The Administration Series (229 page)

Warrick crossed over and kissed him, then again, until Toreth started to respond, his hands sliding round Warrick's hips. Then Warrick pulled back and said, "Well?"

"Absolutely fucking fantastic." Toreth shook his head, perhaps dismissing lingering memories of the last time he'd been here. "No, okay — what?"

"What do you want to do? Talk? Sleep? Fuck? It's up to you."

Toreth tightened his grip, pulling him closer. "I'll give you one guess."

It took longer to reach the bedroom than usual, primarily because Toreth refused to let go of him. When they finally made it to the bed, they were only half undressed and the chances of getting far enough apart to complete the operation seemed remote. It crossed Warrick's mind, briefly, that they were far too old to be behaving like this.

However, most of his attention was thoroughly absorbed by the feel of Toreth pressed against him, holding him close, kissing, hips moving against his, hard flesh rubbing together. Even through far too many clothes it was almost unbearably good — much too good to let him frame a request to stop so they could finish stripping. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed this, missed him — or rather, he hadn't let himself think about it. Now Toreth was here, he wanted more contact, more skin against his; he wanted Toreth on him, inside him.

Possessing him. And to hell with what Carnac thought about that.

Toreth shifted against him, rolling them half over so that Warrick lay beneath him, and kissed him again, bruisingly hard. He moaned, feeling Toreth shudder in response, legs locking around his as he thrust against him. Evading another kiss, Warrick leaned forwards, finding Toreth's ear with his mouth.

"Fuck me. I want you to —"

Toreth gasped, and Warrick managed to draw his breath in just before Toreth's arms tightened around him.

"Warrick — oh,
fuck
." And his whole body strained against him as he came.

When the tremors subsided, Toreth showed no sign of letting go. Warrick shifted his shoulders, trying to gain some breathing space, because suffocation had begun to seem like a real danger.

To his relief, Toreth loosened his hold, and moved down the bed to lie against him, panting into his chest. "Christ," he said between breaths, his voice muffled but distinctly embarrassed. "Haven't done
that
for a while. And still nearly fucking dressed. Sorry."

"It doesn't matter in the slightest." Not true, but what else could he say? "If anything, I feel rather flattered."

That was the point at which he expected Toreth to pull away. To his surprise, he moved fractionally closer — fractionally being all that was possible. "So you should. No one else can make me . . . no. Listen. I'll tell you something." He took a deep breath, his face still hidden. "You're the best fuck in the world — you always have been."

He stroked Toreth's shoulders, feeling the tension in them through his shirt. He didn't know what to say — something was necessary, and in the end too flippant felt safer than too serious. "Well, if there were ever anyone who'd tested a statistically significant sample . . . "

He didn't laugh. "Warrick, I mean it."

"I know you do."

That was perhaps a touch too sincere, a little too serious, because Toreth let go and rolled away from him, onto his back. He lay with his arms behind his head, still breathing deeply, and looking studiously up at the ceiling.

Warrick cast around for a distraction, eventually finding something. "If anyone ought to apologise, then it's me."

That seemed to work, because Toreth looked round and frowned. "What the hell for?"

"I forget the specifics, but I think it was for doubting that you'd be able to thwart Carnac's plans. As you clearly did, I can only say that I'm sorry I underestimated you."

"Fuck, I'd completely forgotten about that. Thanks. But . . . do you still think he should've closed down I&I?"

The question caught him by surprise. After a moment's thought he said, "Not the way he wanted to do it. If the reforms stick, then I much prefer your solution. If they stick."

Toreth nodded. "That depends on the new Administration letting them stick, doesn't it?"

More or less what Carnac had said, and Warrick strongly suspected that Toreth shared Carnac's opinion of how likely it was. However, pursuing the conversation any further would only ruin the night, so he didn't reply. Toreth would be happy to let it go, because he always was.

Warrick sat up and stripped off his remaining clothes, then moved across the bed, stealthy approach, until he lay against Toreth, touching full length. He expected a protest, but Toreth instead lifted his head briefly and moved his arm down to hold him, pressing him closer. They lay together, Toreth's fingers tracing patterns on his back, mapping out bone and muscle.

After so long, every square centimetre of his skin ached for attention. Shivers started, up and down his back, running away from the gently exploring fingers. He tried to keep the reaction under control, but it was impossible — he wanted Toreth too much. Flattering as Toreth's loss of control was, that was inadequate recompense for delaying what he desperately needed to make the reunion complete.

His cock pressed against Toreth's hip, and eventually he couldn't keep still. He rubbed forwards gently, trying for discretion, opening his mouth to keep the sigh silent.

Toreth lifted his head and looked down at him. "Warrick?"

It was an offer. Warrick shook his head. "I'll wait. I want — " and he stopped to rephrase. "I need you to fuck me."

Toreth's fleeting acquaintance with embarrassment seemed to have passed, because he grinned and settled back into the pillow. "Well . . . okay. If you insist. Later, then."

"Mm. Not too much later."

Toreth laughed. "Give me a chance. You're fucking insatiable, you know that?"

