6. Doug

SIX

DOUG

Was patience meant to be tried? The jury is out.

Seriously? Naked? Nick Sedgewick naked. And talking. And taking forever to get his clothes on. It took a major effort for Doug to tamp down the unreasonable urge to fuck him silly. He obviously needed it.

Who, Doug? You? Or the baby agent?

Turning away from Nick again , he stared out at the air-con units until Nick was finally ready to go. He only had to remind Nick once that he was supposed to be getting dressed and not—whatever he'd been doing.

None of the agents had been located yet. Doug felt a deep sense of responsibility toward the unaccounted-for agents, and his sense of unease was only increasing. Doug didn't know the others, but he'd worked with Mel and he considered Esther Carroll a friend. If it had been anyone else, Doug might have thought they were screwing around on the side, but Carroll was a conscientious, responsible person. Doug just couldn't see her blowing off an assignment.

Once they were finally downstairs and outside on the sidewalk, Nick halted and squinted against the bright sunshine, adding a little moan while shading his eyes in a way that screamed, "Pitiful me."

"I need sunglasses," he said, refusing to budge another inch.

"There'll be a shop in a hotel lobby somewhere," Doug replied, realizing they were going no further without eyewear. Their hotel had, for some reason, not jumped on the provide-the-customer-with-everything-they-might-possibly-need bandwagon and merely had a front desk with a handbell to call the concierge and several banks of slot machines lining the lobby.

Typical SPAM.

In the next hotel down, while Sedgewick tried on eighty-seven different pairs of glasses to find the very best pair, Doug kept an eye out. For what, he wasn't sure, but he felt the need to be careful. The back of his neck was twitchy. They hadn't learned much at The Ace of Clubs except that there were several gambling areas and at least one was for VIPs only. They needed to get back there. It was the last confirmed location of each of the agents. He hated the club, but it was their only clue.

He'd also learned that Agent Sedgewick was irritatingly sexy even when he danced like hot lava was flowing underneath his feet. Doug let a small smile cross his face. Nick wasn't paying attention, after all. Doug figured the younger agent was smarter than he let on or SPAM would never have hired him. They may be the landing pad for subpar powers, but they still had some basic requirements.

Maybe it was best to let him play the airhead ditz; it might put someone besides Doug off their guard.

They, meaning April and the rest of the SPAM administrative staff, claimed not to know who was behind the agents' disappearances. The jury was out on that truth as far as Doug was concerned. SPAM and the agency liked to play their cards close. Doug and Nick— Agent Sedgewick —had been sent in with little information. Which was why they were visiting with Wizard today.

Doug wasn't a big fan of Wizard. His oversized ego didn't match his real-life accomplishments. But everywhere he went, Wizard knew people, made connections. Things happened around him. Wizard and Doug had worked together once when they'd both been on the "super" track instead of the SPAM track. To this day, Doug suspected—but had no proof—that Wizard had purposefully messed up the op they were on together. His misinformation had ultimately led to Doug quitting Long Shot.

For the entirety of his superhero career, Doug had firmly believed that he was on the right side. Doing the right thing. Being the right superhero. But now he knew there were no sides. There were nuances, grays, off-whites. The Right Thing was not an absolute.

Would he kill again if he had to? Yes. But he couldn't be a gun for hire anymore, blindly accepting jobs. He'd learned the hard way that there were very few situations where an innocent wasn't somehow involved or might easily take an unwanted hit. Doug couldn't carry the guilt any longer; it was too heavy.

"How about these?" Nick asked for the hundredth time.

"They're fine," Doug said without looking at him. "Just like all the rest of them."

"I'll take these ones, then."

Doug waited. Nick also waited, his hand stretched out palm up.

"What?"

This time, Doug glanced at Nick and saw his face reflected in a pair of Men in Black mirrored sunglasses Nick had picked out. Doug resisted rolling his eyes.

"I'm not paying for these myself."

Because apparently nothing was going to make Nick Sedgewick hurry the fuck up, Doug opened up his wallet and plucked out the black card again.

"Thanks, Dad ," Nick said with a smirk. A sexy smirk.

"So, what's the plan today?" Nick asked in a much cheerier tone as they swung out of the hotel's lobby and onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding a hawker who tried to press a brochure with a scantily clad woman on the front into Doug's hand.

