Chapter Text
Day One: Sylus
The massive man looms on his throne as he stares down at the head in his lap. He shifts his hips forward with an appreciative growl while he drapes one arm along the back of his booth, the other teasing through the thick black hair of the woman on her knees in front of him. Taking a slow drag on the cigarette dangling from his lips, he exhales with a groan, eyes fluttering. “Audio,” he orders.
A younger man steps forward with bright, intense eyes. They slide over the woman, long accustomed to his boss’ proclivities towards exhibitionism, sleek phone materializing in his hand. He presents it without fanfare and the massive man takes it, tapping the single white circle before putting it to his ear.
The silence as he listens is intense, tilting his head back with closed eyes, his hips thrusting forward to meet the lips of the mouth wrapped around him. Taking another drag, he exhales with a deep, smoke-roughened laugh as his fingers slowly tighten around the woman's hair. “You're going to like this, kitten.” The woman begins to pull back and his eyes narrow. “I didn't say stop.” He pulls her head further down his shaft with a pleased sigh.
Red eyes meet his own as he watches her pleasure him and he lets out a muted groan. “An old friend is about to pay us a visit.”
Replacing her mouth with a hand, the woman continues to look at him under heavy lidded eyes. “So that's why you demanded a blowjob.”
“And for the feel of your mouth.”
The man groans around his cigarette as she swallows his every inch. Gripping her hair he presses his hips forward, watching intently as tears make a mess of her make-up. He smirks while smearing it further and when a door on the opposite side of his club opens, he groans once more. “Showtime, kitten.”
A figure walks slowly through the twilight gloom of the club, bag slung over his shoulder. His steps slow and falter as he approaches the dais, visibly uncomfortable at the public sexual act. “I can come-I mean, I can return later-”
“Walk out this meeting and you won't get another.”
The other man freezes as an internal debate rages before he finally moves forward. He looks around, hands clasped in front of him. Looking everywhere but at the man on his throne.
The massive man growls, roughly shoving his hips forward while both hands grip the woman's head. Breath catching in his chest, he sinks all of himself into her willing throat. There's a moment of stillness before he groans, harsh and guttural, hips stuttering with every twitch and throb as he empties himself. The woman moans as she swallows and as the massive man's softening cock slips from her swollen lips, cum drips down her chin.
The other man’s eyes narrow as he dares a brief glance while she slinks up onto the throne. She straddles her man, hands tipped with nails of pointed night that drift through glimmering strands of silver hair before leaning down to his mouth. He licks her chin before he devours her, one hand tugging down the deep neckline of her dress to expose and tease her breasts. The other hand squeezes her ass before it slips between her legs and after a few moments of unsteady grinding she cries out.
The man smirks as he licks his fingers while the woman moves herself to his right side, her foot caressing the womb tattoo that peeks out over the top of his leather pants. “You taste so sweet, kitten,” he rumbles quietly. The other man frowns at the pet name, stepping closer despite his earlier hesitation. Staring intently at the man with silver hair, the woman strokes the back of his head. Heavy lidded with satisfied lust, his red eyes stare over a mouth curling into a smirk. “Caleb. It's been a while.”|
“Sylus.” The man named Caleb clenches his jaw as he stares at the woman half drenched in shadow before nodding his head in her direction. “So that's Kitten? Your feared and mysterious right hand?”
“Awww, Caleb. Don't you recognize me?” The woman laughs, her voice deep and rough while she lazily fixes her dress.
Caleb’s mouth falls open. “Kitten- you? Liora, I was-you disappeared. Everyone assumed you were-I've-” He stares at his former lover, tears of grief welling in his eyes. A ring on a chain around his neck lays heavy against his chest.
“Caleb. To what do I owe the pleasure .” Sylus lights another cigarette before he leans back. He watches the other man with amusement.
“We-”
“Is that the royal ‘we’?” He exhales slowly, his eyes tracking the smoke lazily twisting and coiling under dim lights.
“I'm here-” Caleb pauses, making a face. “On behalf of the federal government.”
“Are you, now? How exciting.”
“We need to arrange a meeting with someone. And they have made it clear that they will only accept you arranging it.”
“Is this simply a meeting or will more of my unique services be needed.”
“Uhhh-I don't-what are your other services?”
“If you have to ask, it's a no. Will the other party require more of my services.”
“Don't know. When we tried to request a meet, all they said in reply was ‘Go through Sylus.’”
