Title: Possession
Fandom:Ultraviolet
Pairing:  Jack/Michael
Rating: R
Author: Alison
Status:  Complete
Disclaimers:  The characters Jack, Michael, Pearse, Vaughan, etc. from 'Ultraviolet' belong to Channel 4/World Productions and the wonderful writer, Joe Ahearne
I am just taking them out to play with, and will return them as found.
No copyright infringement is intended, and no money has passed any hands.

This has all been done for love.

'Thanks to Cheryl for reading and commenting.'
 

Email: ali@metadigm.co.uk

 

 

Possession

 

By Alison

 

Jack watched as Michael headed for the bar, his somewhat brooding expression lifting slightly as was greeted by the men and women already seated there. He shook off his leather jacket before sitting next to vivacious redhead, and was soon in animated conversation with her and her male companion.

 

Jack grinned, this was looking better. Mike had relaxed, dropped his burden of worries, and looked settled for the night. Hopefully the suggestions he’d made to one of the group would work, and the whole party would get pretty well oiled while the night was still young.

 

He checked what Mike was drinking, wanting to make sure that he slipped the mild sedative in the correct glass, and relaxed, watching his ex best friend’s face with approval. He was going to play games with Mike, pay him back for his apparent willingness to ‘destroy’ him, and then he was going to make Mike his. His smile broadened in anticipation.

****

 

Michael groaned, he’d got the hangover to top all hangovers, god what had been in that red wine. He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushed up on his elbow and sat, head in hands, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Shit, his mouth felt like sandpaper and his body ached in some damn peculiar places. Cautiously he stood, wincing as a shaft of light pierced through the curtains, before shuffling to the bathroom, and straight into the shower, where he stood under the hot water, until he could feel more certain that he was actually alive. Grabbing the shampoo, he lathered his hair and as the water sprayed over him he began to feel marginally better. His hair complete, he reached for the soap and began to lather his body, when a small gleam of gold on his chest made him pause. He looked down astonished.

 

“What in hell’s name is that?” he stuttered out loud.

 

Peering closer he checked it out, he’d got a damn nipple ring, God, how much had he drunk last night? Feeling like the man in the lager advert, he checked himself carefully for any other alien bits of jewellery, feeling mildly relieved when nothing else appeared amiss. He rubbed his face wearily, shutting off the shower and reaching for his towel. For a minute or two he leant up against the shower cubicle, too drained of energy to move, until his inner clock reminded him that he had an important, and possibly final, meeting with Pearce at nine, and he needed to get a move on. He rubbed himself dry, and headed for the basin to shave and clean his teeth. As he did so he noticed another gleam of gold in his right ear, and felt the stud embedded in his lobe.

 

“I have got to stop drinking,” he muttered wearily.

 

He stood looking at himself for a few more seconds, then shrugged. Pearce wanted a detective not a uniformed copper, anyway he hadn’t got the time, the inclination or more importantly the co-ordination, to remove the thing. It could stay. He wiped his face, took another look at the gold stud and grimaced. What was Pearce going to say about this?

****

 

“Good night, Mike?” Vaughan said impassively as he loped wearily into the meetings room.

 

Michael grunted, and headed for the coffee machine, determined to get some food and drink before he had to talk to anyone. He took a sip from the black coffee, chewed a few sections of chocolate, and felt marginally more in tune with himself.

“Okay,” he replied.

 

Vaughan glanced at him over the sheaf of paper he was reading.

“Thought you were meeting your ex mates from the squad.”

 

Michael nodded.

 

Vaughan peered a little closer, a smile twitching his naturally solemn face. “So what’s with the decoration?” he asked, pointing at Michael’s ear.

 

Michael shrugged. “They’re policemen so they’re lethal off duty. We drank too much and must have made bets, I obviously lost or won mine, hence the earring.”

 

Vaughan laughed. “Going to keep it?”

 

Michael shrugged again, keeping his face still with an effort when a slight twinge at chest level reminded him of the nipple ring he’d gained. “Wasn’t planning to but you never know, makes me look less like a copper.”

 

Vaughan nodded, handing the top sheets to him. “Read em and weep Mike, Code V’s spotted everywhere.”

 

“I saw something nasty in the woodshed,” Michael murmured sitting back in the chair.

 

“I’d take Great Aunt Ada Doon over this mob any day,” Vaughan said cheerfully.

 

Michael raised an eyebrow in enquiry.

 

“Literary girlfriend,” Vaughan said, before burrowing his head in the rest of the sheets of paper.

 

Michael snorted, his mood far more cheery after the food and coffee and Vaughan’s friendliness. He returned his attention to the report, yep, something very nasty indeed.

 

 

Pearce raised his eyebrows enquiringly as Michael and the earring entered, but said nothing.  He waved him to sit and sat back in his chair, hands linked in front of him.

Michael swallowed but remained silent.

 

“Three month’s Michael, and I think we can safely say you are with us?” his eyes asked the question, and Michael nodded obediently.

“Vaughan accepts it was all to protect Kirsty, and while he thinks you’re a damn fool and liable to get yourself killed, he rates you, and is willing to trust you again.” A slight smile etched its way along Pearce’s lips as he spoke.

 

Michael grimaced, looking down at his shoes.

 

Pearce continued. “Dr Marsh has also forgiven you,” his eyes were sad. “I think she understood some things about herself on that night.”

 

Michael flinched. “I regret hurting Angie,” he said quietly. “I’ve lost Kirsty, drawn Francis into this, and let Jack loose, but I couldn’t see any other way.”

 

Pearce sighed, looking pale and ill. “I understand, Michael, all to well, but next time anything or anyone threatens you, you report straight to us.” He searched Michael’s expressionless face. “Understood, Michael, no second chances, you’re either with us or against us.”

 

Michael nodded.

 

Pearce stood up. “Good, then we all have a particularly complicated and devious web to untangle.”

 

Michael followed him to the meetings room.

 

****

 

He felt tired and miserable as he lay in Francis’ armchair. Whatever had been put on his nipple to anaesthetise it had obviously worn off and he was conscious of a throbbing pain. He sighed, shifting again, waiting for Francis to return from the kitchen.

“So Pearce wants you to join?” he called, listening to the distant clatter of dishes.

 

“What?” Francis called out.

 

“Forget it,” he shouted, and returned to contemplating the room.

 

She returned a few minutes later, two cups of coffee in her hands, resting one on the table next to him, and offering a light kiss on the top of his head as she passed by.

 

Michael looked up and smiled. “Pearse, he’s still after you?”

 

She nodded, sipping her coffee.

 

Michael grimaced. “Don’t Francis, it’s a rotten job, stay out.”

 

“You involved me, Mike,” she said seriously. “All in an attempt to save Kirsty I know.”

 

Michael stared down at his mug.

 

“It’s okay, Mike,” Francis said eventually. “I know you love her.”

 

“Loved,” Michael said absently, “Yes, I did love her, and I loved Jack, never wanted to do anything to hurt either of them, but that doesn’t justify my treatment of you.” He looked at her gravely. “You know I’ve always cared for you, loved you much of the time. I was so wound up in the Squad, saving Kirsty and showing her what Jack had become, that I never once thought of the danger I was putting you in.” He smiled apologetically at her. “I’m lucky you put up with me.”

