Page 8

T he house was quiet when we returned, Leo's arms full of bags containing his new life. After buying clothes, I took him to that anime store he liked and bought him a few figures. They wouldn’t replace the ones he’d lost in the fire, and they were expensive, but it was worth every penny to see him smile. After hitting up the food court for lunch, and grabbing a flyer for some cosplay contest he was interested in, we were both pleasantly exhausted.

My bedroom had always been a shared space with Xander until he moved out last month. The evidence of his absence was still visible in the half-empty closet and the vacant spaces on the walls where his more flamboyant posters had hung. I hadn't bothered to reclaim the territory, content with my half of the room remaining exactly as I preferred it: organized, minimal, functional.

Leo arranged his new purchases along the empty shelves where Xander's makeup and accessories used to live, his movements careful, like he was afraid of disrupting my space. I watched him for a moment, struck by how right it felt to have him here, filling the emptiness Xander had left behind.

"You don't have to be so careful," I said, settling at my desk. "It's your space too. You can move things around if you want."

He glanced over. "You hate when things get moved."

"I'm making an exception." The words came out gruffer than intended, and I softened my tone. "For you."

The simple admission seemed to affect him more than I expected. He nodded, a small smile playing at his lips as he continued unpacking with slightly more confidence.

I pulled up the security feeds I'd installed throughout the compound. The smoking ruin of Leo's trailer appeared on my left monitor, crime scene tape fluttering uselessly in the breeze. Nothing but char and ash remained of his life before me. The destruction was beautiful in its completeness, but the lack of control, of purpose, offended me on a fundamental level. Fire should transform, not merely destroy. It should have meaning, serve justice, bring balance to an unbalanced world.

This fire had no meaning except as a message. To me.

Leo's hands slid over my shoulders. The innocent touch sent heat racing through me, a reaction I never expected. His fingers brushed the bare skin at my collar, leaving electricity in their wake.

"Any progress finding them?" he asked, his breath hot against my ear.

I tried to focus on the smoking ruin of his trailer on my screen, but his proximity scrambled my thoughts. The scent of my soap on his skin triggered something primal inside me. Mine. The thought pounded through me with each heartbeat.

"Not yet," I managed, my voice rougher than intended. "But they'll slip up. They always do."

Leo leaned closer, his chest pressing against my back as he studied the screen. "What are we looking for, exactly?"

"Patterns. Signatures." I turned my head slightly, and suddenly our faces were inches apart. His dark eyes, always so expressive, were dilated, the deep brown almost consumed by black. "People who plan meticulously still leave traces of themselves behind."

His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, his gaze dropped to my mouth. The air between us thickened, charged with an electricity that made it hard to breathe.

I'm not sure who closed the distance first.

Our mouths collided with bruising force, months of unacknowledged hunger finally unleashed. I twisted in my chair, my hand coming up to cup the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair to hold him exactly where I wanted him. Leo made a broken sound against my lips, something between a gasp and a moan that sent heat pooling low in my belly.

I'd never wanted anyone like this—with this raw, unfiltered need that bypassed all my usual detachment. His mouth opened beneath mine, and I claimed him thoroughly, tasting every corner, teaching him without words how I wanted to be kissed.

When I finally pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, his breathing ragged. I rose from my chair in one fluid motion, backing him against the wall. My hands found his wrists, pinning them beside his head as I pressed the length of my body against his.

"Xavier," he gasped, the sound of my name on his lips making my skin feel too tight.

"I've been fighting this for months," I admitted, my voice a low growl that made him shiver. "Thinking about your mouth. Your hands. The sounds you'd make if I touched you just right."

I shifted my hips deliberately against his, feeling his hardness match my own. The friction tore a broken moan from his throat, his head falling back against the wall to expose the vulnerable column of his neck. I couldn't resist—I leaned in, scraping my teeth along his pulse point before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Mine.

"Why—" his voice broke as I bit down again, "why didn't you say something sooner?"

My laugh was dark against his skin. "Would you have believed me?" I released one of his wrists to slide my hand under his borrowed shirt, tracing the ridges of his ribs, feeling goosebumps rise in my wake. "The big bad vigilante, obsessed with his sweet tech expert?"

"Obsessed?" The hope in his voice was unmistakable.

