The walk down the hallway was long and lonely, accompanied by only the dull whirring of his suitcase's wheels across the carpet. Larry had mentally convinced himself that the apartment would be empty, then counter-argued with such persuasion that he'd switched sides five times before he arrived at his door. The key turned, familiar and easy. When he poked his head inside, he stopped in his tracks and stared. The bouquet was just as he'd painstakingly specified; tiger lillies, bold and masculine, alone in a clear glass vase. It sat in the center of the kitchen table, freshly watered.

"Freddy?" he called out, voice thick.

He cleared his throat and scanned the living room area; the couch looked pristine, the coffee table was clear of food or drink. A muffled response came just as he walked into the bedroom. Freddy was reclining on the bed, back turned to him, still as stone.

"What?" Larry asked dumbly, still processing the overwhelming relief that coursed through him.

"I said, sorry for what?"

Confusion gripped him for a second until he remembered what he'd instructed the florists to put on the card. Just two words: I'm sorry.

"For being chickenshit. For not being honest with you..."

Freddy turned like he'd been yanked. His face was blotched red, puffy.

"Hah! Fuck you."

The words were flung at him, cruel and cutting. Larry took a small step back and kept his expression placid.

"I deserved that."

There was no response. Freddy just stared at him, eyes glassy with depthless melancholy, and he realized with cold certainty that he'd lost him.

"So that's it, then?" Larry finally managed, not even trying to hide the anguish in his voice.

"I don't know. Christ, why am I doing this to myself? I'm fucked in the head."

"Can I touch you?" Larry whispered, "nothing sexual or anything."

It took a few seconds, but Freddy finally responded, voice low and cracking.

"Yeah."

The few steps that stood between him and the bed were daunting. Larry didn't even take off his jacket before lowering himself onto the mattress and pulling Freddy into his arms. He combed his fingers through the silky butterscotch hair and inhaled deep, instantly calmed by the familiarity of its scent. Slowly, gradually, Freddy relaxed against him, hand curled over his breast pocket.

"How can we make this work?" Larry asked when he was confident the question wouldn't frighten his boy away.

"First we gotta define what 'this' is," Freddy answered sternly, "I'm laying it out on the table. I don't see you as an employer, okay? If you need to pull the plug on all this, I understand."

Larry squeezed him tighter.

"Not gonna happen; I want to treat you. What else am I supposed to do with my money?"

The change was immediate. He felt Freddy's entire body go tense in his arms.

"I'd be a fucking sack of shit hypocrite to keep living here."

A warning bell sounded in the back of Larry's mind; he pushed it down to examine later. At that moment, he had only one mission, and he meant to see it through.

"It would be shitty of me to kick you out."

"I ain't gonna budge on this"

"Neither am I."

Freddy hoisted himself up, elbows locked, and stared him down. It was impossible not to drink in the sight; Larry brushed a thumb across the faint cluster of freckles at his cheek. When Freddy spoke, his voice was so faint that Larry had to strain to hear him.

"I won't lead you, I won't ask you... you gotta tell me on your own."

"Tell you what? That I love you? Wasn't I obvious?"

The resulting laughter was sharp and humorless.

"Because you sent me flowers? Fuck you. You treated me like shit, and even now you're still treating me like an employee. I want it all on the table... as equals. Or it's not worth my time."

"You drive a tough bargain," Larry croaked. He felt the familiar tendrils of panic rising from his gut, but ignored them.

"But you love me."

"Yeah."

"Say it," Freddy growled and kissed him so hard and with such pained need that the words waiting on his tongue retreated. He tilted his boy's face just so and kissed him back with every ounce of his regret and confusion and love.

"I love you," he murmured, pulling away to press his lips against Freddy's temple; his forehead; his throat.

"Prove it."

Larry never backed down from a challenge, but he took his time as he removed their clothing, pressing his nose against the smooth, tightly muscled chest, worshipping the beauty of youth with a slow drag of his mouth. They moved together with a reverent tenderness, but also with a strange, impatient desperation. He held his boy tightly, reminding him; his boy answered by grinding their cocks together. It was almost too much and he shuddered, seeking refuge in the sweaty crook of the soft, curving neck.

"Let me fuck you, please," he pleaded, low and urgent.

"Whatever you want."

The words broke his heart.

"I want to make you happy."

Freddy stayed silent and reached for the bedside table. It was a familiar ritual, sometimes tedious, sometimes erotic, but always necessary. This time, the process was quick and almost perfunctory. Larry tried to slow things down, but Freddy stilled him.

"I'm ready."

"I'll hurt you."

"I know what I can handle."

He knew better than to press, and responded by hoisting Freddy's pelvis high enough to get a pillow beneath him. The first push in was heaven; he trembled at the hot, tight warmth and thought distantly that it was like returning home. The rightness of it was almost frightening. Freddy bucked up, trying to push him deeper and he grunted, startled.

"Fuck me," came the command, raw and dangerous.

