Specter's Gamble - 7. Chapter 7

Gabriel grabbed his bag and ripped it open.

“You just had to say it...” he muttered while rummaging inside the bag.

“Say what?” Desmond frowned.

“About Salamanders showing on my doorstep within the next two hours,” Gabriel grumbled.

“Right,” Desmond snorted. “It’s my fault...”

Suddenly, Gabriel left his bag alone and walked closer to Desmond.

“Specter,” he murmured, and Desmond blinked. They were standing really close to each other now. So close, Desmond could feel Gabriel’s breath on his face.

“What?” he asked suspiciously.

Gabriel leaned in even closer, and Desmond was almost positive he was about to kiss him. “What the hell...” he thought in defeat. “We just might die because of this stubborn jackass... Might as well...”

He parted his lips ever so slightly, and when Gabriel murmured:

“What hand do you shoot better with?” Desmond just blinked like someone who had troubles understanding simple questions.

“Huh?” he said finally.

“Left or right? What hand works better with the gun for you?”

“Right...” Desmond muttered, feeling completely bewildered. What does this have to do with...

“Okay,” Gabriel breathed, and suddenly, there was a soft ‘click!’ of the handcuffs, and a second later, Desmond felt cold metal hugging his left wrist. He jerked backwards, but he was too late. He stared at the handcuffs with disbelief.

“What the hell!” he finally said, anger boiling up inside his chest. Anger and something that suspiciously resembled disappointment. “Are you completely out of your mind?!”

Gabriel handcuffed them together. Desmond’s left wrist was securely attached to Gabriel’s right one. The assassin jerked backwards again, but as a result, he almost fell down, dragging Gabriel with him.

“I would be out of my mind,” Gabriel regained his balance and yanked Desmond back up on his feet. “If I didn’t ask which hand you can shoot better with. For me, it doesn’t matter, I can use both hands equally well, but I didn’t know about you.”

“What are you... Why are you... What the hell?!”

“No time,” Gabriel muttered and dragged him towards the bag that was sitting on the table. He shoved a gun into Desmond’s hand, grabbed one himself, and dragged the still resisting (mostly, by pure instinct) assassin into the kitchen.

“What the hell...” Desmond said again, thinking that he wouldn’t mind unloading the gun into the damn bastard’s head right about now. Then he decided against it, thinking that it would be a stupid move to make, since the intruders were almost inside, and the bastard’s dead weight would just slow him down. That and he wasn’t sure if the damn asshole took the spell off the kitchen window yet.

“I am not going to let you out of my sight,” Gabriel said quickly and took the safety off with a dry click. “You can bitch about it later. Right now, aim and shoot, that’s all.”

Bitch about it?! Desmond was about to burst into a string of brilliant obscenities that were burning the tip of his tongue, when the front door flew open, and Desmond shut his mouth and did exactly what that bastard told him to do. Aim and shoot. To be honest, this was his only choice right now.

“Not bad,” the bastard muttered after several bodies dropped on the floor. “Now go!”

Desmond didn’t have any time to even open his mouth, let alone ask something like, “Where the hell to?” Gabriel dragged him towards the window, and for one horrible second, Desmond thought that the bastard had completely forgotten about his own spell, and that both of them were going to endure a shitload of pain for whatever was left of their lives, when Gabriel kicked the glass, and Desmond realized that the spell wasn’t up.

“You, son of a bitch!” Desmond thought furiously while being dragged out of the window. “You were bulshitting me this whole time! There was no spell on the damn window!”

“There was a spell,” Gabriel muttered after they ended up diving into a flowerbed face-first. “And no, I can’t hear your thoughts. I just read you somewhat okay by now...”

“Yeah?” Desmond spat out a daisy. “Then read this...”

“No time,” Gabriel hissed and jerked him up.

Desmond was prepared to start running, and he blinked so rapidly that his eyelid started twitching, when Gabriel just stood there instead.

