FBI Building, Washington DC: December 12th

Fornell was annoyed, and his irritation was growing with every passing minute. Of all the times to call a security alert, why did it have to be right now? Some damned desk-bound analyst was feeling jumpy, so he and every other person trying to enter the J. Edgar Hoover building were stuck in a long queue as all identification was double checked. Fornell tried unsuccessfully to control his impatience, but he was late for a meeting on the top floor, and growing later by the second.

Oh damn. It looked as though one of the security personnel had an issue with someone ahead of him. More delay. He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone, intending to call Assistant Director Garland's office and postpone the meeting, but his luck was all bad this morning. He realised that he had forgotten to charge up his phone. With an inarticulate growl, he snapped the thing shut again. If technology was so marvellous, why couldn't they invent a damned phone that could stay in power for more than a couple of hours?

"You can use mine, sir."

Startled, Fornell turned, to see a young agent holding out his cell phone tentatively. Fornell vaguely recognised the young man who was stuck behind him in the queue. One of the more recent additions to the FBI bullpen, if he recalled rightly, assigned to a desk in one of the more boring corners of the J. Edgar Hoover building - white collar crime. And though he was by all accounts perfectly adequate as an agent, young Fitzgerald was likely to stay there.

No team leader was going to choose the son of Assistant Director Poker-up-his-ass Victor Fitzgerald for their team. No-one wanted that kind of scrutiny; not from that particular A.D. And nobody was going to take a chance on a young agent who had almost certainly won his place in the FBI academy due to the influence of daddy dearest, rather than due to his own competence.

Fornell could almost - but not quite - feel sorry for young Fitzgerald. The only way he stood a chance of making a proper career for himself was if he got out from under daddy's shadow and took himself off to the other end of the country.

Fornell took in the young agent's impeccable five hundred dollar suit and the Italian shoes, not to mention the cornflower blue eyes and the almost girlishly pretty face, and decided that he was probably wasting his pity on Fitzgerald junior. Oh yeah, with that face, daddy would probably make him the poster boy of the FBI recruitment office within six months. You just couldn't imagine that suit ever getting rumpled, or those shoes filthy, clambering round some muddy crime scene in the dark.

Perhaps something of his aversion showed in his eyes because Fitzgerald flushed at his scrutiny and lowered his gaze, the proffered phone - a gold Dolce and Gabbana model for god's sake - shoved hastily into his pocket.

If he hadn't been such a bastard, he might have felt a moment's guilt at the flash of hurt in those too-blue eyes. But Fornell was what he was, so he turned away from Fitzgerald with only a momentary pause.

That was the point at which the day started to go to hell in earnest. He heard someone shout a warning somewhere behind him, then there was the horrifying sound of sirens going off. He recognised their high, repetitive note as the biological contaminant alarm - the FBI building was one of the few federal government buildings in DC to have installed bio-attack alarms. As he understood it, air quality samples were taken every minute at the air intake valve of the air conditioning. Certain types of particulate would trigger specific security procedures, such as an override on the air conditioning and a building lockdown of sensitive areas, until the extent of contamination could be assessed.

In reality, the protection this system afforded failed almost immediately. Too much of the virus entered the building in that minute before the air conditioning shut down, of the most potent viral agent ever discovered. One viral unit per million parts of air was enough to trigger infection.

He would have tried to leave the building, if he had been given the chance, but events were moving too fast. Even as he started to turn, his time ran out. Fitzgerald cried out behind him, and made a strange, gasping moan that made Fornell look towards him, startled. The young agent was gasping for air, as if he had been running, but Fornell knew that was impossible. Other people started to react around him, then he felt a strange dizziness assail him. Fitzgerald stared at him, dazed, his eyes gone strange, pupils huge and dark.

Fornell could feel himself falling into those huge, dark eyes, and swayed towards the young agent. Then somehow, Fitzgerald's mouth was beneath his and he was kissing the young agent with all his strength. Fitzgerald clutched at him desperately, frantic in his need.

Dimly Fornell was aware of others around him coming together, clinging to each other, driven mad by the wild sexual heat that surged through their bodies And Fitzgerald was sinking gracefully to his knees, his fingers unerringly finding Fornell's zipper, reaching for his rock hard erection. Fornell's attention narrowed to the man before him, to the exclusion of all else around him.

He shoved the young agent's head down towards his erection. Fitzgerald eagerly obeyed his urging. Then those luscious lips were around his hard length and his fingers were fisting in Fitzgerald's hair as he shoved his cock eagerly down the young agent's throat, with his pretty lover's willing and eager co-operation. It was obvious that Fitzgerald had never done this before, but his clumsiness was more than compensated for by his enthusiasm. Fornell was distantly aware that he shouldn't be doing this. That this was crazy and stupid, not to mention public...

