My Death of A Thousand Cuts ~ Chapter 3


Title: You Fill The Dark Places
Fandom: Supernatural, Leverage & Angel: The Series
Pairings: Eliot Spencer/Lindsey McDonald
Rating: PG-15
Word Count: 5,305
Summary: Lindsey has his soul back … So what does he do now? Set in Season 4 SPN, Pre Leverage, mentions events from the last season of Angel.


Lindsey McDonald met Dean and Sam Winchester and Eliot Spencer while trying to find a way to break his contract with the Senior Partners. He’d heard rumors of Dean Winchester coming back from hell, and wanted to find out how the man did it. He was heading to Singer’s Salvage in South Dakota when a man with long hair, wearing a copy of his face slammed him against a brick wall while a really tall guy stood as back-up.

Guys,” A raspy voice came from behind the Yeti. “let up. Let’s ask him questions first this time?”

The tall one’s head whipped around. “You wanna talk first?”

Lindsey couldn’t see who was talking.

“I know ‘im.” His mirror image kept him pinned to the wall. “Lindsey McDonald.” He growled in Lindsey’s face.

“How do you know?”

“Remember when you found me?”

Lindsey heard a grunt of affirmation.

“The demon that had me thought I was this cat and almost talked me to death about how the Senior Partners would elevate him for catching Lindsey McDonald.”

Lindsey shuddered.

“Good thing we found you first.” The man speaking stepped from behind the tall man.

He laid a hand on the long haired man’s back. “He can’t talk if he can’t breathe, El.”

The pressure on his throat let up.

“This ain’t the place for this conversation anyway.”

Strong fingers wrapped around Lindsey’s nape and pulled him out of the alley and shoved him into the backseat of a classic Impala.

“My truck.” Were the first words Lindsey spoke.

“Give Sam your keys.” The handsome green eyed man in the leather coat nodded toward the tall man.

Lindsey hesitated.

“Ya wanna talk to me … We do it on my terms on my turf. Otherwise climb in your truck and forget my name.”

They’d gone to Singer’s where Lindsey was subjected to tests that were painful, but not enough for the hunters to try to exorcise or kill him. He’d been surprised to see a collection of ancient books that rivaled Wolfram and Hart’s.

After two days of research, Dean had gone quiet as he left the room carrying a book Bobby didn’t remember owning.

The elder Winchester had been MIA for several hours when Eliot’s head snapped up from his reading. He raced out the door to find Castiel holding an unconscious Dean, the book and a jar that look suspiciously like blood sitting at his feet.

“Cas?” Sam rushed toward his brother, but the angel curled over Dean protectively.

“You …” He looked pointedly at Sam and Lindsey, “Must not touch him right now.” Castiel’s anger added an inhuman glow to his eyes.

“What’d he do?” Eliot asked, picking up the jar and the old tome.

“Something he should not have been able to achieve on his own.”

Bobby’s chuckle surprised them all.

“I fail to see anything humorous.” The angel scolded as he carried Dean to the couch.

“That’s ‘cause you don’t know Dean. Boy’s been doin’ what he shouldn’t be able to since he was four.” Bobby headed for the kitchen. “’Bout time to think about grub, don’t ya think.”

Eliot’s eyes widened. “Bobby Singer, step away from the kitchen before I do something you’ll regret.”

“I ain’t cookin’, ya idjit. Just gittin’ a beer.” He smirked.

When Dean regained consciousness, he’d snatched the jar, the book, plus Lindsey and locked Bobby’s panic room door against everyone. All eyes turned to Castiel, who shrugged and told them he couldn’t follow where Dean was going.

When they stepped from the room 24 hours later, exhausted beyond limits, Lindsey held his voided contract from the Senior Partners in his hand, which he’d promptly burnt using holy oil provided by Castiel.

When Dean nor Lindsey showed for breakfast, the three around the table exchanged a look.

“Did you look at the spell Dean used?” Sam asked Bobby.

Not looking too happy, Bobby nodded.

“What’d he have to do?” Eliot prodded.

