New York State of Mind

Finally, the long-awaited Flack smut!

You know, the idea of a Mac/Flack pairing was what got me into this fanfiction in the first place, but for some reason Mac seemed to fit more naturally with Danny. Then Mac had to be an uptight asshole (no pun intended), and I was allowed to do a Horatio/Mac, which was a lot of fun, but it took me a while because I’d write out all of those individual mini-scenes and then have to have them segue without feeling rushed.

I’m still proud of it, though.

Now, the case in this chapter never actually happened in the show, but I’m writing it anyway. Sheldon’s covering for Dr. Yao in Autopsy, and it’s a case that touches a nerve with Mac and Danny. And Flack just happens to be the detective assigned to the case. Gee, what are the odds? :D

And season 1 lab tech Chad Willingham will make an appearance, simply because I think he’s cool.

Anybody want to voice thoughts, via review, about maybe Sheldon having a romp with the other boys? He just seems like the type that’s open-minded and would be willing to try anything before he decided whether or not he liked it. That’s one thing I like about him, he’s so Zen. He accepts everything.

EDIT: I am a moron. In this chapter, I described Danny laying comfortably facedown on the couch by using the word "supine." Turns out, supine refers to "laying on your back." My inner Walking Dictionary is furious with me.
To spare yourselves similar embarrassment, I point out the existence of www.m-w.com, the official website of the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Learn it. Live it. Love it.

This chapter’s warnings: M/M, M/M/M, oral, anal, homophobic jerkoffs (and I hate the slur he uses)

This chapter’s pairings: Mac/Danny, Flack/Danny, Mac/Danny/Flack

You got to open your eyes in the morning
Nine o'clock comin' without any warnin'
And you gotta get ready to go

You say you went out late last evenin'
Did a lot of drinkin', come home stinkin'
And you went and fell asleep on the floor
And then your lady comes and finds you a'sleepin'
Starts into weepin' 'bout the hours you been keepin'
And you better get your ass out the door

Ain't no crime
Yeah, it's good to get it on to get a load off your mind
It ain't no crime
Well, everybody gets that way sometimes
It ain't no crime

Billy Joel – "Ain’t No Crime"

A FEW DAYS LATER
Mid-morning, Swing Shift

“Wonder what we’re gonna find this time,” Danny mused as Mac pulled up to their destination. A call had come in, a possible 420 in a run-down section of Washington Heights, meaning that CSI was on the case. Danny and Mac had had no active cases and so they had taken the assignment. Their probable crime scene wasn’t hard to miss; crime scene tape was stretched between the side mirrors of several NYPD black-and-whites to make a loose ring around the front of an apartment building, and a familiar unmarked car nudged the curb. No sign of the coroner’s wagon, but Detective Don Flack was leaning against a nearby lamppost, waiting for them.

“Apartment hasn’t been cleared yet,” Flack said by way of greeting as the two CSIs strode to him, kits in hand. “Responding officers saw a busted lock and a little blood, and came right back out. First officer’s a good cop, but her partner’s a rookie, so she wanted ‘im to wait for you guys so he could get a crash course on crime scenes.”

“So they haven’t even seen a body?” Mac asked as the trio entered the building.

“Nope. Officer Harned said that she and her partner Oritz walked five feet into the residence, smelled the blood and decomp, and headed right back out. She stayed to secure the place, and he ran out in the hallway and stuck his head outta window.”

Mac and Danny traded looks. The smell of human decomposition was never a good thing. “So why all the tape out here?” Danny asked logically.

Flack shrugged noncommittally. “’Cause of those.” He pointed, and the CSIs noted the outlines of bloody footprints on the cheap carpeting.

“Works for me,” Danny muttered absently. Flack took the lead, he and Mac pausing as Danny placed A-frame markers and scale-rulers by the footprints and took pictures. That done, the little group clomped carefully up the stairs. They arrived at the open door of the apartment in question, the door being watched by a slim female officer with sandy-blonde hair and hard brown eyes.

“Officer Harned?” Flack asked, and she nodded. “Where’s your partner?”

She pointed down the hallway. “I told him to watch the back stairs until you guys showed up. Now that you’re here, can you find somebody to relieve him? I want him to see how this works.”

“His first crime scene?” Mac asked quietly, and she nodded. “All right. Flack, take care of that, would you?”

Flack nodded and flipped his notebook open, all business. “Here’s the story so far: 911 call came in about half an hour ago, little old lady says that she was wondering why nobody’d shown up at the ruckus last night. Funny thing is, Dispatch didn’t report any calls from this building. Haven’t been able to talk to many people yet, but the neighbor across the hall said he heard two guys yellin’ last night at about 11-ish, and then some, quote, ‘loud noises.’” Flack’s face wore his usual ‘you expect me to believe that?’ look. “Figured somebody else would call 911. In fact, everybody I talked to said they were just sure somebody else’d call 911.”

“And nobody did.” Mac sighed. “So why’d we get the call now?”

Flack flipped his notebook shut. “Lady next door—68 years old, by the way—was stayin’ up to make sure we’d come to the rescue, fell asleep. She wakes up, she notices that we ain’t here, and then she calls.” He shook his head. “This city, I swear.”

“Well, let’s work the scene and see what we find,” Mac said firmly. Harned had reported no signs of life in the apartment, but Flack and the two CSIs went in with weapons drawn, anyway. Mac took the kitchen, Danny poked his head into the living room and bathroom, and Flack headed for the bedroom.

“Clear!” Mac’s voice rang out.

“Clear!” Flack seconded.

Danny flicked the light switch and stopped dead in his tracks. “Clear, but you guys might wanna see this.”

Mac and Flack holstered their weapons and joined the Italian in the living room. “Danny,” Mac started, “What’d you find… oh.”

There was blood everywhere. Puddles of it were scattered across the floor and the cheap carpeting, spray across the couch and on the walls, and there were definitely other signs of a struggle. The couch was askew, a lamp had been knocked over, and in general it looked like a five-man brawl had gone down in this living room.

A particular scarlet formation caught Mac’s attention on the wall. “High-velocity blood spatter. Looks consistent with a gunshot wound.”

“Or a nasty right hook,” Flack suggested, his Maglite illuminating what was clearly a tooth on the floor.

Mac shook his head. “No human being could strike with enough speed and force to make a spray like that. That spatter is a kill shot, made with a firearm. Here’s a bullet hole to prove it.” He shined his light into the hole, looking for a projectile. “I’ll have to tear this wall out to find it, unless the killer took it with him.” He began photographing the walls while Danny knelt to bag-and-tag the tooth for DNA. Flack admitted that the Marine had a point and wandered back into the bedroom.

“More blood in here! Looks almost like drag marks,” Flack called. “Oh, and another little hole in the wall. It’s fulla lead.”

Mac frowned at that. “Looks like most of the struggle, and the kill shot if there’s a body, happened in here. There’s too much blood on the couch to suggest that the loser just fell on it.”

Danny was on his hands and knees, nosing around under the furniture when something flashed at him. He waved his light, and it flashed again. “Hey, look at what I found,” he remarked as he pointed his Maglite at the shiny piece of metal, which winked innocently back. “.45-cal shell casing.”

“Look what I found,” Flack called back. “Dead guy.” Danny stood and followed the voice. Flack stood sentry at the end of the bed; Danny peered around it to see that the accordion doors of the closet were open for a reason: a young male, nude, lay in a crumpled heap against the back wall. The young man’s back was to the investigators, dotted with bruises and lightly crusted with blood, and his down-turned face was hidden in a scarlet mess. Joining them, Mac lifted his camera and began taking shots as Danny moved to join him, the casing having been marked by another yellow plastic A-frame.

Playing their lights over the body, Mac and Danny were drawn to a shiny area on the man’s rear that was cleanly cut by a trail of dried blood, and traded glances. “That look like lube to you?” Danny asked softly. Mac could only grunt an affirmative, his face tight.

Flack pulled his phone from his belt to call in the body, and Danny and Mac began their in-depth study of the room.

Twenty minutes later, a familiar voice came from the hallway and the two men looked up to see Dr. Sheldon Hawkes coming into the room. “Morning. Sorry I’m late. Hope you don’t mind, Mac, but Dr. Yao called in and I offered to cover for him.”

“No problem,” Mac said neutrally, his mind already at work on the case. “Body’s over here, in the closet. Since you’re coroner-of-the-day, that means first touch is yours.”

“My pleasure.” Sheldon moved to the body, setting his kit nearby. “You already take your shots?” Mac nodded that he had. Sheldon laid a white sheet next to the body. He reached out to touch, running sure hands along the arm before slowly turning the corpse over and onto the sheet. The body was stiff and just a little warm, suggesting that this young man had died roughly eight hours ago. Turning the corpse completely over, Sheldon noted a few bruises on the chest and stomach, a battered mess of what had once been a boyishly attractive face, and a scorched black hole off-center between the eyes. “Single gunshot wound to the forehead, probably instantly fatal. No exit wound, so I’m sure he’s still carrying it. I see a second wound track on the side of his head; looks like a bullet grazed him.”

“There’s a .45 shell casing over there,” Danny spoke up, hooking a thumb over his shoulder, “And Flack found another bullet in the wall. They’re marked and photographed, but I ain’t bagged ‘em yet.”

“Do that, and process the kitchen,” Mac said, “And I’ll assist Dr. Hawkes with our victim.” Danny nodded, and they returned to their tasks.

Hawkes had his thermometer poking out from the young man’s hairless stomach. “Liver temp is 85.70, putting TOD at roughly 11:30.”

Mac checked his watch. “It’s almost 8 now, so he’s been dead roughly eight and a half hours.” He paused a moment. “The responding officer’s partner is fresh out of the academy, and she said that he turned green not five steps into the apartment. I don’t smell that much decomp.”

Hawkes shrugged. “We’re used to it. I guess he wasn’t.”

Standing back to watch the progress, Flack snorted suddenly. “I get it.”

Crouching next to Hawkes, Mac turned to look at the tall detective. “Get what?”

Flack indicated their victim. “Male, nude, and looks like he was raped. With all the blood everywhere, and those drag marks you found, looks like our killer tossed our vic in the closet when he was done.”

Mac made a face before giving a grudging nod. “Our vic was shot in the living room. There’s no blood spatter to indicate that he was shot in here.”

Hawkes sighed. “So our killer beats up this young man, rapes him, shoots him, and throws him in a closet. You think this was a hate crime?”

“Looks that way,” Mac said with a frown. He reached forward and touched a finger to the greased area between the victim’s buttocks and brought it to his nose for a sniff. “Smells like cooking oil, but there’s a bottle of AstroGlide on the nightstand.”

“That makes no kinda sense,” Danny muttered as he came back into the room. In one hand was a bagged-and-tagged bottle of Crisco cooking oil, half-empty. “Lifted prints offa this, and got more than one set. There’s no dishes or garbage that says that the vic or the killer was using this to cook anythin’, though.”

Mac furrowed his brow. “So why not use the lubricant that was in plain sight?”

Danny shrugged. “Maybe the killer didn’t wanna touch anything that the vic used.”

Flack nodded. “Like this sicko’s twisted idea of poetic justice? So to speak. Like this killer’s sayin’ ‘I’m not gay, but I’m gonna rape you anyway and I’m gonna do it however I want’?”

Mac and Danny traded glances, reading the anger in each other’s eyes. While neither of them was fond of hate crimes, this one touched a particular nerve. “Don,” Mac said slowly and calmly, “talk to the neighbors. Get the full story, and ask if anybody knows anything about a boyfriend.”