“Move it, asshole!” he growled softly and jerked the handcuffs.

“Wait,” the bastard said tightly. “Wait!”

“Wait for what?!” Desmond almost exploded. “For them to blow you a kiss?!”

“Just shut up and wait...” the bastard looked at him. “I am not suicidal,” he said quietly.

Desmond gritted his teeth but stopped talking. They stood there for several excruciatingly long minutes. Finally, Desmond heard shouting from the kitchen, followed by quick footsteps. He glanced at Gabriel who stood very still. “What the hell is he doing?” Desmond thought desperately. “What the hell is he...”

Then there was someone by the window.

“Over here!!” the man shouted wildly, and Gabriel suddenly gripped Desmond’s hand tightly, as if he were drowning. Desmond instinctively wrapped his fingers around his (“That damn bastard! I can’t believe he...”), trying to figure out exactly how much time he might have left in this world. If the Salamanders get them, then probably a few days. Those are going to be very painful days, Desmond thought almost indifferently. Suddenly, there was that oh-so-familiar dry zapping sound that made Desmond wince, and then there was an agonizing shriek of pain.

“Now we run,” Gabriel muttered, and they did just that.

“Damn it all to hell...” Desmond thought while zigzagging through dark streets, the ring of the handcuffs digging into his wrist. “There indeed was a spell... How did he do that? He didn’t even move! Oh, damn it all to hell!”

Finally, after what seemed like forever, they stopped running, and Desmond tried to figure out where in the world they were.

“Where... are... we...?” he said, trying to catch his breath.

“Not... sure...” Gabriel admitted.

“Great...” Desmond straightened up. “Take off the damn cuffs! This is idiotic!”

“No...” Gabriel shook his head although it was hard to tell in the dark. “I’m not gonna let you hurt Sam...”

“I won’t...” Desmond started saying, but Gabriel interrupted him.

“Yes,” he said. “You will. To make me miserable, admit it...”

Yeah, he was right, Desmond shrugged to himself.

“So what...” he said, his breathing is somewhat okay by now. “You are going to keep us chained together for how long? Ever?”

“No,” Gabriel snorted. “Until I figure out how to keep Sam safe, that’s all.”

“Forever,” Desmond said dryly.

“Let’s move,” Gabriel sighed. “This is an old neighborhood. I am pretty sure we’ll find an empty house around here somewhere... Just for this night.”

Desmond didn’t say anything; he just followed him silently. He’ll get out of these damn handcuffs on his own, he thought darkly. This son of a bitch is going to fall asleep eventually. Desmond will definitely be out of the bloody handcuffs by the time the sun comes up. And then... Oh, sweet mother... “Then I am going to introduce him to brand-new, wonderful levels of pain... I am going to...”

“This one is empty,” the bastard said thus jerking Desmond back to reality. The assassin blinked and looked at the house in front of them. It wasn’t just empty. It looked abandoned.

“Well,” Desmond thought melancholically. “At least there is no need to worry about the owners coming back in the middle of the night...”

They walked inside and Gabriel carefully called:

“Anyone here? Hello...?” They were greeted by silence, and Gabriel exhaled with relief. “One less worry,” he muttered.

Desmond silently followed him into what used to be a living room (not like he had any other choice), thinking that he should just go ahead and shoot this bastard point-blank right now. For some bizarre reason, he didn’t want to do that. “That’s because I want to make him to hurt a hell of a lot later on,” he thought furiously. Yeah, that was the reason. What else could possibly be there?

They stumbled around in the dark and finally found something that resembled an old mattress.

“That’ll do,” the bastard said almost cheerfully, and Desmond just gritted his teeth when he was dragged down. “Here...” the bastard dug in his pockets for a minute and shoved something into Desmond’s hand. “I don’t know about you, but I am hungry.”