“He needed the blood of an angel. Then there’s some kind of purification ritual … That’s why Cas wouldn’t let you or Lindsey touch him.”

“Can we cut to the chase, Bobby?” Sam kept watching the stairs.

“Dean opened a portal to the Senior Partners where they got the kid’s contract back.”

“What was his leverage?” Eliot asked.

“What?” Bobby and Sam asked together.

“The Senior Partners aren’t gonna give Lindsey’s contract up because Dean says please, so what was his leverage to force their hand?”

“The book doesn’t say.”

“Don’t you think we oughta find ‘em and ask in case it’s something that’ll bite us in the ass later?”

They searched the junkyard, shop and house until they met at the cellar steps. The found the two men in the panic room, the cot shoved against the wall, Dean shielding Lindsey with his body. The sound of a safety being released broke their paralysis.

“Show yourself!” Dean’s voice was hoarse like he’d spent the night yelling.

“Dean?” They heard Lindsey’s plaintive question.

“’S’okay, Linds … Just mom and my two ugly sisters.” He reassured him.

“Why are you down here?” Sam asked.

“We wanted the room with the canopy bed.” Dean snapped. “Why do you think?”

“Is something comin’ after you idjits?” Bobby asked.


“You sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s gonna take ‘em a couple days to find enough pieces to do anything. C’mon Linds.” Dean pulled the lawyer to his feet. “Since we can’t sleep, might as well grab a shower.”

Lindsey followed Dean so close he practically stepped on his heels.

“Together?” Sam all but squeaked.

“Small side effect … Wears off in a couple days.” Dean smirked as he interlaced his fingers with Lindsey’s.

Lindsey stuck his tongue out childishly as he followed Dean up the steps.

“But … Dean …” Sam hung his head.

“What, Sam? Likes boys and girls? Not a surprise.” Eliot waggled his eyebrows.

“I really don’t need to know this.” Bobby groaned as he followed Dean and Lindsey up the stairs.

“I don’t like the way Dean was movin’. I need to check both of them for injuries.” Eliot was all business as he left Sam standing in the basement with more questions than answers.

Eliot was waiting patiently when Dean and Lindsey came in to get dressed. A slight widening of blue/grey eyes was his only reaction when he saw Dean’s torso.

Ignoring Eliot, Dean moved to his duffel for clean clothes. Blue eyes implored Eliot to do something when Dean’s breath caught as he bent over.

“Won’t be needin’ those ‘til I check ya over.” Eliot growled.

“’M fine. Just bruised.” Dean continued to get dressed.

“Now look, Hoss …” Eliot started toward the hunter.

A hand on his arm caused him to jerk back. He glared at Lindsey. The lawyer kept a hold of Eliot.

“Dean, please?” The voice was soft. “It’s my fault …”

Dean cut him off with a wave of his hand.


Eliot went over Dean carefully. There were half healed gashes, a slice on his inner arm that looked like someone had deliberately opened a vein, scratches and burns. He frowned when he got to Dean’s shoulder with Castiel’s hand print. The hand print had been altered … New scarring … A part missing.

He looked up when bare skin entered his peripheral vision. There was a patch of new skin over Lindsey’s heart almost like a skin graft. Eliot stared at the new scar than back at Dean’s shoulder. His frowned deepened at the conclusions he was drawing.

“Dean … What?” Eliot started.

“Can I get dressed?” Dean cut off the question.

“Yeah. Yer wounds are past the point they need tendin’.” Eliot turned to Lindsey. “What about you, son?”

Damp curls danced as Lindsey shook his head in the negative. When he lifted his eyes to meet Eliot’s, the retrieval specialist saw new shadows had joined the ones that already lived in the boy’s head. Eliot flicked his eyes to the new scar on his chest.

Lindsey paled to the point where Eliot thought he was going to pass out. Eliot was surprised as Dean pushed past him and gathered the shorter man in his arms. His gravelly baritone seemed to soothe the lawyer though Lindsey never released the death grip he had on Dean’s shirt. After a few minutes, he pulled back and after a couple of deep breaths had himself back under control. He gave Dean a weak smile causing the hunter to press his lips to his forehead before letting him go as he headed out of the bedroom leaving Lindsey and Eliot alone in room.