He didn't care. All that mattered was the wet heat that enfolded his erection, the powerful suction of that pretty mouth and the need in those blue eyes. He came with a howl, spilling himself down Fitzgerald's throat and watched as his cock slipped between Fitzgerald's glistening lips. A small trail of pearly semen dribbled from the young agent's mouth. He stood, swaying slightly, his own erection obvious.

Unexpectedly, someone moved past Fornell, grabbing at Fitzgerald; someone who hadn't found a partner yet...

Rage flooded through Fornell and with an inarticulate growl, he drove his fist into the man's face with an audible crunch. The possessiveness that filled him was overwhelming. His fingers caught hold of Fitzgerald's arm and he dragged the young man with him into one of the side offices. No-one was going to have what was his. No-one at all! Fiercely possessive, he ignored the young man's whimpering and ripped off his shirt. Fitzgerald got the message and fumbled with the rest of his clothes. Within moments, both of them were naked, and Fornell gazed on his chosen partner's attractive body with predatory approval, some instinctive, animal part of him howling in glee at finding a partner of such exceptional quality.

It was the work of a moment to sweep his hand across the nearest desk and dump its papers on the floor, then he shoved the ever-compliant young agent face down across the desk. Then he was on top of Fitzgerald, that beautiful ass in his hands. His brief fight had acted like a double dose of Viagra - he was rock hard and ready once again. Fitzgerald moaned and spread his legs wider in invitation, and Fornell pushed inside him. He was incredibly hot and tight and welcoming and the long, low moan of pleasure he gave when Fornell filled him served as encouragement. Fornell began to move, his thrusts soon increasing in speed and power. As he began to pound into his lover, he heard the edge of the desk banging into the wall, a counterpoint to Fitzgerald's screams of pleasure...

Fitzgerald didn't last long. Not with Fornell using him so vigorously. He gave a long, low moan and a shudder and Fornell yelled as his own orgasm was pulled out of him by the pulsing of Fitzgerald's body around his erection.

Somehow they ended up on the floor of the office, tangled together, lying on the grey carpet. He could feel the coarse fibres against his butt. Fitzgerald was wrapped round him, holding on to the older man tightly. Fornell knew he wasn't thinking logically; there was however a feeling of immense satisfaction because he had claimed what was his. A feeling that gradually transformed into pure lust as his body readied itself for another round of sexual activity. Both of them were operating at an instinctive level. Almost simultaneously, they both seemed to know when it was time to start again; perhaps some connection was already forming between them.

All Fornell knew was that he was achingly hard once more, but this time he was on his back. He caught sight of an unexpectedly wicked gleam in lovely blue eyes, then Fitzgerald was astride him and impaling himself eagerly on Fornell's hardness with a moan of desire. Then the young agent was riding him...

What came next would forever afterwards be a blur of heat and sex and togetherness, and eventually the feeling of being utterly sated. Oblivious to everything except his lover, he never knew when morning turned into afternoon, then night.

******

Much later....

Martin woke. Even before he opened his eyes, he immediately knew that something was different from a normal morning, because he wasn't alone. Martin was usually alone when he woke, mainly because he didn't seem to meet the right sort of girl. Few of his sexual partners in recent years had stayed beyond the short time it took to complete the sexual act, not that there had been many encounters to speak of. Sex was usually successful on a physical level, but he never seemed to connect emotionally with anyone - there was always something missing.

His eyes flickered open.

At the moment, he was apparently lying on a couch in a strange office, with his coat thrown over him like a blanket, and a warm body pressed against his back. Even stranger, there was an arm curled loosely around his waist which was distinctly unfeminine. He thought about that. Something strange had definitely happened to him, but he didn't think it was bad. For one thing, he felt really good; deliciously languorous - the sort of feeling you get from making love all night. Also, his balls and his ass were sore, in a pleasing, well used sort of way.

His thought processes seemed unusually detached. He felt as though he were in a dream, except that the arm seemed quite real, as was the lightly snoring presence pressed up against his ass. To all appearances, he had slept with a man.

Even the thought made him blush, though he didn't move from his comfortable position. If he thought hard, he could remember little bits of the night before - fever hot, being pinned down and spread wide and used again and again as he screamed and writhed and begged for more. He bit back a moan. The one thing his father wouldn't tolerate was a gay or even a bisexual son and Martin had done his best for twenty something years to please his domineering father.

What the hell had happened yesterday to bring his most deeply buried, most secret fantasies to the fore? Martin had spent the past few years desperately trying to be the good, heterosexual son, and then suddenly, he had apparently snapped and spent a large part of the last 24 hours face down, with his ass in the air, being fucked deliciously across the desk, the couch and the carpet. Damn, he probably had the carpet burns to prove it. Not that he had been entirely passive in the proceedings on several occasions. Definitely not.

He was also confused as to who his mystery partner with the iron-hard cock was. He had some confused memories of... Well...

Senior Agent Fornell?

Surely not!

