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reparation

Reparation
by Molly
February 2000

"Fenster always worked with McManus. He was a real tight-ass, but when it came to the job, he was right on. A smart man." --Verbal Kint

***

The excitement had become routine.

I mean, sure, it would always be exciting. There would always be some kind of thrill... but things just hadn't been quite adding up to the incredible pounding of blood after a job, the way it started in my temples and would just -- shoot down into my cock as soon as Fenster turned his satisfied smirk on me.

Every single time we pulled something off, it was one of those looks. Dry and languid, perfectly at ease and promising of things to come. And so fucking calculated; he knew what it would do to me. He'd turn it on me as soon as we were pretty definitely out of immediate danger, and then fucking make me wait until later to follow through.

Fucking tease; he always has been. Hell, tonight he went so far as to pause, shove me up against the wall of the plane, and just...stroke. Two quick swipes of his palm against my dick, and boom. Back to the job.

In the middle of a fucking hijack, he still had to play the games.

And fuck me, but it got that rush to come back.

The whole job was just crazy. Exactly how I like it, and I think he knew that. Why the hell else would he come up with some half-cocked idea to jack gold and platinum wiring without even setting up a buyer first?

He's been trying, I can see that. He thinks I'm pissed, just 'cause I told him what a dumb fuck he was for getting nailed on petty larceny. And a lucky dumb fuck for getting a judge who was in a good mood during sentencing.

He didn't like that much; not so much me railing at him as including dumb in the accusation. Fenster is a mental crook -- he does what he does because he's lazy and smart all at the same time. He's different from me. I do it for the money and the sheer kicks; guys like me get off on that shit. But Fenster...he didn't need me reminding him that he'd screwed up. It was bad enough, when he himself hinged so much on not getting caught, and then having to spend 6 months surrounded by men who really were pathetic dipshits without the brains for this kind of work.

Fenster's a smart guy. He knows what he's doing. And he knew, right from the time he got out, that things were just a little different. Like, yeah, we were okay; we went back to making grand schemes and pulling shit on a lower scale. But until tonight -- he's been out for exactly two months, and this was the first time it felt like it used to.

Two fucking months of weirdness around Fenster is just mind-numbing. I mean, him sleeping right in the next room, and I had to yank myself off all the time 'cause shit was too strange with him.

I wanted to fix it, I really did. But hell if I knew how.

That's another nice thing about Fenster; he can usually come up with something to make things right. I told him he was crazy when he mentioned the load of wiring going to Pakistan, but we both just fucking *knew* we'd do it.

We always know, with each other. When no means no, and when no means fuck yeah. But after we managed to pull everything off tonight, and could relax, and I was driving home...he didn't look at me. He *always* looked at me after a job. Always. But this time he just stared out side window and looked so fucking at ease I couldn't read him.

I can tell when he's upset, see. He does these particular things with his hands, waves them in a certain way. Pent-up and anxious, I guess, and that's how he lets the tension out. And the crease above his nose gets a little deeper, and his lips...God, the only reason I sometimes like him being upset is because of the way his lips tighten and pout a little, and...

And when he's particularly happy, or sad, or excited, or anything. I can tell. But when he's so damned relaxed like he was then...I wondered what the hell he was thinking, and if it might include me.

He's smart, I'm telling you. We got back to my place, where he's still staying until he finds an apartment that doesn't piss him off - Fenster can be hard to please like that - and just sort of stood there. And he finally looked at me, with those great big *expecting* eyes, and he was just waiting for me to admit it.

It being, that I'd been a jackass lately, and things could have been normal awhile ago if I hadn't taken it as a personal insult that he got himself thrown in jail for six months.

But what was I supposed to do? Six months without him was rough, and not only did it piss me off in general, it made me feel like a whipped bitch for being so damn desperate for him to get out.

And then he did, and things were so fucking awkward there was just that one fumbling night...big disaster, is what it was. A big mess, and it was pretty obvious that something was wrong and then I called him dumb, which just fucking ruined everything for a good long while.

So I stood there and looked at how he was close shaven, even that late at night. He always shaved right before a job, since it just wouldn't do to look anything less than his best if he was caught and had to have a mug shot taken. Things like that would never do, not for Fenster. And so I noticed it, and I just kind of reached out and ran my finger across his chin, and then there was the corner of a table jabbing me in the leg before we hit my bed and collapsed on it.

I swear, the mouth on this man -- So much fucking ability with that tongue, the way he flicks it out so fast and perfectly-aimed across my skin, managing to get everything I could imagine accomplished and still be mindful enough to work his way out of his clothes so I could roll over and pin him down.

It was clumsy, yeah, all of it, but just so damn right. So right to be awkwardly tugging a sweater over my head and grinding down into him at the same time, like the perfection was the very lack of it. Fenster has this way of being calm and slick, all reserved and shit so he'll look cool, but even he was just laughing up at me and getting this impatient look in his eyes.

Fenster's got one fucked-up set of eyes; he really does. *Nothing* should be that dark and liquid, but they are, and I swear to fucking God, I could get off just staring into them if need be.

I finally managed to just fall on him. I didn't want to rush anything, except I was so fucking *hard*. So I couldn't help but give his leg a few mindless nudges, and he was writhing so fucking much I just pressed my face into his chest and groaned, which made everything worse. Because God, his skin was hot, and getting hotter, and his chest led lower to his stomach, and fuck if I was gonna be able to stop there.

He'd been sweating at some point; that's the only way I know he gets nervous during jobs. The way he tastes afterwards -- bitter and dense, a little *too* natural. And the smell...I pressed my nose against the solid jut of his hip and pulled it in, letting it shove its way up my sinuses and fog into my brain. Someday I'll be old and gray, and still be able to remember that exact smell. I know I will. There's no way I could forget it.

He moved before I could take him into my mouth, easing backwards and flopping back into the pillows with this intense look that told me I better fucking follow or I was dead. And he must have changed his mind about how, because then he was pulling, drawing me back up even with him and just pushing my hand between us. And his legs spreading apart and coming up was just so right, so in place and natural that I was groping around on the table and then fucking him, and it all just blurred together because he was fucking *looking* at me again. Really fucking looking at me, like making it so I couldn't look away if I wanted to.

Fenster can make me feel like such a bitch, and he does sometimes. I don't think he even realizes it. Or maybe he does, and he does it anyway because he just can't help it, or he know it's okay. It is okay, actually; it's okay to lose it when it's just the two of us. And fuck if he wasn't arching his neck up and kissing me then, tasting like the cloves he preferred to smoke and the cheap hot dog he'd bought on the street earlier, and I was so *there* I almost didn't notice when he just let go and came between us, so my hand was still working away on him until he let his head fall back.

He got this look, then. A Fenster look if ever there was one -- lazy and just *so* amused, and he clenched his muscles around my cock and I just lost it. I'd swear I was stoned if I didn't have a rule about getting fucked up during work; everything was just so goddamned strange and hazy. And he just kissed a few more times, looking all satisfied and shit, and then went to sleep.

Just like that. Slick bastard, is what he is.

**end**