Lindsey had been under the scrutiny of too many demons, vampires, and liaisons to the Senior Partners to fidget as he waited for whatever came next, but Eliot surprised him by brushing past him.

“Ya want breakfast before Sam’s interrogation starts ya best come on.” The retrievalist threw over his shoulder.

Blinking several times to bring his brain back to the present and not all the scenarios that had been running through his head, Lindsey followed.

Sam was practically vibrating by the time the men finished breakfast. When Dean’s plate was empty Sam started. He paced and spit questions at such rapid fire pace that everyone set back and drank their coffee while the large man circumvented the small kitchen.

“Boy, would you shut up and sit down.” Bobby barked. “How in blazes do you expect anyone to answer a question when you don’t shut yer yap long enough for anyone to get a word in edgeways?”

The others refilled their cups and retired to the living room leaving Sam standing slack jawed. Eliot was the last out of the room.

“Yer gonna catch flies ya keep standin’ with yer mouth open.” He snickered as he settled on the couch.

When Sam’s brain caught up with that he scrambled to follow the others. Dean had ensconced himself in the old armchair that sat in the shadows of the overflowing book shelves. Lindsey and Eliot had laid claim to the opposite ends of the couch. Bobby sat behind his desk, pouring a healthy dollop of whiskey in his coffee leaving Sam between Eliot and Lindsey.

The uncanny resemblance between the two men caused an uneasiness to run over his senses as the darkness that surrounded them called to that part of him that carried Azazel’s taint. Feeling guilty over his continued rendezvous with Ruby and lying to Dean, he ignored the men to concentrate on his brother.

“So what kind of deal did you make this time?” Sam practically snarled.

Bobby and Lindsey’s eyes went wide at Sam’s attack. Eliot’s eyes narrowed as though he was sizing up a target until they heard Dean’s chuckle.

“Jealous, bitch?”

“Just trying to find out what’s coming after you, jerk.”

“Nothin’s comin’ after me. They gave Lindsey back his contract to get me to leave.” He smirked from the shadows.

Sam and Bobby gave a sigh of relief, but Eliot had been shifting his gaze from Dean to Lindsey. He got nothing from Dean, but the lawyer’s eyes had widened slightly before his expression had become one of nonchalance as he leaned back like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Eliot smirked. He’d looked into Lindsey McDonald after the Winchesters had killed the demon holding him hostage. The boy was highly intelligent and had been a major player with Wolfram and Hart, though his roots were similar to Eliot’s own. His sources in LA said McDonald had died taking out the Circle of Blackthorne so the boy must be running a hell of game.

The party broke up by the simple act of Dean leaving the room. He’d had gone to the basement followed by Bobby to resupply their ammo while Sam went to take inventory of the Impala’s trunk. He caught Lindsey in the living room going through Bobby’s books. He stood at the doorway admiring the younger man’s beauty, and wondering if he’d been that pretty when he was younger.

“Did you want something, Spencer? Or are you just gonna stand there glaring?” Lindsey never looked up.

“Ya gotta a mouth on ya, kid, for someone who’s dead.”

Lindsey merely shrugged before returning to his book.

“Whataya gonna do now that ya go your soul back?”

Lindsey shrugged. “Got enough hidden away I don’t have to DO anything. Think I’ll do a little sightseeing before I pick someplace to settle … See if the Senior Partners send someone after me, or if they just let it go.” He paused chewing his bottom lip and looking at Eliot out of the corner of his eye. Seeming to make a decision he continued. “After what Dean did I don’t think they’ll be a problem.” He rubbed his chest where the new skin set over his heart.

“What exactly did Dean do?” Eliot’s voice held a note of command that tickled along his nerves. Lindsey inwardly rolled his eyes. He always was a sucker for the alpha male. Dean and Eliot were both capable of making his blood rush south with a speed that left his brain in neutral as his body revved like the Impala on a deserted two lane. Then his contrary nature would take over and he’d push back.