The older man had been in front of him in the security queue, and then what? Some sort of bio-weapon? Martin remembered the alarms and feeling dizzy, then somehow looking up at Fornell with the taste of salt in his mouth... Then there had been heat and need and bodies sliding together, slick with sweat and nameless fluids until everything had faded into darkness in the arms of his lover. He vaguely remembered being burning hot, shaking and clinging to Fornell as if the older agent could hold the sickness at bay...

Then he had woken up here. Hesitantly, Martin shifted position so that he could see who his lover was.

It was Fornell! It hadn't been a dream! The older man was fast asleep, a smile softening his face, so different from his usual scowl that Martin found himself grinning in response. Apparently the agent had enjoyed his moments of intimacy as much as Martin had.

Perhaps he should have been upset that he had woken up in the arms of an agent who was rumoured to be almost as big a bastard as Martin's own father, but the young agent was by nature an optimist. He knew little about the senior agent, never having met him before - he only knew what he had heard in the month he had worked here.

Besides, Fornell apparently had hidden depths - or should that be lengths? The man was well endowed and knew how to use what he had, despite being considerably older than Martin. Martin sighed longingly and began to hunt through the debris of the wrecked office for his clothes. Somehow, he didn't think that Fornell's happiness would last, once he woke up and found himself naked in an office with Victor Fitzgerald's equally nude son.

His very lonely son. Martin wished he dared to stay, wrapped in Fornell's arms for just a bit longer, but he doubted whether he would be welcome. And he was scared about what he might see in Fornell's eyes. The way the man had looked at him earlier. Such contempt. Martin didn't want to see that in a lover's eyes. Yet it had been so good. He hated to think what that said about him - that he was in search of an older man to make him feel good. Anyone say daddy substitute? Yeah well, blame his upbringing.

One thing was certain though. His father was going to freak out if he found out the details of this little episode!

******

Fornell was alone when he woke up, which was probably just as well, because he was cold, stiff and sticky - not to mention naked - in an office in the J Edgar Hoover building. He had no idea how he had gotten there but a major part of the last day had gone missing. He could remember a pair of too-blue eyes and a warm body beneath him and though he was quite a fit man, running five miles every morning, his body was aching as if from a too vigorous workout. Not that he normally involved his balls in his daily fitness regime...

Confused memories began to return. Heat. Blue eyes. Soft moans. Being kissed and the feel of a warm mouth around his hard cock. And once, lying on his back on the floor, being ridden energetically by...

Fitzgerald!

Oh hell! What had he done?

******
End of part 1/3

******

Memo to all Federal employees

As you probably realise, the recent virus outbreak has had unfortunate consequences for all of us. New medical information suggests that these liaisons may be of a more permanent nature than was first supposed. Changes may have occurred within the bodies of affected individuals which make it impossible to dissolve the new partnership. Even twenty four hours without contact with the "partner" may cause emotional distress and possible psychotic episodes.

The President will be making a public statement about the Partner Virus at 12 p.m. on Tuesday.

********

The world had officially gone to hell! Reports were coming in from all over the city, all saying one thing, with varying degrees of openness - Why the hell did we just fuck our brains out? Fornell didn't know whether he should feel relieved that he wasn't the only one who had done something stupid, as no one was likely to notice his lapse of judgement, or guilty for having sex with a fellow agent who was years younger than he was. He pushed the thought of Fitzgerald to the back of his mind with a scowl. Why couldn't it have been anyone else?

He forced himself to pay attention to the details of the terrorist atrocity. The first report of an incident had come from Gibbs from NCIS, of all people. He had reported an explosion in Georgetown, then all contact had been lost from that part of the city. And before the authorities had been able to react, the strong winds forecast this week had carried the contamination across half the city. The careful bio-attack precautions put in place by the government had proved utterly useless, on the whole. The rest was history, as they say.

He wondered idly if Gibbs had ended up in an "unfortunate liaison," then sighed. Several other members of the task force he was assembling glared at him; he ignored them. For some reason his thought processes weren't at their best right now, but he was doing his best to stay on track. However, it was a definite relief to head out and coordinate the search for evidence at the bomb site. Just a quick trip to his office to collect his spare jacket and his crime scene kit, then he would go get the bastards who had done this to them all! Before Gibbs, naturally, though he would have to meet with that sly bastard at some point today.

As he crossed the bullpen, he caught sight of the one person he had absolutely no desire to meet - ever again. Martin Fitzgerald. The young agent caught sight of him a split second later, and Fornell saw him blush bright red. His eyes dropped and he pretended to ignore the senior agent. Fine. That was probably for the best.

Wasn't it?

*****

3 Days Later....

Martin knew he was in hell. Every night since the terrorist attack had been spent reliving his encounter with Fornell. Memories of sex, so good that he was left burning for more. And worse, than that, even in his dreams there was no escape. To wake with the sense-memory of an arm curled around his waist, then realise that it wasn't real... At first the age difference between them had scared him a lot, but those feelings had long since been superseded by simple need. He needed to feel the other man close to him in the worst possible way.