“Sounds like fun. Who am I contacting.”
Caleb fishes a slip of paper out of his pocket and squints in the low light before handing it over. “It's uhhhh-the only name we have is Fallen Star, I don't-”
Sylus exhales a plume of smoke as he laughs. “Phone,” he orders, hand outstretched.
The same young man steps out of the shadows to place a phone into his hand before being swallowed up once more. Sylus tucks himself back inside his pants, laughing quietly at his kitten’s playful pout while he prepares to rise. He maintains eye contact with Caleb as he stands up.
And up.
And up.
His 7’ frame looms over the shorter agent and he smirks at the faint twist of bitterness that mars Caleb's features. He’d forgotten the man's obsession with height. Sylus looks over at Kitten, cupping her cheek as he stares into her eyes. He goes to move his hand down to her chin and a grip of iron holds him in place while she rubs her cheek against the luxuriant fur cuff of his overcoat. She lets go a moment later and he huffs quietly. “Be good, kitten.”
Sylus steps through the door to his private office as he dials the seller known to Caleb only as “Fallen Star.” Sylus is one of the privileged few to know the name he was given at birth. The call is answered on the first ring.
“Sylus.”
“Xavier. Or should I say, ‘Fallen Star’?”
The other man snorts. “If I had known that internet handle would stick with me-”
“You'd have picked something a little less teenage angsty?”
“Fuck off.”
“Already did that, just a few minutes ago. On to business. I have a man in my club wanting to arrange a meeting with you. What do you need to make it happen.”
“He's a fed, right? I think he’s a fed.”
“He is.”
“I'll meet with him to discuss a sale, but I want you and that Amazon of yours there as security. For both me and the meeting.”
Sylus raises an eyebrow and says nothing.
“And before you say anything, I know your price. I'm willing to pay. But I'm not paying the government's price. They're on their own for that.”
Sylus chuckles. “Done. Any preferences?”
The other man is quiet and when he speaks again his voice is laden with grief. “Somewhere with-I want to see water. An aquarium. He's closer that way.”
“Protection?”
“Complete.”
“I'll contact you once I've secured a location.”
“Thank you. I’ve already sent payment.”
Sylus hangs up without further comment before leaving his office. He stops at the door, whistling a specific pattern. A snuffle answers him, followed by the muted jingle of a collar and the familiar sounds of a stretching dog. The source of the sounds walks from around his desk: a solid black pitbull mix. Wagging his tail at the sight of one of his favorite people, the dog stops and sits underneath a perch, looking up with a soft whine. Sighing quietly, Sylus snaps his fingers at his crow before gesturing come hither . The crow flies to his shoulder and the dog dances happily around Sylus’ feet.
“Hades, fuß.”
The dog obeys and stays at Sylus’ side as he leaves his office. He tosses his phone to the young man without bothering to confirm Xavier’s payment. They’ve brought each other plenty of business over their years working together, and Xavier knows the price of Sylus’ displeasure is not one he can afford. He settles himself back down on his throne, idly scratching the chest of his crow, Mephisto.
“Hades. Sitzen.”
The dog sits near his feet and Caleb backs away from the imposing creature.
“Braver hund.”
Released, the dog throws his head back to demand scratches from his most favorite person, tongue lolling out of his mouth with a grin as Kitten obliges with soft coos. Sylus glances at Caleb while the other man continues to stare apprehensively at the massive dog as he holds his cigarette between his fingers. “I spoke to Fallen Star. He’s willing to meet. I’ll be arranging the security for the meet and Fallen Star requested that Kitten and myself be his personal security.”
Caleb blinks. “Oh-uhh-I didn’t-is-can I-”
“No.”
“Oh. I don’t-I’m not sure how this all-we don’t know a lot about-”
Sylus exhales another large plume of cigarette smoke. “When clients arrange meetings through me, I organize the location, make sure it’s secured against everything short of an act of whatever it is you believe in, and my men are on site to function as guards to ensure the meet is completed with no issue short of aforementioned acts beyond outside the control of mere mortals. I do not attend meetings beyond introducing all involved parties, unless I am hired as additional security. Which is what Fallen Star did. And before you ask, no. You cannot try to outbid them.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure your federal government cannot afford our protection fee.”