Lindsey turned back to his book … He’d only ever seen one at Wolfram and Hart, throwing his answer out casually.

“He blew up the Senior Partners.”

“He what!? Blew up hell?” Eliot’s eyebrows started climbing towards his hairline.

“Not hell, just the Senior Partners.” He turned the page.

He was getting lost in the book when he was snatched out of his chair by the nape of the neck and ended up looking into eyes the color of winter.

“You better explain yerself, boy. Why do you have a patch of Castiel’s hand print over yer heart?”

Lindsey was going to play some more just to throw the older man off stride when he heard two gasps from the doorway.


He looked over Eliot’s shoulder to see Sam and Bobby watching them wide-eyed while Dean looked resigned. Grabbing the whiskey bottle from the shelf, Dean went out the door.

Lindsey broke Eliot’s hold and moved to follow Dean. Sam made the mistake of stepping between Lindsey and something he really wanted, and found himself slammed against the wall as Lindsey barely broke stride on his way out the door.

Bobby and Eliot exchanged a look.

“Boy’s full of surprises.” Bobby quipped as he reached out a hand to Sam.

Eliot followed just out of earshot .. His expression thoughtful.

Lindsey didn’t have any problem finding Dean. The bond had begun to fade, but he could still feel the hunter’s turmoil.


“Go away, Lindsey. Tell ‘em whatever you want, but don’t expect me to be part of the conversation. My nightmares are my own.” He took a deep pull from the bottle.

Lindsey didn’t want to leave him, but if he stayed Dean would only become surlier.

“Come in the house before you pass out.” Was all the younger man said as he reluctantly turned away.

A grunt was his only acknowledgement.

Eliot was surprised when Lindsey’s eyes met his in the dark. A hard look from the lawyer had Eliot giving him a silent nod.

He would stay until Dean either returned to the house or passed out.

“You can carry yer ass back to the house with ‘im, Spencer.” Dean’s voice had made both men jump.

So much for that plan.

Not wanting to sleep with Dean still outside, Lindsey started sorting through Bobby’s jumble of books. Stopping to read occasionally, he’d just gotten through the A’s when Eliot appeared with a cup coffee.



“Loose or lit?”

“Never tell with that boy. Ready to pass out he’ll seem sober as a judge.” The enforcer settled on the couch. “Anything interestin’?” He indicated Bobby’s books.

“You wouldn’t believe …” He gave Eliot an assessing look. “Or maybe you would. A lot of these books were in very private collections … Some that would have been easy to access after the Circle of Blackthorne was eliminated … All that chaos and mayhem in LA, you know.”

Eliot’s expression never changed.

Shrugging, Lindsey went back to work.

Around two he settled on the couch with a book that had required a higher clearance than Holland’s to even be in the same room at Wolfram and Hart.

Around three Eliot pulled the book from the sleeping man and set it and the coffee cup on the end table. A short time later, Eliot was startled out of his meditative state when Lindsey insinuated himself under his arm and tried to get warm by snuggling into his side.

Dean smiled sadly as he watched his old and new friends sleep. It said something for Eliot’s state of mind that Dean had crept past, showered and made coffee without waking the paranoid man.

The bond Dean had forged between himself and Lindsey to make it through hell had faded. He’d driven into town and replaced the bottle he’d thrown against one of the wrecks in a fit of self-pity with only a slight twinge. The nightmares of Hell were back in full force, and since he couldn’t sleep he would drive and hunt until he could … Today might be a good day to pack his Baby and hit the road.

Heading back to the coffee pot, he didn’t see the sliver of blue/grey behind the curtain of dark lashes.

Eliot tried to slide out from under Lindsey, but the younger man seemed to have acquired a death grip when it came to losing his living body pillow. Finally needing to answer nature’s call and chase down Dean, he reluctantly pushed him upright causing the lawyer to wake and roll away, coming up in a defensive crouch ready to battle. Lindsey looked around bewildered when nothing happened. A blush rose on his cheeks when he saw Eliot smirking from across the room.

