Evenfall (55 page)

He dropped onto the bed and leaned forward, his fingers digging into his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut. Sin's words echoed in his head, jumbled by Carhart's and his mother's and he didn't know what to think. What to feel.

What was he supposed to do? He didn't want to have sex with Thierry but he couldn't walk away from all this. He couldn't go back to the Agency with nothing-- not when Carhart had said straight out that they had to do anything it took. He couldn't walk away from the Agency or his responsibilities. He couldn't disappoint his mother. The consequences of failing...

His chest tightened at the thought-- at the memory of pain lancing up his arms from his wrists; his own screams echoing around him and the darkness closing in on every side. Terror eclipsing everything else to the point that he didn't even know anymore what was a dream from that time and what was a horrible mockery of reality. The memories of Lou's murder that wouldn't leave him and the knowledge every time he'd slept and woken that he was alone-- left completely alone and without any recourse and no one would care and no one would help him--

His eyes squeezed shut harder and he let out a harsh breath, his mouth falling open as he curled inward. No, no, he couldn't do it. He couldn't. He didn't care what he had to do to avoid that; he would do it.

Even so, Sin's words continued to haunt him. He thought about Sin commenting on trying to help him twice. It could only be referring to the necklace-- to Jared. It was the only thing that made sense to Boyd. Guilt and confusion were nearly suffocating at the thought. He knew they needed to talk about that all-- but it was so hard for him.

Did Sin really regret it?

Did he regret anything he'd done or tried to do for Boyd?

He didn't want those words to cut him so deeply--
I'm fucking done with you,
and,
completely regret the effort.
He didn't know what to do. He knew Sin was angry with him, he understood that probably part of it was related to their distance the past two weeks contrasted to how friendly he'd been to Thierry.

But what was he supposed to do? Why couldn't Sin understand? These were things he'd been burying for so long, things that had nearly killed him in the past, and in less than two weeks he was expected to be able to get over it and talk rationally about something he'd never even brought up? Something Sin somehow had found out on his own and suddenly shoved in his face?

Just because Sin could take any torture and not budge didn't mean everyone else was the same. Just because Sin thought a trip to the Fourth was doable didn't mean the very prospect of it couldn't terrify Boyd. Especially with the imaginings made more vivid by memories recently stirred up, like dirt at the bottom of a lake. Clouding everything that used to be so clear.

And just because Sin thought he knew everything about the Agency didn't mean he understood Boyd's mother, or the resolve she could have about her work. Sin was so confident she wouldn't have him terminated but he hadn't grown up with her. He didn't know how she could be.

He wouldn't have chosen to have sex with Thierry; after all, he'd only ever slept with Lou so a one night stand seemed strange to him. But he didn't even know that it would come to that anyway. And Sin could mock him all he wanted but in the end, what was one night with a man who at least was charming compared to possibly weeks in the alternative?

If he could only succeed in this, everything would be okay. Even assuming they had sex tonight, he would be in an entirely different country from Thierry tomorrow so their one night together wouldn't matter anyway. The Agency would be happy with the outcome and they could all move on. It's not like he planned to make this a regular occurrence; the desperate measures would be only for this one extreme case and he could go back to his life the way it had always been before.

No harm done.

He told himself that but he couldn't forget the look of disgust on Sin's face.

By the time he had to head downstairs, he was almost relieved despite the ominous feeling he'd developed about the night. He just needed to get out of there. He just needed to get away.

He didn't see Sin as he left, a fact he was grateful for. He didn't know what he would have said and he didn't want to have to see whatever expression Sin would level his way. He was already a little uneasy about what may end up happening at Thierry's but it didn't shake his resolve to avoid the terror that otherwise would likely await him.

He took the stairs on the way down so he had more time to school his expression and loosen the tension in his shoulders. He didn't want to let on to Thierry that he was distracted or worried. He had to focus on getting the information. In order to do that he needed to be clear-headed so he could notice any shifts in Thierry's mood that he could take advantage of.

He was glad to see the driver had been sent alone to pick him up. It gave him more time to prepare. To think. He walked across the sidewalk, the cold cutting through him harshly. He'd left his coat behind and the wind was just as icy here as back home. After getting in, he sat in the back, his expression blank and his mind anything but as he watched the city flash by outside the tinted windows.

