toys and games” had been keeping them quite thoroughly entertained.

Vinnie leaned forward and scooped a handful of the metal ball bearings from the bowl. He looked at Roger suggestively. “So, Roger….”

Roger grinned at him. “What do you think you’re going to do with those, Vinnie?”

“I don’t know, what do you do with ’em?”

“Actually, these are the ones you want.” Roger reached into the bowl and fished around until he brought out four of the ball bearings that had been drilled and strung loosely on a long, silk cord. He dropped them into Vinnie’s hand. “Ever heard of the Chinese knotted scarf trick?”

Vinnie dropped the other ball bearings back into the bowl, then looked at the strand of metal balls. “Yeah, but that’s… I mean, they’re… Can you really… ?”

Roger laughed, then stood up and headed for the sleeping loft. He stopped at the stairs and looked back at Vinnie, still sitting on the couch. “Well, come on, Buckwheat. Better wash those, first. Don’t know where they’ve been.”

“Oh, Roger, you’re going to get it now.” It had become a game with them; every time Roger called him “Buckwheat,” Vinnie had to devise a new “punishment” for Roger. His imagination was no match for Roger’s, so far, but he was learning. Vinnie went into the bathroom and soaped his hands and the four ball bearings thoroughly. His cock was already hardening at the thought of what he was going to do with them.

The sleeping loft was a small, low-ceilinged room, consisting of a futon on four tatami mats, with a small tansu chest next to it. Roger was already naked and stretched out on the futon. Condoms were strewn about, and a large jar, simply labelled “Lube,” sat on the tansu, open and ready. Vinnie paused a moment to gaze at the fine golden body laid out before him. Wide shoulders, strong back, firm round buns. He sighed contentedly.

Roger looked up at him. “We going to get something going here, or what?”

“Shut up, Roger. I’m enjoying the view.” He leaned down to hand Roger the ball bearings. “Here, warm these up while I get undressed.”

Roger rubbed the ball bearings between his hands. Vinnie quickly stripped off his clothes, then straddled Roger’s thighs and began massaging his back.

“Mmm. I thought I was going to get it.”

“You will. Just softening you up.” Vinnie worked his hands down Roger’s back to his firm butt, squeezing the muscular mounds with his fingers. His erect cock rubbed along the crevice between Roger’s thighs. He let his thumbs gradually slip deeper between Roger’s cheeks. Roger tried to spread his legs farther apart, but he was trapped by Vinnie’s knees. Vinnie teased him for a little while, before releasing him by moving his knees between Roger’s legs. Roger moaned softly when Vinnie touched his anus.

Vinnie dipped his fingers into the jar of Lube and spread it liberally over the hot opening in Roger’s ass, letting his fingers slide in, working and relaxing the muscle. Then he held out his hand. “Okay, Roger, give them here.”

Roger handed over the ball bearings. Vinnie hesitated for a moment. “You sure it’s okay for me to do this?”

Roger groaned. “This how you’re going to torture me, Vinnie? Go ahead, shove them in.”

Vinnie grinned. “Okay.” He pressed the ball bearing at the end of the strand to the now-slick entrance. There was a moment’s resistance, then it slid into Roger’s ass. Vinnie’s breath caught. One at a time, the other three followed. The silk cord trailed between Roger’s thighs. Vinnie took Roger’s bottom in his hands and stroked the hot cheeks. Roger moaned and rubbed his cock against the futon.

“Okay, Roger, now what?”

“It’s your game, Vinnie. Use your imagination.”

Vinnie pulled on the cord, meeting resistance when the ball bearings came up against the tight muscle. He gave it a little tug, and one of the metal balls squeezed out. “Does that feel good?”

Roger laughed, a little breathlessly, and pushed up onto his knees. “Oh, yeah.”

Vinnie pushed the ball back in, following it with his finger, fascinated by the feel of smooth, hard metal against the hot, wet channel of Roger’s body. Then he withdrew his finger and pulled two of the ball bearings out, then three, sliding them back in with his fingers, or with his thumb. He experimented with different speeds and tugs on the cord; he let the balls slide loosely along the cord, or pulled them tight together into a hard, knobby little metal cock. Roger groaned and moved his hips, leaning back until he was kneeling upright, sitting on Vinnie’s probing hand.