I pulled back enough to meet his gaze, letting him see the truth in my eyes. "Completely." I traced my thumb across his lower lip, watching it tremble beneath my touch. "I want to mark every inch of you. Want everyone to see you're mine. Want to hear you beg for me."

His free hand clutched at my shoulder, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Yes," he breathed, the simple word carrying the weight of complete surrender.

I claimed his mouth again, hungrier this time, drinking in the little sounds he couldn't suppress. My thigh slid between his legs, pressing up against his hardness, giving him something to rut against. He did, his hips jerking forward in desperate little movements that made my own cock throb in response.

"Please," he gasped when I finally released his mouth to trail bites down his jaw. "Touch me, Xavier."

"Where?" I demanded, my voice dark with promise. "Tell me exactly where you want my hands, Leo."

"Everywhere," he moaned as I sucked another mark onto his neck. "Anywhere. Just... please."

I slid my hand down his stomach, tracing the waistband of his jeans, teasing but not crossing that boundary yet. His muscles jumped beneath my touch, his breathing growing more erratic. When my fingers brushed the button of his jeans, he suddenly tensed.

"Wait," he gasped, catching my wrist. "There's something... there's something you should know first."

I stilled immediately, not removing my hand but not pushing further. "Tell me," I said, studying his flushed face.

Leo bit his swollen lower lip, embarrassment warring with arousal in his expression. "I've never done this before," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Any of it... not really."

I blinked, processing what he was saying. "You're a virgin?" The question came out harsher than intended, rough with surprise.

He nodded, eyes dropping to avoid my gaze. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Look at me," I commanded softly, waiting until those dark eyes met mine again. I released his other wrist to cradle his face between my hands. "The only problem is that I can't believe no one's claimed you before now."

Relief washed over his features. "There was never anyone I trusted enough. Not until you."

The admission hit me with physical force, stealing my breath. I pressed my forehead against his, overwhelmed by the gift he was offering. "No one's touched you," I whispered, possessive satisfaction bleeding into my voice. "No one knows how you taste, how you sound when you're desperate, how you look when you come apart."

"Only you," he confirmed, his hands sliding up my sides, tentative but wanting. "If... if you still want me."

"Want you?" I laughed, the sound strained with desire. "Leo, I've never wanted anyone like this. Never thought I could." I took his hand and deliberately pressed it against the hard outline of my cock, letting him feel my arousal. "Does this feel like I don't want you?"

His eyes widened, fingers curling experimentally around my length through my jeans. The touch, even through layers of fabric, sent electricity racing up my spine. "I thought... with you being asexual..."

"That's what's been tearing me apart," I admitted, my hips rocking forward into his touch without conscious permission. "I've never responded to anyone the way I respond to you. Never wanted someone's hands on me, their mouth on me." I nipped at his lower lip, enjoying his sharp intake of breath. "But with you, I can't stop thinking about it."

Leo's expression turned reverent, his free hand sliding under my shirt to touch bare skin. "You're actually attracted to me? Sexually?"

"So much it terrifies me," I confessed, the honesty burning my throat. "I don't know what that makes me. Demisexual, maybe. Or maybe just Leo-sexual." I tried to smile, but knew it looked more like a grimace. "All I know is that I want your hands on me. Want to feel you bottom while I control exactly how you move, how you touch me, when you're allowed to come."

His cock twitched against my thigh at my words, a damp spot forming on his jeans. "Fuck, Xavier."

I slid my hand around his throat, not squeezing, just holding him exactly where I wanted him. "That's the general idea," I said, my voice dropping to that register that always made him shiver. "Do you know what I've been thinking about, Leo? For months now?"

He shook his head, eyes wide and dark.

"Teaching you exactly how to please me," I growled, my thumb tracing his racing pulse. "Showing you how to use those clever hands, that beautiful mouth. Making you earn every touch, every kiss, every moment of pleasure." I tightened my grip just enough to make his eyelids flutter. "Making you mine so thoroughly that you'll never want anyone else."

A broken sound escaped him, his hips jerking against mine. "Please," he gasped. "Xavier, I need—"

"I know exactly what you need," I interrupted, sliding my free hand down to cup him through his jeans, feeling his length throb beneath my palm. "The question is, do you deserve it yet?"

I squeezed gently, and his head fell back with a thud against the wall, a strangled moan tearing from his throat. The sound was like a drug, making me want to wring more desperate noises from him. I worked my hand over him through the denim, feeling him grow harder.

