Evenfall (104 page)

Sin stared at him blankly for a long moment, mouth twitching although it wasn't obvious if it was from amusement or annoyance. "Someone called you a faggot?"

"Ah, is that what that was?" Boyd mused, more thoughtful than upset. "What about
cabrσn
and
pendejito?"

"Asshole and little asshole," Sin replied, giving Boyd a strange look. "Where the hell are you getting this from?"

"A man I met," Boyd said dismissively, wanting to get all the translations before he continued. "What about
'no me chingues'?"

"It means don't fuck with me," Sin replied, looking as though he were getting irritated by the lack of a decent answer. "Which man?"

"One more, but it's related. What is '
Lo mαs chingσn?'"
He looked at Sin questioningly for a translation.

For a long moment Sin did not answer and his eyes narrowed slightly, mouth thinning into a line as he stared at his partner. The expression was not unfamiliar to Boyd; it was the one Sin typically gave Boyd when something occurred that displeased him. The sketchbook sat forgotten on his lap as he considered Boyd but after
a while
the moment passed and Sin shook his head, raking a hand through his hair.

"It means bad ass motherfucker," he replied. "Now, who the hell is this guy you were talking to?"

"I'm not certain who he was but he called himself that. He caught me at the warehouse." Boyd quirked one eyebrow, continuing mildly, "Apparently he's the one who's been following us. I am not to go near there again or he'll cut off my balls and/or dick. By the end of the encounter he seemed to be changing his mind on which trophy to take."

Sin stared at him for a moment, his eyes narrowing even further. "Explain. In detail."

"Well," Boyd said calmly. "A man managed to come up right behind me with a knife, catching me completely off guard. He apparently leads the smuggling group or at least is in some position of power. He insinuated that he's been following us and somehow knows we're sleeping together. I gave him a cover story about illegal art but he didn't believe it and told me not to fuck with his shit. The only thing I got from him was that he says he is '
lo mαs chingσn.'
I wasn't able to look inside the crates, either, but I'm positive now this is something like an arms dealer. He knew what he was doing -- he was good."

Sin sat up straight and stared at him intently, looking extremely displeased by what he was hearing. "Was he simply attempting to ward you away from his operation or did it seem as though he would retaliate in some way because you saw anything at all?"

Boyd considered that for a moment. "I think it was a warning. At the time he was warding me away but I feel as though there could be retaliation if I pushed it. I'm not certain, though. But technically I didn't see exactly what they were doing; I just saw crates going in and out of a building. And frankly, that is not particularly unheard of in that area of the city, especially not into a restaurant. Theoretically they could just have a ridiculous amount of ingredients they keep on hand, even if he and I both knew it wasn't the case. He claimed he was a baker who didn't want me touching his bread but it was obviously a lie. Still, even if I were inclined to try to alert authorities, nothing would come of it because there's no proof. And considering the fact that he could have killed me before I even knew he was there, he would know I do not pose a particular threat on my own. I think he was trying to scare me away but he won't fuck with me as long as I don't fuck with him."

Sin relaxed a bit, thinking about that. "I find it strange that this man was able to get the drop on you so entirely. And you say he just disappeared?"

"Yes," and Boyd did not seem particularly pleased with the concept either. "Either I am losing my touch or he was just that good. He reminded me of the more adept leaders of some of the groups we've run across; this was someone who could follow through with his threats, but he also seemed relatively at ease, in his element, rational. I also have no idea where he went when I turned around; there was nowhere to go. I suppose he could have had something like a grappling hook to reach the rooftops but I didn't hear anything."

"Hmmm." Sin didn't look entirely pleased by this either. "We will have to be more alert," he said, more to himself than to Boyd. "What course of action would be wisest concerning this man and his operation?"

"At the moment, unless he does something suspicious or continues to tail us, I would say we leave it alone for
a while
," Boyd said simply. "He could easily have killed me but instead he asked questions, and even when I was not fully cooperative he did nothing to retaliate. That leads me to believe that he is not interested; he was just investigating the person who was watching his illegal operation. We definitely need to do a thorough search of the warehouse and see what they are transporting."

Boyd paused. "Also, at that point we will have to decide who goes in. It's possible but very implausible that he would forget me but unless he did I doubt he would be pleased that I returned. At the same time, I don't know if it's really worth it to get you involved when at the moment he seems to believe you're simply my lover. As a representative of 53 and apparently now into the illegal art trade, Kadin Reed has a reason to look into that sort of activity. But unless he was trying to get in trouble, Jason Alvarez does not."

"True enough," Sin replied, although he didn't seem any more mollified. "Did you get a look at him?"

Boyd shook his head. "No. He was tall, solidly built, strong, and may have been wearing a metal necklace. There is absolutely no way I would be able to identify him short of possibly recognizing his voice."

"Was there anything about his voice that should be noted? He had an American accent-- was there any dialect?" Sin pressed, seeming intent on having some way to identify the mysterious man.

"No particular dialect in English," Boyd said. "His voice was deep, smooth. By his pronunciation and sentence structure I could tell he is accustomed to using slang. He spoke Spanish fluently and also, it seemed, with slang. I couldn't place any dialect there, primarily because he spoke too quickly for me to understand, but his accent seemed slightly different than the natives."

Sin ran a hand through his hair and looked around the apartment, seeming displeased with every window, vent and door that he saw. "I feel like a sitting duck," He muttered. "I am fighting the urge to go look around down there."

"I'm not convinced it would do much good," Boyd said reasonably. "Normally I would be more paranoid about this but something about him indicates to me that after that encounter he will leave us alone unless we bother him first. If you want, far be it from me to stop you from additional investigative work, though I may wait a bit. He already had me against the wall with two knives trained on me once today and I had no chance to stop him. It would be stupid to put myself in a position for him to follow through with his threats before I've even given myself the chance to research who the hell he is."

