Fearless Leader (Juxtapose City) (7 page)

Three hours later Black stood on the steps of the Clubhouse waiting for the arrival of Sola's electro-craft. He'd spent the time between breakfast and now going over Sola's previous evaluations, looking for something to jump out at him and give him justification for the slight unease he felt over the man.

When every opinion he'd received on Sola had been a negative one Black knew it was time to take notice. Last night, when informed he was being transferred, the agent had been nothing but professional, thanking Black for the opportunity. But faces could lie, words could deceive, thus the check through old files. But after a thorough investigation into the man's history with the department nothing had caught Black's eye. If anything, his initial opinion that Sola was an excellent agent was reiterated in the man's files.

Just a bad personality, Black decided, rubbing his hands slightly to warm them. He could deal with that. Black needed the man's police skills, not his ability to make friends. It might make the team's transition that much harder but he trusted the others to do what they should. He thought briefly of Jake. Most of them, anyway.

Black sighed, not wanting to dwell on the older man but finding his thoughts drawn there as though to a sink hole. He should never have gotten involved in a physical relationship with his teammate. Worse, a subordinate. Black knew better and he'd resisted, he truly had. When the team was being put together by Dickerson Black had noted the lingering look Jake had given him upon their first introduction to each other. He'd known to be wary.

After three months and double as many missions successfully completed, Black had thought he'd made his disinterest clear to the other man. Jake, however, seemed to see only what he wanted to. Despite Black's efforts to avoid being alone with the man Jake had cornered him one night in the workout room that spanned the back of JC2's housing. The memory, five months old, still made Black angry...

In the mirrors that lined the far wall he watched the door open from the Dugout side. With dread, he knew who it would be even before the familiar light-brown hair poked itself inside. Black kept his face expressionless as Jake regarded him in the reflection.

"What are you up to, Black?"

"What does it look like?"

Undeterred by the frosty reply, Jake stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He was dressed like Black in navy shorts and a gray T-shirt, standard-issue from the Department. He had a towel slung around his neck and gripped it with both hands as he watched Black do his bicep curls.

"You've got nice definition going on there."

Black eyed him in the mirror. "That sounded like the opening of a gay porn flick."

Jake cocked his head, smiling enigmatically. "Did it? I wouldn't know."

He studied Black in the mirror, waiting for a response, a heated denial. Black didn't waste his breath with either. He pretended that Jake wasn't there and finished his set in silence. Maybe if he ignored the other man he would get the hint and go away. He put away the weights and started to reach for new ones. No such luck.

"You need a spotter? Surely you want to do heavier sets?"

Black hesitated, hating that he hesitated. He didn't want Jake to affect him. He couldn't, not while being the other man's commanding officer. "Sure," he said crisply. He wasn't about to let Jake intimidate him.

Jake grinned and moved to the bench. "How much you want?"

Black told him and waited while the other man added the weights to the bar. He was nervous and didn't want to be. Chiding himself for feeling as though he were being stalked he carefully lay back on the bench and accepted the bar onto his palms. He'd started with a lower weight than usual, unconcerned with impressing Jake with how much he could bench and more concerned with being able to control himself.

He didn't look up at the other man, focusing his eyes on the ceiling tiles and not on the golden gaze that he could feel moving over his face and down his body. Damn it, this was a bad idea.

"That's it, keep it up," Jake urged in a low voice. "You're lookin' good. Just two more -- you got it."

Black hid a scowl. He'd never noticed how sexual the simple words of encouragement could be if you were in that frame of mind. Careful to avoid any accidental contact with Jake he slid off the bench to switch places with the other man. He added more weight as he was instructed. Staring fixedly at the metal bar, he lowered it into Jake's waiting hands.

Jake was pumping a lot. His breath came out in controlled, explosive bursts. Black tried not to notice how the veins popped out beneath the golden skin of Jake's biceps and forearms, how the muscles stretched rope-like beneath his thin T-shirt. Unlike Jake, Black didn't say a word while the man completed his set. He didn't want anything he said to be construed as the wrong kind of encouragement.