Without thinking, Larry grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged. Not too rough; just enough to get his attention.

"This what you want?"

"Yes," Freddy hissed, eyelids heavy.

"You like it when I pound your ass?"

He punctuated the question with two hard, staccato thrusts. The noise they pulled from Freddy was guttural.

"More."

His fingertips dug deep into the flesh at those narrow hips, tilting him just right. When he fucked into him, Freddy clenched his eyes shut, arched his back, and shouted. Thighs tightened around him, pulling him closer, guiding his movement. Larry blinked the sweat out of his eyes and obliged, keeping his aim true. He loved the sandpaper rasp of the kid's voice; loved milking the sound out of him.

"I'm gonna..." Freddy whimpered, eyes round as saucers. His blunt fingernails scraped at the slick skin on Larry's back.

"Let go, baby."

He knew the second Freddy came; there was a brief silence followed by a deep, primal grunt. It took Larry only a few more trusts to finish himself off, crying his pleasure into one milky, smooth shoulder. He collapsed, breathless, and simply let his cock pulse.

When he pulled out and fell back against the mattress, Freddy was staring up at the ceiling. He looked so lost that Larry extended a hand without thinking and gently cradled his face.

"What is it?"

"Why d'you have to be like this?"

"Like what?"

"So good to me."

There wasn't a response that would do his heart justice, so instead, Larry just pulled the kid close and held him. Nothing more.

.•:*¨¨*:•..•:*¨¨*:•..•:*¨¨*:•.

It took Larry ten minutes to fall asleep after their lovemaking. Freddy glanced at his closet, eyes alighting on his suit, and that damned piece of paper hidden there. He'd re-read it the next morning, and reality had hit him even harder in the cold sobriety of day. If he brought if up, Larry would be furious and terrified. And rightly so. It would be the ultimate litmus test of his devotion. Would he run? Who could he possibly trust with a secret that volatile? The thought of it filled Freddy with a high-pitched, manic fear. He was gone; completely in love. The reality of how far he would go to protect it sickened him.

He felt suddenly claustrophobic and extricated himself from the sheets. His clothes had been dumped on the floor; he retrieved them and walked out into the kitchen, suddenly starving. The first knock was so faint he almost didn't hear it. By the time the second knock came, he was across the room, pulling the door wide open before Larry could be woken by the noise. The person on the other side was the last one he'd ever expected to see.

"Sophie?"

"Oh my god. Where's Larry? I dug up all the leases in town with his name on them. What the hell are you doing here? Sweet jesus, he's fucking his employee."

Freddy shushed her gently and invited her inside, pointing to the bedroom.

"He just got in from a long flight."

"You reek of sex and lube."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Sophie reddened as deeply as Freddy did, as if she'd let the words slip out accidentally.

"He's sleeping," Freddy finally managed, keeping his voice level and firm.

"How much do they tell you?"

The sudden change of subject set off all of Freddy's internal alarms. It suddenly hit him that she could have tried every other address on her list before she arrived at his door.

"What's so important that you couldn't risk a phone call?"

"How much do you know?"

"I know about HSBC," he bluffed, adrenaline surging through him.

"Christ almighty. I have to talk to him; wake him up right now."

Freddy held her shoulders. She wore an immaculate slate grey suit with a pleated breast. He didn't know how any human being could look so good while fearing for their life.

"Sophie. Breathe. Give me the nuts and bolts and I'll take it in to him."

She narrowed her eyes and studied him like a bug under a microscope.

"O-Ren's waging a war right now. She's close to ascending to the top of a small boryokudan within the Yakuza. They hate her; they think a woman's place is either as a comfort girl or a drug mule. She had her kaikei's feelers out for financial opportunities that would help secure her power. He heard of an investment opportunity..."

"HSBC," Freddy stated, voice flat with certainty. She nodded.

"I'm shingiin to her... that's like a consiglieri."

"I thought you were with the Fed."

"That's my day job, Freddy. She had me placed there, strategically."

The weight of Sophie's words had his knees shaking. He kept his face loose, uninterested, like he heard worse on a regular basis.

"So you did some digging..."

"Yes. They're monitoring the bank's activities. This is a huge operation. The number of agencies involved is mind-boggling; they've been meticulously building their case for years. They have their eyes on Cabot Equity. I saw it on paper."

"Why are you telling him? All you had to do was warn your boss to keep her distance. She won't get embroiled, but Cabot's in too deep. You know there's nothing Larry can do."

He said it just to hear her response. His greatest fear was that she would confirm his.

"Larry and I go back far. He protected me once. That's all you need to know. Now get in there and help me return the favor."

"I'll tell him everything you said. You shouldn't be here too long."

"How do I know you won't just skip town and leave him hanging out to dry?" Sophie hissed, nails digging into his forearm.

Freddy said a silent Hail Mary and took a leap of faith.

"For the same reason you would never betray your mistress. I love him."

To be continued...