"Xavier," he panted, clutching at my shoulders. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to—"

"What, Leo?" I taunted, my lips brushing his ear. "Going to come in your pants from just my hand? Before I've even gotten you naked? Before I've shown you all the ways I want to use you?"

His fingers dug into my biceps, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back. "Yes," he admitted, voice breaking. "Please... I don't want it to be over too soon."

I stilled my hand, impressed by his restraint. "Good boy," I praised, delighting in how the words made him shiver. "So eager to please me already."

I stepped back slightly, giving us both room to breathe. Leo looked utterly debauched—lips swollen, pupils blown, hair mussed from my hands, marks blooming on his neck. Pride surged through me at having reduced him to this state so quickly.

"I want to savor you," I told him, my voice gentler now. "Want to take my time learning every inch of you. Teaching you exactly how to touch me, how to make me feel good." I traced the marks I'd left on his neck, watching his eyelids flutter at the contact. "But since this is your first time, we go at your pace, too. If anything doesn't feel right—for either of us—we stop and figure it out."

Leo nodded, swallowing hard. "I trust you, Xavier. Completely." He glanced down, then back up through his lashes in a way that made my breath catch. "You said... you said you prefer to receive?"

The hesitant question made something clench low in my belly. "Yes," I confirmed, watching his reaction carefully. "I like control. Like telling my partners exactly what to do, how to touch me, when they're allowed to come." I stepped closer again, my body a line of heat against his. "But physically, I prefer to bottom while I maintain that control. Does that bother you?"

"God, no," he breathed, his cheeks flushing darker. "That sounds... fuck, that sounds incredible."

Satisfaction curled through me. "You like the idea of being inside me while I tell you exactly how to move? How to touch me? While I use your cock for my pleasure?"

His hips bucked involuntarily at my words, his breathing growing more ragged. "Yes. Please, Xavier."

I leaned in to capture his mouth again, the kiss slower but no less intense. When I pulled back, his eyes remained closed for a moment, as if savoring the sensation.

"Tonight," I promised, the word hovering between command and vow. "After dinner. I'll show you exactly how to please me."

A knock at the bedroom door made us both freeze. "Xavier?" My mother's voice filtered through the wood. "Dinner in twenty. Is Leo staying?"

Leo's eyes opened, challenge glinting through the haze of arousal. "Better ask me this time."

I found myself smiling, a genuine one that so few people ever saw. "Leo," I said, my voice deliberately formal despite my hand still wrapped around his throat, "would you like to stay for dinner? And after?"

"Yes," he replied, reaching up to brush his thumb across my lower lip. "To both."

I caught his thumb between my teeth, biting down just hard enough to make him gasp. "Good," I said, releasing him. "Because after dinner, I'm going to take you apart piece by piece. Make you beg. Make you mine."

His eyes darkened, pupils almost swallowing the iris. "I already am."

Mom pushed the door open slightly and I quickly dropped my hand from around Leo's throat, taking a step back. She looked between us. "I'll set an extra place. Don't stay up here working all night."

Leo nodded respectfully. "Thank you, Ms. Laskin."

"Annie, honey. Just Annie." She smiled warmly at him before closing the door.

After she left, we stood in silence for a moment, the interruption having broken the intensity of our encounter. I took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control over my racing thoughts and the unfamiliar desire still coursing through my veins.

"We should probably finish checking the security footage," Leo suggested, though the hunger in his eyes hadn't diminished. "At least see if there's anything useful before dinner."

I nodded, appreciating his ability to shift focus despite the tension still crackling between us. This was part of what made us work so well together—the ability to balance the personal and the professional, to collaborate on multiple levels.

"Let's see what we've got," I agreed, returning to my desk.

Leo settled beside me, close enough that I could feel his warmth, but not so close that we'd be too distracted to work. My tracing program had found something while we were otherwise occupied—not a location, but a pattern in their network traffic. They were using a distinctive routing technique, one that suggested specialized training.

"Look at this." I showed Leo the pattern. "Whoever they are, they've had professional training. This isn't some amateur with a grudge."

Leo studied the data, his brow furrowed in concentration. "You're right. This looks like something I saw during my Army days. Reminds me of how certain intelligence agencies structure their network traffic."

An interesting development. Someone with intelligence training targeting Leo specifically, using methods designed to provoke me rather than simply eliminate him. The pieces didn't quite fit together yet, but they would. I always solved my puzzles, eventually. And this one had stakes higher than most.

