kaizoku

About 1250 words, mostly slash. Written for

contrelamontre (summertime, 63 minutes)
Pairing: Michael/Javier, background Michael/Fiona.

It's Always Summer in Miami

The thing about Miami is that it is almost impossible to tell if a man there is gay or just -- from Miami. Take Sam for example. Sam could easily be your typical martini-swilling gay beach daddy, but in reality he goes through women faster than Michael goes through cars. For all his Hawaiian shirts and white khakis, he's the world's best straight man.

If Michael went on appearances alone, he would guess that about half the male clients he's had in the past three months were gay, but less than a handful have actually come onto him. He isn't vain enough to really think that means the rest aren't gay, but... He is pretty good-looking. Not to mention observant. The last time he was in Los Angeles, he certainly didn't lack for company. So, Miami either has a lot fewer gay guys walking around than it looks like or they're just much more cautious. Of course, there's a few he knows about for sure: Barry, the money launderer, and of course there was that art dealer. A bouncer he knows at one of the ritzy clubs downtown, a guy who works for the guy he buys explosive from.

And Michael's never been too stingy to drop a charming smile on a likely candidate, whether for business or for pleasure.

But he can't complain too much about the sexual ambiguity of his new hometown, given his own stance on the issue. When you're a spy, most of the time sex is the farthest thing from your mind. Michael doesn't think of himself as gay. He's taken some opportunities that have come his way, but he doesn't search it out. And these days, he has even less time than usual for that kind of entertainment. Plus he doubts it would help his case much with the various government agencies keeping tabs on him, though they probably have it in their files somewhere.

It's okay though. He does enough sneaking around as it is. And with Fiona hovering, it's even less of a good idea. Michael isn't sure, if she found him fucking around with a guy, whether she would get violent or lustful -- or both -- and he's not really that tempted to find out.

Fiona. She is his exception that proves the rule. Michael does find her... incredibly hot. Though possibly not as hot as she thinks he does. He has tried to analyze it before, but he hasn't found any theory that completely works. Fiona is an anomaly, an aberration on his part.

Michael "met" her when he had an assignment to trail the IRA operative who was doing the most damage. What he hadn't been informed of was her take-no-prisoners policy for trails and she didn't waste any time ambushing him, beating the crap out of him, chaining him up and calling her partner to tell him they were going to need to get rid of a body. With her pistol tracing lovingly over the back of his neck, he decided that (a) he really didn't want to die, and (b) this was a woman he wanted to get to know.

Fortunately, Michael is good at talking his way out of tight spots and he managed to convince Fiona that he was more useful breathing. That was his first experience playing double agent, actually. Under the circumstances, sleeping with her then seemed like a good idea, given that it might just lower the chances of her killing him once they were done. Not that he didn't enjoy it, he did -- except for when she wanted to a replay of their first meeting. And he often enjoyed that too, in the end.

They helped each other out. Then two months later the job was over and Michael went his way and Fiona went hers. That was what he figured then, anyway. It turned out to be only a few months before they ran into each other again.

He's tried dropping hints a few times here in Miami, but she ignores them and it's probably just as well. One time on a stake-out back in the day, he tried to mention it to her, but she just said "Michael, I have no idea what you're talking about and I don't think I want to." And that was the closest they ever got to that conversation.

It's hot and muggy out today. It's marginally cooler inside his apartment, so he stays inside. There's nothing to do at the moment so he retrieves a cold beer from the fridge, takes his t-shirt off, and lays down on his mattress. It's still his favorite piece of furniture, though he has more of a kitchen set-up now and there's a couch upstairs for Fiona for the nights she insists that it's too late for her to go home.

Michael kind of hates the couch.

Javier was one of the clients he had early on in his stay in Miami. One of the ones he wasn't sure about.

- - -

Javier kisses like he misses it and Michael isn't surprised. Single father with a seven year old, it's not like he's going to have men lined up outside his door. He doesn't kiss Michael like he's saying thank you and that's good.

It's his broad chest under the white shirt that Michael just wants to stare at, the dark hair visible along his collar. The first thing he does is undo the top three buttons and smooth his hand down Javier's chest, watching his own fingers slide through the curly hairs, listening to Javier's breath catch when he reaches the bottom of the shirt and taps his belt buckle. Javier has his hands on Michael's hips, and he gives a tug when Michael's hand stops, resting on his heartbeat. Javier's hand slides up to his shoulder and they are almost the same height. They stand cheek to cheek, their mouths drawn together like trees blown by the wind, catching then sliding off, then brushing together again.

Javier's beard is a little rough against Michael's clean-shaven face and it excites him. Michael has to reach to put his arms around him. The surge of longing that blossoms in his chest is almost painful. The masculine scent of the man in his arms, a clean smell that might be aftershave. It's sexy and Michael knows he smells the same, but with the addition of cordite. Javier sucks a kiss onto his neck, takes his ear with his teeth and bites gently.

"Oh, amigo. You feel good," Javier smiles at him and Michael can't help but pull him in against him, to kiss that smile into him.

It feels like he can feel the blood pulsing through his arteries all the way down to the cell. Each moan layers on top of the next until they are yanking at each other's clothes without even thinking about it.

They're in Javier's living room, but it's cleaned up now. They stumble into the sofa, Javier pushes him down against the arm and works a hand into his slacks without pulling them down. The feel of someone else's skin touching his, it's been long enough that it feels new and surprisingly vulnerable -- this sweet bear of a man working him slowly with one hand. He rubs hard but careful, his whole hand closed around Michael's cock, and he wants to touch him too but he's too enveloped in the sensations of his own body to move. Javier is red, panting, and he moans as Michael comes in his fist.

- - -

Michael doesn't get involved with clients. But fantasizing about them is just fine.

Feedback and criticism welcome.