Desmond frowned and tried to figure out what it was that he was holding in his hand. A bar of chocolate, he realized finally. He almost told the damn asshole what exactly he could do with his bloody chocolate, when his stomach grumbled. “Dammit!” he thought and ripped off the wrapper. The chocolate was gone in less than three minutes and Desmond regretted that fact. He threw the crumbled wrapper on the floor and wished for a cigarette. He didn’t have any on him. He gritted his teeth again. Pride is pride, he thought finally, but cigarettes are different from anything else.

“You have any smokes?” he asked gloomily.

“Dammit...” the bastard muttered. “I forgot!”

Well, shit.

“We’ll get some in the morning,” the asshole was saying meanwhile. “I still have all that money I got from you during the poker game.”

“I am going to kill you,” Desmond said dully.

“Now?” the bastard sounded genuinely curious.

Desmond was really tempted to actually do it now.

“Shut up, Rayhe,” he said through his clenched teeth. “I am going to sleep, so try not to jerk this damn chain too much.”

“Hey, Specter...” the bastard said softly and Desmond turned his head to look at him. He was as close to Desmond’s face right now as he was in that kitchen, a bit ago. Gritting his teeth was starting to hurt Desmond’s jaw.

“What?” he sighed. “Now you are going to ask me what side I sleep better on? Or if I snore?”

“You don’t snore,” the bastard said with a chuckle. “I heard you sleep.”

“What the hell do you want?” Desmond asked tiredly. “Just bloody say it already or shut up, so I can go to sleep. Unlike you, I don’t find this whole situation so amus...”

The word he was about to say, was ‘amusing.’ He never finished the sentence because Gabriel leaned closer, and this time, he did kiss him. Desmond was so startled that he froze. Then he started to get more and more pissed off.

“What the hell...” he pushed the bastard away with his right hand. “What the hell?!”

“I am sorry about earlier,” the bastard didn’t look or sound even remotely uncomfortable right now. “I had to get the cuffs on you and it seemed like that was the only way I could do it without you resisting it.”

Desmond stared at him without blinking, his anger reaching a very dangerous mark of ‘Red.’

“Shut up,” he hissed finally. “I swear, if you say anything else, I’ll blow your fucking head off!”

“Oh, Specter...” the bastard sighed and locked the fingers of his left hand on the back of Desmond’s neck. Then he pulled him towards himself almost forcefully, and before Desmond could even think about reaching for the gun for real, he was kissing him again.

“That’s it,” Desmond thought. “That’s it! I am going to kill him right now! Right bloody...”

That was when he realized that not only was he kissing the damn bastard back, but also that his fingers somehow ended up burying themselves into that goddamn soft-looking hair of his. He cursed silently at his traitorous fingers, and then thought, “It is soft...”

Gabriel pulled away just slightly, enough to mutter:

“I wanted to, but we really didn’t have any time...”

This time, it was Desmond who pulled him forward. “Shut up already,” he thought, and closed his eyes when Gabriel’s left palm cupped his chin, caressing his jawline with the thumb. Gabriel’s mouth tasted like the chocolate bar he finished several minutes ago, his tongue gentle and very dominant at the same time. Desmond didn’t care. He let him dominate his mouth, pulling slightly on his hair. Oh, that damn soft hair... Gabriel moaned into the assassin’s mouth, and it made Desmond shiver. “That would be the good way,” he thought and a breathless laughter escaped his throat.

“What?” Gabriel pulled away just a little.

“Just thought of different ways to moan,” Desmond muttered and pulled him closer again.

Eventually, they ended up collapsing onto that old mattress, their handcuffed hands locked on one another. Gabriel’s mouth was nibbling on Desmond’s neck, and when it got to the spot where the neck smoothly transforms into a shoulder, Desmond moaned louder than he expected himself to moan.

“Ohhh...” he breathed. “God...”

Apparently, that was pretty much the same as opening a floodgate, because the minute Gabriel caught Desmond’s reaction, his mouth became incredibly hungry. Desmond desperately clutched onto his fingers , when all the nibbling, and biting, and sucking started to make him lightheaded. Then, quite a while later, Gabriel finally unbuttoned his shirt and was fiddling with his belt buckle.