That was the problem - he wasn't wanted by Fornell. Or indeed, anyone at all. Somewhere in the middle of his growing despair, Martin had known that his sanity was beginning to unravel.

This was so crazy...

That morning had been another blow for his already fragile self-esteem. He had woken late. Exhaustion had finally let him claim some sleep after another tormented night. Desperately trying to make it to the office on time, tie askew and hair tussled, he had rushed for the elevator. One outstretched hand had managed to push through the gap in the doors before they closed, someone paused the elevator and he gratefully slid inside. He found himself face to face with Fornell.

Just the two of them. Martin blushed fiercely. He could almost feel the warmth of the other man's body, this close. He could definitely smell him - he caught a whiff of some half-familiar, spicy masculine fragrance. Fornell must use some kind of after shave with a hint of cedar wood. Martin realised that he had smelled it before, but whether it was from their time together, he wasn't sure. He knew he liked it.

His usual confidence failed him. What did you say to a man who'd done things to him that made him as confused as hell and achingly hard at the same time? Who had shared the most intimate of moments with him? The silence lengthened. Martin risked a glance at Fornell, just as the older man chose to look at him, and their eyes met. Martin tried not to blush, like he had last time they had seen each other, but he knew that his face was a glowing red. Then he realised that Fornell seemed just as unsettled by their meeting as he was.

"Agent Fitzgerald," the older man said softly.

"Sir..." Martin said. There was something in Fornell's eyes that he had never seen before - something between need and desperation. something that made Martin take a step closer to him, then another, so that they were inches apart. Martin felt a pressure against his thigh and he realised that Fornell was hard for him. Martin had never dreamed that the older man might still have feelings for him, let alone such a prominent proof of his desire.

Confused, Martin didn't know what to say to him. Part of him wanted Fornell so much, but at the same time, guilt tugged at him. What would his father say? And his family? Longing won the battle inside him.

He had nothing to lose, so he stepped closer, his hands coming up to rest against Fornell's chest, meeting no resistance from the older man. Taking this as encouragement, he kissed Fornell, feeling the senior agent's mouth part beneath his, unexpectedly soft and welcoming. Martin put his heart and soul into the kiss, trying to convey how much he wanted to be with the other man. He reached automatically for Fornell's hard length, knowing only that he wanted to touch the older man so much. He heard the other man groan, felt Fornell's fingers clutch at his shoulders, his need obvious. The man was years older than Martin, and his experience showed in the way he kissed. Expert. Demanding. Sensuous in a way that left Martin moaning and desperate for more...

Then Fornell shoved him away, hard.

Panting, a look of hopelessness on his face, he shook his head frantically.

"No! Not with you! Leave me alone!" Then he was pushing past the stunned young agent. Bolting out of the elevator, past a surprised group of agents that were trying to enter through the doors, not even on the right floor...

Martin stared after him, utterly confused and hurt. What had just happened? Had he just made his life better or worse?

*****

What was the matter with him? Fornell thought he was going crazy - that was the only possible explanation for the way he was feeling. He only knew that from the moment he had realised that Fitzgerald was only feet away from him, all the blood had rushed away from his brain, in a southerly direction, giving him an erection that made him feel as though he was twenty again. Maybe that's why he hadn't moved away when the young agent had closed the distance between them.

For the past few days he had resolutely refused to think about the seductive charms of one Agent Martin Fitzgerald. The strength of his own reaction had thus come as a complete shock to him. He hadn't known how much he wanted to taste that pretty mouth again; how much he wanted to feel Fitzgerald pressed up against him, his body strong and firm, welcoming.

It had felt disturbingly good.

His, to do whatever he wanted with it. He had known that from the moment Fitzgerald kissed him. There had been such open desire in those beautiful blue eyes, and worse still, such worshipful admiration. It would have been so easy to have him again. To take him and damn the consequences. It had been so tempting to deepen the kiss, to push Fitzgerald against the wall and...

He moaned, hating his body's reaction to the young agent. But this was Victor Fitzgerald's son. Male, years younger than he was and a totally inappropriate choice as his lover. He could just imagine what people would say if they found out about this particular encounter. That he was exploiting the young agent. Or worse. He could just imagine the jokes and the sly innuendoes; the J. Edgar Hoover building was a hotbed of gossip. There were plenty of people who would enjoy a laugh at the expense of Victor Fitzgerald and Tobias Fornell!

Besides, he sucked at relationships - he had 2 ex-wives to prove it - and he felt more than a little confused about his feelings right now. So, for the first time in his life, he had run away.

What the hell was Fitzgerald going to feel about it all? And why did he suddenly care so much about what Victor Fitzgerald's son thought of him?