Caleb’s eyes narrow at the use of “your” and his brow furrows slightly. “So that’s it then? The meet is-”
“I have agreed to the seller’s request to arrange a meeting. He has already paid for the services he has requested. Now, however, is the matter of your fee. And I mean the royal plural, in exchange for arranging a meeting. Payment is due upfront.”
Sylus leans back and watches Caleb absorb the news, taking the opportunity to study the man anew and see how the years have fallen on him. There’s new lines under his eyes that weren’t there five years ago and a thin gold chain glints in the dim light, also new. Curious. He didn’t remember Caleb being so uncertain, either. A ploy, to get Sylus to lower his guard then. He resolves to keep a close eye on the man until this deal is done.
“All I can offer in payment is this.” Caleb hands over the bag that dangled off his shoulder. The same young man darts forward to grab it, not allowing closer access to his boss. Simply a show; Caleb wouldn’t have made it into the club alive if Sylus believed for a second he was actually dangerous. It’s enough to fool Caleb, however, and Sylus accepts the bag with a nod. “Thank you, Luke.”
He opens it. Inside is a non-descript gun case and he smirks as Kitten leans forward, her curiosity palpable. He opens the case itself, raising an eyebrow at the strange gun nestled carefully amongst foam. He pulls it out, studying odd lines and curves. As he continues his examination, he suppresses a smile at his luck, and plots begin to form. He looks back at Caleb. “If I’m not mistaken, this weapon was believed to be impossible for at least another century.”
“DARPA cracked it early.”
“Considering this is a handgun, I assume the science behind it has gone through rigorous testing?”
“That’s the third and final model. First was a rifle, then a shotgun. They’re working on cracking heavy armaments, but finding a scalable model is proving difficult.”
Sylus hands Kitten the gun, smiling when she trills with delight. “What do you think?”
She licks her lips. “What model is this? I’ve never seen this gun before.”
“That’s the world’s first functioning Gauss handgun. Model is GH-1,” Caleb supplies quietly as he stares at her, sorrow twisting his features.
Kitten stares at Caleb, stunned. “A gauss handgun? Holy shit.”
“Do you like it?” Sylus growls.
“She’s gorgeous.”
“All yours, kitten.”
Setting the gun reverently on the couch beside her, Kitten straddles Sylus once more, her hands digging into his bare chest. “You’re so good to me,” she purrs happily.
“I am.”
She presses her forehead to his, her eyes gleaming with lust. “The range. Take me there.”
“To or at?
“Yes.”
“Whatever makes my kitten happy.”
Sylus squeezes her hips as Kitten grinds against him. He can feel the slickness of her excitement as her dress rides up and he smirks while biting her lip. He snarls quietly when she replaces herself with a shapely leg; he knows the game she’s playing, and he doesn’t mind playing along. He looks at Caleb, amused by an expression of forlorn grief, his eyes glued to Kitten.
“So you-uhhh, you'll contact me?”
“Yes. Once I've arranged a location according to Fallen Star’s specifications, I'll contact you.”
“Great. Thanks.” Caleb turns around.
“Where are you staying.”
“Some chain hotel-”
“Not anymore. You're staying in this hotels where I can keep an eye on you until this deal is done.”
Caleb is taken aback by Sylus' tone; it brooks no argument. “Are you going to watch Fallen Star as closely?”
“No need. I've worked with him many times. And more importantly, he's seen first-hand the price I exact when I'm betrayed. It is steep.”
Sylus meets Caleb’s suspicious glower and stares him down with a cold smile that doesn't reach his eyes. The Caleb he remembered was decent enough at his job, though easily convinced to bend the law if given a shiny enough trinket, a big enough pile of cash, a pretty enough hole to fuck. Maintaining his stare Sylus recalls a plethora of angry glares from five years ago. The Caleb from this moment, trying and failing to force Sylus to bend to his will, looks just like the Caleb he remembers.
“This is not up for discussion. You want me as your middleman? You follow my rules until the meeting is concluded. One of those rules is people I've never done business with stay close where I can keep an eye on them.”
“What, you don't trust me?”
“No.”
“Funny, because I was just remembering what happened five-”
Sylus stands and crosses the distance separating him from Caleb in a single step. He squeezes the agent’s throat and stares at him impassively as he speaks with a quiet monotone. “I hear you say anything other than ‘sure, thank you Sylus’ and I'm sending you back to your precious government in pieces. Am I making myself clear.”
Caleb swallows hard against the palm on his throat and after a moment he nods.