The driver brought them to
Avenue du Marιchal Maunoury in 16e arrondissement. The building they pulled up to was beautiful from the front; brick with white trim and almost looking more like it belonged on part of an old estate or mansion rather than being luxury apartments.

Thierry lived on the highest floor and when Boyd was let inside, he took in the apartment. He had to admit it was beautiful.

Less ostentatious than the hotel, the apartment had hardwood floors with tall ceilings, warm cream walls, and dark trim. There were two floors, as evidenced by the large open area where the second floor was cut away almost like a balcony looking down on the first floor. It made it feel like a luxury loft.

Continuing that theme were the floor to ceiling windows along one side, overlooking Bois de Boulogne park and, beyond it, what little could be seen of the River Seine. The only chandelier he saw was hanging from the second story in the open living room area, about even with the first floor's ceiling. The apartment was spacious, the furniture was tasteful but obviously expensive, and it looked well lived in.

"Welcome," Thierry's voice called from somewhere further in. He appeared moments later, wearing an indigo v-neck shirt that fit tight against his toned arms and chest, and black pants that were obviously fitted to his body. It was the most casual that Boyd had seen him so far, which was further enhanced by Thierry's bare feet and tousled wavy hair.
"I thank you for coming, once again."

"Thank you the invitation," Boyd replied as he walked further into the apartment, toward Thierry. He looked over at the windows covering the wall.

"You have a very nice apartment." He gestured out the windows and meant it when he said, "Even at night, the view is amazing."

"I enjoy beautiful things." Thierry's lips curved into a grin and ran his hands over Boyd's arms briefly. "And you, my dear, are frozen. Would you like some wine to warm up?"

"Sure."

Thierry moved to a mahogany cabinet and opened the door, pulling out glasses. He took them to a glass coffee table where there was a waiting bottle of wine. He filled both, and glanced over at Boyd.

"Make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you."

A large sectional couch curved around the coffee table. Boyd sat down, finding it to be surprisingly comfortable. He picked up a glass of wine, the liquid seeming a rich burgundy hue in the lighting. He held the glass carefully so as not to spill and leaned back, hearing the quiet crinkling of the fabric as it settled around him.

Everything felt warm and inviting. The impression was furthered by licks of flame in the electric fireplace he hadn't noticed before, set nearby within the wall. He watched the fire for a moment as he took a sip of the wine, the taste of it filling his mouth and warming his tongue. He looked over at Thierry and smiled, hoping to take control of the conversation from the start.

"I was pleased when you told me earlier you were interested in discussing our mutual acquaintances. Janus has been a growing concern for us and we're very grateful for any help you would be willing to give. After all, you're something of an expert on the topic."

"Expert?" Thierry held his glass contemplatively and frowned thoughtfully. "Perhaps. It was not always this way, though. At one time I was just a novice, barely understanding my place in it all."

It was more than Thierry had said about anything related to work so far so Boyd took to the topic. "As I understand it, you got into the business when you were eighteen?"

"Seventeen, actually." Thierry took a sip and crossed one knee over the other, his gaze moving to the window. "I was aware of my father's dealings with Janus since I was quite young. When he died, I simply took up the mantle. It was interesting... to say the least. "

Boyd watched Thierry thoughtfully. "What was it like?"

A small smile quirked across Thierry's lips and he raised an eyebrow. "To say they did not know what to expect from me would be accurate. To them I was a spoiled child trying to involve myself in affairs that were better left out of my reach. They did not respect me, even when I began to work for them."

Boyd smiled faintly, although the expression was more contemplative than anything. He could understand that feeling to an extent. "What did you do?"

"I refused to give up." Thierry turned to Boyd on the sofa and tilted his head thoughtfully, as if he were remembering back to that time. "Their world, my father's world, it was something that intrigued me. For so long I felt as though I was without purpose and this thing-- this strange thing that I do, it gives me purpose. After quite some time, they finally began to admire my tenacity."

Boyd nodded and took a sip of wine as he thought about what Thierry said. His eyes were drawn to the fire; to the flickering flames that were incapable of settling.

He wondered if he would ever get to the point of feeling a purpose in any of this. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt that he was only at the Agency while he waited for something to change. While he waited, most likely, to die.

