Max shifted uncomfortably with his hand on the bathroom door, turning his head towards Vincent, but not meeting his eyes, as he said, “Look, I just, I need to freak out in private a little, okay?”

“Sure. I understand.”

Relieved that he’d have at least a couple of minutes to himself, the lively jazz music a strange counterpoint to the violent night he’d been having, Max opened the door and stepped inside. Before he could close the door, Vincent stepped inside with him. At the end of his rope, Max glared at him. Well, almost glared at him. It was hard to glare at someone carrying a loaded gun that had already been used to kill, after all.

A faint smirk surfaced on Vincent’s face and he said, “There’s a stall. You can freak out in private there.”

Hissing a bit in anger, Max stalked to the narrow stall and slammed the door shut, locking it. Not exactly what he’d had in mind, but he’d take what he could get. Staring at the plain porcelain toilet with its cracked cover and drips of condensation on the sides, Max wondered vaguely what the hell he’d thought he could do in a bathroom.

Max unzipped and took a piss, sighing in relief as his bladder emptied. He hadn’t gotten to eat much, but he’d had a good portion of his soda earlier, not to mention the water he’d had before his shift had started. Done with that, he zipped up and stared at the wall, not sure what to do next. He knew damn well that Vincent was right outside and he wasn’t ready to face the man yet. Those eyes of his were too knowing, too close on the money to every secret Max had ever wanted to keep.

“Freaking out done now?”

Irritated at the amused question, Max snapped from the safety of the stall, “No!”

There was a low chuckle and Vincent said, “Come on out now, Max.”

Max knew it was an order. The man didn’t know how to ask. All he did was command. Grumbling to himself, Max opened the stall door and stepped out only to find himself shoved up against the sink. Gasping when his ass hit the jutting sink, Max stared into the blue eyes with a mix of fear and surprise. “What?”

“It occurred to me that you need to relax, Max,” Vincent announced softly, staring back at him.

Swallowing heavily, not liking the odd undertone, Max repeated, “Re-relax?”

A strong hand gripped Max between the legs and he gasped again, shock running through him. Vincent’s lips twisted into a definite smirk as he leaned in to murmur against Max’s ear, “Relax.”

“Uh, look man, I think, you know, you got the wrong idea about me somewhere,” Max exclaimed, somewhat frantic.

Vincent shook his head and pulled back a little, his hand rubbing on Max’s cock through the pants. “Oh, I don’t think so, Max. I’ve been watching you pretty close and I’m usually on the mark with things like this.”

The rubbing hand slid further down between Max’s legs to capture and roll his balls, sending electric spots to dance before Max’s eyes. “Oh shit!”

Another chuckle echoed between them and Vincent bit his ear sharply before withdrawing his hand. Max choked off a moan as his hips tried to follow the hand. It had been way too long since anyone else had touched him and obviously his dick didn’t care that it was a man doing the touching this time.

“No, I’m not wrong.”

Vincent pushed his hand into Max’s pants and under the boxers, gripping the semi-hard cock inside. Groaning, Max struggled not to respond, shocked that he could feel anything from the touch of a killer. This man was doing bad things to his mind, no doubt. It wasn’t his fault.

And then, as if echoing his thoughts, Vincent sucked on his lobe and repeated his earlier words. “You have no choice in this, Max. Just take it easy and enjoy the ride. Roll with it, remember?”

Shaking his head, Max tried to get himself under control. Gripping the sink counter in both hands, he tried to get away but even though Vincent was shorter, he was somehow stronger. And it wasn’t like he was much of a fighter, never had been. He just didn’t have it in him to do someone else serious hurt and Max knew that’s what it would take to get loose.

When Vincent pinned him firmly with his body, Max went still, feeling the hard length beneath Vincent’s pressed pants. Shivering in a mix of something he didn’t really want to identify, Max whispered, “This ain’t gonna relax me.”

Vincent grinned full out at that, a dangerously handsome look for the white man, and answered, “Then someone hasn’t been doing it right.”

There was a slow grind against him that sent a shudder through Max. This wasn’t right. Couldn’t be. He’d never even looked at men before. Not that he’d had much of a sex life with women, but definitely not guys. All the while still shaking his head ‘no,’ and mentally screaming at himself to shove the smaller man away, Max’s cock was in a very happy place as Vincent continued the slow, hard movements against it. That, of course, pushed the hand even harder on Max’s shaft, which was alternately tightening and loosening, instead of stroking.

Then the hand was taken away, again, and Max’s groan was definitely disappointment as this time, he sagged against the sink counter.

“Push your pants down. I want to see what I’ve got here.”

The words sent a shock of lust with a hint of fear through him. They were almost casual and Max knew that no one but Vincent could manage to make it sound like that. Like he owned Max, or was at least renting him for the night, and had every right to see what Max looked like down there. For a timeless moment, Max just stared at him, unable to obey. The blue eyes were infinitely patient and held emotions, dark ones, that he didn’t dare to name.

“I don’t like to repeat myself.”

Max’s eyes closed as he shuddered at the quiet announcement, his hands moving to his zipper and then pushing his pants and boxers down.

Vincent’s tongue licked fast across his lips but that was the only noticeable reaction for several seconds. Then, without warning, both Vincent’s hands were on his hips and he was flipped around to face the mirror. The hands shifted and grabbed his ass, massaging it in rough squeezes. Blue eyes lit with fire stared at him in the glass and Vincent again bit his ear, muttering, “Ever done this before, Max?”

“N-no,” Max stutters.

A fierce smile lights Vincent’s face. “Good.”

