The Administration Series (131 page)
Inside the building, Toreth barely noticed the decor, although he could see Chin beside him, staring, open-mouthed. Obviously, she hadn't been along on many high-level corporate arrests. Not that there
were
that many.
Corporate fucking privilege. Sometimes he could understand why the resisters whined about it so much.
Kemp was still asleep when they knocked on his bedroom door. When he opened it and saw Toreth, his first reaction was blank amazement. Then his face flushed with anger.
"What do you want?"
That was something Toreth hadn't thought of, or rather had forgotten. If Kemp said anything about their past history, now, in front of the Justice rep, it could be very awkward indeed. Even a complete neophyte would notice some things.
He moved Chin aside and offered the electronic copy of the warrant to Kemp — Toreth's name was at the top of the screen, which covered at least one potential danger. Kemp took it and glanced at it, and the flush deepened. "
Arrested
. Para-investigator Toreth, whatever you — "
"Read the warrant in full, please."
Kemp glanced at the group, then did as he was told. Toreth could tell when the man reached the initial charges, because he went quite still. He glanced up at Toreth once, murder in his eyes, then returned to the screen. He read it through once, then again more slowly. Finally he said, "I shall need to dress."
Tempting as it was to drag him out of the house in his pyjamas, there were professional considerations. Everything needed to be very much by the book. Toreth sent a guard into the bedroom with Kemp, to make sure he didn't use the comm, and went to wait in the hall.
By the time Kemp came downstairs, immaculately dressed, he had regained some of his composure, although he still looked angry. Stopping at the foot of the sweeping staircase he beckoned to Toreth, separating him out from the rest of the group.
When Toreth came over, Kemp asked, "What do you want?"
Meaning, what do I need to offer to make you go away? "I explained that already. You are under arrest. You're welcome to inspect the authorised copy of the warrant again, if you wish."
The fury returned to Kemp's face. "You're going to be very sorry you did this."
Toreth carried on as if he hadn't spoken. "The charges will be explained fully once you have been processed into custody. Broadly, you will answer questions on — "
"I don't have to talk to you about anything," Kemp said. The absolute confidence in his voice was breathtaking, and strongly reminiscent of Jonny.
Toreth smiled, very slightly. "I'm afraid that you do. And you will, I can promise you that. Eventually."
Kemp started another protest, but it died on his lips as the full meaning of Toreth's words sank in. Like father, like son, the arrogance fled and his face paled to a sickly grey — a colour not so very far from that of tidal mud.
On the third try, Kemp managed to speak. "I demand to speak to my lawyers."
Too, too perfect. "You can ask your Justice rep over there to arrange it, in the morning. Representative Chin. I'm sure she will be delighted to help." Toreth turned to the watching guards. "Cuff him, take him to the car."
Toreth stepped back and looked on impassively, somehow keeping a grip on the huge fucking grin he could feel struggling to escape. Deplorably unprofessional as it was, he couldn't help hoping that Kemp would resist in interrogation. For a long, long time.
It was nearly three in the morning again by the time they finished the paperwork. With all the forms submitted and the prisoners locked down, the frantic pace of the last couple of days had finally come to an end. It was a relief and anticlimax in one. Now it was simply a question of extracting confessions and passing the prisoners on to Justice. Then sitting back to enjoy the plaudits while Corporate Fraud did the hard work of chasing euros across Europe.
With success secured, Chevril seemed to have finally decided that they'd done the right thing, and had developed a frankly unnerving cheerfulness. Their teams were tired, but equally happy. There were even unconfirmed rumours that Tillotson had been seen down in interrogation, gathering reflected glory. Toreth had his doubts, but he supposed it was possible. If Chevril had stopped complaining, he'd believe anything.
As the others dispersed, Toreth found himself at a sudden loose end. Nothing to do until the morning, which meant . . . home and sleep. Sara was the last to leave, hovering in the doorway for an unnecessarily protracted goodbye. She had quite obviously been worrying about him. That annoyed him, but not as much as the fact that she must have been able to tell that something was wrong.
He didn't want to go home. Tired as he was, he didn't want to sleep. But there was no need, nor excuse, to do anything else.
He made it as far as the shiny new door to his flat before he changed his mind. Without letting himself think it through, he caught a taxi to Warrick's. Outside, he hesitated over the comm. There was no reason, this time, to wake Warrick up at such an unsociable hour. It would be far more considerate simply to let himself in and go to sleep.
Inside, without switching on the light, he reset the security by touch and went down the darkened hall to the bedroom. As quietly as he could, he stripped and slipped into bed beside Warrick.
By the time he'd settled down, the room was still silent except for Warrick's breathing and Toreth found himself wondering whether he really wanted him not to wake up. It had to be better, surely, for Warrick to realise he was here now, than for him to find out when Toreth woke him up in a couple of hours with his stupid, pathetic, bloody dream and —
Warrick rolled over, bumped into him, and muttered something unintelligible. After a few seconds he lifted his head and said, "Toreth?"
"Good guess."
"Mm. Everything went all right?"
"Fine. I'll tell you about it in the morning."
"Oh, good." He lay down again, his cheek against Toreth's shoulder, and sighed. "I'll look forward to it."
That seemed to be that. It was less than half a minute before Warrick's breathing slowed back into sleep. Toreth wondered if Warrick would even remember the conversation in the morning. It didn't matter — he felt better, now that his presence had registered. There was only the prospect of the nightmares to come to keep him awake.
Somehow, now he was here, Toreth found that he didn't care. He was still vaguely wondering about that when he slipped into a dreamless sleep.