After Black had helped guide the bar back into its rests, Jake sat up, panting slightly. His skin had reddened somewhat with exertion.

"Whew! That's good!" Jake exclaimed, feeling his chest muscles through his T-shirt. "Got a nice burn starting." He squeezed himself slightly, his thumb grazing over an erect nipple. Black kept his eyes on the ground as they traded places but again, he felt the golden gaze moving over him.

He lay back on the bench as Jake changed the weight for him. The simple task seemed to take a long time. Impatient, he rolled his eyes upward only to discover that Jake had moved slightly forward and now stood straddling the top of the bench. The position made the legs of his shorts gape open and Black could not help following the line of muscular thigh upwards to the secrets of shadowed flesh. When he realized what he was seeing, Black flushed, his eyes shooting away only to collide with Jake's.

"Ready?" the older man said in a strange voice.

Flustered and angry with himself, Black gave a stiff nod and accepted the bar onto his palms. He tried to concentrate on balancing the bar, on his form as he steadily lowered and raised the weight. Anything but the awareness of Jake standing over him with legs spread, his crotch just a glance away. Black's nostrils flared and he could almost catch the scent of Jake's arousal.
Three more and I'm out of here,
Black told himself, willing to sacrifice pride to escape this situation.

But he was too late. Jake abruptly disappeared from his place above Black's head and reappeared at the other end of the bench, kneeling between Black's spread thighs.

"What are you--" Black's eyes widened, his grip on the bar wavering as Jake boldly cupped him through his shorts. "What the fuck are you doing?" he panted, suddenly lacking the strength to lift the bar into its rest.

Jake stroked him harder, bring him to full arousal with ridiculous ease. "I'm tired of pussy-footing around," the older man told him in a husky voice. He kneaded the stiff flesh, making Black bite back a moan. "I've been hard for you since the day we met. I know you've noticed me too. I've got the proof nice and stiff right here before me."

"Get your hands off me!" Black hissed, trying to close his knees but blocked by Jake's body between them.

To his shock, Jake yanked the waistband of Black's shorts down his hips, freeing his trapped erection. "Tell me that again in thirty seconds," Jake murmured, squeezing Black's hard flesh. "I don't think you really want me to stop this, do you?
Sir
?"

He added the honorific in a sultry purr, the word shooting straight to Black's groin. With a final surge, Black forced his shaking arms to lift the bar into place. He sat up quickly, intending to punch the other man in the face, only to fall back with a harsh groan as a hot, wet heat suddenly swallowed him whole.

"Don't," he growled. "Jake, stop it... Sergeant Cole--"

Jake's response was to suck him harder, taking him even deeper down his throat. Black gripped the narrow sides of the bench, knowing he should stop this, knowing this was against every rule in his personal book. But Jake was too aggressive, too intent on getting what he wanted to allow Black the strength to refuse.

A hand encircled the base of his cock, squeezing him where Jake's mouth didn't cover. Another hand caressed the flat washboard of Black's stomach. Black caught that hand, not wanting the touch that was strangely enough more intimate than the one around his cock. With hard, skillful sucking, Jake brought Black swiftly to the edge of his orgasm. Jake lifted his head, lips swollen and wet.

"You get off on fast and furious, don't you?" Jake panted, rising up and quickly stripping off his own shorts. Black didn't know what he meant but didn't care when Jake pulled a small tube from the pocket of his shorts and squeezed its contents onto his hand.

Black braced himself on his wrists behind him as Jake rubbed the cool lubricant over Black's jutting flesh. He should stop this. He couldn't fuck a subordinate. Black knew all of this but he didn't utter a word of protest as he watched Jake reach behind him and carefully loosen himself with his own fingers. If anything Black grew more aroused, more intent on breaking all of the rules he had set for himself. Since JC2 was technically not an official part of the department the same rules didn't apply to them. But Black enforced his own and they definitely forbade
this
.