"The plan is to act like tourists. Meet with an acquaintance. Then we'll go back to the club tonight."

"Cool, clubbing again. I can hardly wait." Sarcasm dripped from his words. "What exactly does meet with an acquaintance mean? I don't identify as poly—I'm fine with people who do, don't get me wrong, I just like to have my man all to myself."

Doug re-ran what Nick had said through his head and decided to ignore the whole thing. Although it was nice to know Nick was a one-guy guy. Hold it. Was it nice? Why was he thinking it was? Doug shook his head to drive the thought away.

There was no set plan for them to follow, which was not Doug's usual assignment. In the past, he would've been called in at the last second to take out a bad guy and that was that. Boom. Since transferring, he'd managed to stay in the office for the most part, focusing on logistics and basic training.

Until Nick Sedgewick.

Now, however, SPAM needed Doug and Nick to find and stop whoever was disappearing SPAM agents.

So here he was, walking down the Strip in Vegas with a mirrored-sunglasses-wearing baby SPAM agent, trying to draw the attention of a bad guy. Or bad guys, he supposed. Never assume.

"First, we're meeting?—"

"With an acquaintance. Got it."

Vegas on a bright and hot afternoon was incredibly packed with tourists gawking and looking this way and that, trying to take in everything they could see all at once. Sprained necks were what they would get. They were just passing by the currently quiet Bellagio fountain when a ruckus began ahead of them.

A man sprinted toward them with three people close behind him, and Doug automatically stepped to the side to let them pass by. The runner hip-checked Doug hard into his bum leg. Shit. Spiraling his arms, he felt himself teeter off the curb and directly into the path of an oncoming Humvee.

This was it. This was how he was going to die.

But he didn't die.

A man was racing toward him. Doug started to step to the side, but Nick grabbed his arm and pulled him into the crowd instead of away from it. The runner, whose eyes were wild and wide, raced past and disappeared down the street and into the crowd with several people racing after him. On the street, a Humvee gunned its engine and roared past them.

Doug stared at Nick. His expressive eyes were hidden behind the mirrored glasses.

"What just happened?" Doug demanded.

With the damn sunglasses covering his eyes, Doug couldn't see Nick's expression but if he had to guess, he'd say Nick was uncomfortable.

He wanted Nick to truly acknowledge his subpower and not just hint around about it. That was the only way he would learn how to use it effectively. Although not dying minutes ago was also fine with him.

"I could've sworn I almost got run over by that Humvee."

"I need coffee, and I'm out of Hot Tamales." Nick changed the subject, looking around them as if a coffee kiosk was going to pop up somewhere close.

It was Vegas, after all.

"It's two thirty in the afternoon." Doug responded. He wasn't letting Nick avoid the subpower topic.

"Okay, then I need an iced coffee and Hot Tamales."

"There is a Starbucks around here somewhere." Doug looked up and down the Strip, trying to recall where it had been last time he was in town. "It's this way, I think. And then you can explain how you did what you did." Doug started walking again. "And don't tell me you didn't do anything. You did something similar the other day when we were responding to the incident at the mall."

The Starbucks had a damn line. Motherfucker. Doug hated waiting in line almost more than anything, but Nick had tipped up his sunglasses and given him crestfallen puppy-dog eyes. Doug grimly stepped in behind a rowdy family of four. He refused to examine why he was caving to his trainee. By the time they reached the front of the line, Doug was going to need a fistful of aspirin and a gallon of alcohol instead of caffeine.

"Quad, iced Americano with room and one of those sticky buns," Nick said to the woman behind the counter. He looked at Doug expectantly. "What are you ordering?"

"Small coffee, black, decaf."

"Decaf? Really? After being awake until five this morning and whatever time you rolled, um, up off the floor, you're drinking decaf? Don't we have to go back to that club later?"

"Shush." Doug caught the eye of the barista, who did not appear to find any of this amusing. "Make it a large black coffee."

He handed her his card and she pointed to the swipe machine. Why was she even there? It wasn't as if they needed humans to make the coffee. Not that Doug wanted robots to take over, but seriously?

Maybe she was a robot?

Maybe Nick's one working brain cell was affecting Doug's perfectly good ones.

"We'll call your name out when the order is ready," she said, dismissing them.