 

Francis smiled, her eyes dark. “And don’t you forget it, Mike.”

 

Michael sat up. “I’m off probation, teacher’s letting me play on my own again.”

 

Francis nodded, “You hate it but you can’t leave it.”

 

Michael sighed, “Something like that.” He shrugged. “As much as I might want to, I can’t just walk away, that’s why I don’t want you to join, you’ve still got a choice, and the Code V’s aren’t as yet interested in you.”

 

Francis nodded. “I told Pearce I could help you best in the job I’m in.”

 

Michael nodded, drinking the dregs of his coffee before standing up and grabbing his jacket.

“I’m on surveillance tomorrow so I’ll be off home and get some shut eye,” he leant forward and kissed her cheek. “Take care, Francis, see you soon.”

 

He waved, letting himself out of the flat.

 

“Take care yourself,” Francis muttered, her eyes suspiciously damp.

 

****

 

Surveillance was a bitch, and his nipple was hurting again. He’d chickened out of removing the ring last night because the pain was just too intense, pathetic though it made him feel. He knew if he slathered it with antiseptic cream he’d feel better, but how the hell was he going to do that discreetly in the front seat of a car.

His radio crackled.

 

“Subject seen leaving the house, handing him to you, Mike.”

 

Vaughan’s voice stopped, and Michael stared out, catching sight of a pony tailed man clambering into the Rover parked across the way. He turned on the engine, and followed the man, leaving a couple of cars in between them.

 

Scott Leaner, Lab Technician, thirty three year old rave addict, known to have supplied, and possibly produced, a number of illegal substances over the years. What on earth did the Code V’s want with him?

 

Michael trailed him easily, his mind still running over the possibilities, finding it hard to understand why the Code V’s would be interested in a mainly teenage scene. They recruited people in their thirties and older leaving the young to their own devices. Come to think of it he’d be checking out the older club scene to see if there was any sign of Code V activity there.

 

Leaner’s car drew to a halt outside some dilapidated warehouses. Michael carried on into the next road, doubling back in time to catch sight of the man entering the door furthest away. He parked, got out cautiously, and made his way to the entrance. Checking that no one was around, he took out his gun leaving the video sight in his pocket. The door was well oiled, making no sound as he pushed his way in. Inside the building was dark and deserted, light piercing the grubby windows and casting shadows along the stark dirty walls. Scanning the large area he noted stairs in the corner, and headed for them checking around constantly. The stairs took him up a couple of levels and into a long corridor with rooms off the side. He opened the first door to an empty room, and it wasn’t until he opened the fifth door that he hit the jackpot. The room was swathed in polystyrene and plastic, presumably for cleanliness. In the corner he could see test tubes, Bunsen burners and flasks, the general paraphernalia of the illegal chemist. Leaner had his back to him, counting some tablets into a small plastic bag.

 

Michael backed out, returning to the car and radioing in his find.

 

“Stay put, Mike, back up with you in ten.”

 

Michael sighed, looked quickly round the area before rubbing cream into his throbbing nipple. He was going to kill the bastard who’d put him up to this, or do the same thing back, but for now he’d put up with the damn thing and remove it when he’d healed up a bit. He capped the cream, stretched back in the seat and waited.

 

****

 

“Angie’s checking the composition, but they seem to be your typical street drugs,” Vaughan said wearily.

 

“So we’re passing him on to the drug squad?” Michael asked.

 

Vaughan nodded. “But not before we check his story again. You with me?”

 

Michael nodded, walking towards the interrogation room. “Angie’s checked him for bites?”

 

He’s clean,” Vaughan said.

 

Leaner sat slumped over the table, turning to view them as they walked in. Michael sat down, checking him over.

 

“Tell me whom you were making the drugs for,” he said pleasantly.

 

Leaner leant back in the chair shaking his head. “I’d be a fool, mate.”

 

Michael nodded. “Pays well?”

 

Leaner grinned, “Better than you got paid as a Sergeant.”

 

Michael raised his eyebrows.

 

Leaner grinned, “Recognised you, knew one of your informants and a girlfriend had a bit of a crush on you despite you being a copper.”

 

Michael blushed slightly, somewhat thrown by the answer. “What was the informant’s name?”

 

Leaner shook his head. “Just knew him in passing, actually he was your mate’s nark, not been around for some time lately.”

 

Michael swallowed. “How come you took such an interest?”

 

Leaner laughed. “Looking for bent coppers, mate. I wanted to bribe them to look away. Could see I was onto a loser with you, now your friend…” He grinned and shook his head.

 

Michael sighed. “The drugs,” he said somewhat desperately. “What were you making?”

 

“Usual stuff,” Leaner said brightly, “and I’ll deny all this when the drug squad come, tell em I was fixed up. You’re not in the police anymore.” He viewed the earring appraisingly. “Like the metal it suits you but you need to grow the hair, too formal.”

 

Michael sighed, feeling very out of control. “Who told you I’d left the force, and how do you know we aren’t the drug squad?”

 

Leaner shrugged his shoulders, “Don’t remember, just someone.”

 

Vaughan leaned forward menacingly. “Who told you,” he growled.

 

Leaner look at him snidely. “Good cop, bad cop routine is it? Well you don’t scare me, I’ve got good lawyers so back off.”

 

Vaughan surged forward stopped only by Michael’s hand on his arm.

 

Michael shook his head, nodded at Leaner, and left the room hauling Vaughan with him. “It’s a set up,” he said briefly. “He knows too much and isn’t scared. I think he’s in on it.”

 

Vaughan stopped abruptly. “Why?”

 

Michael shrugged. “Three reasons. One, I’ve never seen him before. Two, I can’t imagine why he’d associate with Jack’s nark, the one the Code V killed on Jack’s stag night. Three, Jack and I were in the Murder Squad, not an area of police work that could have been of any foreseeable use to him, bribed or not.”

 

Vaughan nodded slowly.

 

“They want information about us, about the way we work. He’s the set up, I bet they’ve promised him in for this performance.”

 

Vaughan moved back on his heels. “Okay, I’ll but it, but why?”

 

Michael shrugged. “He’s the right age. I discovered that he’s actually a brilliant chemist, got a first, just couldn’t stick with the jobs which is why he’s now working as a lab assistant.”

 

“But what do Code V’s want a chemist for, their research is all blood related?” Vaughan said impatiently.”

 

“Hoyle was looking into environmental changes, their interest range wide.”

 

Vaughan nodded reluctantly. “Right, I’m following you, think your ’mate’ Jack is involved here somewhere?”

 

Michael blinked slowly, glancing down at the ground. “It’s possible,” he said lightly.

He felt Vaughan looking at him closely and raised his head to look him in the eye, refusing to allow Vaughan to see how troubled his was by the suggestion. “Let’s check with Pearse,” he said somewhat desperately.

 

Vaughan nodded, and they headed off to Pearse’s office.