Vincent reached across him to squirt soap over his hand. Before Max can even think to protest, a finger is inside him, shocking him even though he’d known what Vincent had been planning. The reality of someone else inside his body made him whimper and tense. Vincent licked the sensitive spot beneath his ear and sucked on it lightly, probably to distract him, but was only partially successful. The finger moving in and out of him was too new of even a concept for him to be fully distracted.

“Relax, Max, just let me in. You’ll love it, you’ll be begging me for more by the time we’re done. You were made for this, Max, made to belong to someone. Made to be mine. Relax.”

It wasn’t an order he could truly obey, but he tried. The warm words and moist breath in his ear sent more shivers through him. Was he made for this? Or was this just an extended part of the mind fuck Vincent had been playing on him since minute one?

Just when he thought he was used to one finger moving around inside him, Vincent stretched across him for more soap and two reentered his body. Shuddering and tensing, Max had the insane thought that his asshole would be the cleanest part of his body by the end of the night as Vincent rubbed the makeshift lube deep inside him.

The movement changed from in and out to pushing the flesh aside...making room, he realized. “Oh God, Vincent, please, you have to stop, you have to, I can’t, can’t do this!”

Instantly, Vincent was pressed all along his back and kissing his throat in soft, small kisses. Nuzzling him, Vincent soothed, “It’s okay, Max, I’m taking care of you. Relax for me, baby, just relax.”

More orders, he thought crossly. Like it’s that simple?

But maybe it was.

Shuddering, knowing that this was doing something to him, filling some need he’d always ignored, Max sighed deeply. Vincent might kill him in the end, but he wasn’t going to hurt him. There’d been plenty of opportunities for that so far and the assassin hadn’t taken any of them.

“That’s it, good Max,” Vincent praised softly, again sucking on Max’s ear, the lobe between his teeth.

Three fingers pushed in and he tensed again, even though he wasn’t trying to this time. But Vincent was patient, as he always seemed to be, and moved slow, opening Max with the skill of someone who was very good at what they did.

Or who, he thought in brief, wry amusement.

How long had they been in the bathroom, he wondered suddenly. Would someone just walk in on them? Was there even a way to lock the door?

“What’s wrong?”

Everything, Max thought, but only gasped, “The door!”

Vincent chuckled and asked, “You’re just thinking about that now?”

“Give me a break! I’ve been occupied,” Max retorted.

Vincent’s fingers pushed deep a second later and he sucked hard at the juncture of Max’s throat and shoulder, biting the flesh there before he said, “Very occupied. Solely occupied.”

Groaning, Max tried to spread his legs further to increase the friction that was slowly driving him crazy, but his pants were in the way.

“Problem, Max?”

The vaguely amused question pissed him off and Max was about to snarl an answer when he felt something bigger than fingers at his hole. The words dried up as Vincent’s cock pushed inside him for the first time. There was a hot grunt at the base of his neck and a sharp pain as he was penetrated. It was a distinctly weird feeling to have Vincent inside him and his ass throbbed tight around the intrusion even as he yanked a leg free to give his erstwhile lover room to move. The movement pushed Vincent in deeper, causing them both to groan; Vincent in pleasure and Max in pain.

Panting, gripping the counter tight, Max tried to relax as Vincent slowly...mounted him...he shuddered in bone-deep lust at the thought. It seemed forever before the thick cock was all the way inside and, once there, it pulsed hot and hard in his body.

“Christ, Max, you feel so fucking good,” Vincent groaned.

Vincent was pressed so tight against him that Max felt the outline of his gun against his back when those incredibly strong arms wrapped around him. Vincent began a slow humping motion, not really moving in and out as Max would have assumed, if he’d been able to think. The cock ground ever deeper inside, barely retreating before pistoning in again.

It was a long, slow, hard ride and Max was sweating and swearing before five minutes was up. One of Vincent’s hands covered his mouth, stifling some of the noise as something inside was triggered to send electricity through him whenever Vincent moved a certain way. His entire body was rocked with the force of Vincent’s thrusts, even as short as they were.

When the other hand stroked his cock in a viciously tight grip, Max lost it. He shouted and came, spilling over the sink harder than he’d ever come before, white spurts of seed exploding from him. That seemed to be some kind of signal for Vincent because suddenly, he was rutting violently into Max’s body, possessing Max completely. Mere seconds later, wet heat burst inside of Max and Vincent groaned, long and low in his ear.

They stood hunched over the sink for a few more minutes before Vincent slowly pulled free. With shaking legs, Max leaned his full weight on the counter, not caring that he probably looked like a two-bit whore with his legs spread and come dripping from his hole. He was so...relaxed...that it was ridiculous.

Warm hands rubbed up and down his back in a soothing motion and Vincent asked, “Feel better?”

Max chuckled weakly and confirmed, “Someone wasn’t doing it right before.”

The shared moment of humor remained as Vincent cleaned Max up and got his clothes put back to rights. There was no kiss, or any movement to deepen the intimacy really, though Max shivered a little every time Vincent caught his eye.

They returned to the busy jazz club and took a table in the back. Max shifted uncomfortably at first, his ass throbbing in a much too pleasant way to ignore. A waitress came over and took their orders and, when the glass was set in front of Max, he knew that he’d be able to drink it without throwing up from a nervous stomach. As ways to relax went, that was definitely a new one, but not one that Max would protest in the future.

Not that they had a future. Max’s eyes slid away from Vincent’s too-knowing gaze to the stage where the trumpet player started playing a Miles Davis song, Spanish Key.