There were no open places to sit. Doug spotted a gap close to the caffeine collection counter and crossed over to wait there. Five minutes later—which had Doug rethinking his position on robots—their order was ready.

Nick got to the counter before him, thanked the barista with a heartfelt kindness Doug couldn't have managed, and handed Doug his molten-hot beverage. Then he grabbed his cold drink and the nasty pastry. Eyeing Doug's go-cup, Nick snickered.

"What?" Doug asked suspiciously because a snickering Nick was sexier than it should have been. Correction: it should not have been sexy at all.

And yet, it was.

"They spelled your name D-U-G."

Doug briefly stared up at the ceiling, calling on patience he wasn't sure he had. Who exactly was SPAM testing here?

"Yes. It's happened before and it will happen again."

"It's just funny. You know, you really don't seem to have much of a sense of humor. It's good to let yourself laugh. When you're living out on the high plains all alone, what are you going to laugh at?"

"High plains what?" Doug's head spun with the change in topics.

"In Montana, when you retire, how are you going to keep yourself alive and happy if you don't laugh? Hey, did you know that there's still a law on the books in Montana saying it's illegal for married women to go fishing alone on Sundays? Unmarried women can't fish alone ever. I don't enjoy fishing, but I sure as hell don't want to be told I have to be married to do it."

Doug squinted at Nick, wondering if he was giving him crap. But no, even with those ridiculous sunglasses back over his eyes, he seemed to be asking a serious question.

Instead of answering him, because Doug already knew they would end up down some unnavigable conversational alley he would regret, he said, "Let's walk."

Nick followed him back out to the sidewalk and the relentless Nevada sunshine.

Fucking sunshine.

"What happened earlier?" Doug asked again.

Nick pretended to misunderstand him. "Well," he said slowly, "I slept later than I expected to. Sorry about that. Hey, we really need to see if we can find some food for Tim. I don't know how long that hay I brought will last. And we should probably get him out for a walk. Do tortoises need walks? What if housekeeping finds him?"

"Nice try. What did you do to keep me from being hit by the Humvee?"

A gusty sigh escaped Nick. Doug did not watch his lips.

"Nothing?" There was a hopeful tone to his voice.

Doug shook his head. "It wasn't nothing."

"Nothing, really? I just saw you falling and thought that's a bad idea. I can't explain it, I just focused on it being before and then it was enough earlier that I was able to grab your arm instead of you clumsily falling into the street. What was up with that anyway? You should probably order one of those balance boards to keep your joints healthy so you don't fall. Did you know that more seniors end up in care facilities from falling than from anything else?"

Doug gave up. But he had also sort of gotten the answer he'd been looking for. And Nick was deflecting again, which meant he wasn't going to get much more out of him. He was slowly starting to decode Nick Sedgewick.

"Let's wander down toward The Ace of Clubs before we meet my contact. And before you say anything, we'll stop at one of the stores along the way for your damn candy."

Daylight did nothing for the club. The entrance was ratty, the sidewalk in front of it strewn with litter. The revealing glare of sunlight did nothing for Las Vegas as a whole; it was a city better experienced in darkness, when the carefully placed neon lights only lit what they were supposed to.

There was no bouncer at the club's door, and when Doug and Nick poked their heads inside, they were informed by the cleaning staff that it didn't open for another few hours.

"Now it's time for me to meet Wizard."

Doug repressed a sigh. He really didn't want to see Wizard. He didn't like him and he didn't trust him. But, needs must.

The meeting place was near the Eiffel Tower. With all the people milling around and acting like they really were in Paris, Doug was going to be lucky if he managed to find the semi- retired SPAM agent while not losing track of Nick.

"Who are we meeting again?" his partner asked between sips of coffee and spicy candy.

"An older guy—older than me, just to be clear. And it's me who's meeting him. You stay out here."

There was no way Doug wanted Wizard meeting Nick. Doug didn't trust the guy as far as he could throw him, which, considering things, was likely fairly far.

"So far, Vegas is nothing but older folks and families. Mostly. How am I supposed to learn anything if you don't let me tag along?"

"Ah, there he is."