 

****

 

The next few days seemed to run into one long loop. Pearse had accepted Michael’s suggestion, and they’d quickly transferred Leaner to the drug squad. They’d worked a little with one of the members of the squad who knew of Michael, and whilst curious, kept his questions to himself. No abnormal or different drugs had been found, and Pearse was beginning to think they’d been purposefully led up the garden path.

The drug squad had uncovered little extra on Leaner and were set on bringing him to trial, hampered by a frighteningly efficient and very up market lawyer. Pearse detailed Michael to check the lawyer’s background, but he found nothing out of the ordinary.

All the leads they had found quickly vanished or led nowhere, Vaughan was furious with the time and energy wasted on the whole thing, while Michael remained suspicious, but unable to come up with a single piece of evidence to prove that they were being manipulated in some sly manner.

 

The heat of the long humid summer days, didn’t help in keeping tempers from fraying, and a few weeks after the drug fiasco, Michael left HQ, swearing that he’d never come back, heading for home, a long cold shower and cool drinks.

The cold shower took the sting out of his temper, and stretched out along the sofa in his shorts, cradling a cold lager, he felt more equable. Even the glint of the nipple ring failed to rile him. He’d given up trying to remove it and just couldn’t face asking someone to help him. If he was honest, now the pain had gone it didn’t really bother him at all. The earring though had departed after a few days as it was too conspicuous.

 

He turned the television on flicking through the channels until he found a Star Trek he’d not watched before. He lay back, relaxing into the sofa as he watched the events unfold, deciding that he much preferred Piquard’s style of leadership to Kirks. Smiling he tried to envisage Pearce as a Captain among the stars, but found his mind just wouldn’t go there.

 

The show finished and segued effortlessly into some mindless game show he couldn’t be bothered to watch. He stretched along the sofa, mulling over the events of the last few weeks before drifting into a light slumber.

 

When he woke it was dark except for the light glowing from the television. His can of lager had fallen sideways leaving a faint patch on the carpet, and what little was left did nothing to remove the fuzzy feeling in his mouth or a slight metallic taste he couldn’t place. He sat up, stretched, and headed for the kitchen, pouring a long drink of lukewarm water, tipping some over his face as he did so. The night was still, stifling and humid. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, and while he wasn’t very hungry he wanted something to take the metallic tang away. He hunted in the fridge, finding cheese and little else, rejecting the mouldy bread in favour of some digestive biscuits, returning to the sofa with a loaded plate.

 

He settled himself on the sofa again reflecting ruefully that his social life seemed to have taken a dive over the months since Jack had crossed over. Other than a few beers with his ex colleagues, an occasional pint with Vaughan, and dinners with Francis, he stayed in. If Jack had still been alive they would have gone out on the town during the week, gone to a few clubs, chatted, done a pub-crawl, taken in a show, whatever they did, unless Jack was with Kirsty, they would have done it together.

Michael sighed, Kirsty had been right, in their different ways they’d both loved Jack, and if he was totally honest he still missed the bastard, even now.

 

“I wonder what you’re up to Jack? “ he murmured to himself.

 

Munching a biscuit, he surfed through the channels failing to find anything of interest. He turned the television off and checked out his CD’s deciding he fancied a bit of classical pop. Soon the melodic tones of Freddie Mercury drifted through the flat, accompanied by the familiar music of Queen.

 

Michael sighed, stretched out along the sofa, switched on a table lamp and picked up the novel he’d been ploughing through. Comfortable, he read slowly occasionally cueing into a particularly favourite track, then when it had finished letting the music fade into the background so he could concentrate on his book.

 

Half an hour later, the metallic taste in his mouth continued to distract him, and he’d dropped the book twice, before he realised that something was definitely wrong with his reactions. Worried, he struggled to lift his remarkably heavy body from the sofa, painfully reaching for the phone determined to ring Angie or Francis, when a hand at his shoulder made him freeze.

 

“Sit, Mike,” Jack said, and helplessly Michael did do, staring up in bemused anger at his old friend.

 

Jack grinned at him, the old familiar cheeky grin, his eye wandering over Michael’s body with a sly almost possessive look. Michael felt himself blush. He’d been in numerous states of undress around Jack but he’d never felt this self-conscious before. Jack licked his lips slowly, making Michael blush even more.

“You’re looking good, Mike,” Jack said, laughter and something else Michael couldn’t place evident in his voice.

 

Michael blinked slowly, his vocal cords seemingly as paralysed as his limbs.

 

Jack grinned, crouching down in front of him, his hand stroking across his face and down his neck to stop at the ring embedded in his nipple.

“Said I’d keep in touch last time, sorry it’s taken so long, but you know how it is,” he winked. “Been thinking of you though, if that makes you feel better.”

 

He laughed at the look of fear that Michael was unable to prevent flicker across his face.

 

“Hey Mike, I’m not going to hurt you, quite the opposite in fact.”

His eyes glanced down to Michael’s chest. “Do you like my present to you?”

 Jack touched the ring gently, looking into Michael’s eyes. “Put it in myself, Mike, glued the ends together so you’re not getting it off you easily.” He grinned again. “Going to show you why people have it done tonight, Mike old mate.”

 

Michael blinked again trying desperately to move away.

 

“Going to do a number of things tonight Mike, and tell you stuff, but you won’t remember anything except what I tell you to.” He leant forward and gently pulled at the ring with his teeth.

 

Michael felt an almost electrical surge trickle down to his groin, and drew in his breath sharply. Jack grinned up at him and repeated the movement, this time with more force. Michael gave a small gasp that became a continuous moan as Jack applied more fervour to his task. He was becoming hard, his erection straining against the cloth of his shorts. Without stopping his teasing, Jack undid Michael’s zip, and pushed both his shorts and briefs down his legs leaving him exposed, panting and erect.

 

“Touch yourself, Mike.” Jack whispered, taking his right hand and wrapping it around his erection.

 

Michael groaned wanting to resist, horrified at Jack’s action and disgusted at his body’s response. He found himself obediently rubbing his surprisingly nimble hand up and down his throbbing erection as Jack continued to tongue his nipple.

 

“Faster, Mike,” Jack whispered, giving his nipple a kiss before transferring his mouth to Michael’s lips. “Think of me, Mike,” he ordered, pushing his tongue into Michael’s mouth, exploring every nook and cranny as he took possession.

 

Michael moaned this couldn’t be happening, how could he be so aroused and desperate, what had Jack done to him?

 

The fingers played with his nipple, continuing to give him jolts of ecstasy, his own hands stroked his hard, erect, cock, and Jack’s mouth possessed his. The kisses occasionally broke off to whisper an order, he was to speed up a little, touch his balls with his other hand, tease himself a little, but always the voice whispered, “think of me Mike, call for me.”

 

“Jack,” he cried obediently, as his balls became taut, “Jack,” he whimpered as his nipple was yet again bitten and licked, “Jaccccccck,” he screamed as he erupted over his hand and stomach. “Jack,” he said, dazed, as he fell back into the sofa.

 

“Look at you,” Jack voice whispered in his ear. “Bloody gorgeous, Mike, that’s what you are.” The voice stopped as a tongue nuzzled his ear. “Always wanted you, Mike, I’ve wanted to fuck you for ages, but I knew you’d run away from me if I suggested it.”