“You know...” Desmond muttered breathlessly. “If you take off the damn cuffs, it’ll be even better... And easier...”

Gabriel undid the buckle and the zipper, and was now pulling off Desmond’s pants. The assassin lifted his hips to help him with the task.

“Nope,” Rayhe said contentedly. “The cuffs are staying on...” he glanced at Desmond. “I am kinky,” it sounded like he was smiling, but it was difficult to see in the dark.

“Bastard...” Desmond muttered half-heartedly, and then his head flew back, hitting the floor behind the mattress, and the next thing that came out of his mouth, sounded like, “Ohmyfuckingodooohhh....”

Oh God, that mouth of his, Desmond thought hazily, trying his best not to buck his hips into the back of Gabriel’s throat. It was a difficult task. Velvet... Warm melting velvet, that was the only thing floating in Desmond’s mind right now. Gabriel’s right arm was stretched upwards, due to the handcuffs, and Desmond wrapped his fingers around the other man’s hand, digging his fingernails into his palm.

Gabriel’s left hand was almost as good as his mouth -- fingers rubbing, and stroking, and massaging, and...

“Ohhhgoddd...” Desmond howled when the mouth and the hand combined did something indescribable.

His hips were slowly getting the mind of their own; Desmond couldn’t control their movements anymore, it seemed.

“I am...” he tried to speak, but it was as difficult as controlling his hips right now. “Ohhh... I am... Ah, God! Gab... Gabriel, I...”

A familiar tingling sent a wave of coiling heat into the pit of his stomach. He started to feel the tightening that usually made him slow down, but right now, he wouldn’t even think about slowing down. Meowing sounds started tickling his throat, and right when he was about to burst into a scrambled string of unintelligible obscenities, he felt strong fingers wrapping around his base quite firmly, and then the melting velvet was gone.

“Wha...” he muttered weakly, trying to raise his head. “No... Don’t... Don’t stop... No... Please...”

He was begging and he didn’t care. Gabriel traveled back towards his face, placing light, open-mouthed kisses on his chest, those fingers still squeezing him firmly.

“I want this to last longer,” he muttered right before he started dominating Desmond’s mouth again. Desmond closed his eyes, tasting his own scent on Gabriel’s tongue, running his fingers through that goddamn soft hair. The heat reluctantly crawled away from the pit of his stomach, and now Desmond wasn’t shaking as badly as he did several minutes ago. Gabriel took it as a sign to finally let go of him, and his fingers unwrapped. He stroked the assassin’s face with his fingertips and muttered:

“Specter... Hey, Specter...”

Desmond slowly opened his eyes and looked at him questioningly.

“Have you done this before?” Gabriel whispered, and Desmond regained enough control to be able to snort.

“What do you think?” he asked in a low voice. Gabriel kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I mean,” he whispered again. “Have you had this done to you?”

“What do you think?” Desmond repeated.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel muttered. “That’s why I am asking... I don’t want to hurt you...”

“Really,” Desmond hemmed. “I’m sorry... The whole head-cracking-handcuffing-electrocuting-me thing must’ve confused me...”

“That’s not... Ugh...” Gabriel breathed and buried his face in the assassin’s neck for a second or two. “I am...”

“Yes,” Desmond interrupted him softly. “I’ve done this before... It’s been a while though,” he added.

Gabriel raised his head and looked at him.

“I don’t want to hurt you...” he said again and stopped speaking when Desmond grabbed his left hand and wrapped his mouth around two of his fingers. “Oh my God...” he said a minute or so later in a low voice. “Oh my God...”

“Mmm?” Desmond asked, slightly opening his eyes.

“Do you have any idea how you look when you are doing this?” Gabriel muttered, his eyes locked on Desmond’s face.