Sylus stares at him without letting go.
“Sure.”
A squeeze.
“Thank you.”
Another squeeze and Caleb's eyes grow wide with panic.
“S-sylus,” he forces out with a strangled whisper.
Sylus lets go and shoves Caleb away, his expression bored as the agent clutches his throat, gulping down air. “Give him the usual suite,” he orders. Luke steps forward with a big, fake grin on his face and he throws an arm around Caleb's shoulders. Another hand grips Caleb's upper arm, holding the nervous agent tight to his side. “Heyyy, buddy! Let's get you into your home for the next few days.” He escorts Caleb out of the club, giving him the salesman pitch on the hotel’s amenities.
Sylus sits back down on his throne, absently caressing Kitten’s cheek as he stares at the door. He looks over at a darkened corner where another had sat in silent attendance the entire meeting. Lightning a cigarette, he takes a drag and sighs out a slow, curling plume caressed by light. “Thoughts.”
“Caleb.” Kitten murmurs.
“What about him.”
“I remember him being more-”
“Less uncertain.”
“Exactly. He didn't say anything to me when you called Xavier, either.”
Sylus frowns. “I think he's pretending-”
The man in the darkened corner stands up with an irritated sigh. “Or you saw a man devastated that someone he once mourned as dead is alive and well.”
Sylus raises an eyebrow as the man steps into the light. “Is that what Doctor Zayne thinks?”
Zayne glares at him from behind wire-rimmed glasses. “I think you should listen to me when I tell you to stop smoking these fucking things.” Long fingers pluck the cigarette from Sylus’ lips and put it out in an ashtray in one smooth motion. “And yes. I don't have the history with Caleb that you two do, but what I saw? It was a man struggling with an immense emotional burden. No plots, no deceit. He was too off-balance. It wasn't until the end that he found his footing, remembered himself and tried to push back.”
Sylus leans back and raises a skeptical eyebrow as he looks at Zayne, inviting the man to continue.
“Exhibit A: he was on edge walking into here, both because he knows you and he hasn't seen you in five years. Exhibit B: Kitten was reported as missing, also five years ago, after a failed sting to catch the individual framing you for murder, the same sting where you escaped Bureau custody. Exhibit C: Kitten and Caleb had sex several times during their time as partners at the Bureau and we know Kitten wasn't emotionally invested, which brings us to-” Zayne’s pauses.
Sylus grabs another cigarette. The moment he lights it, Zayne's hand appears and grabs it.
“Stop fucking smoking. As I was saying. That brings us to the conclusion: Caleb, unlike Kitten, was emotionally attached. The man was stressed out and on edge to begin with and walks in to see his former lover having sex with a man from a low point in his life. A lover he thought was dead.”
Sylus sucks in a breath. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“I would have told you two to empathize but I know you can't, so I'm telling you instead.”
Sylus nods amiably, reaching for a cigarette. Zayne makes a noise at the gesture and Sylus growls irritably before putting his hand down. His brow furrows as he considers his options. Grabbing a phone, he drafts an order to Kieran, Luke's identical twin, that Caleb be kept on a loose leash tonight. After a moment's consideration, he sends another order, to be disseminated to all sex workers: Caleb is off-limits tonight. He looks over at Kitten, his eyes creeping slowly up her legs before caressing the fabric stretched taut over her breasts.
Sylus stands, offering a hand to her. She takes it with a purr and as she stands, she maneuvers her body to press against his hand. Her eyes gleam as she bites a lip before her hands settle on his bare stomach. Fingers trace his tattoo and Sylus' eyes flutter as he groans. Kitten slowly slides her hands up his chest before gripping the sides of his head and dragging him down to meet her in a kiss. “Changed my mind. Take me to the range tomorrow.”
“Mmm. As my kitten wishes.” Sylus stares into her eyes and slips a hand down her back to grip her ass.
“Home. Take me.”
“To or at?”
“Yes.”
Sylus roughly slams their front door shut with his foot as Kitten undoes his pants. Peeling back just enough to expose his tattoo, she pulls him deeper into the suite until she's stopped by the table in their breakfast nook. She tugs him free with an open mouthed groan as she strokes him.
Sylus pulls down one strap of her dress before turning her around. She plants her feet wide as Sylus grabs her waist before sinking himself as deep as her body will allow. Pressing himself against her cervix, Sylus lights another cigarette before he begins to fuck her in earnest.
