A/N: Putting you all out of your misery :P Please review if you would, kind peoples. -DL
Chapter 10
David stood frozen in fear in the doorway of his house, staring at the face of the Russian mobster standing on his doorstep. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, and his heart was slamming a mile a minute in his chest...he was probably going to pass out soon, he thought distantly.
Vlad spoke in his heavily-accented voice. "Hello, David Anderson. May I come in?"
Oh, God! Vlad knew his real name! And where he lived! He was SO fucked! "I-I-I..." he began in a hoarse, choked voice.
The gangster waited patiently, his face impassive, for David to pull himself together even a little bit. In the end, the author knew that there was nothing else that he could do but let Vlad into his house. He couldn't very well cal the police while standing in front of the man on his doorstep, and Vlad might finally get tired of his dithering and pull a gun on him or something. So he stepped back, sick with fear, and let Vladimir Kucinich step past him into his foyer.
The mobster walked down the hallway a bit and turned into the living room. "You have nice house," he remarked thoughtfully.
"T-Thank you," he replied. A silence fell, then Vlad turned to look at him. The black eyes were keen and direct. "May I sit down?" he asked.
"Of course," David said hastily.
Vlad walked over and sank down on the couch, sprawling his big body back against it with a lethal, panther-like grace. The writer walked numbly over to his favorite chair and sank into it, his legs giving out on him. He felt sick as he waited for the hammer to fall.
Vlad turned his head a little, looking the living room over. "Imagine my surprise," he began in a cool, even tone of voice, "When I see Pyotr reading book one day. Pyotr likes to read. I don't think much of it, until I see - what do you call it - the cover over book?"
"The dust jacket," David choked.
"Da, is so. Dust jacket. On back of book is photo of author. Photo looks familiar. When I take closer look, I see that I know this man. But the boy, Mark, he tells me that this person works for Calavera Cartel. Apparently that is not so. This man is writer, a writer of spy stories. I read little story below the photo..."
"The biography," David mumbled.
"Biography. Then I had someone look up information on you. Where you live, that sort of thing. I think I understand," he went on, "Why boy tells me that you are hit man. He was scared."
David cleared his throat. "Yes, he was," he croaked. "He was scared that you'd try to keep him as a boy whore anyway, even after he'd paid you what he owed you. T-That isn't why you've come, is it? To get him? Because I'll do anything you want not to do that. I have money, I can pay you..."
Vlad cocked his head, studying David's face. "You really like boy that much?" he asked curiously.
David nodded. "Yes. Please..."
The mobster waved a casual hand at him. "Do not fear," he told David. "I did not come for money. Boy paid his debt with interest. But you..." his eyes bored into David's, "You lied to me. That is debt. And debt must be paid."
He swallowed, heavily. "What do you want?" he asked in a sickly voice.
Vlad tilted his head a little. "My girlfriend," he began, making David blink, "You remember her?"
He did. The bleach-bottle blonde with the big fake rack, who'd been sitting on the couch next to Vlad the day he and Mark had gone to pay Mark's debt.
"Yes. What about her?" he asked in bewilderment.
Vlad snorted. "Justine wants to be actress," he explained. "But she is no good," he added. "She...what is word...smells?"
"Stinks," David said.
"Da. Stinks. But she wants to be famous. She wants very much. So I try to give her what she wants. I think, maybe she will be happy to be in book? To be character in book by famous writer? Even if she can't be actress," he went on.
David's mouth dropped open. "You want me to...put your girlfriend in my BOOK?!" he blurted.
Vlad nodded. "Is so. You write a character that she will know is her, when I show her book. You name the character after her. If you do this, I will consider debt paid. You will not see me again."
David slowly closed his mouth. This was NOT what he'd expected when he'd opened his door and found Vladimir Kucinich standing on his doorstep! "I could...do that," he began.
Vlad looked pleased. ""Is good. Justine will be happy. When she is happy, I am happy. Because she gives me...what is word...rewards? For making her happy."
"I get that," David said. "But this book I'm working on won't be out for at least another year. Are you okay with that?"
"Da. I will tell Justine that book is coming out, and she will wait. Anything that makes her famous, even if only in book...and if book ever becomes movie, perhaps she can play herself," he added wryly.
"You never know. I've been approached to option the rights to my first book for a movie," David told him. "So someday...you never know..."
Vlad nodded. He rose to his feet. "I have your word?" he asked, meeting David's eyes. "You will put Justine in book?"
"You definitely have my word," the writer replied, rising to his own feet. "I'll put your girlfriend in my book. Is it okay if she's not a major character?"