Vinnie pushed all four of the ball bearings into Roger’s ass, then inserted two fingers deeply after them. “Lay down.” Vinnie kept his fingers inside the throbbing opening as Roger lay back down on the futon. Vinnie lay beside him, head propped up on one elbow so he could look down at his hand between Roger’s buttocks. He moved his fingers, feeling the ball bearings against his fingertips. He began to slide his fingers in and out.

“Roger, I want to ask you something.”

Roger chuckled. “You have a very interesting interrogation technique.”

“Maybe you’ll tell me the truth this way. At least, you won’t be able to get away.”

“Vinnie, I always tell you the truth.”

Vinnie pushed his fingers, hard, in up to the last knuckle. Roger gasped. “Wrong answer, Roger. But you’ll tell me the truth now.”

“Okay, Vinnie.”

“That’s better. Now, I want to know, did you ever have sex with Mel?”

“Unh… yeah, he fucked me a few times. It was just a power thing with him. After he figured out I liked it, he quit doing it.”

“Did you ever have sex with Susan?”

Roger’s laugh had a curious little squeak at the end, as his body’s motion brought him up against Vinnie’s hand. “Now, how am I going to answer a question like that, when you’ve got four ball bearings and two fingers up my ass?”

“I’d think that was a real good reason for you to answer it.”

Roger took a deep breath. “Once. It was just a couple of weeks after I joined up with the Profitts. I didn’t know the score. It was a setup. Ah, jeez, Vinnie… No, don’t stop. Just give me a minute.” He took another deep breath. Vinnie continued stroking his fingers in and out, enjoying the rare sensation of having Roger under his control. Roger continued raggedly. “There were about eight or ten of us in the playroom, including Mel and Susan and me. She came over and crawled right under me. Then, just as we’re done, Mel appears and shoves his hand up my butt. ‘You fucked my sister, now I fuck you,’ he said. Everybody there gathered around to watch. Susan stood there smiling the whole time. It was not exactly a fun experience.”

“Is that why I never saw you in the playroom?”

“Yeah, basically. Any more questions, Inquisitor?”

Vinnie could think of a lot of things he’d like to ask while he had Roger in such a yielding position. But his neglected cock was burning, insisting on being included in the fun. “Yeah. What would happen if I fucked you with these things still in you?”

“We’d have a very hot time. Unless you don’t like the feel of metal ball bearings bonking against the end of your dick while you fuck.”

“I think I’ll find out.”

“Just make sure you don’t lose the cord. Or I might have to send you in there after it.”

Vinnie pulled his fingers out, and gave Roger a slap on the ass, just for good measure. Roger chuckled, and squirmed sensuously. Vinnie pulled on the cord and brought one of the ball bearings back out. He slid the ball to the other end of the cord, and trailed the cord across Roger’s thigh. Then he selected a condom from the assortment scattered around. A ribbed one, to contrast with the smoothness of the metal ball bearings. He applied more Lube to Roger’s ass, then eased his cock in, pushing the ball bearings in deeper with his cock. The silk cord added to the friction stimulating him as he thrust; the metal balls rubbed against the head of his cock. He fucked Roger hard, the way Roger liked it, while Roger pushed himself up onto his knees to thrust back, reaching a hand underneath himself to work his own cock. Roger did not last long, after the extensive anal play Vinnie had subjected him to. He came, flinging himself back down to the futon, grinding his hips and growling like an animal. Vinnie, caught up in Roger’s heat, thrust even harder, and reached his own climax with a few more deep, plunging strokes. He gasped in throbbing pleasure as he collapsed onto Roger’s sweaty back.

When Vinnie had disposed of his condom and pulled the strand of ball bearings out of Roger’s ass, they lay together, limp and exhausted. Vinnie turned Roger over onto his back for a long, slow kiss. Roger still resisted being kissed, although he allowed every other importunity and invasion with cheerful enthusiasm. Why is it you’ll let me shove ball bearings up your ass, but you don’t want to let me kiss you? Vinnie knew the answer to that, of course. The ball bearings just meant sex; kissing meant love—it was the one intimacy Roger still couldn’t handle. But Vinnie’d found that he could sometimes break through that resistance after sex, when Roger was soft and pliant and well-fucked. And if I have to fuck him senseless to get him to let me kiss him, I guess that’s no great hardship….

