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
Story Notes:
I love Fornell's character, but then the talented actor who portrays him was cute even in his Hill Street blues days. (That so dates me!) And Martin Fitzgerald as a character is just scrumptious.
Author's Chapter Notes:
An NCIS/Without a Trace crossover, set in my Partners universe. Basically, a mysterious virus makes strangers desire each other. I wanted to add spice to Fornell's love life. Why Martin Fitzgerald? Because I can. No, seriously, once this came into my head it just wouldn't go away until I had written it down.
Chapter End Notes:
I love Fornell's character, but then the talented actor who portrays him was cute even in his Hill Street blues days. (That so dates me!) And Martin Fitzgerald as a character is just scrumptious.