 

The voice withdrew, and a mouth descended on his stomach, lapping away at the semen spread messily across him. Jack’s tongue sent shivers of arousal through him, until the mouth yet again descended on his, and he was tasting something slightly thick and bitter, realising with sudden shock of distaste, that he was tasting himself.

 

“I’m going to train your body to want me, Mike, and when I do fuck you, you’re going to be begging me to do it to you.” Jack chuckled as Michael looked at him, his eyes wide with shock. “I get hard thinking about it mate.” he said affectionately giving Michael one more kiss, then got up, sitting himself in the sofa arm, patting his arm.

“Don’t dress, Mike, just lie comfortably with that gorgeous ‘just fucked’ look on your face, and listen to me.”

 

Michael growled in anger, trying to sit up.

 

“Obey me, Mike,” Jack voice whipped across him, and he immediately stopped struggling, blinking up at Jack, wanting to ask questions but yet again finding his vocal cords as paralysed as him limbs.

 

Jack grinned, “We’re been designing a drug that compels people to obey us, without the need to bite them, Mike. Biting is good, but leaves a little question in people’s minds when the bitten one begins to become photophobic. Can’t have our politicians refusing to come out and talk to the BBC can we?”

 

He grinned again at Mike. “Unfortunately the drug is still in it’s experimental stage. It has a tendency to leave people very open to suggestions, as well as loosen up their inhibitions, so we can’t really leave the doped person unmonitored for long.”

He reached forward and stroked Michael’s hair smiling as Michael shivered uncontrollably at his touch.

 

“I’m going to be seeing you every night for some days, at least until it gets out of your system, and then I’ll check on how long the given ‘suggestions’ are maintained.” He smiled, licking his lips. “Every night we’re going to repeat this performance with a little added variety, just to keep us from getting jaded. You behave yourself Mike, and we’re both going to have fun.”

 

Michael shook his head desperately, this must be a dream, a bad dream, this couldn’t be happening to him.

 

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Mike.” Jack ordered.

 

Michael swallowed. “Why?” he said quickly, worried that possession of his voice was going to be removed from him if he said too much or got as abusive as he wanted. “Why me, why now, and why all this?”

 

Jack laughed, “Come on, Mike, I want you, always have. I just told you, I want to fuck you blind.”

 

Michael blushed, shaking his head frantically. “No, this is all wrong,” he said desperately.

 

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Repeat what I just said, Mike.”

 

Michael struggled, but his mouth opened obediently. “You want to fuck me blind.” He closed his eyes in embarrassment.

 

“Have you ever been fucked before?” Jack asked curiously.

 

Michael blushed again. “You know I haven’t,” he hissed angrily.

 

Jack laughed, “Amazing really, I know a couple of blokes who’d have gone for it with you if you’d been receptive, but you were totally besotted with first Francis, and then my fiancée, couldn’t see what was in front of you nose.”

 

“I don’t want to be fucked,” Michael said through gritted teeth.

 

Jack just grinned. “You will when I’ve finished with you.” He laughed at Michael’s stunned expression. “Don’t worry, I’m going be a good boy. Other than occasionally touching you and kissing you senseless, you’re going to do the work yourself, Mike.”

 

Fuck you,” Michael said angrily.

 

Jack laughed, “Nope, I told you, I’m doing the fucking, Mike, but not just yet, got to get you loosened up and receptive first.” He laughed at the look of horror on Michael’s face, leaning forward and kissing him gently. “I love you Mike, like you love me, but this is in part payback for ‘killing’ me, and partly a very pleasant way for me to get control over you.”

 

He kissed Michael again. “My lot want you, I want you, but we’ve been unable to find the right lever for you.” He trailed his finger over Michael’s cheek and along his lips. “You’re a moral, upright little bugger really, it’s going to fun ‘corrupting’ you.”

 

“Love, what do you know of love?” Michael said bitterly, panicked at Jack’s insinuations. “And you’ve really got a screw loose if you think I’m selling out to you and your kind,”

 

Jack laughed gently, “I’m going to have you eating out of my hands before we’ve finished, Mike, so just remember one thing. I do love you and I am capable of love. Forget what that priest of your says, we vampires most certainly can love.”

 

“I hate you,” Michael whispered. “And if you did love me you wouldn’t be forcing me to do anything against my will.”

 

Jack shook his head, “Doesn’t work like that anymore, Mike, I love you, I want you and I’m having you. You love me, you’ve always have mate, just not quite how I’ve wanted you to unfortunately, but we’re working on that aren’t we.” He ginned again, Go on, Mike, admit it, you love me and you’ve missed me like hell.”

 

Michael closed his eyes despairingly, “Yes, I loved you, “ he admitted.

 

Jack shook his head. “Wrong tense, Mike.”

 

A tear escaped down Michael’s closed eye, he attempted to turn away, but Jack held his head.

 

“Open your eyes, Mike, and say it.

 

Michael opened his eyes, looking up into Jack’s face. “Damn you,” he said miserably. “God help me, but despite everything, I still love you and yes I’ve missed you like crazy.”

 

Jack smiled tenderly. “I know Mike, and because of that I’m going to take very special care of you.”

 

Michael’s anger surged forward. “Special care! Is that what this is, drugging me and taking advantage of me?” he spat.

 

Jack laughed. “But how else was I going to get to woo you?”

 

“Woo me?” Michael’s voice sharpened. “You call this wooing?”

 

Jack laughed again. “I’m a vampire my love, I may want consent, and co-operation but I have no problems with how I go about getting that consent. Now shut up, and find out a little more about yourself, with my help of course.” He leant down a kissed Michael slowly. “Remember, you are mine, Mike, mine.”

 

****

 

Despite the shrill urgency of the alarm, Michael woke feeling boneless and content. He lay puzzled for a minute, wondering why he felt so, so satiated. Turning, he brushed his pierced nipple against the sheets, and memory flooded back. Oh yeah, he’d learnt why some blokes had pierced nipples, wow sensory overload straight to the groin. He‘d often felt curious and somewhat envious of his girlfriend’s reaction to his playing with their nipples, and now he thought he’d clued into just why they enjoyed it. He brushed his nipple with his hand, his eye checking the alarm clock, until commonsense told him to stop mucking around and to get going. He’d lived without sex for months, just the occasional hand jobs, and just because he’d found a new toy, it didn’t mean that he could afford to prat around.  He stretched, and headed for the shower.

****

Vaughan was champing at the bit when he walked in to the meeting room

“Leaner’s been busted out,” he said morosely. “They think it’s an inside job, and the whole place is in uproar.”

 

Michael nodded. “Doubt we’ll see him alive again.”

 

Vaughan shrugged. “Still think that the drug scheme is for real?”

 

Michael hesitated, something rang a bell here, but whatever had clicked, remained elusive. “I don’t know,” he eventually answered. “We know blood is their primary obsession, but they’re into everything.” He sighed, sitting down slowly. “I know Pearce is convinced that they want to destroy us, but I can’t accept it, control us, yes, I can see that, but destroy us.” He shrugged again reaching to pick up the folder in front of him.

 

The door open and Pearce strode in followed a second later by Angie. Pearce sat down, opened his folder and looked around.