“Got it.” And Flack was gone.

Mac made another sweep of the room, bagging the AstroGlide and a few of John Doe’s condoms. Danny found a torn condom wrapper that had fluttered to nearly out of eyesight under the bed, with the brand not matching their victim’s preferences. Mac found a few stray hairs that didn’t belong to the victim—two different donors—and Danny pulled a few more prints. When they’d finished the bedroom, they went looking for their bullets.

Together, they began the surprisingly easy process of cutting out sections of the cheap wall with Mac’s K-bar combat knife that he kept strapped to his ankle; he was a Marine after all, and this had to be one of the cheapest apartments he’d ever seen. The bullet had made itself a nice hole in one of the struts, and Danny pried it out easily.

When that was done, the two criminalists and the newly returned detective watched as Sheldon and a couple of coroner’s assistants loaded the body onto a stretcher.

“What have we got?” Mac asked quietly. “I count three bullet holes—two in the wall, one in our vic—and all three projectiles and shell casings. We also have blood spatter from close-quarters combat, as well as that tooth.”

Flack tilted his head. “I got statements from the neighbors about hearin’ an argument last night. One old guy said that his wife might know somethin’ about a boyfriend, but she’s out playin’ Parcheesi with her gal pals. I’m gonna check back in a few hours.”

“We’ve got prints on the cookin’ oil,” Danny added, “and the condom wrapper from under the bed. Fingerprints are all over the place. We got those footprints out in the hall, and they’re everywhere in here, too. Oh, and those hairs ya found, Mac.”

Flack gave an uncharacteristically nasty grin. “It’s gonna suck balls—no pun intended—when you guys find this jerkoff and take a swab. Make sure and make it really mean, guys.”

Mac and Danny weren’t offended. Quite the opposite, at least in Danny’s case. He was snickering the entire time they carted their evidence down to the truck. At one point, Flack thought he heard the Italian mutter something about their killer, and a remark along the lines of “I got yer poetic justice right here, ya sick fuck. Come and get some.”

You got to open your eyes in the morning
Nine o'clock comin' without any warnin'
And you gotta get ready to go

Well now you tell me you love somebody
And you'll love 'em forever, you may love 'em forever
But you won't like 'em all of the time
Well now you tell me you need somebody
For the rest of your life you might have somebody
But you won't want 'em every day

Ain't no crime
Well it's just human nature, happens all the time
It ain't no crime
Well don't think twice about gettin' it off your mind
It ain't no crime

Billy Joel – "Ain’t No Crime"

After dropping off their evidence with the proper lab techs, the trio made their way to Autopsy where Hawkes was just stitching their victim’s chest closed. He waved a bloody glove at their entrance, then paused to peer at a report that a coroner’s assistant held out for him.

Hawkes clicked his tongue. “When will people learn?” he sighed.

“Whassa matter?” Danny asked neutrally, wondering what the lean African-American was referring to.

“The victim suffered significant anal trauma, but that’s not what I’m talking about. The lubricant is cooking oil, which means that even with a condom…” he let his voice trail off enticingly, “The killer may have earned himself a little post-mortem payback, as rough as he was.” Sheldon’s eyes flicked to Danny. “We all know what happens when you mix Latex and oil.”

Mac and Danny traded glances. “That’s right,” Mac said casually, “The oil destroys the structure of the Latex, makes it incredibly weak.” Dammit, he had used cooking oil with Danny the other night, hadn’t he?

“Most people don’t know, and that’s what bothers me,” Sheldon replied. “Another thing most people don’t realize is that vegetable shortening or mineral oil can contribute to the growth of harmful bacteria if it’s used as a sexual lubricant.” He pretended not to notice Mac and Danny look at each other again.

Danny couldn’t resist. “So the cookin’ oil bothers you more than what it was bein’ used for?”

Hawkes shrugged. “People do what makes them feel good, and I have no problem with that. It just gets to me, that they do so many stupid things to themselves when all it would take is a little research.”

“I still can’t believe people actually do that kinda thing,” Flack said, speaking for the first time since entering the room. “I mean, how does shoving… something… up your, ya know… how is that supposed to feel good?”

“Prostate,” Sheldon said matter-of-factly.

Flack’s brows came together in confusion. “Prostate? You mean, when you go to the doctor’s office, and he says ‘turn your head and cough?’ That prostate? That actually feels…”

“Good? Hell yeah,” Danny said without thinking, and all three warm bodies turned to face him. Suddenly he realized what he’d said, and coughed. Mac kept his face carefully blank. Sheldon wore his intense, give-nothing-away look, and Flack was straight-out staring. “Or so I heard, anyway,” he covered lamely.

Flack opened his mouth to say what would probably have been the wrong thing, but Mac cut him off. “If we could get back to the matter at hand?”

Hawkes nodded. “Cause of death, .45 slug to the forehead. Bullet’s already been sent to ballistics.”

“Any significant wounds, besides the obvious?”

Hawkes shrugged. “I can tell you that your killer had big hands, and he’s probably got a nasty case of fight bite. That tooth you found at the crime scene wasn’t our vic’s, but he is missing a fragment, and the break happened recently.” He pulled the mouth open gently, showing a nearly perfect set of teeth with a noticeable gap in one incisor. “You know, sexual assault against men is almost always perpetrated by another man, and usually the rapist likes to start with a little ‘oral’ foreplay. Our vic wasn’t a biter, but I did see some scraps of human flesh in his molars. So, A, your killer’s packing a hefty piece of equipment, and B, he’s probably pret-ty sore right about now. DNA’s got the scraps.”

“Any other wounds?”

“Yeah. Our John Doe here is the guy that knocked out your killer’s tooth. DNA hasn’t confirmed it yet, but I’m basing that guess on his left hand.” Hawkes held the hand under the camera-magnifier, and the investigators saw the firm indentations and bruising on the knuckles.

“Good. Trace?”

“Nothing that didn’t match the apartment. Sexual Assault kit picked up plenty of sperm samples. DNA’s got that, too.”

A young tech with curly red hair and a short beard popped into the room. “Detectives? Dr. Hawkes?” He waved a folder. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Come on in, Adam.” Mac stood as the young man made his way over.

“AFIS coughed up your vic. The name’s William Martin, age twenty-three.” Adam Ross handed over the folder. “He was in the system because of a dropped assault charge about three months ago.”

Mac leafed through the slim stack of documents, Danny and Flack peering over his shoulders. “According to this,” the Marine read, “Martin and a man by the name of Randall Dawson were pulled off each other by an officer at a bar in the Heights. Martin was obviously losing, but the Dawson was the first to file assault charges.”

Danny ran a finger along a particular column. “Martin said that Dawson attacked him because Martin was openly gay.”

Flack grunted. “Damn bashers.”

Mac kept reading. “Incident report says that as soon as the officer brought up that little fact, Dawson started ranting and raving, with plenty of anti-homosexual slurs. When he finally calmed down and realized what he’d said, he dropped the charges.”

Danny tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “So now we got a suspect?”

Mac flipped the folder shut. “We do. Don, did you find anything about a boyfriend?”

“I’ll make a phone call.” He stepped over to one corner of the room, pulling out his phone and his little black notebook. He dialed, waited, and then introduced himself quietly and politely—and then loudly and politely. “Yes, ma’am, your husband said he’d tell you that I was gonna call you. No, ma’am, your husband. Yes, I’m with the police. Oh, no, Thomas is fine. I said Thomas is fine. I’m calling about the boy that… yes? Oh, Thomas did tell you. All right… all right… uh-huh… thanks a bundle, ma’am. You have a nice day.”

Mac quirked a smile at his friend, who slapped his phone shut and stuck a finger in his abused ear and shook it as though it itched. “Any luck?”

Flack nodded. “The old lady playin’ board games? She says that she remembered this nice boy that helped her carry her groceries from the elevator to her apartment one day last week. Introduced himself as Patrick Avery before headin’ over to our vic’s.”

Mac cocked his head. “Flack, you find Dawson and bring him in. I’ll go looking for Avery. Danny, check on those bullets, see if IBIS found anything.” He nodded at the redheaded tech that still stood by. “Thanks, Adam.”

Adam grinned. “No problem,” he said with a wave as he headed out.

The three remaining men paused and looked back at the body of William Martin, just as Sheldon pulled the sheet over him.

Danny cleared his throat, looking solemn. “He got killed just because he liked it a different way.”

Mac shook his head, his face tight. “Not just killed. He was slaughtered.”

And with that, they went on their ways.

The boyfriend, Patrick Avery, was surprisingly easy to track down; he showed up at Flack’s desk barely two hours later, looking completely distraught. He’d tried to go over to Martin’s apartment but the officer watching the scene wouldn’t let him in. Instead, he’d only told him to go straight to Detective Flack.

Avery, like Martin, was young, blond, lean, and handsome without having features as delicate as their victim. He just looked like yet another Hot Boy On Campus. Just two young lovers, them against the world, Mac thought with a silent sigh.

Flack was seated at his desk in the bullpen with Mac standing next to him. Avery pulled up another chair off to Flack’s side, looking like a whipped puppy.

Mac started the discussion. “You’re Patrick Avery? I’m Mac Taylor, CSI.”

Avery blinked. “Crime scene? What crime scene? I tried to go see Will, but the cop wouldn’t let me in. Nobody will tell me what’s going on!”

Mac held up a calming hand. “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“If you’ll tell me what’s going on.”

Flack nodded. “Deal. I’ll start. What is your relationship with William Martin?”

Avery’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two cops. “We’re just really good friends.”

Mac sighed. “Patrick, from what the evidence is telling us, it’s more than just ‘friends.’ So, want to try again?”

The young man gave a defeated sigh. “Yeah, fine. We’re sleeping together.”

Flack nodded. “Where were you last night, at about 11:30?”

“Over at a friend’s house. Not Will’s, though. He said…” he trailed off, his eyes going wide.

Mac leaned in. “What? What’d he say?”

Patrick’s voice was hollow. “He called me last night, said that he had a ‘guest’ over and that I would see him tomorrow. I thought that there was something weird about his voice; he sounded scared.” He looked up at the older men. “Please tell me Will is okay!”

Mac sat on the corner of the desk and sighed. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but… his body was discovered this morning.”

The look on Avery’s face was one he’d seen far too many times, and each time, he knew that it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Shock, fear, disbelief, anger, and grief all vied for supremacy across the boyishly attractive face, but surprisingly he managed to keep it together.

“This is some kind of joke, right? Some sick joke?” Avery glanced between the detective and the criminalist, searching, begging. “There’s gotta be some kind of mistake! Will can’t be…”

Mac reached beside him and flipped open the folder on Flack’s desk that contained a large photograph. Hawkes had done the best he could to clean up their victim’s face, but the bruising and mutilation were far from discreet. “Is this Will?” Mac asked softly, holding the picture so Avery could see it.

Avery froze, his eyes maniacally wide. His mouth opened but no sound came out; he reached with a trembling hand, in slow motion, toward the picture. Suddenly he jerked and clapped a hand over his mouth. Flack moved quickly, kicking his wastebasket between the young man’s knees just in time as Avery heaved up his stomach contents.

Mac and Flack exchanged glances, coming to a silent agreement. If this guy was acting, then Anthony Hopkins could take lessons. Mac sighed and laid a broad hand on Patrick’s back, rubbing in slow circles as the young man finally cleared out the last of his lunch.

“Mint?” Flack asked without a hint of sarcasm, proffering a small handful that he kept stashed in his desk for all the winos he had to deal with.