******

12 p.m. Tuesday

All of the agents in the Bullpen gathered round the wall mounted TV screen, most of them quietly talking amongst themselves. Noticeably, many of them were paired off with each other, standing closer than was normally considered appropriate, to their respective lovers, and Martin felt isolated without someone by his side. He knew he was the subject of some speculation in the Bullpen. Unlike most of his colleagues, he hadn't been in the Bullpen on the day of the attack, and he hadn't told anyone about Fornell.

Interesting though, that they still seemed to be drawn to the people they had slept with. Martin would have expected to see more embarrassment in the members of this notoriously homophobic profession, more aggression, more denial. Not what seemed to be an unconditional acceptance of men being with other men.

The screen flickered into life as the presidential address began.

"My fellow Americans... I have to tell you about a genetic outrage that has been perpetrated upon thousands of innocent Americans; one which has long term consequences for them and for us. In the recent virus attack on Washington, at least fifty thousand people were affected by what we are calling the Partner Virus.

It seems that genetic alteration has occurred in these Americans: the partnerships they formed during the attack may be more permanent than was first supposed. It is likely that laws will be debated in the near future equating partnership with other forms of legal union such as marriage."

Martin gasped, his shock echoed by other agents as they stared at each other. A permanent partnership with Fornell! Like being married to him? He had never considered that possibility, not in a million years. The rightness of the idea struck him immediately. It focussed all of the longings inside him; the need that filled him when he thought of the older man. He supposed he should be angry at the way the terrorists had taken his choice away from him, but he wasn't. He just wanted something good in his life, and now he was being offered that chance.

He only knew that he had a lot of thinking to do, right now.

******

"You heard the latest gossip from NCIS?" Agent Sacks grinned at Fornell. "The word is that Gibbs is sleeping with his second in command! The pair of them had a very public argument about it the other day, so my contact tells me."

"Poor DiNutzo!" Fornell chuckled. "I would imagine that Gibbs is giving him a lot more than head slaps! I could almost feel sorry for him." But of course he was a bastard so he didn't particularly care.

"What about you, sir?" Sacks had served as his right hand in the FBI for years. Fornell trusted him. He was probably the only member of Fornell's squad who was brave enough to ask the question all of them were wondering about. Who his partner was.

"I'm still working that out," Fornell said evasively. Yeah, right.

******

Thursday...

Martin was in hell. Maybe there was something to this partner virus bond, after all. He hadn't been able to believe it at first, but, but he was beginning to feel increasingly miserable and desperate. Part of him wanted to scream, but at the same time, he wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. The need inside him was becoming all-consuming. Maybe that was what made him illegally access the FBI computers and find out Fornell's address.

He was crazy. He didn't care any more. As night fell, he found himself standing outside the other man's home, huddled in a doorway to shelter from the pouring rain, staring at the lit windows in despair. Fornell didn't want him, and he had no one else to turn to. There was no point in calling his family. His mother was more interested in her social circle than in her wayward son. His father, if rumours could be believed, had been caught with his secretary when the partner virus hit. Neither of them had bothered to enquire about their son.

How long he stood there, he would never know, but it was probably hours. Long enough that he was numb with cold and soaked to the skin, despite the meagre shelter of his vantage point. Long enough that he gathered his courage for one last attempt at talking to Fornell. Shivering, he raised his hand and rang the doorbell.

******

Who the hell could that be? Fornell scowled. He preferred to be alone in his misery. Thank God his daughter was away from Washington on a trip with her mother to New York.

Whoever it was, they were going to be sorry. Fornell's grip on his temper was limited at best, these days. Every five minutes, he seemed to lose it and yell abuse at some poor, luckless agent. His team were doing their best to avoid him.

He opened the door and saw one of the most breathtaking yet pathetic sights he had ever seen. Martin Fitzgerald stood on the doorstep, soaked to the skin and as beautiful as sin. His once smart five hundred dollar suit clung pathetically to his wet body and something inside Fornell crumbled at the sight of him.

"Please..." Martin pleaded. "We need to talk." His blue eyes pleaded silently with Fornell, their depths dark and compelling.

"Get in here!" he said, and it wasn't a request. Martin stepped inside the door, shivering uncontrollably, water cascading around him, pooling round his feet.

"I know what you think of me..." Martin said softly. "Victor Fitzgerald's son. You think I became an agent because he pulled some strings." He shook his head. "I worked hard to earn my badge! I never once let my father help me out. I wouldn't do that!" He made a sound that could have been a sob. "The truth is, we don't really know each other at all! But I need you..." Another sob. "I tried so hard not to think about you..." He was shivering almost uncontrollably now. He reached out his hand and clutched at Fornell.

"Damn it, Fitzgerald!" Fornell swore. "You're freezing!" His fingers closed around Martin's bicep and he pulled the young agent with him as he headed for the bathroom. Moments later, he was shoving the young man into the shower.