Never one for gentleness to begin with, Sylus is more aggressive than usual. He presses into her cervix with every thrust, the sounds of his flesh slamming into Kitten's punctuated by her soft, hungry cries. He groans as he watches her play with herself, her hands squeezing and pinching nipples stiffened by sex. He leans over, teeth bared in silent snarl, cigarette smoke caressing the body pinned and speared beneath his mass.
Her breath stutters and catches around soft cries of pleasure and he knows she's close. Her eyes are vacant and unseeing, hands now propping her up, pressing herself backwards to meet his violence. A desperate whimper of his name escapes her lips and with a roar around his cigarette, Sylus grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks backwards. His kitten cries out and Sylus answers with a groan at the ecstasy of release and he stands there, feeling them quiver in unison.
They finish removing their clothes and Sylus carries Kitten to their bed. Unburdened, plans begin to simmer and grow in his mind as he stares up at the ceiling. He moves his gaze lower as she straddles him.
“What plan is forming.”
“Caleb is most likely going to renege on our deal. The one we haven't made yet, for the actual sale.”
“Do you want him to?”
“I was undecided until I saw his necklace. It was under his shirt, but he still dresses cheaply and I could see a shape under the thin fabric. There's a ring on that chain. I'm thinking it's an engagement ring he's been carrying around for five years.”
“I'm not seducing him.”
“I'd kill you if you tried.” Sylus caresses a womb tattoo that matches his own. “I'm going to schedule the meeting for next week. That should give us time to work on him.”
“How deep do you want to drag him down?” Kitten begins to grind against him.
“I want to own him thoroughly. He's already corrupt. Putting him on my payroll saves me the time and trouble of corrupting another one.”
“And you wanna fuck me in front of him every chance you get.”
“It was very satisfying.”
Sylus moves his hand as he guides himself inside with a groan while his kitten rides them both to exhaustion.
Day Two
“Luke, reserve the aquarium for a private event on-” Sylus pauses as he reviews a mental calendar. “Reserve it for both Wednesday and Thursday. Offer the usual gratitude bonus for short notice reservations and throw in an extra $10K donation to whatever drive is going on now.”
“Understood. I've already activated the security team and they're en route. I'll be joining them after I make the reservation. Kieran's working on the aquarium’s digital security as we speak.”
“Well done. Before you go, have Caleb sent over. Use force if he refuses, but avoid breaking any bones.”
Luke nods before stepping out, nimbly avoiding Kitten as she shuffles towards the breakfast table. She pours a mug of coffee for herself and drinks it black, waiting for the brew to wake her up. Eyes closed, one hand reaches blindly for the breakfast cart. After her hand disrupts his plate twice, Sylus sighs irritably and pushes the cart closer. “I'm 'inviting' Caleb to join us.”
Caleb
Caleb glowers irritably at the man who had firmly escorted (dragged) him from his room. “Why the hell did you drag me here? Where am I?”
“The boss.”
“That doesn't tell me where I am.”
The other man stares at him like he's simple. “The boss,” he repeats in a slow monotone before opening the door and holding it open. “As requested, sir.”
Caleb steps through, jumping slightly when it shuts firmly behind him. He looks around. While still in the same hotel, the room he's found himself in is much nicer than his. Career paranoia and far too many horror movies add lead weights to his footsteps as he moves toward the sound of voices.
Caleb blinks as he steps into a cheerfully bright breakfast nook. A cart heavily laden with breakfast dishes sits by the table and Sylus slowly paces in front of windows looking over the city as he looks over several documents. He's wearing a linen shirt, mostly undone, with tight black leather pants, with a pair of black work boots that look expensive and lived in. He gestures vaguely at the table, a heavy chain link bracelet on each wrist. “Eat. Or don't. I don't care either way.”
Caleb hesitates as he examines the cart. Caution screams at him to not trust Sylus, that a dish might be poisoned, that it's a trap. It's not like he knows, he tells himself. He couldn't possibly know. Quick footsteps on tile make him jump and he looks over to see Liora as she breezes past. Chest aching, he watches her approach Sylus, her hands pressing against his stomach before arms wrap around his neck. Like Sylus, she's dressed for comfort in the summer humidity. A crop top with a tiny pair of shorts, also black, and on her feet was a pair of black work boots, her wrists adorned with several bracelets of metal and leather.