"No frills fucking. That's what you want isn't it, sir?" Jake rasped as he moved up the bench to straddle Black's hips.

"Enough with the 'sir'," Black bit out. "If you want to do this, do it."

Jake's lips curved into a triumphant smirk before he lowered himself onto his leader's swollen shaft. Both men groaned as the hot column of flesh found its home in Jake's body. Black shut his eyes, hating the sudden vulnerability he felt as Jake grabbed him by the shoulders and began to rise up and down. Black bit his cheeks, holding back the sounds his throat wanted to release. He was afraid the sounds would be too telling, would reveal how very long it had been since he had last done this with someone, since he had last dared to allow someone to touch him.

He needn't have worried. Jake was lost in his own world, eagerly riding Black with a hunger that revealed a subtle but definite shift in power. When Black tightened his hands about the older man's waist, guiding him into a more satisfying rhythm, Jake fell into it without protest, groaning heavily. Soon it was Black who dictated how hard, how deep, how fast. Black was in control again and it comforted him enough to allow him to find the release that had been hovering at the edge of his consciousness.

With a throaty groan he shoved his hips up one final time, shooting his seed into the body above him. Jake grabbed his own cock and pumped it furiously until he too, shouted out his pleasure.

Untangling himself from the other man a bit more rudely than he probably should have, Black reflected that it hadn't been as bad as he'd feared. He'd still been in control. Nothing had changed.

And indeed, nothing
had
changed for him in the five months since, Black realized as he watched the traffic pass their building. He knew the same wasn't true of Jake, hence their falling out this morning. But that wasn't Black's concern. Attachments in their field were never a good idea. It was why none of the men had families. If someone existed in the world whose death could distract you from your job you were vulnerable. Black could not allow that.

Comforted by the certainty that he'd made the right decision with Jake, Black turned his head as a familiar-looking electro-craft pulled up to the sidewalk. Black walked down and leaned into its opened passenger side window. To anyone watching he looked as though he were scoring a hit or more innocently, offering directions.

"Got a gift for you from the captain," said the officer driving the craft. His name tag read Berkley. "He didn't want this in the same vehicle as the empath, I guess."

Black looked down at the metal briefcase lying in the passenger seat. He knew what was inside it. Dickerson was right in not sending it along with Starr. Black had seen addicts commit hit-and-run attacks on school children while in pursuit of their next hit.

Grimly, he retrieved the case. "Thanks. Is Starr coming along then?"

Berkley nodded. "They left just after I did. Should be here any minute."

Black gave his reluctant thanks and watched the cruiser drive away. He looked down at the case in his hands. He knew there was probably enough Bliss inside to make him a small fortune if he sold it on the streets. Enough to sell for a tidy sum and still have plenty leftover to play with.

Black's stomach churned and he nearly threw the case into the street. He had never before hated his job, thinking it a blessing, an opportunity to make things right. But right now, holding Bliss in his hands and waiting for the arrival of Calyx Starr, Black almost wished that Dickerson hadn't interfered. He could have saved the captain the trouble of keeping Black from the fate of Hangway. Because if all went as badly as Black feared it would, he would end up there eventually anyway.

Black's first instinct was to lock the case carrying the Bliss tablets in the gun locker along with JC2's weapons. He immediately realized the foolishness of such a thing when he walked into the training room and saw Haney pulling out his gun and cleaning kit. Every team member had access to the locker. There was no way he could keep the Bliss there.

That left him with only one alternative. Cursing Dickerson yet again, Black took the case to his bedroom. He had a safe in the back of his closet which none of the other men knew about. Only Jake had ever set foot inside his room and that had been for a brief, unplanned fuck when Black had awoken to someone tapping on the window that opened onto the catwalk.