"Lose the wet clothes, before you freeze to death, you young idiot!" He found himself undressing Fitzgerald as the younger man fumbled with buttons, his hands shaking so much from the cold. With a growl of frustration, Fornell turned the shower on so that steaming hot water could warm the half frozen young agent.

And at some point, he found himself transfixed by the sight of a naked and beautiful Martin Fitzgerald so close in front of him, his dark eyes shining with need. Then Fitzgerald's sweet mouth was beneath his and his nude body was plastered against Fornell's still clothed body and the rest of the night disappeared.

*****

Martin awoke to the unaccustomed feel of a body pressed up against his from behind, deliciously warm and comforting. The last time that had happened, he had snuck away, like a coward, unable to cope with his fear of rejection. This time, he stayed where he was. It was better than he had ever thought it would be, to lie in the arms of the man he dreamed about. And last night had been every bit as satisfying as he had remembered - Fornell kissing him, then shoving him up against the wall of the shower. The long, slow burn as he slid inside Martin, then being practically fucked through the wall.

So good.

Martin grinned. They had made it to the bed eventually, and had done it twice more there. So much better than being face down across a desk, though that had been pretty good too. Longer, slower and altogether more erotic, now that the frantic edge had been taken off their need. For an older guy, Fornell had an impressive endurance when it came to sex. His experience, however, made even one orgasm to be an immensely satisfying encounter. More than that, there had been a sense of rightness about their encounter that made him forget all his doubts.

"Mmmmm." Martin heard his partner stir and the arm around him tightened slightly. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed his ass provocatively back against Fornell's rapidly hardening morning erection. He sensed Fornell edge into wakefulness. The arm tightened around him and a kiss brushed against his shoulder.

"You know what you want, don't you, Fitzgerald!" Fornell... (No, he ought to call his lover Tobias, at least here in bed.) Tobias... sounded amused.

"I want it all," Martin acknowledged, and they both knew he meant more than a quick morning fuck. Somewhere in the night, in amongst his cries of passion and his pleas for more, there had been moments when he had confessed his need and his despair, and the older man had held him tightly and whispered words of need of his own in return. And what neither of them could put into words was somehow easy to say with a touch; a kiss; the brush of fingers against sensitive skin or the feel of arms around a trembling body.

Martin had tried to leave, after they had made love last night, much to his lover's surprise. Tobias had studied the lost expression on his face.

"Haven't you ever spent the night with a lover?" he had asked softly. Martin had shook his head miserably - he usually didn’t make it as far as breakfast. Tobias had pulled him close and murmured in his ear. "Let's get one thing clear, right now. I don't do one night stands. I want you to stay." A pause. "I've been driven half out of my mind, wanting you, these past few days. Tell me you didn't feel the same?"

"I don't ever want to leave!" Martin said emphatically. Fornell hesitated. When Martin had shown up on his doorstep, he had made the older man confront his feelings, and he had come to realise that he needed Martin. Why not try to make this partnership work? It wasn't as if he had anything to lose. He certainly wasn't the only guy in the FBI to find himself with a male partner. There was only one thing to say to Martin.

"Stay."

It had been irresistible, after that to pull Martin close. The young agent rested his head on Fornell's shoulder, and they had lain, wrapped in each other's arms for the rest of the night.

There had been no bad dreams, Martin noted. Only an overwhelming feeling of rightness. And waking up with Tobias had been the best thing so far.

"What am I going to do with you?" Tobias said softly. He gently brushed a hand across the young agent's tousled hair and Martin leaned into the caress. Mischief danced in Martin's too-blue eyes.

"I can think of at least one thing!" Martin purred, wiggling his hips suggestively. Fornell chuckled and gently nudged his legs apart. Martin eagerly complied, stretching his arms above his head to pull the muscles of his torso tight. Posed beneath him, Fornell felt his breath catch in disbelief at how lucky he was. He had to remind himself that the handsome young agent was his. His to do anything with. Absolutely anything.

That was why the partner virus was so insidious, he supposed. Only a couple of weeks ago, he had been alone; his love life could only be described as pathetic. Now, he found himself the partner of an athletic, enthusiastic lover. At his age!

And then there was the whole gay thing. He had always had a pretty liberal attitude towards sex, though he had always been strictly heterosexual. Hell, at the start of his FBI career, many of the rules governing an agent's conduct had been the legacy of J. Edgar Hoover. Agents had to be pure as the driven snow, impeccably dressed and strictly straight in their love lives. Ironic really, considering that Hoover himself had been a cross dressing mob patsy with a long term male lover.

He was adapting well, all things considered. It was easy to care for Martin. It was also easy to make love to him. Still a little strange, physically, but rewarding too. Spectacularly, overwhelmingly satisfying, in fact.

The one thing that was difficult was talking about their partnership. And he still didn't know how he was going to fit Martin into his office and his life.

"I meant, what will I do with you at work, Fitzgerald. You know the order has come down from the director. Partners should work in the same department within the FBI. I suppose it makes sense. But where in hell am I going to fit you in my department. You're an accountant! You've never been a field agent."

