Disclaimer: I do not own The Phonebooth, the characters, or anything else (unfortunately), I just love to write. 3

The Change You Wanted

They always made it seem so simple in the movies. Former asshole has a change of heart, lives happily ever after. Part and parcel, right? The reward for doing the right thing?

It wasn't so simple for Stu Shepard. He tried. The threat of the man on the phone - the man who had walked up to him while he was in the ambulance, plain as day - held true. So even when things started to fall apart, he stayed decent. Stayed truthful. But more and more he began to realize that the only thing he'd ever been truly good at was lying.

Three months after the incident, he received the first phone call. Just to check up on him, the caller said. To let Stu know he was still keeping tabs on him. Still watching.

Things got worse. He tried harder, and failed more. The beautiful apartment he'd had with Kelly was lost, he couldn't afford it doing the kind of work he was honestly qualified for. He moved, then moved again, finally ending up in a tiny bachelor pad with a leaky roof and noisy neighbours. He hated it.

The man called more often. Just to check up on him of course. Gradually, the calls came closer and closer together, until he could expect them almost once a week. And somehow, somewhere along the line he stopped hating them so much, and found himself anticipating the next one. Trying to guess when he'd call, what he'd say. Talking more, opening up. Like the man was a friend, and not some homicidal psychopathic stalker.

He was drunk the first time the voice told him, low and husky, to touch himself.

Like he always had, he obeyed. He woke up the next morning feeling dirty and used, but somehow more alive than he'd been since he stepped out of the phone booth.

He swore it wouldn't happen again, that he wouldn't give in to the man's demands. What could he do to him now, after all? But he did, time and time again. He wanted it. He started to live for it. So ironic, wasn't it? That the man who had ruined his life was now the only thing he looked forward to?

"I can't do this anymore," he said firmly one night, in a sudden fit of resentment. Who the hell did this man think he was?

There was silence for a moment, and he wondered if he'd finally managed to shock the voice on the phone. But when he spoke again, he sounded just as amused, just as superior as he always did. "Really? Because it seems to me that you rather enjoy it, Stu."

"Yeah well, believe it or not I can't just survive on your phone calls. Did it ever occur to you to consider what our lives would be like after you were done fucking with us?"

"I thought I was still fucking with you. Or at least fucking you." A soft chuckle.

"You know what I mean, dammit!" The words came out angrier than he intended, but perhaps that was a good thing. "Look. This whole living live honestly thing? I really kind of suck at it. In case you actually gave a flying fuck. Not that you'd know anything about living an honest life."

"I know more than you'd think, Stu. Does this mean you're giving up?"

"Would it make you actually show your face instead of hiding behind the damn telephone?" His anger made him bold, bolder than he'd been in a long time. "No, I'm not giving up. I just need to focus on something other than waiting for your damn phone calls."

There was silence for a long time, and for a brief moment he wondered if the man had put down the receiver. Then he spoke again. "There's a bank of pay phones on Broadway and third. The last one will have a phone number written on the back splash with the name Archie. Come to the phone, call the number. You'll receive further instructions."

For a moment, he wanted to tell the man to fuck off, hang up on him. But they both knew that he wouldn't. "So your name is Archie?"

A laugh. "You know me better than that, Stu. But if you follow my directions, I'll think about telling you my name."

"And that's all?"

"Wait and see. Now, should I expect your call?"

He gave a soft sigh, staring at the door of his shabby apartment. "Kelly left me."

Maybe it was his imagination, but the voice sounded somehow gentle. "I know. Why do you think I'm still calling you?"

Stu leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes against it all for a long moment. He could end it, he could. He could just say no, and it would all be over. He needed to say no, like he'd decided he would, long before this phone call came. "... I'll call."

"Good." And then the line went dead.

It took him almost half an hour to get to the phone booth, by taxi and then on foot in twilight New York, wondering the whole way why the hell he was doing this. But the number was there, as promised. For a good time, call Archie. He leaned against the booth divider, clicked open his cell phone and dialled the number.

"Hello Stu. I'm impressed. You're extra dedicated tonight."

"How do you know I'm not looking for Archie?"

A chuckle. "Caller ID, you're smarter than that."

"All right. So what are my instructions?"

"Come home."

"You're at my house?"

"I'm in front of your mailbox, Stu. There's a key inside now. If you can find out what it's for, you'll get another clue."

"Oh come on. You're going to make me go on some fucking wild goose chase - "

"Think of it as a treasure hunt. If you give up, you don't get what's at the end."

"A bullet through the brain?"