“Not bad … For a lawyer.” Eliot drawled.

“Smart ass.” Lindsey grumbled under his breath. “Dean?” He asked as he turned toward the kitchen.

“Left us a pot of coffee.”

Lindsey cocked his head. “Sober?”


The pair moved to the kitchen where Eliot began assembling ingredients for breakfast while Lindsey watched out the door for Dean.

Eliot had heard Bobby moving around the house, but Lindsey’s thoughts had turned inward so when the elder bellowed, the enforcer thought he’d have to peel the man off the ceiling.

“What in tarnation have you idjits done to my library?!”

“He’s not armed is he?” Lindsey asked nervously.

“Probably not, but he’s a sly old goat.” Eliot grinned.

Lindsey made sure the door knob was within easy reach in case Eliot was wrong.

Breakfast was a quiet affair as Dean’s absence was keenly felt. Sam sulked his way through the meal, keeping his head down and eyes on his plate. Bobby shook his head muttering under his breath about idjit brothers while savoring Eliot’s cooking.

Lindsey had made to go search for the wayward hunter after breakfast, but was waylaid by Eliot to help clean the kitchen. Before he could argue with the retrieval specialist, Sam was out the door, his mouth set in a hard line.

Eliot exchanged a look with Bobby.

“Party’ll be breakin’ up soon.”

“Likely right.” Bobby nodded. “Boy’s not sleepin’.”

“Must be why Sam’s wearin’ his bitch face.” Eliot rolled his eyes.

Listening to the two men Lindsey figured his stay was at an end, too. He moved toward the stairs. When he came down with his duffel, Bobby’s eyebrows pulled down in a frown.

“Goin’ somewhere, boy?”

“Thought if Dean was leaving you’d want me gone, too.”

“Got somewhere ta be?” Eliot asked.

“No.” Lindsey was confused. They acted like they didn’t want him to leave.

“Should probably lay low a while … Let word get around the Senior Partners ain’t after ya anymore.” Bobby suggested.

“I know. It’ll take a little doing, but I should be okay.” He searched for his jacket … Maybe it was in the Impala.

“I got more books in the attic.” Bobby blurted out.

“Okay.” He carried his duffel back upstairs.

After Lindsey finished sorting out Bobby’s library, he wandered west stopping where he wanted until he eventually settled in Carson City, Nevada. He found a small house in a quiet neighborhood and through casual conversations over a drink or with the waitress, he began picking up clients. Nothing that grabbed headlines, but it kept his keen mind busy so it was a surprise for him to come home one evening after a dinner meeting with a client and find the wards around his house had been disturbed.

He pulled his ever present knife out of his pocket, the spell to transmute it into his sword on the tip of his tongue. Stopping just inside the door, Lindsey stretched his senses to determine what or who had invaded his home.

“Ya sure yer just a lawyer?” A gravelly voice came from the direction of the couch.

“Spencer?” Lindsey frowned as he moved to turn on the lamp.

“Yeah. Didn’t wanna tip the neighbors there was someone here. How’d ya know.”

“The house is warded.” Lindsey moved closer not liking the way Eliot’s drawl was heavier than usual. “How bad are you hurt?”

“More of ‘em than I thought.” Eliot murmured. “Just need someplace to lay low … Rest.” His voice started to trail off.

“Don’t fall asleep.” Lindsey snapped. Blue/grey eyes blinked several times. “Are you concussed?”

“No. Jist tired.”

“Go to bed then. I’m sure you already know where the bedrooms are and which one’s mine.” Lindsey grumbled.

Eliot gave him an exhausted, but unrepentant smirk as he shuffled down the hall holding his ribs.

Lindsey remembered Eliot didn’t spend a lot of time sleeping, so he was surprised to find the retrievalist still sprawled across his guest room bed the next morning. He winced at the bruising on the body that was the perfect balance between muscle and speed. He spent the time it took to walk to the kitchen wrangling his libido back into its box. He had his own problems that kept him looking over his shoulder. He did not need a traveling man with a whole new array of human nasties that came with Eliot’s package.