Avery took one with a shaky nod as Flack bent down to tie shut the liner of his wastebasket. Unless Mac wanted it for some CSI business—and why the hell he would, Flack didn’t know—then it was going straight into the incinerator.

“Will… Will’s dead?” His stomach empty, the young man’s face began to crumple. “No, that can’t be right. Will, he’s… he’s at home right now, right? He’s still… oh, God!” Avery sagged into the chair, hugging himself tightly and bawling his lover’s name.

Mac glanced at Flack, surprised to see compassion on his friend’s face. Normally Flack was a real stone-face when it came to people crying.

Finally Avery’s sobs began to quiet. He looked up at the solemn detectives with pleading eyes. “Please find whoever did this.”

Mac nodded. “We will.”

“You can count on it,” Flack seconded.

Avery managed the thinnest of smiles. “Thanks.”

“Flack, any luck finding Dawson?” Mac grumbled, sitting at his desk and leafing through all the evidence they’d collected so far.

Flack lounged in the chair on the other side of the desk. “No luck yet. I’ve got uniforms lookin’ for ‘im, but he’s still in the wind.”

Mac flipped the folder shut. “Well, keep looking. I’m going to go check in with Danny.”

Flack left, and Mac stood and wandered the lab. He spotted the Italian in the A/V Lab, studying photos of the crime scene. Beside him, Adam Ross was using the Virtual Crime Scene program, taking directions from Danny on where to put this bloodstain or that battered piece of furniture.

“How’s it coming?” Mac asked the two as he stepped behind Adam.

The young tech shrugged. “It’s coming. We’re still waiting on DNA for the blood results, but I think we’re working out a probable sequence of events.”

Speak of the devil, another young tech with shaggy blond hair and sleepy eyes poked into the room, holding a file folder. “I was walking past DNA and they said they wanted you to have this.”

“Thanks, Chad,” Danny said as he took the folder. He, Chad, and Adam hovered closely, pointing between the folder and the computer screen, and Mac watched as different bloodstains were given brightly colored outlines. Most of them were green, but a few of them were yellow. “Got two donors, Mac.”

Chad nodded. “Your vic managed to get a couple of good hits in. No match in CODIS, though. Sorry, I guess you can’t win ‘em all.” With that, the trace tech shuffled out of the lab.

Adam was running a finger down the DNA printout, checking his work against the information provided. Finally he decided that everything was in place and clicked “Recreate.”

Two wireframe men appeared on the screen, one green and one yellow. “Green one’s the vic,” Adam said as Green stood up from the couch and walked toward the door, letting in Yellow. Yellow’s body language was angry, whereas Green looked scared.

As Mac watched, Green and Yellow got into a fist fight, the action suddenly pausing to highlight a small yellow speck flying from the appropriate man’s mouth. “There goes the tooth,” Mac remarked as the action continued. Yellow pulled out a gun and fired a round aimed at Green’s head, and green-outlined red specks flew from the wound onto the wall. “The non-lethal shot,” Mac confirmed. While Green was on his knees, woozy, Yellow began moving closer, aligning his crotched with Green’s head. When Green started trying to fight back, Yellow fired again at the wall, and Green froze. The little video glossed over the oral rape, but it was obvious to the criminalists what was going on.

The viewpoint changed as Yellow dragged Green into the bedroom. Again, the video didn’t show the rape—only a probable beginning position and ending position—and afterward, Green knelt at Yellow’s feet, obviously sobbing. Yellow simply held his gun to Green’s head. Green jerked and flopped backward, more blood flying. When Green was dead, Yellow grabbed hold of the corpse and callously dragged it to the closet, flinging it inside like so much trash. Then the feed ended.

“That look right to you?” Danny glanced at Mac.

Mac ground his teeth. “It looks accurate,” he corrected.

Adam saved his work and burned the video onto a DVD. He handed it and a small stack of papers to Danny. “C’mon, Mac, I’m thirsty,” the Italian urged in an edgy tone.

Mac nodded and headed for the break room, Danny not far behind. “No appetite either, huh?”

Danny shook his head and growled. “I’ll eat after we catch this bastard.”

“I’ll even make cheeseburgers,” Mac said firmly. A gay-bashing hate crime just raised his hackles, and he wanted this over as much as Danny did. The thought of anyone doing something like this just made his blood boil. “We’ll get him, Danny.”

“You bet your ass we will.”

Ain't no crime
Yeah, it's good to get it on to get a load off your mind
It ain't no crime
Well it's just human nature, happens all the time
It ain't no crime

You got to open your eyes in the morning
Nine o'clock comin' without any warnin'
And you gotta get ready to go

Billy Joel – "Ain’t No Crime"

“We got Dawson!” Flack crowed as he slammed into the break room, and Mac and Danny’s heads popped up. “He took some potshots at the officers sent to pick ‘im up. Nobody was hit, but we’ve got him on at least that.”

The trio made good time to the bullpen—Danny having taken a detour to grab his crime kit and camera—where two familiar faces were herding a struggling handcuffed man through the detectives’ desks. Their suspect was swearing loudly in a Jersey accent, his short black hair covered by a greasy baseball cap that said ‘Kill ‘Em All, Let God Sort ‘Em Out.’

Flack gave a prim smile-and-bow worthy of any upscale maitre’d. “Thank you, Officers Harned and Oritz, for bringing us this fine gentleman.”

“You’re welcome to ‘im,” Harned grumped as she muscled her charge toward the interrogation booths. “He’s a real piece of work.”

The young Officer Oritz was tight-lipped as he helped his partner herd the cussing, struggling man along.

Mac gave him a sympathetic look. “First time you’ve had a gun in your face?”

Oritz nodded slightly.

Danny almost said ‘you’ll get used to it’ but realized that it wouldn’t help in the slightest, so he clapped the young officer on the shoulder as the forced entourage passed through the bullpen. They found an empty interrogation room and ‘persuaded’ their suspect to take a seat. Mac told the officers to leave the cuffs on.

Harned nodded. “I’ve got his gun, by the way. You mind if I walk it up to the lab? Oritz needs to learn how to turn in evidence.”

“Be my guest,” Mac agreed, and indicated a snarling Dawson. “He’s not going anywhere.”

The two officers left, and the three detectives faced their suspect. Mac and Danny sat across from the man, and Flack leaned against the wall between and behind them.

It didn’t take Dawson long to break his sullen silence. “What the fuck are you starin’ at?” he growled.

Flack shrugged. “I’m not sure yet.”

Dawson scowled, his beady brown eyes squinting at them. “Okay, smartass. Why the fuck am I in here, then?”

Mac was surprised. “They didn’t tell you?”

Danny cut in. “They probably tried to, but they were too busy dodgin’ bullets.”

Flack nodded. “I can see how that could screw up the lines of communication.”

“They were fuckin’ poundin’ on my door!” Dawson growled. “How was I supposed to know they were cops?”

“Maybe the whole ‘knock knock, NYPD’ thing, I dunno,” Flack mused.

“Don,” Mac said with a long-suffering sigh, hiding his smile, “would you mind heading over to Autopsy and getting some photos from Dr. Hawkes?”

“Sure, why not?” Flack shrugged, ambling calmly out of the interview room. Taking his time pulling open the door and walking through it, just because he could.

Mac eyed their suspect’s face. “That’s a nasty-looking cut on your lip,” the Marine remarked. Danny lifted his camera and took a shot.

“Hey, whadda fuck?” Dawson blinked owlishly, his lips curled up in a snarl. Suddenly Mac noticed something else.

“We found your tooth,” he remarked, reaching into his coat pocket and tossing the little baggy on the table.

“Good for you,” Dawson snarled, sullen and angry.

Mac stared calmly at him. “How’d you lose it, Mr. Dawson?”

“Kiss my ass.”

Danny blinked dramatically. “Ooh, Mac, he’s a scary one,” he said with a mock-cringe.

Dawson turned his head to sneer at the Italian. “What’s the matter, pretty boy? Never seen a real man before?”

Danny gave a quick bark of laughter. “If you’re a real man, then…” he paused. “I ain’t finishin’ that sentence.”

“Smart,” Mac muttered. “The reason we wanted to talk to you, Mr. Dawson, is because you’re the prime suspect in a murder investigation.”

Dawson leaned back. “Murder? What fuckin’ murder, I didn’t kill nobody!”

Mac tilted his head. “We think you did. Where were you last night?”

The suspect grunted. “I was out.”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific, pal,” Danny said casually.

Dawson shifted in his chair. “I was talkin’ to some punk kid that tried to start shit with me.”

“That’s not the way we heard it,” Mac growled. “But I’d call that probable cause. Danny, get a swab, would you?”

“Be my pleasure,” Danny growled, opening up his kit and dropping a buccal swab and a pair of Latex gloves on the table. Slowly and demonstratively, Danny pulled the gloves onto his hands.

Dawson straightened in his chair. “What the fuck you think you’re doin’?” he snapped suspiciously.

“We’re just getting a sample of your DNA,” Mac informed him calmly.

Dawson leaned away from Danny, his eyes on the Italian’s hands. “Not with those, you ain’t. I’m allergic to that shit.”

“Oh really,” Danny said without emotion. “Say ‘ah.’”

“Fucker, I’m tellin’ ya—“ Dawson started, but he was cut off when, quick as a flash, Danny snapped a hand out to swipe the inside of their suspect’s cheek with the swab. Dawson reared back and coughed.

Mac watched the man carefully, but other than a sudden and rather forced coughing fit, Dawson showed no reaction to having had Danny’s gloves so close to him. He’s faking it.

Danny started to pull off his gloves. “Be right back, Mac. I’m gonna get this to DNA.”

“Not so fast, Danny. Mr. Dawson, would you stand up and turn around, please?”

Dawson glared at him. “What the fuck for?”

Mac reined in his temper at the man’s belligerence. “So Danny can get another swab, from that nasty-looking cut on your knuckles.”

Dawson twisted around to look at his hands, still cuffed behind his back. Then he glared at Mac again. “I got no fuckin’ cut on my hand.”

“Sure you do,” Mac went on almost cheerfully. “It’s called fight bite. It happens whenever you punch somebody in the mouth. All the bacteria in their mouth gets into the cut on your hand, and since each bacterium has DNA, we can match it to the saliva found in the mouth of William Martin.”

Dawson seemed to shrink a little. “Who?”

Danny stepped behind Dawson. “Don’t make me grab your hands,” he growled warningly. Dawson flinched, realized he’d been made, and curled his fingers around the back of the chair seat, giving Danny a clear shot for another swab. “Got it,” Danny told Mac as he capped the swab.

“Good. Take that to DNA, and check on the gun while you’re up there.”

“Will do.”

Danny left, and Mac found himself in a staring contest with Dawson. The guy had no chance. Dawson was a bully and a coward, whereas Mac was a hardened combat Marine, and a cop with an exceptional record of service. It didn’t take Dawson long to see that and to drop his eyes.

“William Martin,” Mac said as though they’d never left the conversation, “is the young man that’s on a slab in the morgue right now. He was shot twice, once fatally in the forehead. He managed to knock out one of your front incisors, while you were barely able to chip one of his.” He let the little dig bother his suspect. Martin had taken decent care of himself, including the consumption of plenty of dairy products. Dawson looked like he lived on beer and fast food. “He was also raped.”

Dawson gave a sullen shrug. “I had a feelin’ that that pretty boy was really a girl,” he said to the room in general, not admitting to anything but still unwilling to pass up a chance to air his anti-homosexual agenda.