“Can I take it we’ve read the contents?”

 

“Same as you circulated yesterday?” Michael asked, curious as to why they were meeting about something that yesterday had been dismissed as irrelevant.

 

Pearce nodded, “Some more evidence had come to light, it seems that the man in question has, unknown to his girlfriend, been hanging around the club scene. He’s got into drugs, and according to the doctor on call, has a remarkably weird blood chemistry.”

 

Vaughan sat forward, “Similar to the first lot we were chasing that took us to Leaner.”

 

Pearse nodded, “There was no suggestion of drugs, until one of the PC’s recognised him as a man he’d had to caution at a nightclub, he was apparently almost involved in a brawl over a woman.”

 

“This behaviour would be unusual?” Michael asked, curious.

 

“He’s a shy, retiring, one woman, solicitor, not known for drinking, dancing and womanising, his girlfriend is shocked to the core, and he can’t offer any explanation.”

 

“It’s the blood results that suggest that he has been unduly influenced,” Angie said quietly.

 

“And the Code V link?” Michael asked.

 

“He was seen with Leaner.”

 

“So we’re suggesting that he was drugged to make him fiddle with evidence in that bribery case,” Michael said slowly. “Are we saying that the Code V’s are now using chemical means rather than their tried and tested feeding/biting?”

 

Pearce nodded.

 

“But why?” Michael asked, bewildered.

 

“That’s what I want you to find out, Michael.” Pearse sat back in his chair. “We think he may have been overdosed, hence his atypical behaviour. Angie’s got enough of the bloods to do a thorough analysis, and you can have another talk with Leaner, Vaughan.”

 

Vaughan shook his head, “He was sprung last night,”

 

“Ah,” Pearse sat back, “Looks like we’re on the right track then.” He fiddled with his papers before picking them up and standing. “Right then, we’ve all got work to do. I’d like results on this one.”

****

 

Michael sat back on his heels; he’d checked Leaner’s place and Farron the solicitor’s place and come up with nothing. Someone, or something had been before him and cleared the place, he was sure of that.

 

Frustrated, he began stuffing the papers back in the filing cabinet, until his attention was drawn to advert for hair-restorer. It looked innocuous, and he remembered the picture of Farron on the report, young, good looking, but definitely with hair that was already receding, and frowned. What was it doing in his files at work?

He took it, folded it in half, and rang Vaughan.

“Meet for lunch?” he enquired.

 

Vaughan grunted over the phone. “Found anything?”

 

Michael sighed. “Not really.”

 

There was silence for a second or two, and then Vaughan spoke. “Meet at the Kings Head, on the High Street, in half an hour.”

 

“What High Street?” Michael asked irritated.

 

“Fulham,” and with that, Vaughan finished the call.

 

It took Michael all of thirty minutes to reach the King’s Head. The pub with small, dark and cramped, but the food was good so he stifled his irritation, and enjoyed his sandwich, wondering at Vaughan’s silence.

“Cat got your tongue?” he enquired at last.

 

Vaughan shook his head. “Sorry, get a little introspective this time of the year.”

 

Michael was curious, he knew little of Vaughan’s history. “Any reason?”

 

Vaughan sighed, “I always get reminded of my mates around this time of the year,” he answered simply. “We hung around this place at times, brings back good memories.”

 

Michael just nodded, at a loss to say anything of value.

 

Vaughan shook himself, “So how did it go?”

 

“Cleared out before I got there.” Michael answered, relieved slightly relieved by the change of topic.

 

Vaughan nodded. “Can’t get a finger on this it all seems too elusive.”

 

“Like we’re being baited?” Michael asked.

 

“Yeah,” Vaughan sighed, looked at the lettuce on the side of his plate poking it absent-mindedly. “So what next?”

 

Michael pulled out the hair-restorer advert, smoothing it out and offering it to Vaughan. Vaughan glanced at it and grinned.

 

“From where I’m sitting you haven’t anything to worry about, Mike.”

 

“Ha ha,” Michael said shortly. “Look, I find this at Farron’s office. I can’t think what it’s doing there, but wondered, do you think these drugs are being supplied to the people under other guises?”

 

“Possible,” Vaughan admitted.

 

“Well I’ll check out the address on this one.”

 

Vaughan nodded. “I’ll finish the check on the night club Leaner frequented, not that the drug squad haven’t checked it over, but they’re not looking for quite the same signs as us are they?”

 

Michael finished his drink. “Meet you back at HQ later then.”

 

Vaughan nodded.

****

 

“You’re certain he’s well under control?”

 

Jack nodded, leaning up against the doorframe, watching the computer monitor as he did so.

 

“Will he obey an explicit order that occurs after you have left him?”

 

Jack shrugged. “I’ll try tonight.”

 

“You do.” The figure looked down at his hand, stretching the burnt claw like appendage out in front of him. “I cannot live like this, regeneration will take many years for this level of damage.”

 

Jack turned his full attention on the speaker. “We can regenerate?”

 

The man sighed. “Would I have said otherwise?”

 

Jack shook his head, “Thought that was a myth, like turning into bats.” He said unapologetically.

 

The burnt mouth appeared to smile. “Now that would be useful.”

 

Jack laughed. “So what am I asking Mike to do, you think they kept the ashes from your partial implosion and you want him to retrieve them?”

 

The man nodded.

 

“Under what name?”

 

The lips again attempted a smile. “Lester Hammond, or less likely Waldemar Hammerfetz.”

 

“Does Mike know of you?”

 

Lester nodded, “Apparently he was the one who realised who I actually was.” He held his hand up as Jack moved forward. “Don’t worry, I hold no grudges. He’s a good detective, and as I said before he’s one of us he just needs you to help him understand that.”

 

Jack laughed. “Oh I’ll help him,” he said easily. “I just wonder why you want him.”

 

Lester laughed, “Not for the same reasons as you, rest your mind on that. He was promised us, that’s all you need to know.”

 

“I see,” Jack said, not seeing at all.

****

 

For the second day in a row Michael woke feeling content and satisfied, unwilling to climb out of bed and face yet another irritating day of chasing vanishing clues. He stretched languorously, rubbing at his nipple with a contented smile before heading for his morning ritual of a shower and shave.

 

The morning at HQ was all too familiar. Meetings, report writing, phone calls and frustration. The only time he felt uncomfortable and uncertain was walking away from the Incarceration chamber. He couldn’t remember why he’d needed to go there, but the worry soon vanished as he got back into the routine.

 

A promising lead proved to be yet another red herring. He was about to report in when he find himself driving to the abandoned warehouse, parking outside, and walking into the large, dimly lit building. Blinking in confusion he took out his gun, checking around slowly. A noise to his right had him swinging round, gun raised to face Jack.

 

He stood, the gun wavering in his hands, unable to pull the trigger despite the danger to himself.

 

“Lower the gun now, Mike.” Jack ordered.

 

Michael did so, standing blinking facing his ex friend. Another sound to his right brought him face to face with a terribly burnt man. He blinked again, fear fighting the sudden lethargy enveloping him.

 

“Have you done as you were ordered, Mike?”

 

Michael reached into his jacket and withdrew an envelope.

 

“Give it to me,” Jack ordered.