I glanced at Leo, watching as he lost himself in the code again. The intensity of my need to protect him, to keep him safe at all costs, was almost frightening in its depth. This wasn't just about possession anymore. This was something else, something I was still learning to name.

"We should warn Wattson," Leo said, the concern in his voice revealing where his thoughts had gone. "If they targeted me to get to you, they might go after him, too."

"Already handled." I pulled up a satellite view of the Junkyard Dogs compound on my third monitor. Red dots indicated the new security measures I'd implemented without consulting Boone. "I sent Ragnar over with some equipment upgrades. No one's getting within a hundred yards of the compound without us knowing."

The tension in Leo's shoulders eased slightly. He trusted me to protect what mattered to him, just as I trusted him to understand what I needed to do to ensure that protection. A perfect symbiosis of needs and abilities.

"They'll try again," I said, scrolling through more data. "They've studied us. Know our patterns. They'll have contingency plans."

"What makes you so sure?" There was no fear in his voice, just curiosity. Clinical interest in the psychology of our adversary.

"Because it's what I would do." The admission came easily. Leo already knew what I was, had seen glimpses of the predator beneath my carefully constructed facade. "They want to be understood almost as much as they want to win. They've planned this too carefully for it to be a single attempt."

My phone buzzed with an incoming text. Boone. Found something in the wreckage. Not sure what it means, but it looks deliberate. Sending pics.

The images loaded slowly, revealing a partially melted piece of metal among the ashes of Leo's trailer. It had been shaped before the fire, twisted into a recognizable form despite the heat damage.

A phoenix rising from flames.

"They left a signature," Leo whispered, looking over my shoulder at the image. "An actual physical signature."

"Pride," I repeated, satisfaction warming my blood. "I told you they'd make a mistake." I enlarged the image, studying the craftsmanship of the metal sculpture. "This wasn't mass-produced. It's handmade. Custom."

"Can you trace it?"

"Better." I sent the image to a secure server, initiating a specialized recognition program I'd developed for tracking targets with distinctive signatures. "I can cross-reference it against similar work. Whether they designed it themselves or used a specific printer, they've left a signature style. Artists and technicians can't help but repeat their patterns."

Leo watched me work, his presence a steady comfort at my side. Most people would be disturbed by how easily I slipped into predator mode, by the calm satisfaction I took in planning another's suffering. Leo just accepted it as part of who I was. Part of what made me effective at protecting what I valued.

And that acceptance, that understanding without judgment, made something unfamiliar unfurl in my chest. A warmth I wasn't used to feeling, a vulnerability I typically avoided at all costs.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" The question escaped before I could stop it, my voice quieter than usual.

Leo looked up, surprise evident in his widened eyes. "What?"

"When I talk about hunting people. About making them suffer. You don't flinch. Don't look away. Why?"

He considered the question, head tilted slightly. "Because I know you, X. The real you, not just the predator you show the world." His hand found mine again, fingers intertwining. "And because I know who you hunt. What they've done to deserve your attention."

"But what I do to them... what I enjoy doing..." I hesitated, unsure why I was pushing this point.

"Is part of who you are." He shrugged, the gesture simple but profound. "I don't have to like every aspect of someone to love them, you know."

The word hung between us, neither of us acknowledging it directly but both aware of its weight. Love. Not something I'd ever expected to factor into my existence. Not something I was entirely sure I was capable of feeling, at least not in the conventional sense.

But there was something there, something growing between us that defied easy categorization. Something that made me want to be worthy of that acceptance, that understanding. Something that made me wonder if whatever I felt for Leo, fierce and protective and possessive as it was, might be my version of that emotion after all.

The hunt program pinged, drawing my attention back to the screen. It had found a match for the phoenix sculpture's style, linking it to a small arson case in Pittsburgh three years ago. Not identical, but similar enough to suggest the same creator.

"Interesting," I murmured, pulling up the case file I'd acquired through less than legal channels. "Our Phoenix might have been active longer than we thought, but on a smaller scale."

The Pittsburgh case involved a targeted burn of a single office in a larger building. No casualties, minimal collateral damage. Surgical. Controlled. Quite different from the blaze that had consumed Leo's trailer.

"They're escalating," Leo observed, reaching the same conclusion I had. "Getting bolder."