"I would have shot you long before now if I were going to. Stop being angry and think, Stu. What is it you want? What is it you really want?"

"I want my life back. I want - I want Kelly back."

"You want a woman who wouldn't stand by you when you decided to make an honest living? Come on, Stu. Don't deceive yourself."

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. Maybe I don't know what I want."

"Well, I'm glad you can admit that. Maybe by the end of the night you'll have figured it out."

"Look. I'm really sick of playing your games...."

"Jay."

"Jay? That's your name?"

"No, but it starts with a J." He chuckled, and despite himself, Stu still found it as arousing as he always did. "Just a bit of incentive, since you've done so well so far. Now, come get the key from your mailbox. Don't take too long. You don't want to miss your target."

"Miss my target? What target?"

"Talk to you later, Stu." And then he was gone.

There was a key in his mailbox, but it looked more like a locker key than anything else, with a neat little tag labelled "309". Beside it was a note that simply said "Switch things around. You'll like what you end up with. J."

Great. Locker 309, and a target he might somehow miss if he took too long. And his only clue was this goddamn note? In frustration, he flipped open his cell phone again, and called the last number. It was out of service, not that he was surprised. The number the man - J - had called from earlier was out of service as well. Like they always were.

He went back up to his apartment, put the key and the note on the table while he made himself another cup of coffee. 309. Switch things around. J. What was meaningful, and what was junk?

He dug out the unused yellow pages and looked under 309. He looked under switch, around, things, jackass, anything he could think of. But there was nothing that looked like it would have lockers. Finally he wrote down both phone numbers the man had called from, and stared at them.

Switch things around?

He swapped the second and third groups of numbers, to make two new New York phone numbers. The first number he called woke up a very angry sounding woman who told him to fuck off in what possibly sounded like three different languages. But the second....

"J and S Rent a Locker, how may I help you?"

His heart stopped. "I'm sorry - who is this?"

"This is J and S Rent a Locker. Can I help you with something?" The woman sounded a little confused.

"You have lockers?"

He could hear her trying not to laugh. "Yes sir, that's what we do here."

"Where are you located?"

"We're on 47th west and 35th street. By Penn station, sir."

Penn Station. Miss his target... a train? He grabbed the key and was out the door even before he'd answered, leaving the coffee untouched on the table. "Thank you. Thank you so much m'am. I'll be there soon."

The taxi driver ended up with a rather larger tip than he'd intended, but the man had gotten him to the locker rental ten minutes earlier than he'd expected. He ran in, showing the key to the woman at the desk, who gave him a little amused smile and pointed him down the hall.

In the locker was a single train ticket and two twenty dollar bills, nothing else. He read the ticket over twice before it finally sunk in. Acela Express, New York to Baltimore. 9pm. New York to fucking Baltimore? He expected him to go to Baltimore?

He put the ticket back in the locker and slammed it shut, getting half way down the hall before he turned back and grabbed the ticket again. 9pm, twenty minutes to get to the station and find the train. Twenty minutes to make up his mind. He started for Penn Station anyway... he could decide on the platform.

He bought an egg salad sandwich out of the vending machine when he arrived, which was dry and had too much mustard. It didn't make the decision any easier, as he paced the length of the train platform. An entire train ride to Baltimore was a long way to regret the decision. But then again, the rest of his life in New York was an even longer time to regret not getting on the train.

And really... what did he have left to lose at this point?

The Acela Express arrived, and he got on, finding his seat next to the window and sinking into it, suddenly weary. Watching the platform move by him as he left the station, he finished the end of the sandwich and leaned his chair back, wondering once again why the hell he was doing this, and still not having an answer for himself.

His phone rang five minutes later, a private number. He answered it with shaking hands. "... hello?"

"Stu. I hear you're on the train. I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd make it."

"Yeah, well, I'm here now, and I hope you're not fucking jerking me around. Do you know how much it costs to buy a ticket back from Baltimore?"

"Of course I do, Stu. I bought your ticket. Now, you might as well relax, you have almost three hours ahead of you. Have a nap. I'll call and make sure that you're awake before your stop."

"And you'll be there? Are you on this train?"

A chuckle. "Of course not, I'm one ahead of you. So don't waste time looking for me. Just relax."

He yawned despite himself. "Why are you doing this?"

"I thought it might be nice to switch things around a bit. Time for a change. Don't you think so, Stu? You want a change, something more than what your life is like right now?"

"The last time my life changed I lost everything," he growled, resisting the urge to hang up the phone.

"The last time your life changed, you gained the ability to stop being an asshole. Forget about Kelly. She didn't deserve you. It's time for you to take control of your life again."