"Shhh." Martin's fingers pressed over his lips. "I'll do anything," he said. "Please... I need you inside me." His eyes pleaded with Fornell. The older man knew he shouldn't let himself fall for Martin like this, but he was getting under his skin.

They were so good together. From the little hitch of his breath when Fornell kissed his way down his lover's body. The taste of him. The mixture of strength and the vulnerability Martin only showed to him in those most intimate moments of the night. Fornell's fingers found the sweet spot inside his lover. The way Martin arched upwards when he found it, sobbing his name made the older man as hard as hell. So good. Martin moaned as Fornell slid inside of him. Fornell stared into so-blue eyes beneath him, filled with desire.

Fornell's arms tightened around him. The young agent agilely wrapped his legs around his partner, pulling him in deeper. He had tried to be gentle, not used to the realities of gay sex, but Martin didn't care. No wonder he had fallen for the young agent in the worst possible way.

"Harder! Oh please..!"

"So good..." Fornell sighed. He kissed the younger man loving the way those luscious lips parted beneath his, letting him take possession. Fornell began to move, gasping slightly as his partner pushed eagerly back against him. The sensations that assailed him were incredible. He had never known it could be like this, until the partner virus had burned through him, changing everything.

He stilled, lying buried deep inside him, unmoving, enjoying the feel of being as close as he could possibly get to his partner. Martin clutched at him, desperate. He loved sex. Yet last night had been more than just great sex. Fornell knew he was justifiably called the biggest bastard in the FBI, but the depth of protectiveness and tenderness he had felt for Martin belied that image. It felt a lot like love, which was crazy, because he barely knew the young agent. You didn't fall in love with someone on the strength of a couple of sexual encounters. Even when a terrorist virus messed with your head and rewired your senses?

His movements were slow, and gentle, matching those of his partner. There was something natural and easy about their coordinated movements that would have put long-time lovers to shame. He felt himself about to come, and kissed Martin. The young agent moaned and shuddered beneath him, even as he felt pleasure surge through him. He came deep within his lover, Martin clutching him tight.

Afterwards, the young agent curled up next to him, watching him. If Martin had been a cat, he would have been purring with pleasure. He really was quite sensual; decadent in his love of physical pleasure. Martin loved sex. Any time. Any place. Any position. And Fornell could have fallen forever into the depths of those lovely blue eyes. How did he get so lucky?

At some point, Fornell had ceased to care what other people thought of him. He may have been an old fool, but at least he wasn't a lonely old fool. The moment he had kissed Martin in the shower he had known that he had to give their relationship a chance. Then he had decided to make a place for the young agent in his life. He was irresistibly drawn to Martin. Or perhaps it was what the scientists claimed - unavoidable, compelling biology. It didn't really make a difference, though the illusion of choice was nice. He chose Martin.

Though how they were going to make this thing work, he didn't know.

******

End of part 2/3

Fornell's Dilemma (3/3)

******

Major case Squad room 11 a.m.

Martin stood, looking lost, his arms around a box that contained all the possessions he had accumulated in the admittedly short course of his FBI career. Those few items had been decorating his cubicle in the Bullpen until a couple of hours ago, when the orders had finally come through. Move his ass into Fornell's squad room. He had joyously obeyed the order, ignoring the looks he had been given by certain of his peers. He knew what they were thinking, not without some justification. They thought he had slept his way into the squad, but he was used to the poisonous atmosphere of gossip in the building, and he didn't give a damn. He was going to be close to his partner. Nothing else mattered.

"Can I help you?" The senior agent in the squad approached him. Martin could tell that he was recognised. Everyone round here knew about Victor Fitzgerald's son.

" I had orders to report here." Martin fumbled with his paperwork, blushing as he awkwardly tried to juggle paper and box.

"You're sure you're in the right place?" Sacks looked puzzled. "We're not expecting anyone except..." Martin could almost see the wheels turning in the man's brain. "Oh my God! You're Fornell's partner?" They were all staring at him now. "Victor Fitzgerald's son! No wonder he's been keeping quiet about his partnership!"

"Where can I put my things?" Martin said hesitantly. He could see that Fornell's second in command was tempted to say something disparaging, but the agent restrained himself with visible effort. Not through any respect for Martin; wariness of what Fornell might do motivated him.

"There's a desk in the corner." He gestured vaguely. Martin found it easy enough to find. There was one in every squad room. The desk no-one wanted, in this case because it was directly under the vent for the air conditioning, so you would always feel either too hot or too cold, depending on the season. Oh yeah, and it was next to the door to the men's room. He busied himself in arranging his possessions, trying to make his small, lonely corner of the squad room more welcoming.

"Martin..."

The young agent turned towards the voice and his face lit up in a smile.

"Sir," he said softly. He and Tobias had agreed on formality in the squad room.