“Whatever his sexual preferences were, they were his choice,” Mac growled. “And no matter who he chose to sleep with, the fact that someone had sex with him against his will is rape in any state.”

Dawson glanced at the two-way mirror. “Maybe he liked it rough.”

Mac snorted. “Liking it rough is one thing. Battering and drawing blood is something else, Mr. Dawson.”

Dawson continued to ignore him.

Mac half-stood and slammed his hand down on the table, drawing his suspect’s startled glance. “I’m talking to you,” Mac rumbled dangerously.

Dawson found some of his spine. “You’re just talkin’,” he said in an unconvincing tone. “I’m innocent until ya prove me guilty, remember?”

Mac nodded. “That’s right, you are.” He cocked his head as though a thought had occurred to him. “You’re also stuck here for at least twenty-three and a half more hours, so get comfortable. I have some lab work to attend to.”

Dawson stared incredulously as Mac stood. “Hey, at least take these fuckin’ cuffs off!”

Mac paused to consider that. “All right, but you have to go in a holding cell.”

The suspect suddenly changed his mind. “Naw, forget it. Go bend over your tables, pig, I’m staying right here.”

Mac moved one hand behind his back to clench a fist where Dawson couldn’t see it. Though he would never admit it, this guy was managing to get under his skin. He stepped out of the room without a backward glance, nodding at a nearby officer to stand watch over the suspect, and headed upstairs to the lab.

“Do we have him?” Mac asked calmly. Standing in front of him, Danny, Chad, and Adam all nodded.

Danny went first. “His prints match the partials we found on the cookin’ oil and the condom wrapper, and some other prints I found. And we’ll have to cast ‘em to be sure, but I figure his footprints match, too.”

Mac tilted his head. “The oil is what will probably get him. The condom wrapper is circumstantial evidence, but in this case I think it will work. I don’t suppose that it would be worth holding out hope that he just threw the condom itself in the garbage at his home, since the sanitation workers made their rounds today. Adam?”

The tech nodded. “His DNA matches the tooth and just a little bit of the blood at your crime scene. His fist size also matches Martin’s bruises. And his hair is the right color for those ones you found on the vic’s pillow.”

“Good. Chad?”

“The bacteria from his hand matches the vic’s mouth.” Chad confirmed.

Mac slapped shut the folder in his hands. “And I tested his gun myself. It’s a match. He wiped it for prints, but I think we’ve got enough to get a confession out of him.”

Danny rubbed his hands together, looking uncharacteristically dark. “Let’s go get ‘im.”

“Mr. Dawson,” Mac began. He and Danny were back in the room with their suspect, with Flack standing behind the two-way mirror. Apparently it hadn’t occurred for Dawson to ask for an attorney, even though he’d been specifically reminded via the Miranda rights that he was entitled to one. Obviously he didn’t think he needed one, which was just fine with Mac. “You said that you were innocent until we prove you guilty.”

Danny leaned forward, smirking. “We gotcha.”

Dawson leaned back and eyed the Italian. “You ain’t got shit.”

“We’ve got plenty,” Mac corrected in a warning tone. “We have your prints found at the scene, including a condom wrapper and a bottle of cooking oil. We have your footprints, matching those we found outside the victim’s apartment. We have your DNA from the tooth and the blood. And we have a match between the size of your fists and the bruises on Martin’s body.”

“Whoop de fuckin’ do,” Dawson grunted. “That condom could be for anybody. And you probably planted my prints.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Right. We ain’t got nothin’ better to do than sit around and dream up crimes to pin on people that piss us off. What do you take us for?”

“This is hard evidence, Mr. Dawson,” Mac interrupted before his suspect could respond. “We also found your bullet in his skull.”

Dawson sneered. “You kiddin’ me? A pig like you couldn’t find your ass with both hands.”

“Watch it,” Danny snapped warningly. “You can’t talk your way outta DNA, pal. We’ve got you.”

Mac nodded. “Randall Dawson, you are going to be charged with the murder of William Martin. If you confess, it’ll go easier on you.”

“Bite me, pig,” Dawson snarled. “Since when is killin’ fags a crime?”

Danny went completely still. “What did you say?” he asked in an incredulous whisper.

Dawson sneered. “You heard me. The little pretty boy was beggin’ for it. He shoulda known better than to be kissin’ all over that other boy in that bar. When I tried to set him straight, he went off on me. Little pussy didn’t even get in any good hits.”

“Not back then, anyway,” Danny muttered, meaning Dawson’s tooth. The suspect pretended not to hear him.

Mac noticed the tremor in Danny’s hand on the table but pressed on. “And that made you angry. You couldn’t let him get away with it.”

“Damn right!” Dawson sat up, shoulders back and proud despite his hands still cuffed behind his back. “I found him. Took me a while, but I found the little pansy. I told him that I was gonna give him a chance. I was gonna be merciful, and show him why it wasn’t okay to be a fag.”

Danny gripped the edges of the table so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“What about the phone call he made to his boyfriend?” Mac asked cautiously, throwing a glance at Danny.

Dawson smirked. “Hey, I told ya I was merciful. I let him call his little boy-toy and tell ‘im to stay away, because hey, I only got time for one fag at a time.”

Mac growled. “Would you stop using that word, please?”

“What, fag?” Dawson drawled out the word as a challenge. “You ask me, I should get a medal or something. Who cares about one of those pussies, anyway?”

Danny jumped to his feet, the sudden pressure of his calf muscles sending his chair sliding back to clatter against the wall. His lips curled into a snarl, one slim forefinger inches from the murderer’s face. “So ‘cause the guy takes it from behind, that gives you the right to off ‘im?!” he snapped off, his other arm twitching.

Mac stood and grabbed Danny’s biceps from behind, tugging him not-so-gently back. “Danny, calm down,” he growled. “We’ve got him.”

“But Mac, he—“

“We’ve got him,” Mac repeated firmly, hazel eyes boring into Danny’s outraged blue ones when the Italian twisted around to look at him, and Danny finally began to subside.

Dawson was looking at them with a coolly calculating stare. “Why does it bother ya so much, piggy? You take it up the ass, too?”

Danny’s face twisted into a mask of pure rage, and he strained against Mac’s vise-like grip to get at the now-cackling killer. “Lemme at ‘im!” Danny howled. Mac realized with sudden shock that Danny was trying to unholster his gun, and made the decision to put his lover in a full Nelson and haul him toward the doorway. Having seen the commotion, Flack was holding the door open as Mac dragged Danny out of the room.

They traded places; Flack sat with the killer while Mac and Danny took the observation booth. Mac released Danny as soon as they hit the doorway, and the Italian slammed both fists into the cinderblock walls and seethed. Mac sternly closed the doors on his emotions and became the Shift Supervisor watching his subordinate. He’d never seen Danny shake so hard.

“Danny?” Mac’s voice came softly after a while.

Danny remained rigid, muscles straining as though through sheer force of will, he would eventually press through the wall and get to the smirking murderer on the other side.

“Danny. Look at me.” Mac put an edge in his voice.

The Italian finally made his head turn, a wild and haunted look on his face. “Mac… did I just…”

“Attempt to draw your weapon on a handcuffed suspect during an interrogation?” Mac said calmly, and Danny exhaled shakily, his fists finally coming off the wall. “Danny, what the hell was that back there?”

The younger man actually seemed on the verge of tears. “I dunno, Mac. Just… he didn’t care! He thought that he had a right ta do it! And he just…”

“Easy,” Mac soothed, laying steadying hands on the trembling shoulders. “Look, Flack’s cuffing him. He’s getting locked in a box, Danny, probably for the rest of his life. He’ll get his poetic justice from the inmates, you know that.”

Danny bobbed his head in what might have been a nod, struggling to control his breathing. He wanted nothing more than to collapse against Mac’s chest right now, but the Marine was holding him at arm’s length for a reason. He’d have to be content with the hands on his shoulders, for the time being.

Flack wandered into the observation booth. “He’s laughin’ his damnfool head off, but he won’t be laughin’ for long. We got the confession on tape, so he’s goin’ straight to lockup. I made sure that his officers will pass on the word to the other inmates that he’s, well…”

“I didn’t hear that,” Mac said calmly. Flack could get in trouble for passing along that ‘request,’ but a little rumor went a long way for making somebody’s life miserable.

Flack gave a casual shrug and turned his eyes to the shaking Danny. “Hey Messer, you aright?”

“No, he’s not,” Mac answered for him.

Flack tilted his head. “Looks to me like the stuff he said hit a little close to home, huh.” Danny turned to Flack, his expression unreadable. Flack saw the confirmation in his eyes anyway, and he blew out a heavy breath. “So you are, aren’t ya?”

Danny and Mac both knew what he meant, but the remark was aimed only at the Italian. “Mostly,” he croaked.

Flack’s eyes flicked to Mac, who spoke up. “I know he is,” the Marine put in before his best detective could say the wrong thing. He suddenly realized that he needed to put this little issue to rest with Flack, and now. “Don, I’ve invited Danny over to my place for a beer. Care to join us?”

Flack blinked. “I, uh…” I don’t want to interrupt anything.

“C’mon, Flack,” Danny barked suddenly. “Come drinkin’ with us before I go out and hurt myself. Or somebody else.” Mac gave him a troubled look, apparently unable to tell whether or not the Italian was serious.

Flack cocked his head, finding that he could live with that explanation. “Sure, why the hell not?” he said with forced humor. “Beers are on Mac, I’m good.”



And just as surely as the wind keeps blowin'
The grass keeps growin', you gotta keep goin'
And the Lord have mercy on your soul

Billy Joel – "Ain’t No Crime"

The moment they reached Mac’s apartment, Danny tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and went straight for the fridge. Seemingly oblivious to Mac’s disapproving stare, he twisted open a longneck and started chugging it.

“Easy,” Flack cautioned, putting a steadying hand on the Italian’s shoulder before Danny could fall over from leaning backward so far. “You wanna get stupid drunk, Messer, do it on the couch. And gimme one of those.”

Danny finally took the bottle from his lips and remembered to breathe. He was thrilled that he and Mac had gotten Flack to follow them back to Mac’s apartment, but now he realized that he had no idea how to proceed. Danny wanted nothing more than to lay in the Marine’s lap and simply have Mac hold him, but he knew there was no way in hell Mac would that until he knew where Flack stood on the whole thing.

Danny wandered back into the living room and flopped onto one side of the couch. Mac emerged from his bedroom, having changed into jeans and a T-shirt, no shoes or socks. Danny apparently thought that was a good idea and kicked off his own shoes. Mac gave him a tiny look and bent to move the shoes so that they were paired neatly under the coffee table, and then went to hang up Danny’s jacket.

Flack glanced around Mac’s apartment. He’d known that Mac was a tidy guy, but damn. He considered running a finger along the shelves just for kicks but then decided against it. He probably wouldn’t find any dust, anyway. He set his beer on a coaster he’d found on the small end table next to Mac’s easy chair, then shrugged off his own coat and laid it neatly over the back of the chair. Mac saw the effort and let it slide.

Flack cocked his head and sank into the comfortable chair, pulling off his shoes and finally unknotting the noose around his neck. “You guys are lucky you don’t have to wear a tie every day.”

“I used to,” Mac pointed out.

Flack shrugged. “You’re the boss. You can get away with it.”

Mac quirked a frown at that, but decided to go get himself a beer instead. Danny had lost much of his sullen attitude and had picked up the remote control, flicking on the TV and searching for a good baseball game. Flack didn’t have much to say, having discovered a sudden urge within himself to get as drunk as Danny had wanted to.