"And just how the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"Wait and see." The voice sounded far, far too smug, and he bit his tongue on an angry retort.

"Fine."

"Get some sleep, Stu. You've been very good so far, very dedicated. It won't go without reward, I promise you."

For a moment, Stu was afraid that he meant more phone sex, but the man said nothing more, and after a moment he gave a sigh of relief. "Okay. I'll keep playing your game for a while longer."

"Good. Sweet dreams, Stu." And then he was gone.

Stu considered the day old paper that had been on the seat beside him, then the free magazines in the seat back pocket. But in the end, he just took the caller's advice, leaning back in his chair and quickly falling asleep.

"Good morning, Stu. You have twenty minutes until Baltimore Station. Did you have a nice nap?"

He blinked sleepily in the light of the train, glancing out the window. It was pitch black outside, lit only by the occasional streak of light as the high speed train whizzed through the countryside. "I guess so."

"Good. Now, listen carefully. When you get off the train, take the express shuttle to the inner harbour. Catch a westbound taxi outside of the Hyatt. Continue for twenty blocks, and you'll find an apartment building across from a convenience store. Get out of the cab at the convenience store - if you don't have cash, use the two twenties that I left for you. Buy something to eat if you're hungry. Then cross the street and walk down the alley behind the apartment building until you find a blue sedan with out of state plates. Do you think you can do that, Stu?"

"You're not going to snuff me, are you?"

"You're so paranoid, Stu. But no, I give you my word that I will not harm a hair of your pretty little head. Now, I recommend you use the washroom before the train stops. You may not have a chance for a while."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"While I appreciate that an intelligent mind will ask questions, yours get a little tiring sometimes, Stu. Take a piss. I'll see you later."

The phone clicked off, and Stu glared at it for a long moment, then gave in and did as the caller asked, like he always did.

He called again while Stu was in the cab. Another unnamed number, but the same voice, like a rich, throaty purr. "Hello, Stu. I hope you're finding your way."

"Why the hell are you sending me on this wild goose chase anyway?" he half-growled, staring angrily out the window. But the truth of it was, the closer he got it, the tighter the knot of excitement tied itself in his core. It was the same kind of anticipation he felt when he thought about waiting for the man's phone calls, but tenfold. He had to be setting them up for a meeting. What other explanation was there?

"I told you that already, Stu. Change. You want it, I want it. Believe it or not, you're almost finished your treasure hunt. Are you excited?"

"Thrilled," he tried to say as sarcastically as he could, but the man on the other end of the phone only laughed.

"Your sarcasm is adorable. Did anyone ever tell you that, Stu? Ah - looks like you're almost there. I'll talk to you again soon."

He slipped the phone back in his pocket as the cab stopped, paid the cabbie and went into the convenience store. He wasn't particularly hungry, and in the end he just bought a pack of breath mints, chewing on two as he left the store and crossed the street, walking toward the apartment building. The alley he turned down was unlit once he passed the apartment building, and he had to walk slow, squinting in the darkness at the plates of the parked cars that he passed. How the hell was he supposed to tell what colour they were?

The first car he found with out of state plates - West Virginia plates, strangely enough, was parked behind a dark coloured panel van. He stared at the plates, then the car. Was it blue? What was supposed to happen next?

What he didn't expect were the arms that slipped around him silently from behind, the sweet smelling cloth that one hand clamped over his mouth and nose while the other pulled him tight up against the warm body behind him. "Don't struggle, Stu," came the soft purr in his ear, a voice he hadn't heard in person for over a year, though so many times on the phone.

A rush of desire shot through him as the drug took hold, and he couldn't have struggled even if he wanted to. He felt dizziness and darkness wash over him, and gave into the welcoming warmth of oblivion.

When Stu awoke, he was warm, and his head ached. It was still dark, but that was due more to the blindfold tied over his eyes, and when he tried to spit out the mouth full of cotton, he found that it was actually cotton - or something similar at least, stuffed in his mouth, tied in place. His hands were tied behind his back, as well as and his feet. From the sound and vibration, he seemed to be in a moving vehicle, wrapped up in a blanket.

... in his underwear.

He pondered this for a moment. He didn't hurt, other than his head. So he hadn't been raped or otherwise mishandled. Where the hell were his clothes? Was it supposed to keep him from running away? He tried to call out - probably not the wisest thing to do in a kidnapping, but he had no doubt on who this kidnapper was, and he knew that the man had undoubtedly planned this all well enough that crying out wouldn't matter either way.