He watches the two of them as a sharp, bitter bile builds in his throat. That should be me. You were supposed to greet me like that for the rest of our lives. Unbidden, he relives the last time he spoke to her before she disappeared.
“I still need to talk to you.”
“About what now.”
“Dinner, from the other night. You stood me up-”
“Ugh, this again? I told you already, I wanted to question Sylus in an environment where he felt in control. And why do you keep inviting me out to dinner in the first place?”
“I thought it would be romantic. We haven't taken any time for ourselves lately.”
“You thought-Caleb. I-ugh. Romance has nothing to do with what we do. And I thought I told you to stop talking about it at work. You know the rules.”
“I know, I know. I just-I'm really excited to start the next chapter of our lives together.”
“Next chapter? The fuck are you-shit, we gotta go, Sylus just saw Kovi. Time to spring the trap. I'll head to Sylus and keep him safe, you tail Kovi.”
Liora’s words had been harsh, but only on the surface. Caleb understood what she really meant. He’d cracked the code she spoke in at work, the way she'd flirt and tease and taunt, the queen of subtlety and hidden meanings. The first time they'd made love, he knew. She was his soul mate, the love of his life, his destined other half. Visions of her, endlessly heavy with child, his children, coming home to a home full of laughter and joy and love, of her surrounded by their brood of children innumerable filled his nights when he slept away from her.
Then she disappeared.
Caleb had spent the past 5 years checking every police blotter he could. Every record of vagrants, of women that looked like they were being trafficked, every morgue, every women's shelter, Craigslist missed connections. Nothing. He knew she was still alive, knew she was terrified and waiting for him to come save her, despite the Bureau simply listing her as “MIA.” It galled him, that they didn't trust his instincts, that they didn't listen to him. He knows her better than anyone, if they had just trusted him he could have found her years ago.
Caleb stares sullenly, struggling to understand what he'd missed, when his eyes finally notice a sprawling network of scars along her back. They curl around to her sides, thick and angry, and a rush of pure hatred, aimed at Sylus, boils in his chest. Stockholm Syndrome. That's the only thing that explains it. He took you prisoner, tortured you until you loved him, and-his attention is caught by movement.
“You should probably eat. Sylus is taking me to the range and you're joining us to answer questions about the gun.”
Caleb's heart leaps into his throat at the sound of her voice. “Oh. Okay. I was worried-”
“Dude, just eat. We're leaving in ten.” As she steps away, his eyes are caught by a tattoo on her womb. It matches Sylus' and Caleb's rage grows. I'll pay for such a travesty to be removed, my love. Soon. Soon you'll be free.
Your code is unchanged after all these years. Don't worry my love, I hear the words you aren't saying, the code you speak in for me and me alone. I'll save you, my sweet. I'm going to make Sylus look like a fool and help you see how he's brainwashed you. Then I'll take you away from here and back to my home, where you belong.
Caleb pours himself a cup of coffee before grabbing an assortment of breakfast things off the cart. Hungrier than he thought he was, his initial suspicion of poison was unfounded when he belatedly realized Sylus and Liora had already eaten dishes from it. It was much better food than he was accustomed to eating and hot jealousy burns in his guts as he finishes his breakfast and stands up.
The drive to the range was short and awkward. Placed in the front seat, Sylus and Liora in the back, he couldn't capture any of their whispered words or the reason for soft, breathless laughter. Caleb climbs out of the car, stumbling under the oppressive wall of sticky heat as it slams down on him. Sweat begins to pool and drip and he stares irritably at the back of Sylus’ neck as he follows the other man inside.
He's not sweating? The fuck? How?
They breeze through and onto the range proper. Fridges line the back wall, full of bottled water. Signs confirm they're free and Caleb gratefully takes one, realizing at last why Liora had told him to eat. I knew you loved me. He turns around to see Liora taking the GH-1 out of its case. She hands it to Sylus and he looks it over, his eyes sharp and critical.
“What kind of ammo does it use?”
“Ferromagnetic. But not just any ferromagnetic. DARPA designed specialty rounds for each model, so that way, even if their guns make their way to the public, they can't be used.”
Sylus stares at him with narrowed eyes. “Did you give me a fucking paperweight.”
“No, no, sorry! I have several magazines here. I didn't realize the magazines weren't in the case with the handgun until I got back to my room.” Caleb hurriedly hands them over.