Mac came back from the kitchen and settled on the other end of the couch with a full cushion between himself and Danny. He wanted to hold his younger lover, but he couldn’t with Flack here. He couldn’t decide how to start the conversation, so he figured he’d just sit there and watch baseball with the other two until he could come up with an ice breaker.

Flack took a swig of his beer, swallowed, and grimaced. “You got anything harder than this?” he asked, looking over at his host.

Mac traded a look with Danny. “I might have something. Be right back.” He stood and took Flack’s beer, headed for the kitchen.

Danny stayed where he was as Mac rustled around in his cupboards, the sounds of bottles clinking clearly audible to Flack. When Mac emerged back into the living room, it looked like he was carrying a drink identical to what he’d just left with. “Try this,” he suggested.

Don reached out and took it, going bottoms up and almost instantly choking. He coughed hard, and Mac perched on the chair arm beside him to rub his back. “Jesus,” he finally sputtered. “The hell did you do to this?”

“It’s a Depth Charge. Beer with a vodka shot.” Even a near-teetotaler like Mac needed to have something around to knock his socks off.

Flack took another long pull from the bottle, managing to keep it all down this time. “Perfect,” he wheezed past the burn in his throat.

“Hey, Flack,” Danny’s voice came, and the two on the couch turned to look at him. “I thought I was the one gettin’ stupid drunk, eh? Somethin’ you wanna talk ‘bout?”

Flack’s free hand waved helplessly as he tried to explain. “Just, the case we had today. I don’t really wanna think about it anymore. I just wanna get stinkin’ drunk.”

Mac and Danny eyed each other for a moment and Danny nodded, passing the ball. Mac took it. “Don, what bothered you about the case today?”

Flack took another swig. “Everything. The way Martin died, and Dawson’s fuckin’ attitude. Seein’ Avery’s face.” Flack’s eyes were far away. “That was probably the worst, watchin’ a man cry like that. I’ve seen mothers cry less after losin’ children.”

Mac nodded; all three of them had. “Anything else?” He slid a comforting hand onto his friend’s shoulder.

Flack wasn’t looking at anything in particular. “He just looked so alone, all of a sudden. Like he had a hard enough time as it was, and then this guy offs his boyfriend. It’s just so fuckin’ wrong.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “I don’t know what came over me, but I swear I was about ta hug the guy, just so he’d stop cryin’.”

Danny sighed morosely and looked at his drink. “Great, now you got me all depressed again. C’mon, Mac, I need somethin’ harder.”

“Right behind you.”

They stood and moved to the kitchen, Mac’s hand trailing over Flack’s shoulder as he walked past. It took the detective’s alcohol-fogged brain a moment to realize that that touch had been entirely unnecessary.

He hadn’t been lying about Avery’s grief bothering him. Unfortunately, he’d fibbed: that hadn’t been the main thing. Investigating a case like this had brought unfortunate memories to the surface. Memories of seeing Mac getting a blowjob in his office, of Mac kissing Danny, and Flack’s lust-driven reaction to the whole situation.

Flack stayed where he was, eyes seeing the television but not really watching it, when something niggled at the back of his brain. It took his logical thought some time to wade through the haze, but when it did, it realized what was bugging him. Danny and Mac had been in the kitchen a while now, and it was quiet. Too quiet.

Flack frowned and stood a bit unsteadily, grasping the back of the couch for support. When he was sure he wasn’t going to fall over, he looked around the room as though making sure that his drinking buddies weren’t just hiding in plain sight.

“Oh, God…”

Flack blinked. That voice had been Danny’s, wafting from the kitchen. For a moment his natural curiosity went to war with his better judgment, but curiosity got the upper hand when Danny’s voice came again, as a moan. Quietly he shuffled towards the noises.

Rounding the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight.

Danny had his hands braced on the countertop. Immediately behind him was Mac. Both were fully clothed, but that seemed to make no difference as the Marine ground his hips sensually into Danny’s denim-clad ass. Danny’s eyes were closed, his head tilted back, and he was definitely grinding back. One of Mac’s hands slid forward to cup Danny’s half-hard erection through the cloth, and Danny hissed and moaned again as Mac’s mouth found one of the Italian’s ears.

Holy shit, that is HOT.

Danny’s head was resting on Mac’s shoulder, and the hooded eyes turned to see Flack standing there in shock. Mac noticed the reaction and glanced over, his own gaze reminding Flack of a predatory animal poised for the kill. Mac lusted after Flack for a few seconds, and suddenly his brain seemed to take over, and Mac quickly—and reluctantly—stepped back, Danny giving a sudden petulant whine at his lover’s absence. His eyes widened, and like Mac, logic beat down his lust far enough to realize what had happened.

They had been caught. By Flack. Again.

And to their eyes, Flack looked ready to burst out of his pants. It had been Mac’s look, really, that did the trick, and if Flack didn’t find something to distract himself soon, he was going to start leaking through the fabric. That one image of the Marine staring at him while casually molesting Danny was going to haunt his dreams for weeks.

“Don?” Mac murmured soothingly, his tone one that he might use to calm a skittish animal. He didn’t have to look at Danny to get his message across: here was their chance, and the odds of it going wrong were very, very high.

Flack’s mouth worked silently for several seconds. “You two are… you’re…”

“Sleeping together,” Mac confirmed with a sigh. It took every bit of self-control to keep his heart out of his throat. Don wouldn’t tell… at least, Mac hoped Don wouldn’t tell.

“Screwing.” Flack finished his own sentence, as if he hadn’t heard Mac speak.

Danny stuffed his hands in his pockets, as though trying to hide his obvious erection. Mac didn’t even make the effort; it was Mac that Flack was obviously fixated on, and Mac knew it.

“How long…?” Flack’s alcohol-fogged brain had taken a nasty sucker punch, and it wasn’t working properly. His colleagues understood him, anyway.

“’Bout five months, now,” Danny said, trying to keep his nerves in check. He had to admire Mac’s composure.

Flack blinked at them. “Jesus.” He couldn’t seem to make his feet move to get him away from this place, and even though not one of them had taken a step, it felt to him that they were somehow being thrust closer to each other, and he fought down the panic. Mac was hard, and staring at him, and… God, I’ve got to get out of here. “I should, uh… I should go…”

“Don,” Mac said softly, and Flack twitched. “Would you stay, please?”

Oh, hell no. Mac did not just ask me to stick around, not after seeing that. His pants were so fucking tight, he ached, and he knew that he should be running like the wind. Mac took a careful step forward, saw Flack’s ankles jerk, and stopped calmly.

“Why?” Flack managed to grunt out.

Mac shrugged his muscular shoulder smoothly. “Because I think we need to talk about this. Obviously you’ve been thinking about it, and I just wanted to clear up any questions you have.”

Danny flicked an eyebrow at his lover; to him, this didn’t sound like much of a sales pitch, but he let it slide.

Flack’s panic began to show. “I ain’t tellin’ nobody, Mac, I swear.”

Mac gave a gentle smile, as though humoring a small child. “I’m not worried about that, Don. I want to talk to you. You’ve obviously…” and he made a concentrated effort to keep his face still, “given it some serious thought.” He indicated Flack’s pants with a nod of his head.

Oh, no. “It ain’t like that, Mac, I swear on my mother—“

“Then what’s it like, Don?” Mac interrupted reasonably. “I’m bisexual, and so is Danny. I’m sleeping with him. As you can see, I have no problems with sexual arousal and other men. And you’re definitely aroused.”

Flack stood, poleaxed. This was either his greatest fantasy or his worst nightmare come to life, and he couldn’t decide which. Fortunately his dick wasn’t quite so confused, and it swelled some more, giving an obvious throb of protest at the tight confines of his pants. He winced and couldn’t help laying a hand over it, massaging it.

“Would you like to talk about it, Don?” Mac continued. “Deal with these reactions, before they get out of hand? I’d be willing to hear anything that you have to say.”

Flack flicked his gaze back and forth between the two men, who were looking at him with equally raging hardons. There was tolerance here, and acceptance, and not a little bit of good old-fashioned lust. “You sayin’ you want me to stick around to talk about it?”

“Don,” Mac said quietly, “We’re offering you a choice. You can stay with us tonight, or you can leave and we’ll never speak of it again. It’s all up to you.”

The three men stared heavily at each other for a long moment, and slowly Mac stepped forward. Flack seemed paralyzed again, whether from nervousness or acceptance, Mac couldn’t tell. With infinite patience, Mac crossed the few feet to his best detective until they stood nearly toe-to-toe. When Flack still didn’t move, Mac leaned up to close the small gap between them, hazel eyes locked onto Flack’s blue ones, moving close until their lips brushed.

Flack jumped a little, blinked hard, but otherwise didn’t move a muscle. Mac took this as a good sign, and pressed his lips a little harder. The kiss was light and cautious, and it wasn’t until Mac took another half step forward to brush their cloth-covered erections together—and Flack was hard as stone—that the tall detective let his eyes flutter closed, giving a little moan.

Mac allowed himself to touch Flack with his hands, running cautious fingers along his old friend’s chest, down his sides, up his back. Flack was getting into the kiss, even going so far as to let his mouth open slightly, and Mac ran his tongue along Flack’s lips and teeth in a silent request for more. Flack’s hands found Mac’s shoulders and squeezed subconsciously as he allowed his tongue to slide into Mac’s mouth, and Mac sucked on it gently, causing Flack’s knees to shudder.

Suddenly Flack broke the kiss and reared his head back, the look in his eyes torn between shock and lust. He looked ready to flee when Danny snuck up behind him, sliding hands around his waist to lay gently on Flack’s stomach, and the slim Italian let his hot breath fall on Flack’s neck—he had to stand on his toes to do it, though—and Flack couldn’t hold back the groan. “Why?” the tall detective whispered.

The meanings of that question were many, and Mac wanted to answer all of them. “Why this? Well, Danny and I have been seeing each other for some time. Why you? Because to tell you the truth, we’ve been wanting you for a while.” He smiled and ran soothing hands on Flack’s shoulders. “Why now? Because of the case we had today. I guess I just want to prove to at least one person that sex can be good without hurting someone.”

“You guys…” Flack’s brain refused to work. “You wanna get in my pants?”

Danny nipped at Flack’s shoulder blade, and the detective twitched. “Hell yeah, man. You’re hot.”

Mac smiled and leaned up for another kiss as Danny’s hands roamed the detective’s firm stomach, the fingers sliding teasingly up to rub against Flack’s nipples through his shirt, and Flack’s knees trembled. He let out a little moan as Mac broke the kiss to run his lips down the jaw line, nosing under Flack’s chin and licking a soft path down his windpipe.

“You guys… are taking advantage of me, aren’t ya?”

Mac started to ask what he meant when Danny cut him off. “Yeah, we are. Ya mind?”

Something about Danny’s glib response eased some of the tension from Flack’s shoulders, and he realized… no, he really didn’t mind. “Guess not,” Flack whispered, suddenly bold as his hands slid around Mac’s waist and ran paths around the Marine’s back, almost clutching them together.

One of Danny’s hands abandoned a nipple and slid slowly down Flack’s front until he found the detective’s aching cock, giving it a firm caress, and Flack’s knees shook. “Jesus, Messer…”

Mac smiled into Flack’s neck. “Want to go sit down?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Later, Flack couldn’t be sure how it was physically possible for the three men to move to the living room while touching and kissing each other like that, but suddenly he found himself back in his chair with Danny sitting on him and doing a great job looking for Flack’s tonsils, while Mac had settled back down on the couch and seemed content to watch, for now. The lust had returned to the Marine’s eyes in full, and he was definitely hard as hell, but he simply lay on his side and propped up on his elbow, watching.