"You've mentioned it before." It seemed uncharitable to point out that he hadn't been satiated in the first place for quite some time.

He thought Toreth was falling asleep, because the hand on his back slowed and stilled, but after a minute or so, Toreth ran his thumb down his spine and said, "Say it again."

There were two choices, and he took the riskier one. "I'll never leave you."

Whether it was what he'd asked for or not, Toreth smiled. "Never is new."

"That's what you get for asking me in bed. It reminds me why I put up with you."

He cursed himself silently as Toreth's smile froze, then melted away. Warrick knew exactly what he was thinking.

'You're not
that
good a fuck, and, really, what else do you have'?

Warrick didn't plan to add that to the list of topics best not mentioned. "He's right, of course."

Toreth turned towards him again, confusion replacing what might have been fear. "Who?"

"Carnac — and the delectable Elena, for that matter. You can't build a relationship on nothing but fucking, not even when the fucking is this good." He felt Toreth shifting, starting to pull away. "Certainly not one that would last for, say, five years."

Silence.

"I suppose so," Toreth said eventually. "If you want to look at it like that."

Oddly reassured by how uncomfortable he sounded with the idea, Warrick rested his hand on Toreth's chest, feeling his heart beat. "A major flaw in his logic, one might say."

"One just did say." Toreth placed his hand on top of Warrick's, interleaving their fingers. Then he said, "Once more."

"I won't leave you." He hesitated, then added, "And I can tell you why, if you'd like to hear it."

Toreth shook his head quickly. "No. Don't. That's . . . that was the last time I'll ask, anyway."

"It doesn't have to be. I don't mind telling you, not in the least."

"No. But I mind asking." Toreth turned away again, closing his eyes. "That's enough. It's finished. Let's just forget about it — about everything, and especially about fucking Carnac."

"As you prefer."

Barriers, being rebuilt. In a way, it was almost a relief. Toreth with his guard down, and not even coming at the time, was frankly disconcerting. The openness couldn't last, because the hidden fears that Carnac had dragged into the light were still there and no amount of repetition or reassurance would ever eliminate them.

But they were here, together, now, and that
was
enough.

In the third city since they had left Administration territory, Leo watched Kate sleeping in the broad hotel bed. By the cool dawn light he thought that, despite her grey hair, she looked astonishingly young. And beautiful — no less beautiful than the day he had first seen her in the flesh, at their planned accidental meeting. Then, as now, the picture in her security file didn't do her justice.

He had followed up the message that Kate was in danger from what he'd acknowledged to be a sentimental attachment to the memory of a woman he had not spoken to for a third of a lifetime. The letters handed to him so casually by his son had changed all that. In a way, he was glad that he hadn't seen them before. He had loved her, against all reason and protocol, from the first moment he had seen her. The years apart had blunted the memory of that and the pain of leaving her; a reminder so sharp, so vivid, delivered every week would have made those years unbearable.

He'd started to read the letters while he organised her release, and then kept reading through the night, right up to the time he had set off to meet her.

The opening letter he now knew by heart.

Darling,

Now that you have been taken from me, I know that I should let you go, but it seems so unfair that we had so little time together. If you could have seen me crying every night this week, I'm sure you would have been very cross with me. So now, I promise, no more tears. I will try to accept what cannot be changed, and go on, for the children and for everything our lives together meant. And I hope that, if you can somehow still hear me, you will forgive me this one indulgence to your memory.

Keir and Dilly miss you terribly . . .

He had loved her, once. He loved her again before he finished the first page, and he loved her more with every letter. They had moved him, amused him, saddened him, and made him deeply grateful for everything she had worked so hard to give him. Thirty-five years of herself and their children, a life in words that now felt more real to him than his own. In return, he had given her a single month, and he bitterly regretted that it was all he had to give.

During that month they had talked about the past, not the future, but it was the future that occupied him now. Tomorrow he was due back at Int-Sec. No excuses or explanations would be accepted for a longer absence. Even now they were being watched. If he failed to return, they faced a life (and probably a short one) of flight and fear. The alternative — defection from the Administration, the bartering of a lifetime of secrets in exchange for safety — would be unthinkable for both of them.

What he had done for her so far had used up many of the favours he had accrued in his long career. It had cost him all the rest to make sure that their son's name would never be connected to any of this — Kate had insisted that the children must be safe, and for this month he had been able to refuse her nothing.

He knew that she missed Europe, missed her home, and that most of all she missed her children, and Valeria, the grandchild he had never met. They must miss her too, as much he had done, or more. Her letters had given him the sweet illusion of a life lived together, and now her letters to them would have to do the same. He would ensure that they received them regularly.

Stooping over the bed, he kissed her, and told her that he loved her, and she smiled in her sleep. He had made her happy, for this brief time together, and that was some comfort. Not a great deal, but some. From the beginning they had both known the dangers, and the prices that might have to be paid.

Once before, for the old Administration, he had given her up. Now, for the new Administration, he did what had to be done.

And, because he loved her, and was grateful, he made quite sure that Kate didn't feel the shot that killed her.

• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• Chapter Twenty
  
• Chapter Twenty-One