With Nick behind him, Doug made a beeline for a Vegas-style hole-in-the-wall bar tucked into a corner of the underground pedestrian area. The place wasn't a real hole-in-the-wall, it just looked like one, and the drinks were going to be much, much, more expensive than the real thing.

"You," he said to Nick, "wait here. Do not move. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars."

"Monopoly is a dumb game," Nick said to Doug's back, but he stayed put. Doug watched Nick's reflection in a plate glass window as he leaned back against an out-of-the-way archway that was supposed to be the opening to a crypt or something like that.

Inside the bar, Doug stopped next to a small, round, faux marble-topped table where a pudgy man sat at a slant, alone. He wore a pale blue track suit with white sneakers and had some sort of icy drink in front of him.

"Steven." Doug kept his hands in his pockets.

Doug had no doubt that Wizard had tried to find out what he could about Agent Sedgewick before the meeting, but he preferred Steven Marks to feel a little off-kilter. If he wondered where Doug's partner was, that was good.

"Have a seat." Marks waved toward the empty chairs at the table.

As if Doug would sit at a table with Steven Marks anywhere near it. He did his best to shove aside memories of that awful day three years ago, but the surprise and shock in Todd's too quickly dimming eyes slipped past his mental barriers.

Motherfucker .

"I'm not staying."

"You're following up on the AWOL agents." It wasn't a question. "I guess I'm glad it's you and not me."

Something about his tone had Doug asking, "What have you heard?"

"They've found one of them, Mel Schoenhut. Dead."

Doug felt a sharp pang of regret. Remorse for a life lost. Mel Schoenhut had been a nice guy. He'd transferred to SPAM after tiring of the life of a superhero much like Doug had. In fact, Mel had been involved with Doug's last superhero mission, just like Wizard. What had Mel been doing in Vegas? April said it was on a need-to-know basis, but Doug suspected he did indeed need to know. Why hadn't SPAM alerted him that Schoenhut had been in the area? How had Carroll ended up here too? Did they not know? Doug doubted that.

"Where?"

"Out of town, in the parking lot of an abandoned mall."

"What do we know?"

Steven glanced up at him, apparently deciding how much information he was going to share. Doug resisted wrapping his fingers around the man's neck by crossing his arms over his chest and waiting him out. They still needed to get into The Ace of Clubs VIP room and Steven knew how to make it happen.

"I heard he was laid out in a coffin, hands folded over his chest. The whole nine yards. They're doing their best to keep a lid on this, but there were a couple witnesses. They may have to bring in whatshername, the one who makes people forget things."

Doug couldn't remember her name either, which was probably the point. And why was Steven Marks his point of contact anyway? Why was he being forced to deal with a partially mothballed agent Doug loathed and absolutely did not trust?

"Outside in a coffin?" Doug wanted to be sure he'd heard Marks right.

"Yep. No marks on him, but dead as a… well, dead."

"No leads?"

"Not that I've heard. I guess the uppers are just hoping you find Agent Carroll and the others before they meet the same fate."

"Unless they already have," Doug pointed out.

Doug wanted to find all the agents, but he felt a greater responsibility toward Agent Carroll, even more than Schoenhut. Schoenhut had been a work connection. A decent guy, but not much more than an acquaintance. Esther Carroll was a friend. He didn't like many people on sight, but she was one of them. She'd ended up becoming the sister he'd never had.

Steven nodded. "Unless they're already dead."

"What's the address where Agent Schoenhut was found? Anything interesting out that way? And who do we talk to at the club?"

Wizard rattled off basic directions and the name of the mall. "Good luck finding much of anything out there, let alone something interesting." Then, reaching into the pocket of his tracksuit, he pulled out a large silver token and held it out for Doug. "Show this to the bartender at the club. It'll get you back there."

Tucking the heavy coin into his own pocket, Doug strode back out to the main concourse, abruptly worried that someone might have snatched Nick while he hadn't been watching over him.

Where had this desire to protect him come from?

Dismissing the thought, he heaved a sigh of relief when he spotted Nick where he'd left him. Nick was talking to a little boy wearing a Spider Man t-shirt and someone who was probably the kid's older sister or mom.

"Hey," Nick said as Doug approached.

"Thank you again," said the woman. She was holding tight to the boy's hand and he had streaks on his face as if he'd been crying.

"Of course, anytime. We can't let Spider Man get lost, can we?" He held out his fist and the little boy bumped it with his own smaller one.