Toreth licked his way down Warrick's side, down to his hip, then back up, keeping half an eye on the sliver of sunlight creeping across the wall. When it touched the head of the bed, it would be time to get up and go to the gym. Their Saturday morning routine.
They'd missed the usual Friday night bondage fuck, because Warrick had been at some incredibly important SimTech dinner meeting. Toreth had spent the evening reading pharmaceutical journals he'd been putting off for weeks, and enjoying the idea of Warrick at a table full of clients. Warrick trying to concentrate on business, but occasionally distracted by the idea of him. Warrick smart and formal and in absolute control versus Warrick kneeling in chains, naked and flawlessly submissive.
Warrick moaned and grabbed Toreth's hair, pushing his mouth towards his nipple. Toreth licked, teasing, and grinned. He pressed the flat of his hand on Warrick's cock, feeling the hardness, judging the flex of his hips and the startled, urgent intake of breath above him.
Fridays were still their main night, even though they played on other nights, too. For one thing, it allowed the bruises time to calm down by Monday. Warrick had a definite edge right now — an eagerness that he wouldn't usually have on a Saturday. Probably meant Warrick had come home from the dinner and spent a while thinking about him, but not done anything about it. Toreth read prisoners in interrogation, he read casual fucks, but it felt odd, if he stopped to think about it, that he knew Warrick's reactions in bed so well he could tell whether or not he'd had a wank the night before. He didn't give it much thought now, because the idea triggered another one.
Toreth shook his head free of Warrick's hand, then put his own hand on Warrick's chest, pressing until Warrick lay still.
"Stay there," Toreth said. "I'll be back."
He twisted around, finding the bedside table and scrabbling through the cupboard, hunting by touch. Plastic and glass rattled, and then a rain of soft thumps signalled the departure of most of the contents onto the floor.
"Fuck." Toreth rolled over and peered over the edge of the bed, wondering if anything had spilled on the pale carpet. Bottles everywhere, fortunately closed, but none were the one he wanted. He edged further over, then further still, feeling the blood rush to his head. Finally he found what he wanted — unscented massage oil, which had rolled under the bed.
When he hauled himself back up, Warrick was grinning broadly. "Nice view," he said.
Toreth went to kneel astride Warrick's thighs. "Glad you enjoyed it. See what you think of this."
He dribbled oil over Warrick's cock and his own, then took Warrick's hands and oiled them, too. Then he looked up and lost track of the plan, distracted by Warrick's dark eyes. Warrick was watching him with a combination of curiosity and hungry excitement that temporarily cleared Toreth's mind of all plans.
Finally, he focused on Warrick's parted lips, and that at least prompted movement. He tightened the lid on the oil, then leaned down, took his weight on his elbows and kissed Warrick. Then he kept kissing him until he realised that not only had he forgotten the plan, he'd forgotten to breathe as well.
He lifted his head, feeling a little dizzy. Warrick shifted below him, rubbing rhythmically, prompting a reflex response in Toreth's hips.
"Mmh," Warrick said. "So far, I like it."
"What? Oh, yeah. I mean, no, that's not it." He lifted his hips a little and guided one of Warrick's hands down. "Put your hands round both —
fuck
yes."
All his senses focused down to the individual prints of Warrick's fingers, to the hard length of Warrick's cock held tight against his own. Quick learner, he thought vaguely as he dipped down for another kiss. Then Warrick stroked his hands down around their cocks and they thrust up together, simultaneously breaking the kiss to gasp for air.
"Mmh," Warrick said. "Do you think . . . more oil?"
It wasn't necessary, but it certainly wouldn't hurt. "Okay."
The cool flood of oil ended the conversation for a good fifteen minutes — a very good fifteen minutes. Then Warrick, who had been breathing hard but otherwise keeping unusually quiet, suddenly yelped, his hands tightening round them. Toreth felt the rush of warmth as he came, gasping, eyes wide.
Warrick relaxed and his hands stilled, and Toreth managed to hold still, too.
"Oh," Warrick said, sounding surprised. When Toreth, unable to help himself, thrust again, Warrick hissed and added, "Stop a moment. Too sensitive."
"Do something." Toreth didn't really like sounding that desperate but he couldn't help it. "Sooner the better."
"Kiss me," Warrick said, and as Toreth did he felt Warrick change his grip, releasing his own cock and wrapping his hands tightly round Toreth's and oh,
fuck
that was good. He thrust hard and fast, revelling in the heat and Warrick's hands shifting, squeezing just exactly, perfectly right, because he knew what Toreth wanted without having to ask because he knew
him
, he knew —
Then he lost the thought, arching back, his eyes squeezing tight closed as he came — feeling, not thinking, for endless delicious seconds.
Awareness expanded slowly to include his other senses. Taste first, a faint tang of blood where he'd somehow bitten his cheek. Then the sound of panting breaths, then light, sunlight on the wall. He lowered his head and relaxed his shoulders a little. Oh, yes. Even the evidence analysis system at its fussiest would have to call this a statistically significant result.
He guessed Warrick had a similar opinion of the experiment. He was looking up through half-lidded eyes, his fingers laced together on his chest.
"Good?" Toreth asked.
"Makes a mess." Warrick lifted his hands then folded them again, keeping them away from the bed.
"Yeah, but it's all on us. Saves the sheets."
Warrick's smile widened. "Actually, I was going to change them today, anyway."
"Big fucking surprise."
Toreth gave in to the complaints of his neck and rested his forehead on the pillow, turning to breathe against Warrick's neck, drinking in the tang of his hot skin. Usually it turned him on unbearably. In his current haze it stirred different feelings, warming and relaxing him, urging sleep. Pity he couldn't stay — even taking his weight on his elbows he must be crushing Warrick. He'd move, just as soon as he found the energy.