* * *

Vinnie dozed for a while. When he woke, he found Roger lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He rapped Roger on the side of the head with his knuckles. “What’s going on in there?”

Roger glanced at him with a cool, distant smile. “Nothing.”

Vinnie rapped again. “Talk to me, Roger. Am I going to have to get out the ball bearings again?”

Roger sighed. “Ah, Vinnie. You know one of these days you’re going to get tired of this. And then you’ll leave.”

“Roger, I’m not leaving.”

No answer. Vinnie rolled over onto his back, sighing. “Roger, you know, you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

Roger grinned at him. “Seems like it was the other way around this time.”

Vinnie made a face at him. “You could take a freight train up the ass, so don’t pretend that any of that hurt. And don’t try to change the subject either. Why can’t you believe that I’m not going to leave you?”

Roger returned to studying the ceiling. “Come on, Vince. You and I both know you’re basically a straight guy, just having a little adventure here. You still want the wife and the kids and the picket fence. You’re not going to be content with just fucking the life out of me forever.”

Vinnie had to admit that the thought of never having a wife and family continued to bother him. But he’d made up his mind. He didn’t bother making any promises to Roger, who wouldn’t believe them anyway, but he promised himself, he was in this for the long haul. “I’ll decide what I’ll be content with, thank you. I don’t know how you could still think I’m so straight, after all the crazy things we’ve done in the past few weeks.” Vinnie propped himself up on an elbow and looked Roger in the eye. “Is that what all these high-tech sex games are about, Roger? You trying to keep me interested, so I won’t leave?”

Roger wouldn’t look at him. “No.”

“Liar.”

“It’s just what I like, Vince. If you don’t, you don’t have to stay.”

“I like the games, Roger. And I’m staying. But I’m not staying because of the wild sex. I’m staying because of you. Because I love you. And you love me too, even though you’re too scared to admit it.”

Roger turned on his side, facing away from Vinnie. But he pressed his butt against Vinnie’s hip. Vinnie turned on his side and molded himself to Roger’s body, slipping an arm around Roger’s waist. He spoke softly into Roger’s ear. “You’re in love with me, Roger Lococco, and one of these days I’m going to make you say it.”

Roger chuckled. “When you’ve perfected your interrogation technique?”

“Yeah. But I think this is the technique I’ll use.” Vinnie took Roger by the shoulder and pulled him onto his back. Then he leaned over Roger and placed a tender kiss on his lips. As always, there was no immediate response. Vinnie brushed his lips lightly against Roger’s, let his tongue flick across Roger’s mouth. Then he raised his head to kiss Roger’s eyelids, the bridge of his nose, and left a trail of moist kisses down one cheek, then the other. He pressed his mouth firmly against Roger’s. At last, Roger groaned and returned the kiss, wrapping his strong arms around Vinnie’s back. Vinnie brought one leg between Roger’s thighs and pulled himself on top of Roger, letting the kiss deepen slowly. And Roger responded fully, without holding anything back.

When they finally broke for air, they were both breathless. “God, Roger, I wish you’d do that more often.”

Roger had that same pink-faced, shy smile he’d worn the night they’d first made love. And he gripped Vinnie with the same urgency. “I’m working on it, Vinnie.” His voice was a ragged whisper. He lowered his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just kiss me again.”

Roger obliged. Vinnie made the most of Roger’s temporary openness; he knew that soon enough the defenses would be back in place, and he’d have to fight his way through them all over again. Well, that was Roger; he’d known going in that it wasn’t going to be easy. But the rewards were definitely worth the struggle.

Suddenly, Roger rolled them over until he was on top of Vinnie, his kisses becoming rough and demanding. He took Vinnie’s lower lip between his teeth, stopping just short of biting, then nipped at Vinnie’s neck. Obviously, he’d had his fill of tenderness for one day. Vinnie settled back, content to let Roger have his way. This was fun, too; no doubt about it.

Sometimes the struggle was the reward.

end.