That look was draining all the blood from Flack’s brain and sending it straight to his groin, which Danny seemed to appreciate. Danny slithered down Flack’s legs until his knees hit the floor, nosing through the fabric of Flack’s dress pants, and Flack couldn’t believe just how hot the Italian looked on his knees, his crystal blue eyes meeting Flack’s own as the blond began tugging on Flack’s belt and zipper. Flack tried to help but only ended up fumbling and slowing Danny down, so he settled for putting his hands on the slim Italian’s shoulders as Danny reached into his pants and pulled out his raging cock and his balls, then opened his mouth wide and seemed to inhale Flack, and the raven-haired man stiffened and moaned.

“Fuck, Messer,” Flack groaned as he felt the head of his dick pressing against the back of Danny’s throat. Danny only moaned, vibrating Flack’s dick as he sucked hard and pulled back, looking Flack in the eyes before swallowing him again. Flack was trying to think of something intelligent to say besides the encouraging curses, but his brain wouldn’t work.

It was kinda hard to think, anyway, with Danny slurping on his cock like that, and Flack couldn’t believe how good it felt. He threw another glance at Mac, who was still laying on his side, hazel eyes locked onto the spectacle, hands not moving. Mac was like a tiger, Flack thought suddenly, casually watching cubs at play… or watching prey. Flack shivered as he locked eyes with the man, and Mac slowly licked his lips.

“Don, you look like you want something,” Mac remarked idly.

Danny’s blue eyes peered up at him from bobbing over his dick, silently asking the question.

“I… I think I want Mac to fuck me,” Don said hesitantly, and at the same time he couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Danny and Mac traded glances, and abruptly they grinned at each other and shook their heads. “What’s so funny?” Flack demanded, irritated that they were laughing at his moment of vulnerability.

Danny was first, stroking Flack with his hand and resting his chin on the detective’s thigh. “I really don’t think you want Mac to be your first time, Flack. He’s kinda… ‘for advanced players only.’”

Flack furrowed his brows. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Danny looked at his lover. “Mac, you wanna help me out here?”

Mac shrugged one shoulder and rolled on his back to start unbuckling his belt. He unzipped and unbuttoned and fished inside for his cock, and when it finally sprang free of his pants, Flack nearly jumped out of his seat. “Holy Jesus, Mac!”

Mac gave a modest smile. “I’m not even completely hard yet.”

Flack’s eyes bugged out. That thing was huge and throbbing and he decided that he didn’t want it in his ass anymore.

Danny crawled up the leggy detective to whisper in his ear. “You wanna closer look at it?” he growled softly, nipping at Flack’s earlobe.

What Flack wanted to do was run like hell, but he forced the urge down. “Sure,” he whispered back, and Danny crawled off so Flack could walk over to the couch. Something plopped on the floor at his feet, and Flack realized that it had been the cushion from the chair. Mac swung his legs to a seated position and Flack knelt nervously between them.

He’d never seen another guy’s cock before, at least not in a situation like this, and the closer he got to it, the more it scared him. Hesitantly he reached out, tapping the side of it with his finger. When it didn’t bite him, he tapped it again.

“Don,” Mac said patiently, “we’re not going to hurt you. We’re not going to do anything that you’re not comfortable with. And trust me, nothing you do is going to hurt our feelings.”

“He means, grab ahold of somethin’ already.” Danny grinned as he brought over another cushion and dropped it behind Flack.

Flack looked between the two men nervously. Mac saw the internal struggle and beckoned for Danny to come to him. Danny did, sitting next to his lover on the couch, and the two began kissing again, heavily.

Flack felt his cock give another twitch. First it was all about him, and now they were ignoring him? Well, he’d show them. Mac’s cock jutted straight at Flack’s face, so the detective wrapped a hesitant hand around it and—before he could think about what he was doing—lowered his head to press his lips against it.

He heard Mac give a sharp hiss as Flack pressed the head of Mac’s cock firmly against his lips, like he was afraid to open his mouth. “Take your time,” Mac’s voice growled from somewhere above him, and Flack looked up to see Mac staring at him with that intense, aroused stare. Beside him, Danny was chewing on his shoulder. They were both watching Flack.

Flack found that he couldn’t break that gaze, couldn’t look anywhere but Mac’s hooded eyes, as he finally persuaded his mouth to open, and a bit of Mac managed to slip in. The Marine only stared at Flack, patient and understanding. Danny, on the other hand, was trying to peel Mac’s shirt off. When Mac didn’t move, Danny whined and lowered his lips to Mac’s neck, nosing under the collar and nipping at the collarbone, and Mac hissed again.

Emboldened by the display, Flack worked valiantly to get the head of Mac’s cock in his mouth. He was having trouble, though; it was just so dry, and the obvious fact wouldn’t come to him. Finally he drew back. “Messer, how’d you do that?”

Danny gave him a dark grin as he detached from Mac’s shoulder and lowered himself to lay on his stomach on the couch, and firmly grasped Mac’s erection. The Marine lowered a hand to Danny’s back as the Italian leaned in close and touched just his tongue to the slit. Mac gave a soft sigh as Danny pressed his lips against it as though kissing it, and slowly opened his mouth to slide down.

Flack’s eyebrows hit the ceiling as Danny’s head bobbed over Mac’s length, seemingly going lower with every stroke. “How the hell are you doing that?” Flack demanded. Danny merely opened his eyes to look straight at Flack as he paused, took a deep breath through his nose, and slid down to bury his nose against Mac’s balls. The Marine gave a soft growl and shifted in his seat, trying not to buck his hips.

Finally Danny came up for air, stroking Mac with his hand. “It’s all about keepin’ it slick. And breathe through your nose.”

Flack stared at him, wide-eyed. “You just made it look so damn easy. I mean, look at how frickin’ big he is!”

“It takes practice,” Mac said calmly, speaking for the first time in a while. “At least he’s finally learned how to keep from scraping me so hard with his teeth.”

Danny ducked his head at that. “Well, if you weren’t hung like a fuckin’ beer can, Mac, we wouldn’t have this problem, ya know?”

“I’m not that big,” Mac protested. “A little longer than that, maybe, but I’m not that big around.”

“Bullshit,” Danny grinned, and Flack found himself grinning back. If anyone today had told him that he’d end up on his knees in front of Mac, with Danny making wisecracks about the Marine’s cock, he’d have called them insane. But the two were obviously at ease with each other, and their callous jokes served their purpose.

Flack leaned down and tried again. “Get a mouthful of spit first,” Danny instructed, and Flack sucked on his own tongue until he got some, and opened his lips around Mac’s cock. This time it slid in a little easier, and he almost made it to the shaft. Mac growled softly as Flack’s head bobbed, slicking it up. “Nice, Flack. Keep it up,” Danny encouraged.

Flack got another mouthful of saliva and applied it to Mac’s cock. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his head down until he finally got around the crest of Mac’s cockhead, and the Marine groaned.

“Jesus, Flack, you’re a natural,” Danny said with a lopsided grin. Flack just looked at him and kept working. He didn’t make it much farther than where he was at; he still had a perfectly healthy gag reflex, after all. Mac didn’t appear to care as he began kissing Danny again.

“Don,” Mac whispered after a while, and Flack looked up at him. “Get your hand wet. Use that, too.” The Marine was still exceedingly patient, but a bit of Flack’s unintentional teasing was starting to wear through.

Flack didn’t have much saliva left, so Danny bent down again to give Mac’s cock a healthy dose. When the Italian pulled back, he instead reached for Flack’s head, cupping it from behind and kissing him hard. Flack groaned as Danny plundered his mouth with his tongue, finally pulling back and leaving behind plenty of fluid. Flack cocked his head in a look that wasn’t quite ‘thanks’ as he licked his palm and applied it to Mac’s now-slick shaft.

Mac moaned—actually moaned, which surprised the hell out of Flack—as the detective wrapped his lips around Mac’s cock again, stroking firmly with his hand. The Marine’s hips shifted restlessly, trying not to buck into Flack’s mouth.

The whole situation was absolutely fucking nuts, Flack realized as he diligently worked Mac’s oversized erection. A small part of him realized that he didn’t care, either.

“You know, this is backwards,” Mac remarked suddenly, his eyes heavy.

Flack and Danny exchanged curious expressions, their eyes on the Marine.

Mac pointed a shaky finger at the kneeling Flack. “You’re the newcomer. It’s your dick that I should be sucking.”

Flack’s mouth fell open at that. From Danny’s angle, the Italian could clearly see Flack’s cock surge, and he grinned. “I think he likes that idea, Mac.”

“Good.” Mac carefully pushed Flack’s shoulders back and struggled to sit up, and then stand. Flack suddenly felt another rush of lust as the Marine towered over him, sliding off his pants and shirt until there was nothing left but that raging monster penis, the one that Flack couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from. With a gentle hand on the detective’s shoulder, Mac tugged Flack to his feet. “It’s easier to do if there’s less in the way,” the Marine rumbled softly, and Flack’s length twitched again.

That’s when Mac kissed him again, one hand sliding down his stomach to grasp his dick and give it a few strokes, and Don’s eyes fluttered, but then Mac let him go and took a step back.

To Flack’s eyes, Mac was a muscular wet dream come to life, and he no longer cared what the ‘but I’m straight!’ part of his brain had to say. He fumbled hurriedly with his pants, cursing when they didn’t seem to want to come off, and suddenly Mac sank to his knees on the cushion and expertly tugged Flack’s pants and boxers down to his ankles. Before Flack could move, speak, or even think, Mac placed steadying hands on his friend’s thighs, aimed, and swallowed him whole.

Flack’s eyes rolled back into his head. “God…” he moaned, his hands finding Mac’s hair of their own volition as Mac swirled his tongue around the head before plunging down to bury his nose in Flack’s pubic hair, and Flack’s knees trembled. He honestly thought that it was the best sex of his life, and it was only a blowjob.

His entire frame of existence shrank down to that soft, skilled mouth on his cock. Flack had thought the Marine to be as straight as they came (until the other day, anyway), but Mac definitely knew his way around a dick. It was all Flack could do to stay upright as Mac engulfed his rod and pulled back, swallow and release, in and out, and Flack groaned.

Suddenly Mac pulled away from the detective’s iron-hard length, pumping it casually with his hand and looking up with his sharp hazel eyes. “Sit down, Don,” he said calmly. “Your legs are too long for this to be comfortable.”

An unexpected tug on Flack’s arm caused the leggy detective to lose his balance and fall sideways, onto the couch and into the waiting arms of Danny. Without a word, the Italian began pulling the shirt from Flack’s shoulders as Mac finished tugging off his pants and shoes. When he was finally naked, Mac scooted to between his knees and took him down his throat again. Flack would’ve jumped off the couch if Danny hadn’t bent down and started nosing a nipple. The Italian’s free hand ran teasing fingers through the concentrated tangle of hair on Flack’s chest to torment the other tiny bundle of nerves, and Flack’s hips bucked despite himself.

“God, you two…” he moaned. “Ease up, I haven’t had anything but my hand for weeks.”

Mac flicked his eyes to Danny and jerked his head in a ‘come here’ gesture, and Danny nodded back. The Italian released Flack’s nipples and followed the thin line of hair bisecting Flack’s torso all the way down to the navel, pausing to give it a brief yet thorough tonguing before he slid down to suck gently at the root of Flack’s cock.