Mollified, Sylus loads one and hands it back to Liora. She takes it with a grin, waiting patiently for Sylus and Caleb to put on protective gear before taking the Weaver stance. Taking aim, she exhales slowly before squeezing the trigger. The gun goes off with a crack and she stares at it thoughtfully.
“How does it feel?”
“Different. The recoil is both less and more? Less kickback against you, but you can tell there's more of it. If that makes sense? It's definitely different and will take some getting used to.”
Sylus looks over at Caleb. “Tell us about this line.”
“So the rounds fired from this gun are slightly faster than standard, which is why it sounds different. A crack instead of a bang. They found the weapon is naturally silent if programmed to fire slower than the speed of sound, however it utterly fails as a workable weapon.”
Sylus looks it over. “I can see they modeled it after Desert Eagles. I'm assuming the lack of a gas system makes it more versatile?”
Caleb nods. “Yeah, they considered making it a hybrid, switching between gas and gauss, but that was unwieldy as hell and quickly discarded. It's not as robust as some handguns, but it's certainly better suited for harsh combat conditions than most Desert Eagles.”
Sylus looks it over, studying it carefully. “What about charging the coils.”
“That was the hardest part for them to crack. Scaling the coils, surprisingly not an issue. The shotguns and rifles, they have battery packs that can quickly be replaced like magazines. Not so much for the GH-1. They decided to make the coil setup as efficient as possible, and on average, it's the most energy efficient of the three.”
“Average length of time before the coils need to recharge?”
Caleb grins. “That's the beauty of them. It's been a few years since I was in a protracted firefight, but I remember moving around a lot. The GH-1? They're designed to recharge through kinetic movement. Power starts to decrease, you holster it before moving to a new position, and within a few minutes it's good to go.”
Sylus raises an eyebrow.
Caleb continues. “They designed holsters to accentuate movement during combat. The gun hits the side of your thigh more, but the extra movement charges it faster. The biggest change is remembering to holster it while you're moving, but honestly? Those things lasted a good three or four hours before testers saw a drop in firing power.”
“If I want to buy more ammunition?”
Caleb makes a face. “That's going to be tricky, but I was authorized to give you that as payment. I'll contact my superiors about authorizing you to purchase ammunition directly from DARPA. No point in gifting you a gun that you can't use.
“Right answer.”
Caleb watches as both Sylus and Liora get some practice at the range. Sylus is a far better marksman at long ranges than anyone he's ever seen, surpassing the snipers he's met at the Bureau. There's a feral gleam in his eyes as he checks his work, violent and ravenous, that Caleb had never seen in their prior association, and the idea of such slavering hunger watching him makes the back of his neck prickle in warning.
He nearly cries out with relief when Sylus calls for a car to take them back his hotel. Caleb's shirt is drenched in sweat and seeing only the faintest sheen on both Sylus and Liora only serves to piss him off. He gleefully blasts himself with AC and once they reach the hotel he actually feels comfortable.
His curiosity is piqued when he notices that Sylus and Liora, instead of going back up to their room, head to the club. Changing quickly into something less sweaty, Caleb decides to spy. He had a sneaking suspicion that business is handled in the club, and if he can overhear Sylus plotting a deal-well, that would put the Bureau, and by extension the federal government, in a much stronger bargaining position.
For being such a man famed for your protection, your personal security is absolute shit. C'mon Sylus, a blind child wouldn't have any difficulty sneaking into your club. And I'm much smarter than a blind child.
As he eases the door shut behind him, Caleb ducks into a nearby booth. He stares. Sylus is seated on his throne, legs spread wide to accommodate the woman standing between them. Liora had changed her shorts for a tiny skirt and her boots for strappy 6” heels. Caleb frowned; it pissed him off when Liora wore heels. Having her loom over him always put him in a bad mood when she was still at the Bureau. You're not supposed to be taller than me. I can't protect you if you're taller than me. He remembers Sylus' 7’ frame and bright green envy sinks her nails into his shoulders.
At his distance, Caleb can see Sylus say something, but the sound is lost to him. Hands grip Liora's waist before sliding down her thighs and under her skirt to grip her ass. He swallows; he's not intruding on business deals like he thought. He checks his surroundings and grimaces; if he tries to leave he'll be spotted.