He rested his forehead against the cabinet as he poured his coffee. *Why couldn’t he be satisfied with ‘normal’? Was there a sign on his back that told the paranormal and bad boys that Lindsey McDonald was made to be their chew toy? …*

His body was aware of another presence before his mind engaged. He turned slowly, the paring knife that had been on the counter now lying flush against the inside of his arm. The sight leaning against the entrance to the kitchen as he turned around shot heat down his spine as his body came to life in a way it hadn’t since they’d all gone their separate ways from Bobby’s.

Eliot’s hair was sleep mussed and curling wildly, arms crossed over his bare chest, jeans slung low over slim hips, zipped just enough to hold them in place. Lindsey’s mouth went dry as his eyes followed the thin line of dark hair starting at Eliot’s navel and disappearing under worn denim.

With a smirk, Eliot straightened. He’d be sleeping wrapped around the pretty lawyer in no time.

“It’s too early in the mornin’ for ya to be thinkin’ so loud, son.”

The sound of that sleep roughened voice had Lindsey turning back to his coffee cup and flipping the fire on under the tea kettle. The banging of cabinet doors brought out a teapot and an array of tea that drew Eliot’s attention away from Lindsey and gave the younger man a chance to escape the too knowing eyes.

Partially through his morning routine of scanning the newspapers and his web crawlers, Lindsey was startled when Eliot appeared and refilled his coffee cup. He murmured a brief thanks before returning to his reading.

Satisfied that all his nemesis were nowhere near Lake Tahoe, he turned to his client files. He had to go to the courthouse later so he slid those files in his briefcase. Becoming immersed in the complicated will of a cantankerous old man that had taken a liking to him, Lindsey was again startled, *he really was going to have put a bell on Eliot*, when a broad hand slammed on his desk.

“Didn’t ya hear me callin’?”

Lindsey just blinked as his mind pulled out of the will and into the present.

“Sorry. What?”

“Eat. You remember … Food … Breakfast.” Eliot teased.

“Oh … Um … Just let me …”

“Now, Counselor. No wonder yer skinny as a rail.” He turned and headed back to the kitchen.

Lindsey stood confused. “I eat.” He rubbed a hand over his face to clear the cobwebs. “Mostly.”

He grabbed his cup and followed.

Over the next few days Eliot watched. He thought he’d gotten a read on Lindsey while they were at Bobby’s, but seeing the younger man in his element had him making some quick revisions.

Most of Eliot’s bruises had disappeared after a few days, and he’d ask Lindsey to spar with him. He figured it wouldn’t hurt the boy to learn a few moves in case the need should arise. Lindsey took him to a local gym where Eliot was surprised at Lindsey’s abilities … Landing him flat on his back.

Lindsey’s smile was slow and very nasty as he looked down at Eliot. Quick as a cat, the enforcer was back on his feet, giving no quarter and asking for none.

Limping, drenched in sweat and bruises, they were grinning like fools as they checked each other for any serious injuries. Sometime during their battle something shifted and it was a more relaxed and companionable silence they shared as they headed home.

While Lindsey changed to go to the courthouse, Eliot sat flipping through his client files. When Lindsey came to get his briefcase, he chided him about wasting his talent.

“I did the big cases. All it got me was a spot on Hell’s Top Ten with a bullet.” He snatched the file out of Eliot’s hand. “For the first time in years I like who I see in the mirror.”

Sometimes Eliot would catch Lindsey watching him with so much heat in his blue eyes it nearly set his hair on fire … Other times the look would be different. The lust was there, but so were softer emotions, but anytime Eliot would try to move closer, Lindsey would pull away.

So Eliot let loose a part of himself he usually kept locked away.


Not the good ol’ boy slap on the shoulder or the calculated touch he used when seducing a mark. He tried to keep it from being as calculated as neuro-linguist programming, but he wanted Lindsey to associate his touch with pleasure. He wanted the younger man yearning for that touch, seeking it out on the most basic level … And it was working. He’d been at Lindsey’s for two weeks, and finally the boy stopped shying away from him. He wagered with himself that the pretty counselor would be in his bed before the week ended.