Vlad waved a casual hand at him. "Is okay. As long as all of her friends know character is her, it is good."
"All right. And...this is it? You don't want anything else?" David asked anxiously as he escorted Vlad toward his front door.
"Nyet. Nothing else. You have MY word," he went on. He turned at the door and held out his hand. "Is nice to see you again, Mr. Anderson. Say hello to Calavera Cartel for me," he remarked, his dark eyes full of a droll humor.
David found himself laughing, something he would never have expected when he was face-to-face with a scary Russian mobster. "I will," he replied with a crooked smile.
Vlad nodded and opened his door, stepping outside. He strode away down the front walk toward a black car waiting at the curb, never looking back. He got in, and the car drove away.
David started breathing again. His legs were trembling so badly that he had to stagger back into the living room and sink back into his chair. He put his hands up to cover his face, letting out a little moan. Oh, God! While it had all turned out all right, he'd never been more scared in his entire life! He'd thought that Vlad had come to hurt him, or even worse - to take Mark away from him. And he couldn't have stood that.
He began to realize something. What he had with Mark wasn't just a casual fling. The terror he'd felt over thinking that Vlad would take Mark away told him that. He was definitely falling in love with his dogsbody.
Mark came home soon after that, breezing into the house to find David still sitting in his chair recovering. "Hey, David!" he cried brightly, practically dancing into the living room. He came over to lean down and buss David on the lips.
He straightened up, looking down at the writer. He frowned. "Are you okay, David?" he asked shrewdly.
The writer let out a choked laugh. "Yes, I'm fine," he replied rather shakily. "All things considered, I'm really great."
"What do you mean?" Mark asked, puzzled.
David met his eyes. "Vladimir Kucinich was just here," he told the actor.
Mark's mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened. "What?!" he yelped in horror. "Are you sure you're all right?! He didn't hurt you?!" he asked anxiously, looking David over as though searching for visible wounds.
"No, he didn't. Though it's a wonder I didn't have an accident in my pants when I saw him on the doorstep," he added with a hoarse laugh.
"What happened?" Mark asked, taking his hands.
So David told him the whole story, which Mark listened to with a bemused expression on his face. "Wow, he said when the writer was finished at last. "That's NOT something I would have imagined. That's all he wanted? Really?"
David nodded. "Really. All I have to do is make his girlfriend a character in my new book, and he's good. He said he'd never bother me again."
Mark sighed in relief, and crawled into David's lap. He straddled the writer, leaning down to capture David's lips in a deep, long, searing kiss. "I'm so glad that it was nothing more than that," he said softly when he finally pulled away. "If something had happened to you because of me..." his face contracted. "I'd never, ever forgive myself."
David reached up to span his waist with his hands. "It's all right," he said. "Nothing happened. He didn't hurt me. Though, to tell you the truth, the thing that scared me the most wasn't that he was going to hurt me, but that he was going to try to take you away. I couldn't have stood that, Mark."
The actor's eyes searched his. "And why is that, David?" he asked softly.
The writer sighed deeply. "Because..." he looked up into Mark's eyes, "Because I'm falling in love with you, Mark. I hope that's all right," he went on anxiously.
"All right? It's awesome!" the actor replied happily. "To have a great guy like you falling in love with me? What more could anybody ask for?"
David smiled tremulously. "Maybe to hear that the person he's confessing to might be falling in love with HIM, too?" he said.
Mark laughed, a joyous sound. "Done," he breathed, leaning forward. "I can't help but fall in love with you, David," he said. "You're the best man that I've ever met. And you're great in the sack, too," he added, a merry twinkle in his eyes.
David found himself laughing as well, his heart swelling in his chest. "Mark - when your year is up as my dogsbody, would you stay as my lover?" he asked the actor, his face turning serious.
Mark settled in his lap and tilted his head to the side a little. "So I go from being a paid servant to an unpaid one?” he teased, his lips quirking.
"No, of course not! If you stay, you don't have to take care of me anymore," David told him earnestly.
Mark laughed, a bright sound. "Silly man. Of course I'll still take care of you. I love taking care of you. As long as you promise to always take care of me in return," he went on in a naughty tone of voice, telling the writer clearly what he meant by David 'taking care of' him.
"I think I can do that," David said.
"Then it's all good. Of course I'll stay. I'll stay for as long as you want me."
David smiled as he pulled Mark's head down for another kiss. He didn't bother to say that he was pretty sure that Mark would be staying forever if the only requirement was David wanting him. There's be plenty of time for him to say that to his dogsbody...no, his lover. All the time in the world, in fact. All of the time in the world.