Okay, he’d been wrong. This was the best sex he’d ever had. Mac took Flack down his throat again, and Danny whined at him. When Mac pulled back up, Danny leaned forward and tried to either kiss Mac or take Flack’s dick for himself, or both—Flack couldn’t be sure—but it had the effect of both men swirling tongues across the head of his weeping rod, and Flack could have died a happy man right there.

Lying comfortably on the couch, Danny and the kneeling Mac maintained eye contact with their victim as they took turns swallowing him down to the root, and the detective was all but howling. A long, steady noise not unlike a moan resonated from Flack’s throat, and his two lovers sped up their movements.

Something like words attempted to distinguish themselves out of Flack’s vocalizations, and both Danny and Mac struggled playfully to be the one to plant lips around the head of his dick as his hips bucked of their own accord. His hands shot out, one finding Mac’s hair and the other finding Danny’s as he tightly closed his eyes and took a deep breath and let out a long, loud groan as he came, Mac and Danny dueling with lips and tongue to swallow as much of the detective’s essence as they could.

Danny won the little private contest and wrapped his lips around Flack’s cock, sliding halfway down and sucking powerfully, and Flack’s moan became almost a scream as Mac compensated by fondling his balls. The moment seemed to go on forever; Flack could feel every single pulse of his length as it sent the salty fluid pumping down Danny’s willing throat, and his brain went into overload as he bucked and twitched and howled.

Mac released his balls and tapped Danny on the shoulder, and the Italian released Flack’s spent cock with a whine. The two men pressed their lips together, tongues dueling again, sharing the taste of Flack’s seed, and if Don hadn’t just come the sight would have made him hard as hell again. “Jesus, you two… take it easy!” he gasped.

They pulled apart with a loud slurping sound, and Mac chuckled at the spent detective. Casually he rested a forearm on one of Flack’s knees and propped his chin up on it. “Now, was that honestly that bad, Don?”

Flack couldn’t contain a full-body shudder as the last wave of his orgasm rolled through him. “Fuck, Mac, that was the best damn blowjob I’ve ever had!”

“You’re welcome,” Mac replied almost cheerfully.

Flack looked between Mac and Danny. “So, now what?”

Mac gave a casual shrug, his chin still on his forearm and a small smile on his face. “Well, Danny is the only one that’s still wearing clothes. We can get him naked, for starters.”

Danny sat up and yanked his shirt over his head, then kicked off his shoes. As he began to shimmy out of his tight jeans, Flack couldn’t help reaching out to tweak a nipple, and Danny paused to moan. “Good idea,” Mac remarked. “Tell you what, you play with Danny for a while. I’ll be right back.”

Flack no longer cared as much about how absurd the situation was as he fell upon a naked Danny, running hands along the slim athlete’s stomach, tweaking nipples, kissing his neck, and Danny squirmed and moaned on the couch. Flack no longer thought it was disgusting to be sucking on another guy’s cock—or another guy’s nipple, which was what he was doing to Danny right now—but actually kinda hot.

Flack had been clueless before, wondering if it was okay to do this or not do that, and then he realized: he didn’t have to guess! He was a guy, and these were guys, and they all had the same parts. No guessing needed, just grab something and have fun. A load of nerves lifted from Flack’s shoulders as he got bold and ran his tongue from Danny’s collarbone all the way down to his navel.

“That’s the spirit,” Mac said encouragingly as he padded back into the living room, carrying things in his hands. Flack lifted his head far enough to see a short string of condoms and a bottle of something. “Lube,” Mac explained.

Flack felt the nerves hit him all over again.

Mac noticed. “You want to try it, Don? Fucking a man?”

Flack glanced at Danny, who looked right back, the blue eyes meeting. “You wanna try fuckin’ me?” Danny asked seriously.

Flack’s cock swelled at the thought of pinning down the incredibly hot Italian and ravishing him, but something else made Flack shake his head. “I want Mac to fuck me,” he repeated. Strange, how badly he did want the Marine to fuck him. “But I guess I need somebody else to warm me up.”

“As if you ain’t hot enough already,” Danny teased. “But I know what ya meant.”

“Maybe you could do both,” Mac suggested idly, and Flack froze at the prospect of being in the middle of that big, meaty sandwich.

“The one in the middle always has the most fun,” Danny agreed.

Mac chuckled at that. “Danny, get yourself ready. I’ll work on Don,” he said quietly, passing the lube so Danny could get a generous helping. Danny promptly turned so that he was on all fours with his ass to Flack. Danny bent down so that his face was on the cushions, one hand reaching behind himself to give Flack an eyeful of the Italian’s finger rimming himself before teasing one finger through the tight ring of muscle.

As Flack watched, his dick definitely hard, Danny fingered himself, stretching the guardian muscle open, the Italian mewling and groaning with every thrust of his fingers. Flack never thought he’d be aroused by the sight of another man fingering himself, but his opinion changed as Danny jerked and moaned, his fingers obviously onto something good.

Flack jumped a little as Mac settled onto the couch behind him, running a calming hand over his shoulder. “I’ll stop any time you want me to,” Mac murmured. When Flack didn’t respond, Mac leaned forward to press his lips to his friend’s neck as the hand traced slowly down, pausing just above the cleft of his ass. Flack’s legs trembled under him, unused to the sensations. “Easy, Don,” Mac soothed. “You don’t have to do this.”

Flack shook his head nervously, surprising himself by leaning forward and bracing his hand on the back of the couch, giving Mac a better angle. “I want this,” he insisted, his voice cracking. “I want… I want you to do it.”

Mac tilted his head at that, but didn’t say anything else. He simply removed his hand to give the fingers a nice coating of lube. He capped it and set it on the coffee table, reaching for Flack again. “Just relax,” Mac whispered, one finger teasing the clenched pucker. “I can’t get in if you’re tense like that.”

“Turn your head and cough,” Danny joked, and Mac chuckled. Flack made a face but also made a conscious effort to relax.

He didn’t quite control a wince as Mac’s finger began sliding slowly in. “So, when exactly is this supposed to feel goo—oh my God!” Flack’s back arched, jerking. “What the hell was that?!”

“Prostate,” Mac said calmly.

Flack twisted around to stare at the Marine, his face a mask of disbelief. Mac just tilted his head. Flack looked back at Danny, who hadn’t moved since the taller man’s outburst. “Do that again,” Flack urged. Mac did, and Flack yelped again, this time in pleasure.

“You like it?” Mac whispered in a husky tone, his arousal beginning to get the better of him upon the sight of Flack’s face twisted in lust.

“…Yeah.” Flack braced himself, surprising Mac by pushing back against that finger. Mac gave a mental shrug and began to slowly work a second finger in, and the tall detective gave a throaty moan.

Mac took his time, stretching and scissoring his fingers gently, trying to make it easy for his friend. He remembered being on the other end of this situation not too long ago, and recalled Horatio having had to use all four fingers to stretch Mac out before Mac could take a replica of his own dick. Then again, Mac had thicker fingers than Horatio. He didn’t envy what Flack was about to go through, and brushed Flack’s prostate again as though in a premature apology.

He was right; as he began to work a third finger in, Flack’s groans began to go from pleasure to something else. “Danny,” Mac said softly, and Danny paused in his wild finger-fucking. “Danny, take Don, would you?”

Danny nodded and turned around to get Flack ready. He gave the detective’s cock a thorough tongue bath before leaning back and tearing open a condom wrapper, rolling the Latex onto Flack’s erection. Flack twitched as Danny slathered the shaft with lube and turned around again, presenting his ass invitingly. “Just go slow, Flack,” Danny cautioned as he began slowly backing up toward the raven-haired man.

Flack nodded and took a deep breath, and Mac paused in his stretching to allow Flack to place his cock at Danny’s entrance and began to push slowly in. “Holy fuck, Messer,” Flack breathed as he pressed forward, Danny sliding back to meet him until the Italian could feel Flack’s pubic hair tickling his ass.

It was different. Unlike the textured insides of a woman’s core with the wet walls that gripped him at every square inch, fucking a man was something else. The insides were smooth, so silky smooth, and hot, and the only real friction came from the tight ring of Danny’s anus, that little area that gripped him and stroked him with every little movement.

Having seen Mac’s dick, Flack was amazed that Danny was so tight, but then again…

“Jesus,” Flack moaned, gripping Danny’s hips. “Jesus fucking Christ, Messer, you’re so fucking…” His cock took on a mind of its own, sliding into that wonderful heat, Danny stroking him and milking him as his hips twitched himself into the Italian. “Oh, fuck…”

That’s when he felt one of Mac’s broad hands on his shoulder. “Hold still a minute, Don,” Mac whispered, his other hand brushing against his friend’s ass. Flack’s nerves attacked him again and he stilled.

“Is it gonna hurt?” Flack asked suddenly.

Mac sighed. “I won’t lie to you, it probably will at first. And you wanted me to be your first time.”

Flack took a deep breath as he felt the head of Mac’s beer can of a dick press against his stretched entrance. Mac was wearing a condom, of course, but that was small consolation. He tried not to think about how huge the Marine was as Mac began to push into the tall detective.

Flack’s eyes closed tightly as he felt his body protest the invasion. “I don’t know, Mac,” he started, when Danny clamped down on Flack’s cock hard, and Flack couldn’t help the little moan. Danny got an idea and pushed back until he could feel his ass pressing against Flack’s hips, and pushed back farther, ‘encouraging’ Flack’s virgin hole to take a little more of Mac. He pulled away and pushed back again.

“Easy, Danny,” Mac cautioned in smooth tones. “Move him easy.”

Danny understood and impaled himself on Flack again. Flack slid into that wonderful, soft wet heat until he was buried to the hilt… and then the presence in his rear distracted him. He tried to shift uncomfortably, but he was pinned. Danny slid a few inches away from him, and came back with little force, just enough to persuade Flack’s rectum to take another quarter-inch, and Flack moaned from the combination of pleasure and pain.

It was with a strange, detached mindset that Flack catalogued the new sensations. Other than the stretched ring of his sphincter gripping Mac’s monster cock, there was almost no feeling as the Marine slid slowly and carefully inside him, nothing but a strange ‘filling’ sensation. He appreciated Mac going slow; he really, really did. He also had a new respect for Danny, because honestly Flack wasn’t sure if he could go through with this.

Mac was the hammer, Flack the nail, and Danny the board, but they were moving in reverse so that Danny was pushing Flack back onto Mac’s raging erection. Mac had applied so much lube that his cock was nearly dripping, and he had done a fine job of stretching the lean detective out, but it was still Flack’s first time taking a cock and the two more experienced men wanted it to be good for him.

When Mac finally got the head in, he reached forward to find and tease Flack’s nipples, bending his head to press gentle lips to the back of Flack’s neck, and the detective groaned even as another two inches of Mac slid inside. Mac began his own short, cautious thrusts in counter-rhythm to Danny, his hands and lips distracting Flack as much as possible. Danny could sense Flack’s internal dilemma and tightened his grip on Flack’s cock while he fucked the older man slowly onto Mac’s thick length.

Flack’s legs quaked as Mac finally slid home. Soft cursing fell from the Marine’s lips as he ran appreciative hands over his old friend’s back and sides, calming him, appreciating him. Flack had his hands limply resting on Danny’s tailbone, his entire body shaking as he was pinned between the two men, fireworks exploding behind his eyes.

“How is it?” Mac asked quietly.

Flack took a while to find his voice. “Mac, you’re fuckin’ huge.” He could feel Mac’s monster cock stretching him, rearranging his insides, and it surprised him on a deep level that although the cramping was fierce and insistent, he loved it. Wanted more of it.

