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Vincent’s in front of the door, keys jangling in his pocket, boys successfully sent back to the precinct because he does, in fact, got it from here.
He’s had the slow thrum of adrenaline dripping in his blood, fidgeting—already chewing on a new piece of gum when Neil, in one split second but that’s all it takes, slips out of a shadow and has Vincent against the door, legs spread and arms up like he’s being frisked. It’s not often that Vincent feels stupid but in this moment he feels like one dumb motherfucker. Neil, unlike every regular fella, even the ones that are packing a gun and a badge, presses his body all along Vincent’s back. Dumb to wear cologne, Vincent thinks. It’s conspicuous as hell but Neil takes down scores big enough to have Vincent chasing him so maybe he can—does get away with it
He is mostly using that energy, though, to curse out every woman Neil has probably claimed to love— his mother, his whatever.
“Didn’t think I’d get the drop on you that quick,” Neil murmurs in Vincent’s ear. His hands are loose where they’re resting on the door next to Vincent’s, thumbs nearly touching—almost chaste except for where Vincent can feel, though his suit and through Neil’s the firm press of Neil’s cock and the sharp stubble where his jaw brushes against Vincent’s ear.
“You fucking think you got the drop on me?” Vincent turns around with a quick elbow to Neil’s ribs. Neil, however, doesn’t move an inch. He presses his advantage so that they’re chest to chest. Vincent can’t help that he’s smacking his gum like he’s pissed. He’s always kind of pissed.
Before, over coffee, Neil had said, “A disaster, huh?”
“Why? You got time?” Vincent replied.
Neil shrugged and Vincent could see with certitude that no matter how many days, weeks, maybe months it took—Neil would have those hands up in the same way only Vincent would be cuffing him the next time they met.
At the moment, it was the last thing Vincent wanted. He glanced to the side, the bar was bustling and the tables surrounding them were filled with people leaning over each other, intimately sharing warmth and conversation. Ignorant of the heinous things both Neil and Vincent, masquerading as one of them, had seen and done.
Then Neil had said, “Or maybe we'll never see each other again.”
Quick as a flash Vincent smirked.
It might have been better if they had gone their separate ways, but staring down Neil was like looking in a funhouse mirror. Vincent couldn't stop turning over that puzzle. Neil held himself still like a looming rock wall— a marble slab that only hinted at the shape inside if you could carve it out. It took everything for Vincent to keep the hunger off of his face.
“You’ll follow?” Neil asked coolly.
Vincent popped some gum into his mouth.
“Yeah. Why not.”
“Down the hallway with the commode and across from the kitchen there's an access door. Meet me there.”
Vincent raised his eyebrows and scoffed, “You've been here before?”
Neil shrugged. “The waiters like to smoke and me, well, I notice.”
“Christ,” Vincent said, as he motioned for their check.
On his way to the hallway Vincent stopped at the table with the two beat cops that were part of Neil’s surveillance unit.
“Lieutenant—” they started.
“I know,” Vincent interrupted. “We can't let our guard down, boys. This guy plays for keeps. They are,” and he moved his hands close like he was about to clap, “they are right fucking there.”
They nodded solemnly. The two cops, Williams and Richardson, were only there to ensure Vincent didn’t get bumped off just because he needed to look the suspect in the eye if he was ever going to collar him—much less stop him.
Vincent checked his watch like it mattered. “I got it from here. Head back to the precinct, I gotta make a stop before I head over.” They marched out clapping him on the back as they left. All a part of the process, Vincent told himself. If he said it enough it might eventually be true.
Not thirty seconds later, Vincent headed down the long carpeted corridor, dodging waiters with big trays overflowing with dinners that he and Neil skipped. The access door had been right where Neil said it would be— across from the cacophony of pots and pans filtering out from the kitchen. No one blinked an eye when Vincent pushed the door open, he might as well have been a part of the landscape.
The heat was the first thing that hit. Thick air beat down even though the smog hadn’t really been bad since Vincent was a kid. It was still somewhat cool at night but Vincent could feel the blazing heat of summer starting to creep from the way the sweat lingered along his back, welding his clothes to his body—undershirt be damned. No respite with the asphalt and the skyscrapers and the way the AC in all the squad cars gave up after about an hour. Hardly long enough for a roundtrip anywhere in LA. Then the smell. Neil had directed Vincent to the half-lit back corner of the restaurant parking lot— right where they kept the garbage.
Vincent had his hands on his hips for a half a second regretting every life choice that led him there, especially that itch in his blood, when Neil melted out a shadow and darted forward like a viper. All it took was that half second then Vincent’s face was one with the grime on the door and his sport coat was crumpled. He registered stubble, cologne— yeah he was a dumb motherfucker.
Vincent’s smacking that gum like he's got a vendetta.
“You waiting for an invitation?” Smack. Smack.
“No,” Neil shakes his head, “an opportunity.”
“Huh,” Vincent says, “the gentleman crook. You should take this show—”
Then Neil presses closer, licks his hand and trails it down to Vincent's slacks and, alright, Justine’s barely looked at Vincent in weeks much less touched his cock, of course he’s hard. Vincent takes a deep shuddering breath when Neil unbuckles, then unbuttons him. He would be embarrassed by how easy he is but Vincent’s been half hard since he sat down. Really, since Neil fucked them all at the container facility.
Vincent’s head is tilted up, he’s almost breathless, and he’s got one hand on his nipple and the other on Neil’s waist. His fingers are caught up in Neil’s belt loops, pulling him closer—only Neil can’t get much closer with his hand down Vincent’s boxers.
He’s having a good time until Neil pulls away, eyes wide—almost mirthful.
“You want me to put my mouth on you?” Neil says thickly, playing with Vincent’s balls.
“What you—”
“You always this easy?” Neil murmurs.
Vincent’s got half a mind to shove him off but for the way that Neil’s eyes haven’t left him once and the way Neil’s got Vincent’s dress shirt in a vice grip.
Who’s easy? Vincent thinks.
Vincent rolls his eyes, instead, and reaches down to unzip Neil’s trousers. He can feel how wet, how hard Neil is when he runs his hand over the top of Neil’s briefs.
Vincent’s lips twist wryly, “You want me to put my mouth on you?”
Neil groans and grinds against Vincent’s hand.
“Fuck,” Neil mutters.
The brief feeling of triumph is immediately quelled by the vicious pace Neil sets as he works Vincent’s cock. Vincent's head hangs back, hitting the door over and over. His mouth is between his teeth. He doesn’t want to moan—not here. Neil’s moved closer. He grinds against Vincent’s thigh while Vincent grabs his ass, breath harsh in Neil’s ear, to help him along. It's not long, then. Vincent can barely stop squirming enough for Neil to actually tug on his cock before he's coming hard—his body held in sharp, sublime tension, hips jerking, taking deep choked off breaths as he comes down.
Neil watches him then, eyes unmoving and hand on his own cock as he works himself over. Vincent raises a wet hand to his lips and Neil comes—eyes wide, looking right at Vincent with his crumpled shirt, slacks halfway down his thighs, cock and spent all over his slacks.
For all his unflappable disposition, Neil doesn't look any more dignified trying to tuck his cock back into his trousers at the same time that he’s trying to catch his breath.
Vincent, barely together but enough, has his hand on the door but pauses to look back at Neil.
Neil quirks a shoulder.
“You do what you do and I do what I do,” Neil says firmly. The light in his eyes is dancing.
Vincent grins sharply as he heads back into the restaurant.