He didn't feel any purpose in his life aside from being in a state of in-between, and the occasional time when something drew his attention enough for him to be intrigued. But those moments always faded and he was left once more to disinterest. Apathy that recently had been struggling to keep in check all the dark thoughts it had grown to hide.

"Did you feel that way right away?" he was unable to stop himself from asking. His eyes flicked over to Thierry. "Having a purpose?"

"Mmm."
Thierry set his wine glass down and rested his arm on the back of the sofa. A low laugh escaped his throat and he shook his head slightly. "No, at first it was a game. Perhaps like chess. Or perhaps a spectator sporting event that I had helped to fund so that the teams could keep playing. It kept me busy, but I did not truly expect to become so immersed and to eventually care."

Boyd nodded again and shifted on the couch so he was turned more toward Thierry. He tilted his head slightly, studying the other man thoughtfully. "What drew you away from working solely with Janus like your father had?"

One of Thierry's hands began absently sifting through Boyd's hair as he pondered the question. After awhile he said, "I did not like the idea of putting all of my eggs in one basket, as they say."

"It must have been a trying time, when you were learning the ways and who to trust," Boyd said thoughtfully. He didn't react to the fingers threading through his hair, letting Thierry do as he pleased. "Did anyone take you under their wing and help you out?"

"Not at all," Thierry said with another of his intimate smiles. "And what of you?"

Boyd was disappointed but not entirely surprised by the subject change. "Not at first. Things are changing over time, though."

"Sin did not guide you?" Thierry asked, eyebrows ticking up slightly. "Is he not an agent of some high degree?"

"He is but he wasn't interested in being my partner," Boyd replied with an unconcerned shrug. "In the beginning I think he was simply amusing himself seeing how long it would take for me to fail or for something to happen to me."

"How unfortunate."

A frown marred Thierry's expression and his hands slid up to glide down the side of Boyd's face. "It would have been quite terrible if I would have never been able to meet you."

Boyd smiled. "I doubt it would have mattered. You wouldn't have known what you were missing, right?"

Thierry let his fingers move down to trace the side of Boyd's mouth. "Perhaps that would have been the worst part."

They spoke for awhile longer before Thierry invited Boyd to the other room for dinner. Over time Boyd learned that Thierry had made it himself, which somewhat surprised Boyd, who had expected him to have hired help for everything. He commented on how good the food was and Thierry seemed pleased by the compliment.

During dinner the conversation flowed in different directions a few times. Boyd continued to bring it back to work in different ways at first, attempting to get Thierry to follow through on his promise. Thierry bypassed the topic at first and then implied it would be better not to talk of such business over food. Boyd nodded and they went back to talking about nothing particularly important, dotted throughout with questions about their personal lives.

Afterward, they ended up on the couch again. Boyd wasn't used to drinking so much in one day. Despite dinner to balance it out, he started to notice the effects of the alcohol on his system. His body felt warm; his blood buzzed pleasantly through him. His head was starting to feel clouded and once or twice he found himself saying a little more than he'd intended. Giving a few more details than he normally would.

He had enough wits about him to try to talk about work, or Janus, or Thierry's time as he grew into his job. He asked about Thierry's life, how he knew about his father's involvement in Janus, whether anyone had ever visited his house. He tried to be straightforward and remind Thierry that he'd said he would talk about work. He tried many angles but every time somehow the conversation turned away before Boyd got anything of value.

At times he set his glass down on the table with the intention of no longer drinking any more. Thierry kept refilling his glass, and it took him a bit to realize that because of that he was drinking more than he thought he was.

As time went on, Thierry's flirtation grew more pronounced. He moved closer to Boyd, sitting near enough to him that the heat of their bodies felt trapped between them. He touched Boyd more as well, with the brush of his fingertips or press of his hand lingering. Becoming more bold.

Boyd started to grow confused; influenced by the pleasant burn of alcohol in his system, the muted warmth of the fireplace, and the heat of Thierry's skin brushing against his.

It seemed like Thierry's face grew so much closer over time, those handsome features focusing solely on hm. He wasn't accustomed to being the center of anyone's attention in a manner that was so positive and prolonged. Thierry murmured words of encouragement and praise and compliments; flattering Boyd yet seeming genuine about it. As if he truly did think Boyd was worth something and he was pleased to have met him.