“So I’ve been told,” the Marine replied with a modest smile. “I’m going to start moving, all right?”

Flack nodded as Mac pulled back scarcely an inch, and pushed back in just as far. With infinite patience, he built up a slow and steady rhythm, never leaving Flack’s warmth but never pressing all the way in, either. Flack surprised himself by pushing back onto that thick rod, and his counterstrokes reminded him of Danny at his front.

They found their pace, Flack setting the movements so that he fucked himself into Danny and then pressed back against Mac. In no time at all, Flack was moaning with every stroke, sliding forward into Danny’s dark warmth and back onto Mac’s incredible erection, and everything else disappeared. A small part of his mind asked him why he hadn’t tried this sooner, but his libido shut the little voice up and told it to enjoy being sandwiched between Mac and Danny as they fucked him and he fucked them back, each movement a rush of incredible sensation that made Flack’s spine tingle.

And then, behind the wicked cramping and the undeniable pleasure, Flack noticed a new sensation: an unfamiliar soreness, as though parts of him were wearing out. “Mac?” he panted. “Mac, it’s startin’ ta hurt.”

“I know,” Mac soothed, an edge in his voice as he gripped Flack’s hips tighter. “Just a little more…”

The pain rapidly escalated. “Mac, it hurts. Please…”

Mac buried himself to the hilt, resting in that blessed warmth. Then slowly, tenderly, carefully he withdrew completely, sitting back on his heels and watching Flack’s abused hole ‘wink’ at him. Flack gave a loud moan at the sudden emptiness, relief at feeling his muscles clamp down on nothing warring with the loss of pleasure he couldn’t deny. “Mac?”

“Yeah?” Mac ran soothing hands over Flack’s hindquarters, showing him that there were no hard feelings.

Flack’s voice cracked. “Can I have your fingers back?”

Mac chuckled. “Sure.” He reached behind him for the lube and dribbled some on his hand, two fingers seeking out Flack’s still-stretched hole. Flack’s soreness put up a valiant fight, but in the end the pleasure of the prostate won, and he gave an unabashed groan as those two broad fingers breached him again, massaging his sweet spot and making his legs shake.

Mac got an idea, and with his free hand he encouraged Flack’s hips to still. Before the detective could protest, Mac slithered to the cushion on the floor, leaned around to line up with Flack’s hole, and pressed his tongue firmly inside. Flack gave a startled groan as Mac’s fingers continued to milk his prostate even as that broad muscle flicked inside him, and the wave of sensation made Flack’s head spin.

He found himself pushing back against those fingers, against that tongue, the unexpected pleasure making him completely forget about fucking Danny. That is, until Danny twisted around to see what the holdup was. He saw where Mac’s head was, and saw the look of pure carnal pleasure on Flack’s face, and gave a shrug as he pushed himself back onto Flack’s dick.

Flack remembered Danny immediately, but he was almost paralyzed by the sensations coming from his ass. Smiling to themselves, Mac and Danny took their time, fucking Flack inside and out until they heard the long, steady moan emanating from the detective’s throat again. Mac doubled his efforts, his two broad fingers battering Flack’s sweet spot even as Danny clamped firmly down and thrust harder, faster, and Flack was outright shaking as he came, shouting nonsense, his hips twitching himself between Danny’s tight ass and Mac’s sweet assault, and Flack was flying high.

It took him a while to come back to himself, twitching and shuddering. Danny had gone still and let his muscles go slack, and Mac had pulled back until there was only one finger that slid slowly out. Mac’s strong hands guided Flack to sag back on his heels, pulling out of Danny. Don went a step further and collapsed completely back, his long legs carefully flopping out as to not hit the other two.

Mac started to lean over for a kiss, but Flack had recovered enough brainpower to hold up a warning finger. “Mac, that was absolutely fuckin’ fantastic and I have never had better sex in my life, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you kiss me after what you just did.”

Mac gave a sheepish smile and looked at Danny. “He’s gotta point, Mac,” Danny reasoned.

Mac tilted his head. “It didn’t bother you the last time,” he reminded the Italian, but Flack was adamant. Mac gave a mock sigh and settled for a hug before climbing to his feet, going to brush his teeth and clean himself off.

When he came back, Danny had peeled off Flack’s condom and was currently draped over the raven-haired man like a cat, stealing Mac’s kiss. Mac bent down to grasp the Italian’s still-hard dick as he nuzzled his way into the liplock, the three men twisting and sliding their tongues together.

Finally Flack pulled back, gasping for air again. “I need a drink,” he said firmly, and the two others chuckled and allowed him to slide off the couch and stagger for the chair, flopping onto it and reaching for the moist glass on the nearby table.

In the meantime, Mac settled on the couch and pulled Danny on top of him, their hands everywhere, touching, stroking, teasing. Danny had been somewhat close to orgasm when Flack had come, and twice now Mac had had to stop on Flack’s account. Not that he minded, really, but damn if he didn’t want it now. “I need to fuck you, Danny,” Mac whispered urgently, and Danny nodded just as urgently. The Italian resumed his earlier position on the couch with his rear end aloft, begging for Mac’s presence, and Mac granted it.

Mac pulled on a condom and slicked himself up again, and slid into Danny without much prelude. Flack’s eyes bugged out as Danny immediately pushed back and moaned. “Fuck, Mac, fill me up,” the Italian whimpered.

“Oh, I’ll do more than that,” Mac growled. He grabbed Danny’s hips, swung his outer leg so that it was on the floor, and leaned back. He pulled Danny with him so that Mac was on his back with Danny riding him, and the Italian gave a wail of pleasure as the new angle granted Mac even deeper access to his insides.

Mac wasn’t done yet, though. He gripped Danny’s ass and lifted him up enough to rest the backs of the younger man’s thighs on top of his own, nearly fitting together at the knees, then slid his grip up to grasp Danny’s slim waist. Danny braced his hands against Mac’s biceps as the new position left him open. With his knees hanging over Mac’s, he was perfectly positioned for Mac to slam up into him, which he did.

Flack’s jaw hit the floor; he’d barely been able to take Mac all the way, and now here he was witnessing Danny getting his brains fucked out and begging for more, pleading for Mac to fuck him harder, deeper, faster. He didn’t think he was going to be able to get it up again for another hour or so, but damn if he wouldn’t remember this for the rest of his life. Now he knew what Danny had meant by Mac being ‘for advanced players only.’

As Flack watched, a change began to come over Danny. “Mac… oh fuck, Mac, please, Flack!” the Italian was howling under Mac’s steady assault.

Flack came over, still unsure of himself. “Waddaya need?”

Danny’s eyes were tightly closed, his words incoherent. “Flack, fuckin’… please!”

Flack was wondering what hell he meant until he noticed Danny’s cock pointed straight at the ceiling, nearly purple with frustration.

Oh.

He did the only thing he could think of and climbed back onto the couch. There was just enough room for Flack to kneel at Mac and Danny’s feet, and the tall detective put a hesitant hand on one of Danny’s knees, the other hand reaching for the straining erection. The moment he touched it, Danny howled and bucked his hips.

Determined to not just be the newbie, Flack leaned forward and took the tip of Danny’s length in his mouth, letting Mac’s thrusts bring the Italian’s rod farther into Flack’s mouth. Danny was infinitely easier to suck on than Mac, but Don could still only take Danny so far before his gag reflex began to protest.

It was enough, though. Danny stiffened and gave a strained, incoherent shout as he came around Mac’s pounding cock, his length shooting the white streamers that slapped against the back of Flack’s throat. Flack coughed and almost gagged, but he steeled himself and managed to take the entire load in his mouth. The taste was so mind-bendingly sweet on the front of his tongue, so insanely salty on the back, that scarcely had Danny emptied his balls than Flack made himself swallow, coughing hard and unintentionally splattering half of it on Danny’s stomach.

Danny didn’t seem to mind, though, and neither did Mac; as Danny came and caught Mac in that almost painfully tight grip, the heat surrounding his cock in its fiery embrace, Mac slammed into Danny one last time, nearly gagging Flack again on Danny’s cock, the Marine growling and releasing his seed in pulsing waves that gave him the sudden, nearly blinding desire to rip his condom off and fill Danny completely.

Mac fought back the desire and instead concentrated on Danny, until the Marine’s orgasm finally gave his mind back to him. Danny’s arms wobbled, and gently Mac eased the younger man down until he sat in the Marine’s lap, Mac still buried in him. Mac released his hips to slide his arms up, wrapping the Italian in a firm embrace, pressing his lips to the sweating shoulder. He allowed himself to revel in the feeling of just being so close to Danny, holding him inside and out. Protecting him. Possessing him.

Flack felt a sudden urge to be a part of that embrace and he crawled to the two, kneeling between Danny’s legs. Danny was still out of his mind with post-coital bliss, but Mac reached for the ebon-haired detective and kissed him hard, the broad tongue sweeping Flack’s mouth to claim every scrap of Danny’s essence, and Flack felt his knees go weak again.

A sudden gasp at Flack’s side broke the two apart; Danny had his hands on Flack’s shoulders and was pushing him away, struggling to breathe. Mac chuckled and arched his back against the couch cushions, allowing his softening dick to finally slip out of the Italian, and Danny moaned at the loss. To Mac’s surprise, Flack took the opportunity to reach underneath the blond and peel Mac’s condom off, staggering for the bathroom as he went.

When he came back from tossing the condom and taking a piss, he found Mac and Danny almost exactly where he’d left them. Danny was curled up on the couch with his upper half in Mac’s lap like a sleeping cat; Mac was even stroking his hair gently, a tender smile on his face. The Marine looked up as Flack padded quietly back into the room.

Danny cracked an eye open; evidently he wasn’t asleep after all. “So how was it?”

Flack grabbed his drink from the chair-side table and made his way to the couch, sitting carefully and largely unsuccessful at hiding his wince. “Not bad,” he admitted after a while. “I mean, fuck, it was great, but Mac definitely takes some gettin’ used to. And I ain’t gonna be able to sit comfortable for a week.”

“Told ya,” Danny mumbled, snuggling into Mac’s leg.

Mac chuckled. “Don, does that mean that you’d like to do this again sometime?”

Flack thought about that. “Yeah, I think I do. If ya don’t mind, that is.”

Danny didn’t even open his eyes this time. “Does it look like we mind?” he muttered, his words slightly muffled by his face pressed against Mac’s skin.

Flack gave the Italian a funny look before flicking his eyes up to Mac. “Before ya say anythin’ else, Mac, what happens at your apartment stays at your apartment.”

“Agreed.” Mac watched him for a moment, thinking. Then, “So where are you sleeping tonight?”

Flack coughed around his beer, which by now bordered on warm. “I’m goin’ home. Why, you wantin’ me to stay over?”

Mac tilted his head. “Wherever you’d be most comfortable.”

“Well, uhh…” Flack took another drink, decided that hot vodka was nasty as fuck, and set the drink back down. “No offense, Mac, but I don’t think I’d wanna sleep with ya. I mean, I work with you two an’ all.”

Mac nodded. “No problem.”

Flack gave a sudden grin. “I won’t say anythin’ about you and Messer there if you’ll do me one favor.”

Mac blinked. “What kind of favor?”

Flack glanced at the floor. “Make sure I don’t go another two weeks with nothin’ but my hand?”

Mac reared his head back and laughed quietly. Danny gave a sleepy chuckle, fighting the urge to just fall asleep draped over Mac. “It’s a deal, pal,” the Italian mumbled.

They even shook on it.