The vehicle continued moving, however, and after a short time, he gave up. The caller would do things on his own schedule. He always did.

The van slowed, and the noise of traffic lessened. He thought that perhaps they'd pulled off onto a smaller road, then knew for certain that they'd pulled off onto a dirt road, bumping over gravel that was more than a little uncomfortable from his place on the floor of the vehicle. It must have been that panel van, some part of his mind clued into. And he'd walked right into the trap, willingly. A lamb to the slaughter.

The van stopped, and for a moment, there was only silence. Then he heard the sound of someone moving toward him, kneeling beside him, felt the blanket over his face pulled back.

"Hello, Stu."

God, he'd forgotten how much more appealing the voice was in person. He felt fingers trail over the side of his face, and moaned despite himself. Why was he moaning? Why the hell was he turned on? He was tied up in the back of a goddamn van, kidnapped and thrown around like a sack of potatoes. He ought to want to punch the bastard out, not to... to....

His face was cupped gently, tilted up, and he felt the man's breath whisper softly against his skin, felt his lips brush warmly against his bottom lip, then capture it, sucking on it gently, felt his tongue flick lightly against it. He was moaning again, trying to press closer, trying to encourage more sensation, hips arching against nothing but ridiculously turned on just from that strange kiss.

The man chuckled softly, one hand still cupping his face, and drew back, though he could still hear his voice very close. His fingers stroked over the cloth that held the gag in place. "I'm sorry about this, Stu, I really am. I do so enjoy your voice. But there are precautions that must be taken, even for you, hence the blindfold.

"But I've already seen what you look like," he tried to say, though it came out only as a series of 'murrs' and gurgles.

The man chuckled, and Stu felt his lips press against his forehead. "Hush, Stu. You can put that pretty voice of yours to work when we get to where we are going. In the meantime... I believe I promised you a reward for being so obedient, didn't I?"

He felt the blanket that was over him pulled back more, felt nimble fingers smoothing over his undershirt, down his side, and he moaned again through the gag despite himself. He tried to reach out, to encourage more sensation, but the man's hand pulled away, and Stu gave a soft whimper of disappointment. He heard another laugh, soft, but not taking mirth at his distress. The laugh was pleased. "Do you trust me, Stu?"

Stu hesitated, then managed a nod, and heard approval in the voice. "Yes, of course you do. You've proved it, haven't you. I'm very proud of you." He felt the man lean over him more, heard his voice right by his ear as his fingers stroked slowly over Stu's bicep, then down over his hip, teasing the bare skin just next to the hem of his boxers. Whatever his intention, his caress made it obvious that it would be undoubtedly sexual. "Do you want this, Stu? What I've been teasing you with on the phone for months? You want me to give it to you?"

He nodded, not even hesitating. He would have begged for it, if he hadn't been gagged. The fingers moved to tease him right where he'd ached so badly to be touched. "All ready so eager for me. Did you like my little game, Stu?" The voice lowered, grew huskier, and it just made him want him more. "Did it make you ache for it? Do you think about me when you touch yourself at night, or just when you're on the phone with me?"

Stu was nodding, whimpering assent, anything to keep it going, to encourage him more. He felt the man trail kisses slowly along his jaw, stretching out next to him, felt him capture his bottom lip again with his own, sucking at it with a low groan. "Pretty little Stuart in your raspberry suit. I never would have killed you. It would be a sin to silence that sweet voice."

He fought against the gag, fought to return the kiss, whimpering helplessly, but heard only a chuckle, low, approving. Husky with desire. "Just relax, Stu. There will be plenty of time for that later. Just relax, and let me hear how much you like this, how much you've wanted this." He felt the man's lips on his throat, on his chest, slowly kissing downward. "That's it... moan for me, Stu. Show me how good it feels. You want more? Show me. You want me to pleasure you? Tell me."

He went almost wild at the thought, moaning at his words, hips bucking up into his touch, and if he hadn't been gagged he would have begged for sex. He heard another pleased chuckle, and felt the man move down more, felt a hand clench his hip to hold him still, and he cried out against the gag at the rush of sensation that came next, more intense than he ever could have hoped for.

"That's it, Stu. God, you're so hot for me. Your cries are so beautiful, did I ever tell you that? It's why I kept calling, you know. I could have just watched you, I could have just been pleased by you wandering around your apartment shirtless. But I wanted to hear you. I wanted to make you moan."