"Or more desperate." I scrolled through the slim case file, looking for connections. "The question is, why target you specifically? What's the connection?"

Leo shook his head, frustration evident in the set of his shoulders. "I've been trying to figure that out since it happened. I don't have enemies. At least, not the kind who burn down homes."

"Everyone has enemies. Most just don't know it." I closed the case file and returned to my tracing program. "The connection might not be obvious. Could be something from your Army days. Someone who felt wronged by your security work. Or it could be completely disconnected from you personally."

"You mean I could just be collateral damage. A way to get to you."

"Possibly." The thought sent cold anger through my veins. The idea that someone would harm Leo merely to provoke me, to use him as a tool rather than recognizing his inherent value, was offensive on a fundamental level. "If that's the case, they've made a grave miscalculation."

Leo's hand settled on my arm, his touch light but grounding. I covered his hand with mine, allowing myself the brief comfort of his warmth. The contact seemed to break some invisible barrier between us. Leo leaned forward, resting his forehead against my shoulder. I stiffened for a moment, unused to this kind of casual affection, before forcing my muscles to relax. This was Leo. My Leo. If anyone had earned the right to touch me like this, it was him.

Hesitantly, I brought my hand up to cup the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. The simple contact felt more intimate than it had any right to, vulnerable in a way I rarely allowed myself to be.

"I keep trying to define what this is between us," Leo murmured against my shoulder. "But it doesn't fit any category I know."

"Everything has a classification," I said automatically, clinging to the certainty of systems and order. "You just have to find the right parameters."

“I just… Are we boyfriends? Are we still best friends with benefits?”

I frowned at him. “We’re us. Beyond that… Well, what do you want us to be?”

“Together,” he said quietly. “Whatever that means.”

"Dinner's ready!" Mom's voice called from downstairs, interrupting us.

"Coming?" Le asked, already heading for the door.

"In a minute."

I waited until he was gone before pulling up one last program. The surveillance feed I'd accessed from the security cameras surrounding Leo's trailer. I'd been monitoring Leo for far longer than he realized, ensuring his safety through means he might not approve of.

The footage was from two days before the fire. A figure in dark clothing slipped silently through Leo's bedroom window while he was at work. They moved toward the smoke detector mounted on the ceiling, carefully removing the cover and tampering with the internal components. The meticulousness of their movements suggested military or intelligence training, each action economical and purposeful.

Most interesting was what happened next. As they finished disabling the device, they paused, head tilting slightly to the side. Then they turned, looking directly at my hidden camera concealed in the air vent. And smiled, a slow, deliberate expression that sent ice through my veins even in the recording.

They'd known my camera was there. Had looked directly into it, acknowledging me as surely as if they'd spoken my name.

Had wanted me to know this was personal.

I froze the frame on that smile, studying what little was visible on their face. Not enough for facial recognition, but enough to confirm this wasn't some random contractor hired for a job. This was someone with a mission. Someone who understood the language of fire and destruction. Someone who knew me, or thought they did.

A cold certainty settled in my gut. Whoever Phoenix was, they knew me. Knew about Leo. Had targeted him specifically to draw me out. The question was why.

And more importantly, whether I should tell Leo about the surveillance. I'd installed that camera without his knowledge or permission, under the justification of keeping him safe.

The right thing would be to tell him. To admit what I'd done, to face whatever disappointment or anger would follow. To start whatever was growing between us on honest ground.

But the thought of seeing that acceptance in his eyes turn to suspicion, to betrayal, made something twist painfully in my chest. Leo was the only person who had ever fully accepted me, darkness and all. The thought of losing that acceptance, of watching him pull away from me, was suddenly more terrifying than any physical threat.

I saved the image to my target folder and shut down the surveillance program, the decision made. I would protect Leo at all costs, even from uncomfortable truths. Would shield him from knowledge that might hurt him, might damage what was building between us. It was the right choice. The only choice.

But as I headed downstairs to join him for dinner, a small voice whispered that perhaps this was one more thing I needed to learn: that protection without honesty wasn't protection at all. That true partnership—the word Leo had used earlier—meant taking risks with more than just physical safety.

I pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the certainty of vengeance. No one would touch what belonged to me again. I would make sure of it, by any means necessary.

And when I found Phoenix? They would learn why fire had always been my preferred method of justice. Because nothing else so perfectly captured the beauty of transformation through suffering.