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Chapter 10
David stood frozen in fear in the doorway of his house, staring at the face of the Russian mobster standing on his doorstep. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, and his heart was slamming a mile a minute in his chest...he was probably going to pass out soon, he thought distantly.
Vlad spoke in his heavily-accented voice. "Hello, David Anderson. May I come in?"
Oh, God! Vlad knew his real name! And where he lived! He was SO fucked! "I-I-I..." he began in a hoarse, choked voice.
The gangster waited patiently, his face impassive, for David to pull himself together even a little bit. In the end, the author knew that there was nothing else that he could do but let Vlad into his house. He couldn't very well cal the police while standing in front of the man on his doorstep, and Vlad might finally get tired of his dithering and pull a gun on him or something. So he stepped back, sick with fear, and let Vladimir Kucinich step past him into his foyer.
The mobster walked down the hallway a bit and turned into the living room. "You have nice house," he remarked thoughtfully.
"T-Thank you," he replied. A silence fell, then Vlad turned to look at him. The black eyes were keen and direct. "May I sit down?" he asked.
"Of course," David said hastily.
Vlad walked over and sank down on the couch, sprawling his big body back against it with a lethal, panther-like grace. The writer walked numbly over to his favorite chair and sank into it, his legs giving out on him. He felt sick as he waited for the hammer to fall.
Vlad turned his head a little, looking the living room over. "Imagine my surprise," he began in a cool, even tone of voice, "When I see Pyotr reading book one day. Pyotr likes to read. I don't think much of it, until I see - what do you call it - the cover over book?"
"The dust jacket," David choked.
"Da, is so. Dust jacket. On back of book is photo of author. Photo looks familiar. When I take closer look, I see that I know this man. But the boy, Mark, he tells me that this person works for Calavera Cartel. Apparently that is not so. This man is writer, a writer of spy stories. I read little story below the photo..."
"The biography," David mumbled.
"Biography. Then I had someone look up information on you. Where you live, that sort of thing. I think I understand," he went on, "Why boy tells me that you are hit man. He was scared."
David cleared his throat. "Yes, he was," he croaked. "He was scared that you'd try to keep him as a boy whore anyway, even after he'd paid you what he owed you. T-That isn't why you've come, is it? To get him? Because I'll do anything you want not to do that. I have money, I can pay you..."
Vlad cocked his head, studying David's face. "You really like boy that much?" he asked curiously.
David nodded. "Yes. Please..."
The mobster waved a casual hand at him. "Do not fear," he told David. "I did not come for money. Boy paid his debt with interest. But you..." his eyes bored into David's, "You lied to me. That is debt. And debt must be paid."
He swallowed, heavily. "What do you want?" he asked in a sickly voice.
Vlad tilted his head a little. "My girlfriend," he began, making David blink, "You remember her?"
He did. The bleach-bottle blonde with the big fake rack, who'd been sitting on the couch next to Vlad the day he and Mark had gone to pay Mark's debt.
"Yes. What about her?" he asked in bewilderment.
Vlad snorted. "Justine wants to be actress," he explained. "But she is no good," he added. "She...what is word...smells?"
"Stinks," David said.
"Da. Stinks. But she wants to be famous. She wants very much. So I try to give her what she wants. I think, maybe she will be happy to be in book? To be character in book by famous writer? Even if she can't be actress," he went on.
David's mouth dropped open. "You want me to...put your girlfriend in my BOOK?!" he blurted.
Vlad nodded. "Is so. You write a character that she will know is her, when I show her book. You name the character after her. If you do this, I will consider debt paid. You will not see me again."
David slowly closed his mouth. This was NOT what he'd expected when he'd opened his door and found Vladimir Kucinich standing on his doorstep! "I could...do that," he began.
Vlad looked pleased. ""Is good. Justine will be happy. When she is happy, I am happy. Because she gives me...what is word...rewards? For making her happy."
"I get that," David said. "But this book I'm working on won't be out for at least another year. Are you okay with that?"
"Da. I will tell Justine that book is coming out, and she will wait. Anything that makes her famous, even if only in book...and if book ever becomes movie, perhaps she can play herself," he added wryly.
"You never know. I've been approached to option the rights to my first book for a movie," David told him. "So someday...you never know..."
Vlad nodded. He rose to his feet. "I have your word?" he asked, meeting David's eyes. "You will put Justine in book?"
"You definitely have my word," the writer replied, rising to his own feet. "I'll put your girlfriend in my book. Is it okay if she's not a major character?"