And then there were no more words for a time, just pleasure, hot and bright and aching. Better than anything he'd done for himself over the past year, and oh god, better than Kelly had ever been. No words, just moans, his own muffled, helpless ones and the softer, throaty ones of the man who was pleasing him, the man he should resent, the man he should hate... but he couldn't.

He was still shivering afterward, still whimpering with the aftershocks of overwhelming pleasure, when he felt the man's fingers stroke through his hair, felt his lips press to his forehead. "My sweet, obedient little Stu. You've been so good. So very good. This won't be for much longer, just another hour or so, I promise. All right?"

He managed a nod, dazed, a soft whimper of assent. What the hell had he gotten himself into? But... oh god, it had felt so good....

"Good." Another soft kiss, this time to his ear, sucking gently at the lobe. "My name is John, Stu. Part of your reward. Just like I promised." He felt his head lifted, felt a cushion slipped underneath before the man pulled away, and he heard him moving back toward the front of the van. "Relax, nap if you can. It won't be much longer."

It was more comfortable with the cushion, and once they got off the bumpy road and back onto the highway, it was easy to relax, to let the sleep of sexual satisfaction take him.

He woke when the van turned onto another bumpy road, which jostled him most uncomfortably against the hard floor of the van under the blanket. He tried to pull his knees up to his chest, to curl up in a ball, and it helped, a little. The road went on far longer than he would have liked, but finally the van slowed, pulling on to paving again, then soon after stopped. He heard the sound of a garage door closing, felt and heard the driver's side door of the van slam shut. For a moment he panicked, thinking the man - John - had left him there, but then he heard a sliding door open beside him - they must be in the panel van - and heard the man climb in to kneel beside him, pulling back the blanket.

"We're here, Stu. I'm going to take off the gag. I'd appreciate it if you don't yell - there isn't anyone around to hear you, and it will just give us both a headache. Can I trust you, Stu?"

He managed a little nod, and felt the fabric untied, felt gentle fingers pull it away, pull the wad of fabric from his mouth. He spit it out, gasping, trying to get the taste of the cotton out of his mouth. "Thank you."

The man's voice sounded amused. "You're welcome, Stu. You've become such a polite young man. I'm so impressed."

"Kiss me," he whispered, and the voice fell silent. For a moment, he thought he'd said the wrong thing.

"What was that, Stu...?"

He wet his lips, turning his face toward the sound of the voice. "I asked you to kiss me...."

"You did, didn't you." He felt the man's fingertips trail across across his face, felt the pad of his thumb trace his lips. He shivered despite himself, kissing the pad of his thumb. "You could have said a million things to me, Stu. Why that?"

He swallowed hard. "I want it."

"That's strange. Because I seem to remember you telling me you'd happily kill me with a great big smile on your face."

"That was before...."

"Before what, Stu?"

He shivered, wondering why he was asking this. "You know what."

"Perhaps. Perhaps I don't. Perhaps I want to hear you say it. Tell me, Stu, what changed your mind. What made you obey me tonight without question, knowing the danger you could end up in. I could have taken you out at any point in your journey tonight, and no one would ever know that it had been me. I could still kill you now, you realize. Out in the middle of no where, in a van rented with your credit card number, and a photocopy of your drivers licence. I have been planning this for a very long time, Stu. So tell me now why I shouldn't kill you."

He felt the knot of anxiety in his stomach tighten. "Because you don't want to. If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now."

"Maybe. But maybe I just wanted to play with you a little more. It's been so fun this past year, hasn't it?"

He felt himself shudder, tried to choke down the sorrow. "Please don't say that. Don't say it didn't mean nothing to you."

"We're not talking about what it meant to me, Stuart. We're talking about what it meant to you. Now, tell me why you're here. Tell me why you kept taking my calls when you knew I had no leverage over you. Tell me why you got on a train to Baltimore just because I asked you to. And tell me the truth."

He could feel tears soaking through his blindfold, and choked, trying to draw a deep breath. "Because I thought you were the only one who ever really cared. Everyone who liked me - my wife, my friends - all they liked was the lie. They didn't like who I really was. They didn't want to be around me. Everyone left me but you. Everyone gave up on me but you. That's why I came."

There was silence for a long moment, and then he felt the warmth of the man's breath on his face. He wet his lips, trembling, trying to move closer, but strong hands on his shoulders held him down. "John...?"

"Say that again," the voice murmured, warm and low, and he could feel the words trail over his skin. "Tell me what you want from me, Stu."

"John. Please... please kiss me."

At first there was just his breath, just the same tease. Then a brush, ever so gentle, so fleeting, against his hips. He moaned despite himself, not able to keep himself from trembling, from begging. "John, please..."