Without fully realizing what he was doing, Boyd started to tilt his head slightly into Thierry's touch. He was feeling the comfort of someone who had nothing but gentle touches and words for him. It was such a contrast to what he was used to that it worked its way into the buzz from the wine. Infecting his blood and his thoughts.

He thought he was being diligent and mindful but somewhere along the line, things spun away from him. Despite the many times he'd tried to redirect the conversation, he wasn't getting anywhere. Around the time Thierry's hand slid along his thigh, Boyd realized it was very late at night. Midnight had already long passed them by and he hadn't gotten anything they needed.

Time was running incredibly short.

As that thought crossed his mind, Thierry leaned in to kiss him. Boyd automatically drew back, keeping their faces mere inches apart. He could feel Thierry's breath, warm against his lips, and their eyes locked.

Boyd couldn't read much except desire in Thierry's blue eyes. His thoughts were muddled and confused. The one thought that he couldn't ignore was that maybe Thierry hadn't given him any information yet because he hadn't been responding to his obvious attraction. Maybe he wouldn't follow through unless Boyd followed through himself.

He'd had time to think about what he would do in this circumstance and the wine made him feel pleasant, lacking his typical over-analysis. He'd run out of time and options. So when Thierry's eyelashes lowered and he leaned in again, this time Boyd didn't pull away.

Their lips met; an almost gentle caress at first that slowly built. Boyd hadn't kissed anyone, hadn't touched anyone other than Lou. Thierry's lips were soft and the taste of them seemed strange and unfamiliar. That sentiment was echoed in the unfamiliar slide of a hand along his leg, and the feel of Thierry's other hand tangling in his hair at the nape of his neck.

The oddity of the situation was fast overcome by the power of a sensual touch after so long. The body he'd forsaken awoke at Thierry's hands, aided by the burn of alcohol in his system. His breath caught when Thierry's lips slid along his jaw and centered on his neck. All the times Thierry had touched him before it had felt gentle or warm but that was it; there wasn't the electric tingle that sucked away his thoughts like when Sin brushed his bare skin with calloused fingertips. But with Thierry focused so fully on him, and under the expert maneuverings of his hands, Boyd felt desire stir inside him and grow.

Thierry's lips returned to Boyd's and their kiss deepened until Boyd felt the moist slide of a tongue against his lips. He parted his mouth and learned quite quickly that Thierry was an amazing kisser.

Before he knew it, he was letting out breathless moans, his eyes falling shut as his body automatically arched against Thierry's. Boyd could feel Thierry's erection through their clothing; hard and moving against him. It made him moan deeply, which became a gasping groan when Thierry slid his hand beneath Boyd's pants and started kneading his half-hard cock. Boyd's head jerked back and he gripped Thierry's arms; his mouth falling open as he breathed heavily. He could feel Thierry's lips smile against his skin.

For a moment all Boyd could do was moan helplessly, his fingers digging into Thierry's shirt as he jerked his hips up against Thierry's skillful hand. His body was an instrument that Thierry played to perfection; rising him up to a crescendo and stopping just before the climax. Boyd didn't even realize when he'd been moved to lay back on the couch, his legs splayed open with Thierry kneeling between them, rolling his body against Boyd's increasingly quickly. But when Thierry's hand shifted and moved for his shirt, Boyd snapped back to attention enough to grab his wrist.

He shook his head, his eyes half closed but still intent on Thierry. It took a second for his voice to work through his throat and when it did, it came out husky but firm.

"Not the shirt. Or underneath."

If Thierry thought the condition was odd, he didn't let it show. His hand moved away and he returned to kissing Boyd deeply. Their tongues worked against each other, filling Boyd's mouth with Thierry's taste. Boyd could feel Thierry's hands working on his pants and soon Thierry drew away. He sat up, his lips reddened from kissing and face flushed with desire. His hair was messy and his eyes seemed especially blue as he took in Boyd sprawled beneath him.

Thierry shifted and he moved back along the couch, his hands running along Boyd's thighs and down his knees, his shins, until he pulled off his shoes and socks. His fingers pushed up beneath the hem of Boyd's pant legs briefly, playing along the bones of his ankles. Then his hands were moving, pressing back up Boyd's legs and skimming the waistband of his pants. Dipping below to brush the hair from Boyd's navel that disappeared beneath the pants.