Vlad waved a casual hand at him. "Is okay. As long as all of her friends know character is her, it is good."
"All right. And...this is it? You don't want anything else?" David asked anxiously as he escorted Vlad toward his front door.
"Nyet. Nothing else. You have MY word," he went on. He turned at the door and held out his hand. "Is nice to see you again, Mr. Anderson. Say hello to Calavera Cartel for me," he remarked, his dark eyes full of a droll humor.
David found himself laughing, something he would never have expected when he was face-to-face with a scary Russian mobster. "I will," he replied with a crooked smile.
Vlad nodded and opened his door, stepping outside. He strode away down the front walk toward a black car waiting at the curb, never looking back. He got in, and the car drove away.
David started breathing again. His legs were trembling so badly that he had to stagger back into the living room and sink back into his chair. He put his hands up to cover his face, letting out a little moan. Oh, God! While it had all turned out all right, he'd never been more scared in his entire life! He'd thought that Vlad had come to hurt him, or even worse - to take Mark away from him. And he couldn't have stood that.
He began to realize something. What he had with Mark wasn't just a casual fling. The terror he'd felt over thinking that Vlad would take Mark away told him that. He was definitely falling in love with his dogsbody.
Mark came home soon after that, breezing into the house to find David still sitting in his chair recovering. "Hey, David!" he cried brightly, practically dancing into the living room. He came over to lean down and buss David on the lips.
He straightened up, looking down at the writer. He frowned. "Are you okay, David?" he asked shrewdly.
The writer let out a choked laugh. "Yes, I'm fine," he replied rather shakily. "All things considered, I'm really great."
"What do you mean?" Mark asked, puzzled.
David met his eyes. "Vladimir Kucinich was just here," he told the actor.
Mark's mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened. "What?!" he yelped in horror. "Are you sure you're all right?! He didn't hurt you?!" he asked anxiously, looking David over as though searching for visible wounds.
"No, he didn't. Though it's a wonder I didn't have an accident in my pants when I saw him on the doorstep," he added with a hoarse laugh.
"What happened?" Mark asked, taking his hands.
So David told him the whole story, which Mark listened to with a bemused expression on his face. "Wow, he said when the writer was finished at last. "That's NOT something I would have imagined. That's all he wanted? Really?"
David nodded. "Really. All I have to do is make his girlfriend a character in my new book, and he's good. He said he'd never bother me again."
Mark sighed in relief, and crawled into David's lap. He straddled the writer, leaning down to capture David's lips in a deep, long, searing kiss. "I'm so glad that it was nothing more than that," he said softly when he finally pulled away. "If something had happened to you because of me..." his face contracted. "I'd never, ever forgive myself."
David reached up to span his waist with his hands. "It's all right," he said. "Nothing happened. He didn't hurt me. Though, to tell you the truth, the thing that scared me the most wasn't that he was going to hurt me, but that he was going to try to take you away. I couldn't have stood that, Mark."
The actor's eyes searched his. "And why is that, David?" he asked softly.
The writer sighed deeply. "Because..." he looked up into Mark's eyes, "Because I'm falling in love with you, Mark. I hope that's all right," he went on anxiously.
"All right? It's awesome!" the actor replied happily. "To have a great guy like you falling in love with me? What more could anybody ask for?"
David smiled tremulously. "Maybe to hear that the person he's confessing to might be falling in love with HIM, too?" he said.
Mark laughed, a joyous sound. "Done," he breathed, leaning forward. "I can't help but fall in love with you, David," he said. "You're the best man that I've ever met. And you're great in the sack, too," he added, a merry twinkle in his eyes.
David found himself laughing as well, his heart swelling in his chest. "Mark - when your year is up as my dogsbody, would you stay as my lover?" he asked the actor, his face turning serious.
Mark settled in his lap and tilted his head to the side a little. "So I go from being a paid servant to an unpaid one?” he teased, his lips quirking.
"No, of course not! If you stay, you don't have to take care of me anymore," David told him earnestly.
Mark laughed, a bright sound. "Silly man. Of course I'll still take care of you. I love taking care of you. As long as you promise to always take care of me in return," he went on in a naughty tone of voice, telling the writer clearly what he meant by David 'taking care of' him.
"I think I can do that," David said.
"Then it's all good. Of course I'll stay. I'll stay for as long as you want me."
David smiled as he pulled Mark's head down for another kiss. He didn't bother to say that he was pretty sure that Mark would be staying forever if the only requirement was David wanting him. There's be plenty of time for him to say that to his dogsbody...no, his lover. All the time in the world, in fact. All of the time in the world.
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