"You settling in alright?" Tobias couldn't quite hide the affection in his voice when he spoke to Martin.

"Uh-huh." Martin said. "Your agents were a little surprised to find out that I was your partner." He glanced round the room. Though the few agents there appeared to be working hard, he just knew they were being closely observed. A blush. "I think they would have been less surprised if my father had been the one standing here!"

"Victor and I don't get on." Fornell sighed. "I'm sure you'll hear about it soon enough. He has some control over our budget, so he likes to think it gives him a say in our day to day operations..."

"He likes to control people," Martin acknowledged. "Why should you be any different?" He gave a small, tight smile. "That makes no difference to us. I don't give a damn about what he thinks any more."

"He doesn't know about your partnership, does he?" It was Fornell's turn to sigh.

"I haven't spoken to him for weeks," Martin said. "But I've heard the rumours about him partnering up with his secretary... So much for twenty five years of marriage to my mother!" A frown. "As far as I'm concerned, he can go to hell. He has no right to criticise me."

He lowered his eyes but Fornell could tell he was upset. He had to force himself not to pull his young partner into a hug. That would definitely shatter the image he had carefully cultivated over the years as the biggest bastard in the FBI, but it was hard. His hand reached out and rested on Martin's shoulder, reassuring. The young agent responded by gripping Fornell's hand, briefly linking their fingers in a small gesture of intimacy.

"I'll let you settle in." The moment was over. "Be prepared for a mountain of my paperwork!" Martin smiled wryly.

"Anything for you," he said softly.

*****

Later...

"He doesn't know, does he?" Sacks shook his head at Fornell, marvelling at the man's audacity. Though he, like the rest of the team, had harboured doubts about Martin, so far they had proved to be unfounded. The young agent had been deluged on his first day, by all the team's paperwork. Yet rather than complain or brood, he had taken it as a challenge and had achieved remarkable results.

The first time he had come to Sacks, pointing out a connection between two suspects and a certain financial institution, the agent had been surprised. But since then, Fitzgerald had mapped out the accounts of a major mafia family, re-organised the way they recorded suspect profiles and, best of all, distracted Fornell when he was in a temper. Oh yeah, Martin Fitzgerald was turning out to be an unexpected asset for the squad.

That last benefit had come about almost by accident. Fornell had been frustrated over the lack of progress they had made on catching the Partner Virus terrorists. As usual, a frustrated Fornell had proved to be the world's biggest bastard, yelling at his team, throwing things, promising to send the worst offenders to permanently occupy the FBI offices in Anchorage, Alaska.

And yet Martin had just gone into Fornell's office, pulled down the blinds and...

Well, to be honest, Sacks didn't really want to know what went on between the too-pretty young Fitzgerald and his boss. He could make an educated guess (which made him feel sick, Fornell being such a bastard) but he preferred not to think about it. Besides, it was obvious that Martin had it bad for Fornell - the way his face lit up whenever the boss's name was mentioned, and the starry-eyed way he had of looking at him. Sacks had a partner too. He knew what partnership felt like. Even if loving someone like Fornell was beyond Sacks' understanding.

Anyway, Fitzgerald had emerged from Fornell's office with a cat's-got-the cream smile, slick, too-red lips and ruffled hair. Fornell's mood had completely changed. He had been cheerful, perhaps even happy, not to mention productive. For the rest of the day, they had blitzed their case load and had come up with at least three new lines of enquiry.

So Fitzgerald was useful. Not the loser they had all expected him to be. Quiet, efficient and happy to be a team player. But...

"No. He doesn't know yet." Fornell sighed. "And I don't really know how to tell him..."

"So he doesn't know how much his father hates you. Or that you've had a feud with him for the last two years, because you punched him in the face and broke his nose. That you prefer not to be in the same room as he is in case it happens again... That in fact, if one of you was on fire, the other wouldn't piss on him to put the flames out!"

"Succinctly put, but accurate." Fornell said. "How the hell did we end up in this mess?" He raised his eyes heavenward, or to be more accurate, he looked towards the top floor offices of the eponymous Victor. "And how the hell did he produce someone like Martin."

"If it helps any, we all like him." Sacks shrugged. "He actually fits in quite well around here. He works hard and he doesn't bring a big ego with him, unlike daddy dearest." A sly smirk. "And he manages you quite well!" Fornell glared at him. "Victor will find out, sooner or later, that his son is working for you. He'll start asking questions, and then..."

"Yeah, I know." Fornell said. "The shit will hit the fan!"

He had known, from the moment that he had accepted Martin into his life that he would have to deal with Victor Fitzgerald. That son of a bitch. Fornell hated him. He really did.

Of course, Martin had his flaws too. A good dose of naiveté, and of course, the fact that he was years younger than Fornell. But there was only one real obstacle to their relationship.

Oh yes. Victor fucking Fitzgerald.

******

The end, for now.