“Mmm,” was all Desmond said before closing his eyes again. Finally, he let Gabriel’s hand out of his mouth. “Should be good,” he muttered, and Rayhe nodded, his mouth immediately latching onto Desmond’s neck.

...Fingers trailing down his chest, stroking very lightly, running over his hip, making his back to arch off the mattress... “Tickles...” he mutters, and Gabriel laughs softly into his neck, making him shiver. And then there is that sensation that he remembers so well, intrusive at first, almost to the point of uncomfortable, but uncomfortable doesn’t last. It dies away rather quickly, and is replaced by the need to “Move, move, move, goddammit!” Move he does. Rocking his hips, impaling himself, rotating, those fingers searching, until finally...

“Oh, holy hell, yes!”

Meowing sounds again, but this time Desmond is not sure who is making them – himself or Gabriel. Because the minute Desmond’s hips buck wildly upwards, Rayhe starts to shake, as if the mere sight of the assassin’s out-of-control body is about to undo him. Desmond is trying to say that it’s okay, that he should be fine now, that he is so bloody ready, but he can’t speak because this feels so...

“Ohmyfuckingod!!”

...good that speech becomes an issue. Finally, he mumbles something incoherent, and to his enormous surprise, Gabriel understands him perfectly. Then the fingers are gone, and then there is that feeling again, uncomfortable, intrusive (“Oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-shit...”), and his breath hitches in his throat. Gabriel freezes immediately, his back rigid, eyes wide. He lifts himself up on his arms, almost smashing Desmond’s palm with that bloody chain, a frown on his forehead. Desmond takes a deep breath, his body relaxing, remembering, and finally, welcoming.

“Move,” he whispers but Rayhe doesn’t. He still has that worried look on his face. “Move!” Now there is an urgency in Desmond’s voice.

“Specter, I don’t...”

“Goddammit!” Desmond has no patience for this right now, so he slams his right hand into the small of Gabriel’s back and throws his own hips upwards at the same time. That results a surprised yelp from Gabriel, a flash of pain laced with pleasure for Desmond, and incoherent mumbling from both of them. And then – finally! – he moves. Slowly, so mind-blowing slowly, his hips rotating, searching for the right angle. He knows he found it when Desmond’s body does that out-of-control thing again. Rayhe reaches for him with his left hand, but Desmond immediately bursts into a furious ‘No!’ Gabriel looks down at him, startled. Desmond tries to speak.

“If you...” he gasps. “If you want me to last longer than this... Don’t do that... Because if you do... Oh, God... I’ll be done for...”

Gabriel nods slowly, and then his hand caresses Desmond’s neck instead. Then, after decades of slow rocking, after the eternity of ‘oh-my-God-don’t-you-stop’, after all breath is about to be gone for good, the rhythm changes. It becomes faster, jerkier, more and more uncontrollable, desperate somehow. Desmond’s eyes roll all the way back into his head, eyelids fluttering, lips trembling. The only thing he can mutter right now is:

“God-God-God-God...”

....and he keeps on saying that, he doesn’t even know that he keeps stuttering it, spitting it out, his breath is nothing but a series of sobs. Then finally, he is done for, and his body convulses, his back flies off the mattress, lifting Rayhe’s body along. His left hand is a blind puppy looking for its mother. He needs to grab onto something, it doesn’t matter what. He grabs onto something so hard that he thinks his joints are about to pop.

And then Gabriel makes this incredible sound in the back of his throat, and then both of them are nothing but two broken, convulsing puppets, twitching, and sobbing, and spasming...

Desmond realizes that he is holding onto the chain of the handcuffs for dear life, and slowly unwraps his fingers, thankful that he didn’t grab onto Gabriel’s hand instead. He would hate to break it. Rayhe’s head is buried in the crook of the assassin’s neck, and his mouth keeps kissing the side of Desmond’s throat. Then they just lie there for a while, silently, holding each other, wrapped in a blissful bubble of “I-Don’t-Give-a-Damn-What-Happens-Right-Now.”