Liora's hands tease through Sylus’ hair before she pulls him to her stomach. Sylus' hands bunch and writhe under her skirt as he squeezes and even at his distance, Caleb can hear his hungry moans. A pressure begins to build in his pants and Caleb grinds his teeth. No, this is wrong, I-
Liora tugs Sylus to his feet while her hands grope and caress. Sylus' hands pull her skirt up before squeezing and pinching her breasts, dragging her shirt out of the way. She undoes his leather pants but only enough to free him before kneeling at his feet. Still grinding his teeth as pressure builds between his legs, Caleb frowns. Instead of going down, Liora is inserting something as Sylus lets out a deep, growling moan. Metal glints off the tip of his head and a chain appears, held in her hand. Still on her knees, she grabs an item and as she reaches behind Sylus, Caleb can hear the familiar sounds of handcuffs. She tugs on his pants and Sylus kneels, his hands bound behind his back.
Aroused and curious, it takes Caleb several moments of study to realize Liora had inserted a sound down Sylus' shaft, connected to a fine chain held in one hand. Sylus is staring up at her, chest heaving as he pants, the picture of submission.
The pressure has become unbearable and Caleb slowly undoes his own pants, carefully freeing himself. He grips himself and begins to stroke as he watches. There's a feeling of danger, the thrill of getting caught, heightened by the feeling of himself rock hard and dripping in his hand as he watches his woman service another man, share her body with the man that stole her away.
It's okay baby, I give you permission. You're doing whatever you need to in order to survive. I understand, I forgive you. It won't matter soon enough, once I get you out of here. You'll have me all to yourself. You'll never have to touch anyone else ever again.
Slowly, seductively, Liora reaches out to grab a tousled mop of glowing silver, pulling his face to her pussy. She tangles her fingers while she holds him in place, meeting the eyes of the man at her feet. Caleb can see her mouth moving but no sound reaches him; a blessing for his self-control. The pace of his hand increases and he bites the other, an impromptu gag to stifle the sounds that build and collect in his throat.
Caleb pants behind his hand as he watches Liora. The taut lines of her neck as her head slowly tilts back, her uneven breaths, the way her hands begin to clutch and spasm. Sounds reach him at last. Hers, breathless and desperate cries. His, deep and hungry groans as he consumes her. Caleb is close and when Liora cries out Sylus' name, her legs shaking and buckling, his teeth pierce the skin of his gag as a familiar warmth spills across his hand to splatter quietly on the seat below, pleasure throbbing and pulsing throughout his body. His eyes burn and his vision blurs, twisting the other two into abstract art. Fucking allergies.
Catching her breath, Liora grinds against Sylus and as she whines, the hand holding the chain to his sound lifts. Sylus groans into her as he cums, spilling himself across her feet as Liora lets out a whimpering sob. Blood trickles down his hand as teeth sink deeper, a second flood of warmth covering Caleb's hand as he continues to watch. Unsteady legs threaten collapse as she drags herself down his body until she's straddling him, her mouth meeting his with hungry moans.
The sound of handcuffs reach his ears as Caleb quietly fixes himself and he looks up to see Sylus hold Liora to his chest while he climbs to his feet. He's completely still as Sylus' eyes sweep the room before heading into his private office, Liora wrapped around him. Seething with resentment once more, Caleb doesn't move until the door to the office clicks shut.
It doesn't take him long to reach his room. He paces as he rages, imagining (and winning) countless arguments to break his Liora free of Sylus’ vicious claws. Determination steels his resolve; he will save her. He remembers the profile the Bureau created when Sylus was first in their hands. The profiler had labeled him a narcissist, and as they were leaving to type everything up, he'd corrected them with quiet disdain.
“You're wrong, by the way.”
“Hm?”
“I'm not a narcissist.”
“What-”
“Don't play stupid, you know exactly what I'm talking about. I'm not a narcissist.”
“How-”
“If you'd done your job right, you'd know I was diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder at 18. But you didn't. And your line of questioning is flawed. It predisposes you to diagnose the other party as a narcissist. You should be fired for gross incompetence.”
Caleb throws himself onto the bed as he starts to plot-tries to plot. His mind is unruly, fixating on Liora, legs spread as she holds Sylus (that should have been me) between her legs. The sound of her cries, the desire in her voice as she said his name, the way she'd collapsed against him, into him. Allergies cloud his eyes and stifle his breathing as Caleb lies on his bed, stroking himself once more until he sobs Liora's name.
Spent and exhausted, he drags himself through bliss as he begins in earnest to plot Sylus' downfall.