 

Michael walked to him; hand outstretched, and deposited the envelope in Jack’s hand.

He opened it, and peered in, smiling at Michael.

 

“Good boy,” he said with a smile, reaching forward and brushing a kiss along Michael’s lips.

 

Michael shivered.

 

“Turn and fire at Lester, now.”

 

Michael swung round and fired, watching impassively as the vampire imploded, the flames lighting up the shell of the warehouse.

 

Jack kissed him again, swept the ashes in a pile, tipped the contents of the envelope onto it, bit his wrist and dripped blood carefully on the ashes.

 

Michael watched in a daze as the warehouse yet again lit up, this time with a dazzling almost psychedelic light show. When it resolved a man he recognised as Lester Hammond stood whole and regenerated before him.

 

“Thank you, Michael, “ he bowed, slipping away quietly.

 

Jack pulled him into a body hug kissing him lightly under his chin and making him shiver with anticipation and worry.

 

“You done good, Mike, expect to be well rewarded tonight.” Jack kissed him hard on the lips and let go. “You came here to check Leaner’s files and lab again, and found another advert for hair restorer, but nothing came of the address.” He placed a folded advert in Michael’s hand. “You’ll ring in, report and go home.” He gave Michael as slap on his arse, and vanished.

 

Michael stood still for a second, blinked and headed for the door. Settling in his car, he looked over the advert, groaned and phoned Vaughan. A few minutes later he headed home.

****

 

The next few days flashed past him. While he was obviously doing his job competently, he had the over riding desire to get home every night, and wondered whether his efficiency might have more to do with that than a driving need to know about the Code V’s possible use for drugs.

 

Friday arrived hot and humid, and the weekend break was guaranteed except for any urgent calls. He brought himself pizza on the way home, showered, dressed only in his shorts and found himself waiting, for what he didn’t know.

 

He was standing at the sink drinking a long cool glass of water, when a hand draped round his neck, lips closed on his lips, and a hand slid down his groin. He groaned, remembering instantly, Jack, he was waiting for Jack. He turned in the arms, pressing his lips against Jack, allowing him entry, his hand reaching automatically to his nipple, as he rubbed against Jack’s clothed body.

 

A low chuckle caught his attention; Jack moved away from his lips and looked at him with lust. “I’ve got plans for tonight, Mike,” he whispered. “I’m going to take you tonight, you want me to do that, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, “murmured Michael.

 

Jack laughed, moving back and kissing Michael so possessively and for so long that Michael thought he was going to pass out.

 

“We’re getting out of London for the weekend, Mike. I’ve got you some leathers, you’re the passenger on my bike. Don’t worry about clothes, I’ve everything sorted.”

 

In a daze, Michael dressed himself in the biking leathers, and climbed onto the back of Jack’s large and magnificent Harley Davidson.

 

“Didn’t know you were a motorbike fan,” he said as he pulled the helmet over his head.

 

Jack smiled, lifted up his visor, planted a kiss on his lips, turned and revved the engine. In minutes they were on the road, Michael clasped to Jack’s back, enjoying the speed and the views of the metropolis as they wended their way trough the traffic, until Jack could pull back the throttle as they slipped onto the back roads and headed for the coast.

 

The villa, Michael could think of nothing else to call it, was large, imposing and very secluded. Jack parked the bike against the wall, pulling Michael into his arms, throwing the helmet onto the floor, and kissing him as if he couldn’t get enough of him.

 

“I have this fantasy, Mike, and we’re going to live it now. Strip off your leathers, and we’re going down to the beach.”

 

Michael complied, a little voice in the back of his minding hammering away, asking him did he know what the hell he was doing.  The rest of him just wanted Jack, wanted to be in his arms, to be kissed by him, to be loved by him.

 

Jack grasped his hand pulling him down steep steps to the moonlit beach, running him towards the surf that swirled back and forth near the edge of the cliffs.

 

Gently he was pushed on his back in the water, Jack’s naked body wrapped over him. Michael groaned, this was the first time Jack had undressed, the first time that Jack had covered him like this.

 

The little voice in his head began to yell at him, to tell him to run, to get away, to stop this foolishness, but Jack’s lips descended on him, his arms enveloped him, and the evidence of Jack’s desire burrowed it’s way into his stomach, rubbing across his straining erection as it did so.

 

“I want to fuck you, Mike, make love to you,” Jack whispered.

 

Michael groaned as clever fingers played against his nipples, ran down his spine and settled over his arse, playing games with his balls and teasing his opening.

 

“Tell me you want me.”

 

Michael moaned again, the fingers, the coolness of the water, the cooling breeze, the smell of salt, the gentle slap of the surf and the burning of desire, combining to make him heady with need.

“Please, please, please,” he whimpered.

 

He felt Jack’s laugh against his lips.

 

“Beg for me,” Jack whispered.

 

Please love me, Jack,” Michael groaned, unsure what he was asking for but desperate in his need for more touching, rubbing and kissing.

 

Jack kissed him everywhere, and it was all he could do to hold on and sob his want. Nothing existed but Jack’s lips, the sea and the sky, and the cold slick fingers that pushed at his opening, seemed to be all part of that, as if the sea itself was pouring into him. Jack turned him on his knees, and he went willingly, pushing back onto the magical probing fingers, rocking back and forth, wanting more Jack, more touch.

 

“Breathe, Mike,” Jack said calmly, and the thought crossed his mind that vampire’s didn’t need to breath, until the sudden shock of deep invading pressure in his rectum, made him cry out with pain and panic, thrashing in the water.

 

“Sshhhhh,” Jack whispered, rocking him slowly down onto the invader, soothing his panic and stilling his thrashing.

 

Slowly he felt himself be breached, until Jack stopped, holding him tight.

“This is me in you, Mike, taking you, possessing you, making you mine,” he said, biting gently at Michael’s ear. “Mine,” he pushing down hard, until Michael felt him buried deep within, filling him in places he had never contemplated before.

 

“It hurts,” he panted. “Please, Jack, you’re hurting me.”

 

Jack pulled out gently, then pushed in again, making Michael grunt, aware of the seawater slapping against him.

 

“Stop, Jack,” he begged, but Jack continued, slowly and gently thrusting forward, angling himself, until one extra thrust hit something that made Michael scream in amazed pleasure. Laughter and another thrust followed, and without understanding, but almost unconsciously, Michael was pushing against Jack, thrusting back, crying out for more. Demanding that Jack go faster, harder, deeper, give him that sharp, painfully glorious sensation.

 

Michael was flying, head to the wind, water rushing past him, the strong cool body surrounding him, supporting him, inside him, possessing him, loving him. A hand crept round to his straining painful erection, and with a few gentle tugs he was screaming his release, taking his lover with him into the cool, salty depths of the sea.

He lay trembling in the sand, aware that the scent and sight of the sea would forever be associated with this experience, as he was turned, clasped to Jack’s body and kissed.

 

The rest of the weekend blurred into a few images, mostly of him and Jack, naked on a large bed covered with silk sheets. He remembered the thick blinds open to the night, and the salty tang of the sea making him quiver with desire. He remembered, Jack laughing down at him before kissing him senseless, yet again claiming him, giving him that sweet pain that he wanted so much. He remembered sleeping, to awake to Jack’s kisses, making love in the sea, and walking the cliffs, surrounded by his lover’s possessive arms.