Ah... there. The soft press of another's lips to his, then firmer, yearning. Different than a woman, different than anyone he'd ever kissed, all strength and angles and surety, the slight roughness of stubble against his own. His lips parted eagerly for him, tongue darting out to taste the man's lips as they caught at his, sucking at his top lip as the man's locked around his bottom, tracing the angles with his tongue. He couldn't help but return the kiss, couldn't help but moan and arch closer to him, not even realizing until now how much he'd wanted this, wanted to feel the man kiss him, feel the strength of the desire he'd always heard in his voice but never physically felt. He felt the man's tongue press into his mouth, tasting faintly of mint, tasting him, exploring him, claiming him with more than a little need.

Finally the man drew back, and he felt his forehead rest against his. "You're beautiful, Stu. I always thought so. Do you believe me?"

"Yes," he whispered softly, eyes closed behind the blindfold, mind reeling and every nerve in his body feeling almost hypersensitive, craving more. "What you did earlier... that was so good...."

A soft chuckle, a gentle brush of the man's lips against his. "I'm glad you liked it. Would you like me to take you inside, Stu? If I untie your legs, you'll cooperate, won't you? You won't try to run?"

"No. I have no where to run to." He swallowed hard, and drew a shuddering breath. "And I don't want to run."

"Good. I didn't think so." He felt the man's palm caress his cheek, and then the blanket was pulled the rest of the way off, and his legs were untied. The man helped him out of the van, guiding him with his hands and his voice, steadying him. "I'm sorry about the blindfold, Stu. I'll take it off once we're inside, but I can't chance you seeing the plates at this point. Not until I'm sure, and you're sure."

"Sure of what?" he asked, and heard a smile in the voice.

"You'll find out later. Now step up... two steps... good." Stu heard a light flick on, and could faintly see light through the cloth of the blindfold. A door was shut behind him and locked, and he turned his face toward the sound, but stood patiently otherwise, the floor under his stockinged feet smooth and a little cold.

He felt fingers trail across his cheek, over his lips, and tried to kiss them, something which earned him a soft, pleased chuckle. "Would you like me to take off the blindfold now, Stu?"

"Please...."

"Since you asked so nicely." He heard the man move behind him, felt a soft kiss pressed to the name of his neck. Then the knot at the back of his head was untied, and the dark fabric pulled away. "Is that better?"

The man who stepped around to face him was much as he remembered, though different. He was clean shaven now, and previously dark hair that had been slicked back was a sandy blonde and very short, sticking up in tufts that looked fluffy and inviting to touch. The glasses were gone as well, leaving blue eyes that watched him, well shaped lips turned up in a curious smile.

"You're better looking than I remember," he said, and the man laughed.

"Why thank you, Stu. The shorter haircut is very attractive on you as well. And it's nice to be close enough to see your big brown eyes." A smirk, and the man turned from him, giving Stu's racing heart a chance to slow, letting him look around.

"Is this your house?"

A laugh. "Oh, heavens no. Don't worry, the owners won't be back for a few weeks. The phones are cut off as well, just in case you were wondering." The man crossed the tiled entryway with the impressive vaulted ceiling, ignoring the staircase that spiralled to a second floor loft to disappear down the hall toward the back of the house. Stu followed him, hands still tied behind his back, not knowing what else to do. He found the man in a large entertainment room with a big screen TV, standing behind a marble top bar, taking the foil off a chilled bottle of champagne. "Their adult son throws parties here often. I don't blame him, do you? It's such a nice house. Pool in the basement. He always gets laid. And usually drinks all their alcohol. He has one planned a week from today, but we'll be long gone by then." The cork came off the bottle with a loud pop, and he took down two flutes from where they hung above the bar, filling them. "It's been a while since you've had champagne, hasn't it Stu? Should we celebrate?"

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to drink champagne -or anything else, for that matter - with his hands still tied behind his back, but he nodded. "What are we celebrating?"

"Your successful journey, Stu. The end of your test. You passed, with flying colours. Congratulations." He lifted both flutes and clinked them together lightly, then pressed one to Stu's lips, tilting it carefully to let him take a swallow. It was delicious, he had to admit.

"Thank you... so what happens now?"

"That depends on you, but we'll go into that more later. There are a few things you need to know about, some... behind the scenes information, I'll call it. The first and most important thing being that you are, essentially, now dead." Stu must have flinched at the words, because the man chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't look so stricken, Stu. I told you I wasn't going to hurt you. I didn't invest all this time into you for such a wasteful end, surely you must realize that by now."