"Say thank you."

"Thank you," the boy lisped.

They walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

"What was that about?" Doug asked.

"Oh, nothing. Trevor got separated from his mom accidentally. I saw the whole thing. He stopped to look at the LEGO display over there, and she kept walking. It could have happened to anyone. He realized she was gone pretty quickly, but she was already way ahead of him. I talked to him a bit, calmed him down, told him about Tim. We hung out until a panicked woman came running back this direction."

"That was kind of you."

Nick frowned. "Anyone would've helped him."

Doug wasn't entirely sure about that. And what did that say about humanity? Nothing good. But it did tell him something good about Nick.

"What now?" Nick asked. "Do we have time to find a pet store?"

Back at the hotel room, Doug once again ogled Nick's ass while Nick searched under the bed for the damn tortoise. He had a nice ass. Nick, not the reptile. What did tortoises' asses look like? He was pretty sure they had them. They had to, right?

Oh, god, Nick Sedgewick was rubbing off on him. And not in a good way.

"Come here, Tim. We have some nice hay for you." Nick's voice was muffled and his ass wiggled. "Do you think we should've gotten a leash for him? I don't want him to escape."

Doug suppressed a laugh. He was fully aware that Agent Nick Sedgewick did everything he could to yank Doug's chain, and Doug wanted to know just how far he'd yank it. And he wasn't going to think too hard about how much more fun he'd had in three days than in all his years with Rich.

"A leash," Doug repeated. "You really think a turtle is going to escape from us. From you." Because no way, chain-yanking or not, was he walking a turtle.

Nick's delectable ass moved again.

"Not a turtle. I've never had a pet tortoise before, though, so how would I know? But we all know the tortoise beat the hare. Maybe they just pretend to be slow and then—boom." He scooted out from under the bed, his butt testing the tensile strength of the fabric protecting it. "They're crossing the finish line."

Doug took a step backward, mindful of the younger man and the reptile but also missing the private ass show he'd been enjoying. What could he say? Sedgewick had a very nice butt.

The tortoise looked bigger than Doug remembered.

"Oh, hey." Nick set Tim to one side and rose to his feet, brushing the lint and whatever else lived under the bed off his slacks. "I should probably change again."

Without warning, Nick began unbuttoning his dress shirt and left it hanging open, exposing his flat abs and sexy chest, then flicked the clasp on his pants. He shot Doug a knowing smirk. The bastard had been doing that on purpose, as well, just to see if he'd get a rise out of Doug.

He had. Doug's cock was definitely on board with fucking Nick.

Which was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Nick stripped down to a pair of sexy black boxers and Doug was entranced.

"What do you think I should wear tonight?" Nick asked, turning to where his suitcase lay, propped open and vomiting a ridiculous amount of clothing. "I wasn't sure what to bring so I brought just about everything."

Doug adjusted himself.

"You know what?" Nick said, tapping a finger against his chin. "I've figured out what we can do for at least one of the hours we have left before hitting that skanky club tonight. So why get dressed now when I'm just going to get dirty again?"

Without any further warning, Nick tugged the boxers down and off, twirling them on his finger before flinging them across the room like a bad stripper. Spinning around, he collapsed backward onto the bed. The ONLY bed.

"Are you a watcher? Or do you want to join in?"

Doug's brain must've suffered a random power outage—a rolling-brain-blackout—because his decision-making center abruptly switched off and his body made the choice for him. He was kicking his shoes off, unzipping his jeans, and pushing said jeans and boxers off his body before Nick could ask again.

"Get that shirt off. I want to see that chest of yours," Nick ordered.

The shirt flew off, landing somewhere. Doug didn't care where. The little voice in his head that usually kept him from doing stupid shit was utterly silent.

Nick was caressing himself with one hand, his eyelids half-closed as he watched Doug.

It had been a long time. Rich had claimed he was tired a lot toward the end. In fact, he'd been too busy wooing his sparkly gigolo.

Doug got on the bed. He was turned on and, bad idea or not, they were doing this.

At least Nick was not shy. "Get over here. I have a present for you."

Doug chuckled at the order and the bad innuendo but crawled over Nick's body, trapping him between his knees.

When was the last time he'd laughed during sex? Had he ever?