 

The little voice in his head had given up, and he was drowsy with contentment, love and sex. His only disappointment coming when Jack refused to allow him to return that glorious pleasure, denying him with a smile, before pushing down on the bed, and yet again taking him to the heights of ecstasy.

 

The journey home him resulted in him realising that too much penetrative sex had its disadvantages for the guy on the receiving end. He was glad for Jack’s restraint, because he certainly had not had any, but the remembered pleasures seemed worth the discomfort he was now experiencing. He drowsed, clinging tightly to Jack, images of the past weekend playing across his eyes. Memories of Jack in the sea, the water flowing over him leaving him dry and untouched. The laughter in Jack’s eyes as they tumbled in the spray, the passion in those same eyes as they made love, and the whisper of Jack’s voice claiming him, time after time. Michael smiled, what Jack wanted, Jack usually got, and it seemed that what he wanted the most was, him, Michael. He knew he should be angry, horrified, annoyed and insulted at this need to claim ownership, as if he were a pet or something, but all he actually felt was drowsy, satiated contentment.

 

Once home, Jack stripped him, folded him into bed and kissed him lovingly.

“I can’t see you for a time, Mike,” he said slowly, tracing his fingers across Michael’s mouth. “You won’t remember this time with me, nor any of the last week until I order you to.” He licked Michael’s ear, making him shiver.

“You will remember that you fell badly onto your arse, climbing a ladder, which is why it aches so. You will continue to play with yourself, and you will think of me, Mike.”

He stood, leaving Michael feeling bereft, reaching out for him as he turned to go. Jack smiled and kissed his fingers, whispering. “Sleep and forget, Mike.”

Michael fell asleep instantly.

****

 

The heat wave broke bringing rain just in time for the Wimbledon fortnight. Michael felt lethargic and miserable, putting it down to the weather and the frustrations of work.

 

The drug squad had finally, and with some reluctance released a recording of an interview with Fallon under hypnosis, and a full blood analysis. Michael sat with Pearse, Angie and Vaughan, watched the recording of session in some discomfort, but could not have explained his feelings if asked why.

 

Pearse turned off the video and raised his eyebrows. “Comments?” he asked.

 

Angie grimaced. “Whatever or whoever drugged him, failed to keep him controlled,” she said slowly. “I don’t think he was meant to go off the rails so spectacularly.”

 

Michael nodded, “It’s as if the drug released his pent up inhibitions, and without restraints he acted on them. He says he always wanted to dance, take drug and sleep around, but never had the ‘guts’ to go for it.”

 

Vaughan snorted. “Stupid bastard got more that he bargained for.”

 

“But it wasn’t his fault,” Michael said, slightly impatiently. “He didn’t know what or why he was doctoring papers, although it assumes that given the opportunity he would do so of his own accord.” He looked over to Angie. “Am I right in that?”

 

Angie frowned. “It has always been stated that you can’t make someone do something that they are totally opposed to by hypnotic or other suggestion,” she said slowly. “You can lead them forward or get them to do things that they subconsciously perhaps, would like to do. But you can’t for instance make them murder someone, unless the unconscious desire was buried in them to do so.”

 

“Looks like Farron will bear close scrutiny,” Vaughan suggested.

 

Michael looked at him in astonishment, “Come off it, Vaughan. God knows what little ‘vices’ are buried deep within our psyche. I mean underneath that hard exterior, there may be a real nice, charmingly sweet guy screaming to be let out.”

 

Vaughan half grinned at him.

 

Pearse smiled,” It’s up to the drug squad, but I think he will be cautioned rather than charged, given the extra evidence.”

 

“I often wonder what the Code V’s offered Robert,” Angie said slowly. “I would not have thought him capable of deserting me or his family.”

 

“He thought he would be taking you with him,” Pearse said gently, slowly standing.

 

Angie nodded, smiling slightly as his hand brushed her shoulder. “But to offer that ‘life’ to our children,” she continued, and shivered.

 

Pearse motioned her forward, guiding her out of the room. “I want to discuss my medication with you.” Michael heard him say, before the door swung shut. Next to him Vaughan sighed.

****

 

Summer moved slowly into autumn, the leaves of the trees proving spectacular evidence of the change of season. The weather remained warm, and Michael, still restless and somewhat horny, took up his old relationship with Frances and began sleeping with her again.

 

Her amusement at his nipple ring knew no bounds, but her laughter flowed into honest passion as she discovered just how hot she could make him by just licking and tonguing round it. They spent nights and weekends together when their work permitted, and Michael felt a little more at ease with himself than he had done for a long time.

 

He found himself reflecting on his time with Jack, often just after he and Frances had made love, and she was wrapped in his arms fast asleep. He couldn’t talk about Jack with Frances; she hated him, as Jack had been part of the reason for their break up. So he kept his thoughts to himself, occasionally shocking himself with the thought that a threesome with Jack would have been a lot of fun.

 

****

 

Code V appearances seemed to increase in the late autumn, the lengthening nights allowing them greater access to the city. The drug issue had still not been resolved to anyone’s satisfaction since Leaner had vanished, presumably to continue his research and manufacture his drugs.

 

A particularly nasty case involving the porn industry, snuff videos and potential blackmail victims, added to the intense and gloomy atmosphere at HQ. Code V involvement had been established, and the vice squad were unenthusiastic about the squad’s involvement.

 

Pearse insisted that Vaughan and Jack should investigate the blackmail threat, and it was in that pursuit that they found themselves in a seedy alleyway, attempting to gain entry to a gay club.

 

Michael found the tatty, grubby interior depressing, and the so called manager disgusting. The bored bar keeper kept him amused during Vaughan’s questioning, by his mimicry of his boss, and the manner in which he flirted outrageously with Michael, especially when he sensed that Vaughan was watching and disapproving.

 

He accompanied Michael as he checked out the rest of the place, and it took Michael some time to realise that he was being asked out on a date.

 

Michael blushed.

 

The man raised an eyebrow. “Am I coming on to the wrong guy here, sweetheart?” he inquired mildly.

 

Michael blushed again. “Well I’ve never been called sweetheart, “ he said, finding himself amused and mildly flattered, “and I doubt my girlfriend would be happy, but thank you all the same.”

 

The man smiled, touching Michael’s cheek briefly. “When you dump her, come back and find me, I’ll be waiting.”

He grinned again, blew him a kiss, waved, and returned to his bar keeping.

 

Michael blinked, laughed to himself, and continued the search, finding nothing more disgusting than unclean rooms.

 

Vaughan met him outside, his lips tight in disapproval. “Did you need to encourage him,” he growled.

 

Michael laughed, “He was okay, even asked me out on a date.”

 

Vaughan shifted in his seat, “Mike, anyone that works in that kind of joint is to be avoided, surely you now that from your days in uniform.”

 

Michael shrugged, “Didn’t really deal with vice when I was on the beat, for which I was thankful. Carting prostitutes and rent boys off to the nick when you should be doing their customers, never did anything for me.”