"But you said in the van... that you could still kill me. If you didn't like my answer...."

"Could, Stu. Could. Not would. Are you saying you didn't answer me truthfully?"

He gave a soft, helpless laugh, lowering his head. "Everything I've told you has been the truth. Including asking you to kiss me."

He saw the man lean closer, felt his hand reach out to cup his face, draw it up to look at him. "What about more than that?"

Stu wet his lips, meeting blue eyes with his own. "You know I want it. Everything. I need it. I need... I need you."

A smile, and the man leaned over the bar more to reward him with another kiss, warm and promising, and he moaned and leaned into it, flicking his tongue against those lips he'd thought about so many times, encouraging more. He tried to follow when the man pulled back, almost knocking over one of the flutes of champagne, and the man caught it, chuckling softly. "Careful, Stu. No need to be so eager, I'll give you everything you want when we're done here. Would you like more champagne?"

He nodded, and the man rounded the bar to stand against his back, slipping an arm around him and lifting the glass to his lips. Stu swallowed the sweetly tart drink, watching their reflection in the back splash of the bar, finding he liked the picture much more than he'd ever thought he would.

The man followed his gaze to the mirror, but a soft smile was the only indication that he'd noticed what Stu was looking at. "Now, back to what we were talking about. As I mentioned before, you are now essentially dead. This is also why you are in your underwear, in case you were wondering. I unfortunately needed your clothing. And your wallet and cell phone. I hope you don't mind too terribly."

"To make me dead?"

"Exactly. Tomorrow morning, at Donny's garage in Baltimore - "

"My uncle Donny?"

"God catch, Stu. I couldn't ever pull one over on you, could I? Yes, your uncle, the one who told you that you were a good for nothing waste of space - yes, I heard that phone call. Your ever so darling uncle will go to his garage, and he will find the charred remains of a body in his grease pit. One wearing your clothes, carrying your wallet. Missing a number of his teeth, conveniently enough, but matching your blood type, your height, and your general appearance, or at least what's left of him. He'll even be wearing your wedding band."

"I left my wedding band at home."

"Yes, and I retrieved it when I dropped off the locker key." He chuckled, and lifted the glass to Stu's lips again. He swallowed awkwardly, coughing as the bubbles fizzed up his nose, and the man patted him lightly on the back as he continued to speak. "There will be a note, of course. Typed on your computer, with a digital copy saved to your laptop. Printed from your printer, with a copy mailed to dear Kelly. Your signature too, Stu. I'm very good at signatures."

He shook his head slowly, watching the man. "Why are you doing this?"

"Change, Stu. You hated your life. I've freed you from it. The world will think that you are dead, unless you truly want to tell them otherwise. You still could, of course. There might be a few tough questions for you to answer, like how the dead man in the grease pit came to be wearing your clothes and carrying your wallet, but if you still want to be Stuart Shepard, you can be."

"And if I don't want to be Stu Shepard? What happens then?"

A slow smile, warm and promising. "Why, anything you want, Stu. Anything at all."

Stu considered the thought for a long moment, watching the man. "Why do you say my name so often?"

He gave a soft chuckle. "Partially habit, I'm afraid. It's a negotiator's tactic. Psychologist's tactic. Helps you connect with the person you're talking to. Helps make it personal. But besides that, I like the way your name feels in my mouth, Stu. Very much."

"Do you, John?"

He earned another smile from that, and the man's fingers stroked over his cheek. "Yes. And I like the way that sounds on your lips as well. I recommend that whatever you choose, you still go by Stu. It's easier, that way. Change the surname, keep the given. My name is actually John, you know. It always has been. It surprised me that you never directly asked me to tell it to you."

"I didn't think you would," Stu replied.

"Just like you don't think that I'll untie you if you ask?" He leaned into him, pressing his lips to the soft hollow just behind his ear, then dragging the tip of his tongue slowly over his lobe, over the scarred and damaged cartilage from where the man had shot him, so long ago. "Why don't you ask me, Stu?"

He watched the man in the mirror for a moment, but let his eyes fall closed to the pleasure. "John, will you please untie me?"

"So polite. So obedient, Stu. I don't have to tell you how much I like that." Lips pressed softly to the corner of his jaw, and then he felt the knots at his wrists tugged undone, the cords set on the bar. Stu gave a soft sigh of pleasure, and rubbed his wrists where the cord had dug into them, smiling a little as the man caught his hands to help, gently rubbing first one wrist, and then the other. "So, now that you're untied, Stu, what are you going to do?"

