Feedback please! nicxf@softhome.net
Spoilers: True Blue
Sequel/Series: There WASN'T supposed to be a sequel, but it looks
like I have to write one just to keep certain people happy and from killing
me!
Disclaimer: None of these people belong to me, they belong to
Alliance and whoever they merged with.
Another story to torch's masturbation challenge. I thought it would be fun to throw Vic into the fray.
Many thanks to Orithain whose Tulips series still inspires me. Thanks also to Aries, who, with Orithain, makes me use commas, and helps me with my bad grammar. Special thanks to Amy who helped whip me into an OAT frenzy.
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Victor Mansfield was tired, it had been a rough day. He put the key in the lock of the hotel room door and turned the knob. The door swung open. He was greeted by the familiar hotel air - stale and smelling of disinfectant, other people and cigarettes. He couldn't go home just yet, the decontamination crew was still in there, cleaning up the blood, replacing the soiled furniture, bringing everything back to its normal state. It would never be normal though. Not after what happened tonight.
He couldn't believe Stan was dead. Shot, right in front of him, dying on his couch. Tears sprang to his eyes as he remembered how, even though his friend betrayed him, he was willing to help him. Vic breathed in and out sharply then blinked the tears away. //Yep, Vic Mansfield, sucker.// Just as Stan said.
Vic flicked on the lights. A solitary queen size bed was pushed back against the middle of one wall, table, chair, television and chest of drawers were the only other furniture in the room. These chain hotels were all the same, you knew what you were getting. He locked, bolted and chained the door before sitting on the bed. The tears were still there, ready to fall with one blink. He took another breath, and his shoulders sagged.
A shudder ran through his body as he the events of the night ran through his mind for the millionth time. McDowell making him drag Stan's dead body down to the car then... Vic closed his eyes and a single tear dropped from his heavy lashes. Then they just left him there like a piece of meat while they kicked his ass in O'Grady's bar.
Thank god Mac and LiAnn got there when they did. He would be dead by now if they had arrived a few minutes late.
All he ever wanted to do was to be a cop. He didn't want to get into politics or the bullshit those guys were into. He just wanted to put the bad guys in jail... His thoughts were interrupted by his cell phone ringing.
"Yeah?" Vic barely spoke into the phone.
"Vic?" It was Mac.
Vic squared his shoulders and sat up straight. A small smile started to form at the corner of his mouth upon hearing his partner's voice.
"Yeah."
"I...I just called to see... I called your apartment, and there was no answer."
"I'm at a hotel."
"Oh?"
"The decontamination crew is still there, cleaning up."
"Oh." There was silence on both ends for a moment before Mac spoke again. "Vic, is everything...are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Because, you know, if you want, I could come there, or you could come here, or we could..."
"Thanks, Mac, but I think I just want to get some sleep. It's been a long day." Vic knew it was a lie, he wanted his partner here with him, very much.
"Yeah, sure, I just wanted..." Mac drifted off.
"Thanks."
"Okay. I'll see you later, Vic."
"Bye, Mac." He pressed end on the phone, let his breath out and closed his eyes. He could still feel Mac's fingers on his shoulder from the bar. Mac's fingers closing on his shoulder, squeezing the flesh, Vic's hand running up to join it for mere seconds before pulling away. His cock jumped at the thought.
"Mac, if you only knew."
Victor started undressing; if there was one thing he needed, it was a long, hot shower.
Mac was such a royal pain in the ass when he first met him, didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. Cocky, arrogant, irresponsible, full of energy, like a colt that needed to be broken. Vic smirked, the Director had seen to that, hadn't she?
Vic removed his holster and placed it on the bed. He checked both guns - loaded and ready to go - before he started to remove his boots and jeans.
He eventually learned to trust Mac, and his feelings grew from there. They had been through so much together. He couldn't let his feelings show to the former thief. Vic never let his feelings show, never mind coming out and actually saying what he felt. Even with LiAnn, he always let her make the first move. It would have never worked with LiAnn, he would have gone back to men sooner or later.
He closed his eyes again and remembered the hand on his shoulder once more. That hand was so strong. He wished Mac would have pulled him up and into his arms. His cock was starting to harden as he imagined Mac peppering his face with kisses, making the pain go away.
His eyes snapped open. It would never happen, not as long as Mac didn't know. And if he did know, what would he do? Would Mac push him away or welcome him with open arms? Vic stood and strode into the bathroom, not wanting to analyze it further. He hung his holster on the hook bolted to the back of the door.
"Why can't I just tell him?" Vic said to his reflection in the mirror. He still had the cut over his eye from the pavement when the car hit him. He sighed then took off his dirty, torn t-shirt. Large purple bruises greeted his eyes, they were everywhere, all over his body.
"Mansfield, you look like shit," he said to himself.
The stitches in his side, from getting shot the other day, were still covered by the bandage. The doctor said not to get them wet, but he really needed a shower. If he was careful, it would be okay.
Vic turned the water on, waiting for it to grow hot before removing his underwear, careful of his half erection and got into the shower. The hot, steamy water ran over his body, soothing the battered, worn muscles.
Quickly, he washed his hair from the small bottle the hotel provided. He let the water rinse over him for awhile, running down his face, dripping off of his long lashes.
"Mac, I want to tell you, but I can't. I just can't."
Vic grabbed the soap and started running it down his body. //If they were only Mac's hands.// He closed his eyes as he imagined the young man in the shower with him. So tall, his legs so long. The hairs that covered his chest and belly were dark and thick. Mac's full lips would be sweet and soft as they pressed against his own, across his chest, down his body, to his cock. He sucked in his breath as he imagined the dark head bobbing at his crotch.
Vic sighed as he ran the soap up, over his chest, lingering at a nipple, pulling at it. His cock stood to attention as he imagined his partner caressing him, feeling him, pressing up against him. Mac's cock was probably like the rest of him, long and lean. Vic ran the soap down to his own cock, his was thick and dark, the precum washing away in the spray from the shower. He put the bar of soap in the holder attached to the tile.
"I need you, Mac, I need you here." He barely whispered.
Pulling gently on his cock, Vic put his arm on the steamy tile in the tub enclosure, then rested his forehead on his arm.
"Mac. I want you, Mac."
His hand started to move quickly across his cock. Vic closed his eyes and thought of Mac's body, how much he wanted it, wanted him. He pulled harder at his cock, his thumb massaging that special spot under the head. Vic's breath grew rougher and ragged as he stroked harder and faster. The water ran down his muscular back and down his ass, along and in between his cheeks. Now and then a stream would run across his opening, making him want the other man more and more.
"Mac," he whispered as he felt his balls tighten.
A moan escaped his lips as he spent himself against the tile, caressing himself until he was too sensitive to take it anymore. He stood under the spray for another five minutes before getting out of the shower. Toweling off, he avoided his own reflection in the mirror and left quickly, taking his holster with him.
Naked, he entered the bedroom, placing one gun under the mattress and another under his pillow. Only then, did he flop into bed. Vic lay there, trying to will himself to sleep that wouldn't come. He kept reliving the events of tonight in his mind, they wouldn't go away. Tears sprang to his eyes as he reached for his cock again. He stroked himself quickly and with purpose, quietly bringing himself to orgasm.
Lying there, breathing heavily, tears streaming down his face, he ached to be held by someone, by Mac. He cleaned himself up and rolled over to his side, eventually falling into a fitful sleep, dreaming of what could have been.