Sin shrugged, agitated. "I feel as though I've been doing a poor job. Like I haven't been on guard enough. Maybe I'm getting soft."

Boyd raised an eyebrow curiously. "How did that transfer to you? I'm the one that was noticed, tailed, and eventually caught. Granted, I only felt someone watching me a few times and it's possible he was following more often, but for what it's worth he seemed to be quite good at surprise entrances; so perhaps it is impressive either of us noticed him at all."

Sin made a face and looked unimpressed by this information. "No one should be able to tail me unnoticed, no matter how good they are. I'm supposed to be better."

"I don't know what to tell you, then." Boyd didn't know if he was mildly insulted by Sin's comment or not; as if Sin were saying Boyd inherently was weak so of course he was caught. On the other hand, it was true that Sin was better at what they did and should be superior to any tail by virtue of the fact he had more experience and, quite simply, he was Sin. So, rather than being offended by something Sin was probably only irritated with himself over, he just flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling with his hands beneath his head. "Like you said, you'll just have to be more alert."

Sin stared at Boyd for a moment as though he wanted to say more but before the words could come out, his eyes were drawn to  the way Boyd's shirt had risen up, the way his hipbones stood out of his pants. They sat looking at each other silently and within a breath, Sin was straddling Boyd instead of standing, staring down at his partner from under his eyelashes.

"You're a distraction," Sin said flatly. "All I can think about is fucking you all the time." A slight shift so that the growing erection that was pressed against Boyd's crotch emphasized his point.

Boyd's lips stretched into a slow, roguish smile but he didn't move. "What can I say?" he murmured, watching Sin through heavy eyelids as he pressed his hips up against him. "It's a natural talent."

Sin stared down at him and ignored the shiver that went through his body, instead keeping his face frozen in the same serious, almost displeased expression. With the disapproving glare firmly in place, he rocked his hips slightly but otherwise didn't touch Boyd. "You are proud of corrupting me, are you?" He asked.

"Hmm, maybe a little. But don't lie, Hsin," Boyd teased, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief. "I think you did some of it yourself; you can take the credit."

"Who gave you permission to call me that?" Sin asked in an almost cold tone. He began rocking his hips harder, faster, the movement pressing Boyd against the rug.

Boyd's eyes slid mostly shut and his mouth fell partially open; he took a moment to respond as he was distracted by what Sin was doing. "All those times," he started quietly, his breath increasing. For a second he had to stop to think then said louder, "You didn't say not to, I figured meant I could."

Sin grunted and leaned forward, putting one hand on either side of Boyd's head and bracing himself with them, leaning down so that their faces were inches apart as he continued to grind against his partner. "You're supposed to be my slave," He reminded Boyd in the same tone, eyes burning like green fire. "So you should ask permission to call me by that name, just like from now on you're going to have to ask permission to touch me."

His eyes narrowed, the only indication that he was affected by the movements of their hips was the way his breath hitched slightly. "It seems as though I will have to keep you on a short leash if I am going to maintain my job and our... arrangement."

Boyd started to say something but it slid into a moan. He watched Sin, just a glint of his dark blue contacts between his eyelashes, and let his mouth hang open as he panted. He didn't bother hiding how Sin was affecting him but he did bring his hands from beneath his head, lifting one toward Sin's shoulder as he asked huskily, "And what if I do it anyway?"

Sin grabbed Boyd's hand before it could touch him and pinned it to the floor on top of his other wrist. "You won't."

An experimental tug didn't loosen Sin's hold at all and when Boyd tried again a little harder he realized that he couldn't get either hand away. His heartbeat quickened automatically, but the usual fear was muffled by the way their hips ground together and the fact that he knew Sin didn't intend to hurt him. He didn't say anything; just watched Sin through darkened eyes and arched his back to get closer, trying to at least add more pressure but Sin
immediately
moved away and completely avoided the contact. As he stared down at Boyd his lip lifted in something that could have been a smirk or a sneer; it wasn't clear which. His breath came out in shallow pants as he continued to grind against Boyd and shook his head.

Boyd dropped back to the ground and panted, his eyes falling shut for a moment. The constant movement against his arousal was driving him nuts. Feeling their hips grind together just made him want to press against Sin, to rip off their clothing and run his hands all over his body but he couldn't get his hands away, couldn't get close enough to touch him, he couldn't even kiss him from here. "Fuck," Boyd whispered mostly to himself. Abruptly, he pulled harder at his hands but all it caused was slight pain to his wrists and when he tried to arch his back again, Sin just avoided him. He opened his eyes and glared at Sin almost in accusation, saying louder in an irritable demand, "Fuck, come on! Do something else!"

Sin's lips twisted in a definite smirk, still moving his hips at the same pace, in the same rhythm. "No."

Boyd let out a groan that was half frustration and half desire. He tilted his head back against the floor and twisted as if to get away from the slow torture but that just made it worse. His breath was heavy and quick now and his narrowed eyes were darkened by lust and irritation when he looked back up at Sin. Hoping to be able to push Sin off him, he bucked his hips up firmly.

Sin didn't move and only responded by pressing down harder. "Behave," He ordered, voice low, husky and incredibly sexy.

"Ahh," Boyd groaned helplessly and dropped back down to the rug. He stared up at Sin, gaze clouded with desire, and tried to bring his scattered thoughts together. He was entirely focused on everything about Sin; their erections pressed against each other, that sexy bedroom voice, the burning green of his eyes, the well-defined muscles of his arms as he held Boyd's hands down, the glinting of the light off that damn lip ring that Boyd wanted to suck into his mouth and twirl against his tongue and— "Fuck," he said again with a bit of desperation this time. "Dammit, Hsin, please— just—
do
something!"