Lindsey was in court, and Eliot was bored. He wandered into the office and started scanning book titles. He remembered Lindsey’s love for Bobby’s old books so wasn’t surprised when most of the books appeared worn and well read. A copy of Lost Horizon caught his eye. Pulling the book off the shelf he heard a click.

Eliot stepped back as the panel opened to reveal a room—A room that contained Lindsey’s greatest treasure and until now, his best kept secret. Inside the room were four beautiful guitars, recording equipment and notebooks full of songs.

Scarred and calloused fingers flowed gently over the beautiful wood, steel, and mother of pearl. Tearing his eyes away from the guitars he let them wander around the room, until they landed on a notebook. He reluctantly pulled his hands away from the guitars to read the words.

The Thief
A travelin’ man comes in the dark
He’ll steal your time
He’ll steal your heart
‘Bout the time you think
He’s settled down,
He steals your soul
As he’s leavin’ town

Eliot’s breath caught in his throat. That’s why Lindsey kept him at arms’ length. Apparently the rumors about Lindsey being a slut for the dark side weren’t as true as his sources led him to believe. He left the room as he found it and headed for the Lindsey’s gym. He had a lot to think about.

Eliot was frowning at his phone the next morning when Lindsey sat down across from him with his first cup of coffee.

“Has it succumb?” Lindsey asked.


“Has the phone succumb to the infamous Eliot Spencer glare?”

Eliot looked up at the grinning man. “It’s a job offer.”

“And …”

“In Chicago.”

Lindsey waited patiently sipping his coffee.

“Working with other people … I work alone.”

“Are they any good?”


“These people are they any good?”

“Top of their fields.”

“Not seeing a reason for the glare.”

Stormy eyes met bright blue. “Yer right.” A few minutes later he laid the phone down.

“When do you leave?”

“In the mornin’.”

With a brief nod, Lindsey abruptly stood. Instead of refilling his cup, he fled the room.

Eliot prepared breakfast as usual, but when Lindsey didn’t join him, the enforcer went looking. The house appeared empty, but he had a suspicion where the younger man had sequestered himself. He stood in front of the hidden panel unsure for the first time since he started his campaign to get Lindsey in his bed.

He was trying to not wake Lindsey as he moved through the house in the pre-dawn light. A whiff of spice and a slight movement in the shadows by the front door drew his attention.

“Linds?” He kept his voice low not wanting to break whatever spell was weaving around them. He dropped his duffel when strong hands grabbed the front of his button down and pulled.

The mouth that crashed into his was full of longing, desperation, passion, and pain with an undercurrent of something else that eluded Eliot as he became lost in the heat of Lindsey’s kiss.

Trapped between the front door and Eliot … Lindsey finally surrendered. He’d tried. He tried not to answer the siren’s call of Eliot’s touch … His voice. Five minutes. If he’d have held out five more minutes the retrieval specialist would have been gone from his house … From his life. *Fuck, Lindsey, you’re such a slut for the dark.*

As Eliot continued his sensual assault, Lindsey murmured as Eliot’s lips traveled across his jaw, his tongue running over the rim of his ear, canines pinching the sensitive lobe. The words stopped … The world paused … And Lindsey let go and gave himself over to Eliot.

Eliot paused when he’d felt Lindsey’s muscles bunch and tighten. He thought the boy was about to throw him off when he suddenly had two armfuls of pliant, relaxed man. The growl of satisfaction that left the older man’s chest was accompanied by a clamping down of teeth on the exposed throat.

Some feral part of the hitter had seen the scars left by the others that had marked his boy … Now the only mark Lindsey McDonald would carry was his.

He was set to drag Lindsey to the master bedroom when a clock chimed the hour. With another growl he released Lindsey and stepped back.

“I gotta go.” He stated simply.

Head down, panting to catch his breath, Lindsey nodded.

Taking in the defeated posture, Eliot reached out and lifted the dark head with a finger under his chin.

“I’ll be home soon.”

~ Fini ~

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