 

Vaughan looked at him curiously, “They didn’t disgust you?”

 

Michael shook his head, “Many of the girls and most of the boys were younger than me, and I felt damn sorry for them. They didn’t trust me, I was a copper, but a couple told me their stories, it was heartbreaking.”

 

“You’re just a bleeding heart, Mike.” Vaughan said cheerfully.

 

“Yeah and a romantic, remember?”

 

Vaughan laughed, “We’ll cure you of that sooner of later.”

 

Their next location, a dingy stage show, stood a chance of doing just that. Bored women did their routine to a smattering of rain-coated men, all sporting newspapers. The smell of semen and sweat was so thick that Michael was gasping for fresh air within minutes.

 

“How the hell can you get excited from that?” he asked Vaughan, as the now naked girl ran off the stage after a cursory strip tease that must have raised the temperature by a fraction of a degree.

 

“Takes all sorts, “ Vaughan replied.

 

“But why would anyone need to blackmail someone who comes to this type of show?”

 

Vaughan shrugged, taking on the questioning of the manger as Michael watched the clients and the ‘dancers’ deciding that the porn industry must be one of the least glamorous ‘careers’ that he could envisage.

 

Their last port of call was to the flat of a very glamorous couple, who turned out to be an expensive call girl and call boy. They were both in the late twenties, good looking in an artificial way. Michael found himself wondering about their relationship as his eyes wandered around the quality furniture and antiques that decorated the rooms.

He could see this pair being used, and when both of them flinched as he casually pulled the blinds to let the sun in, he and Vaughan exchanged glances. Vaughan went

smoothly into his meningitis scare story as a method to gain their co-operation for Angie’s investigations.

 

They ate at HQ, writing up their investigations before deciding to check out a couple more sites where the sweating manager of the strip club alleged filming to have taken place.

 

As they pulled into the warehouse, Michael recognised the area as part of the big industrial complex where they had found Leaner’s laboratory.

 

They checked their guns, covering each other as they slipped into the apparently deserted warehouse, moving through vast deserted areas. Reaching the end, they backtracked until Vaughan gave the okay. Michael relaxed slightly. It was then that the attack happened. A figure grabbing Vaughan, slamming him against the wall before Michael was able to blink. He had his gun out aiming at the figure holding Vaughan, the video sight confirming that a Code V held him.

 

Movement behind him made him turn, gun ready to fire, coming face to face with, Jack.

 

“Hi, Mike.” Jack smiled at him, looking relaxed and open.

 

Michael fixed his eyes on Jack, trying to keep his gun steady, silentlly waiting for the explanation as to why he was still alive.

 

“Drop your gun, Mike,” Jack ordered.

 

To his shock, Michael found himself almost obeying, and it was supreme effort of will that he kept a steady grasp.

 

“Stubborn to the last,” Jack said cheerfully, “I said. Drop. The. Gun. Mike.”

 

Michael gasped, his nerveless fingers seemed unable to hold on to the barrel any longer, and he dropped the gun at his feet. Stunned, he stood staring at Jack, trying hard not to panic. Jack moved forward and Michael took an involuntary step backward.

 

“I see you’ve been unfaithful, Mike. With that cold bitch Frances. My fault for leaving you too long.”

 

Michael shook his head, trying to clear his head. “What?” he asked inelegantly.

 

“Did you think about me, when you were making love with her?” Jack continued, laughing at the sudden blush staining Michael’s face. “Guess that gives me my answer, well I forgive you then.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Michael asked desperately. “Come on Jack, I feel like I’m missing the script or something, what the hell do you want with us?”

 

“Not us,” Jack smiled, “just you, he is here to bear witness.”

 

Michael glanced behind to see Vaughan held in a neck lock by a shadowy figure.

 

Michael gulped, turning his attention back to Jack. “Very dramatic, but totally unnecessary,” he said a confidently as he could. “You could always send a message.”

 

Jack smiled, “But this way I get you to come to me, Mike, like you did the last time. Such a good boy, Lester’s very pleased with you.

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Michael half shouted. “I’ve not seen you since the night of the fiasco on the bridge.”

 

Jack smiled broadly. “Wrong, Mike, we’ve seen each other a number of times, a lot of each other.”

 

He moved a few steps further forward. Michael clenched his fists and stood his ground. “I’m claiming you now as mine for ever, remember Mike, remember everything.”

 

Michael blinked, he heard the sound of the sea in his ears, and felt lips at his mouth. As if a veil had lifted he remembered everything, from the first when Jack had enforced his compliance, to the last weekend when Jack had given him everything he craved. He groaned, covering his face with his hands, shocked and embarrassed at how little resistance he’d put up to becoming Jack’s lover. Mortified by the knowledge that by the end of the first night, he was melting at Jack’s touch, obedient to his sultry demands, wanton and wanting.

 

“Oh my god,” he whispered, swaying on his feet.

 

Strong arms wrapped their way round him as lips nuzzled his covered face, and pushed through to claim his mouth. He was drowning, pulled under by Jack’s desire. His body screamed to be touched and his lips opening obediently. Jack kissed him until his lungs could stand no more, and he broke out of the embrace gasping for breath.

 

“Come with me, Mike” Jack let him go and held out his hand.

 

Michael looked at it, looked back at Vaughan standing motionless and restrained his face a picture of baffled fury, returned his eyes to Jack he shook his head frantically.

 

“No,” he begged, “Don’t ask me to do this, Jack.”

 

“Come,” Jack said emphatically. “You are one of us, you are certainly mine, how can you deny it to yourself?”

 

“Please,” Michael begged. “If you ever truly loved me, just leave me alone. Let me live out my life in the sun. I’ll leave the squad, go anywhere, just don’t ask me to come with you.”

 

“It’s simple, Mike,” Jack said sternly. “I love you, I want you and I will have you. Now come.” He held out his hand once more.

 

Michael looked at it, turning once more to look at Vaughan. “You won’t kill him?” he asked. “He doesn’t deserve death from you. You’ve hurt him too much already.”

 

Jack laughed, “He’d eliminate you without a blink.”

 

“Maybe that’s what I deserve,” Michael said slowly.

 

Jack held out his hand again. “Now, Mike.”

 

Michael closed his eyes and thought of Francis and sunlight, the season in all their glory, the warmth of the sun on his skin, yet knowing all this he still felt a longing for Jack that was so strong that it shook him to the core. Closing his eyes he attempted to marshal his determination to deny Jack, to refuse to be possessed. He opened his mouth to say no, when Jack leant forward and held a seashell to his ear. The smell of the sea and the sound of the waves made Michael groan.

 

“Come,” Jack said, reaching for his hand and pulling him forward.

 

Holding the seashell tightly, Michael stepped forward into Jack’s triumphant embrace.

 

Jack laughed again pulling him close, nibbling at his ear and raining kisses on his lips. “Mine,” he whispered in Michael’s ear, running his hands possessively along Michael’s body

 

“Yours,” agreed Michael desolately, his fear, sadness, panic and terror slowly washing away on a tide of passion so great that it gradually drowned out the sound of Vaughan screaming his name.

 

 

 

The end. 

 July 2001

 


 

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