"Are you always this bossy?" he asked.

"In bed? Absolutely yes. My cock is an attention slut."

Nick punctuated the statement with a long stroke, and a bead of precome pulsed from the tip of his cock. Keeping his gaze on Nick's face, Doug leaned down and lapped it up, pleased when Nick's eyes rolled toward the back of his skull as he groaned, "More."

Doug complied. In a swift and well-practiced move, he swallowed Nick's cock down as far as he could.

"Holy fuck!" Nick's hands flailed and then landed gently on Doug's head.

Doug smiled and swirled his tongue around the sensitive head of Nick's cock, reducing him to gibberish. At least he wasn't giving Doug shit about being old. An old dog had good tricks. The thought that this was absolutely a bad idea crossed Doug's mind yet again, but he continued to ignore it.

Nick arched his back and Doug took him all the way to the root—another one of his superpowers was no gag reflex. Not one that SPAM knew anything about, thankfully.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Nick chanted. "I can't, I'm gonna, please ."

These were some of Doug's favorite words to hear from a partner. He got off on giving pleasure. And maybe teasing too. An electric shock of desire surprised him, his balls tightened, and he let Nick's cock slip from between his lips.

"What do you want?"

"What?" Nick's eyes were glassy.

"What. Do. You. Want? Fucking or no fucking?"

"Oh god, definitely fucking. All the fucking. Supplies. Suitcase pocket."

Rolling off the bed, Doug grabbed the stash of condoms and lube from Nick's bag. He refused to think about what Nick's plans for these had been—they were using them now. Propping himself on his arms, Nick watched Doug squeeze lube onto his fingers.

"Roll over, ass up."

With a groan, Nick turned onto his front and drew his knees beneath himself so his ass was right there for the taking. Doug also refused to think about how long it had been since he'd been as turned on as he was in this moment. It didn't matter. He was going to enjoy himself and Nick too and figure out the rest later.

Gently, he massaged lube around and slightly inside Nick's hole. Nick provided an excellent soundtrack, groaning with pleasure.

"How close are you?"

"I can't feel my feet."

"Should I be worried?"

"If you stop, I will shank you. Fuck me now."

Doug grinned. "Alrighty then." Pressing his index finger against Nick's entrance, he pushed past the first ring of muscle.

"Ohhhh. God, I love that. Don't stop. The only thing better"—Nick sucked in a breath as Doug turned his finger slightly—"would be your cock."

"I'll get there." And soon. Doug's balls were hard as rocks and his cock was an iron rod dripping precome onto the sheets. It wasn't going to take much for him to orgasm.

While fingering Nick's ass with one hand, Doug reached underneath Nick's body and gently ran his other hand down his erection. He was rewarded with a full-body shake and a mumble of unintelligible words. The one he understood was fuck. He was tempted to tongue Nick first, but just thinking about it had Doug spurting more precome, so he set the thought aside for the next time. He squeezed Nick's cock once while gently removing his finger and then, as quickly as he could manage, rolled on the waiting condom.

Nick reached behind himself and separated his ass cheeks for Doug. With one hand on Nick's hip and the other guiding his cock, Doug pushed inside Nick's body.

"Holy fuck," he muttered.

Nick was hot and tight and fuck, he felt good. Without warning, Nick grabbed Doug's thigh and jammed himself backward, all but impaling himself on Doug's rod. If that's what he wanted, Doug was happy to comply.

"Oh my god. Don't stop."

Doug couldn't stop if he wanted to.

"Hold on," he growled. Sweat dripped down his face regardless of the air conditioning.

Nick's body was slick and his noises made Doug move faster, jacking his hips and driving his cock further into Nick's ass with every move. He knew when he'd found Nick's prostate because the younger man froze for a half-second and then reached under his body to either stop himself from coming so soon or to pump his cock. Doug was good with either.

"I've got you."

"Doug…"

Doug slowed his pace, reached one hand underneath Nick's hips, and began to stroke him again while still hammering his cock in—and, well, in, in, in—because it felt fucking incredible and he'd really missed having sex. Nick stopped moving and hot come pulsed out of his cock, dripping over Doug's fingers and onto the sheets. Unable to stop himself, Doug started coming too, deep and hard into the condom, hard enough he saw stars.