He hadn't particularly thought about that, but reached for the stem of his champagne glass, lifting it. "I think I'd like to toast with you, John." The man gave him a curious smile, but lifted his glass. Stu returned the smile without hesitation. "To change. And finally meeting you face to face."

The man chuckled, but clinked his glass lightly against Stu's, watching him as he sipping it. "You're very refreshing, Stu, when you're not lying. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Stu drained his glass and set it down, then shook his head. "No. I think they all found me boring."

"You're not boring." The man looked a little displeased at that, and leaned in suddenly to catch his mouth in a fierce kiss, voice a little rough against his mouth. "Not boring at all."

Stu shivered under the onslaught, following the man as he tried to pull back, though this time he let Stu catch his mouth, let him kiss him, taste him, hot and hard and more than a little desperate, moaning softly against John's mouth. Truthfully, Stu wasn't quite sure when he had stopped agonizing over the issue of gender between them, sometime between this moment and the first time he'd jerked off to this man's voice. And he wasn't even particularly sure he'd ever consider a man for any kind of sexual act now. No one other than this man, the one he'd yearned for and gotten himself off to thoughts of so many times that he couldn't even count them any more.

"What is your reward, John?" he asked softly as he drew back, searching the blue eyes that looked on him with warmth and amusement, but more than a little desire as well.

"My reward?"

"For helping me bring about this change, John. For making an honest man out of me. You gave me my reward in the van... what reward can I give to you?"

The man's eyebrow's quirked slightly, and he reached for his champagne glass, finishing it. "Anything you'd like to give me, Stu. My reward is simply to have you here with me, finally."

Somehow, that response turned him on more than any other would have. He stepped forward, a little boldly, to slip his arms up around his neck, tangle his fingers in short blonde hair, to press his body against him. He felt the man's hands come to rest lightly on his hips, keeping him in place, his gaze appreciative. "John, I want to give you everything."

His eyes narrowed slightly, just perceptibly, the only expressive reaction to his words. "Everything, Stu? Do you know what you're offering me?"

"Yes."

"Your body, your mind? Your life?"

He swallowed hard. "And my love."

That got a bigger response, surprise he hadn't expected the man to show, though it was quickly schooled away. "I love how passionate you are, Stu. I always have. So yes, I think I'll take you up on that offer." He leaned in to brush his lips against Stu's, warm and lingering, voice suddenly rough with the desire he'd been holding back, which sent a shudder of need up his spine. "Let's go upstairs."

He was silent and more than a little nervous as he followed John up the staircase that spiralled around the foyer. The master bedroom was quite possibly bigger than his apartment back in New York, with a massively large, inviting looking king sized bed, a settee in front of a small fireplace, a huge bay window that seemed to be some kind of breakfast nook. A half open door on one wall lead what looked like an impressively opulent bathroom. "Are you sure we can be here?"

John chuckled softly, glancing back at him. "Trust me, Stuart. I've been here many times. These people own so much property they can't even keep track of it. And don't worry, the sheets are clean." He stepped forward suddenly, hands sliding around Stu's hips as he pulled him close, leaning in to catch his mouth, warm and possessive. It was something Stu quickly found he liked very much, being kissed, rather than kissing someone. Women always expected to be kissed, even if they took the initiative to instigate this kiss. It wasn't like that kissing John, and he found he'd never felt so throughly claimed and possessed, so completely wanted just by being kissed by someone before.

He gave a soft sigh against his mouth as the man finally drew back. "Oh, god...."

John nuzzled his jaw slowly, breath warm against his ear, thumbs stroking slow circles on his hipbones through the thin cotton of his boxers. "You like that, Stu?"

He closed his eyes, drawing a shivering breath, arching closer to him and letting his hands stroke up his arms and over his shoulders, fingers tangling again in the sandy blonde hair that turned out to be as soft as it looked. "Yes...."

"Is gender going to be an issue?"

He swallowed, and shook his head slowly. "It was at first. Didn't quite know what to think of myself, the fact that I wanted you as much as I did. Even before you told me to... to touch myself, you already did things to me... fuck, I never expected to want you so fucking badly. No, gender isn't an issue, not anymore."

"Thank you for being so honest with me, Stu." John's lips closed over his poor damaged earlobe again, sucking, teasing it with his teeth, and Stu tilted his head back almost as a reflex, giving him better access, yielding to him. "I won't hurt you, I promise you that. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," he breathed, shivering as the lips started to kiss down his neck, as the hands on his hips smoothed up over his sides, slipping under his undershirt to stroke his chest, toy with his nipples. He gave a soft whimper, fingers tightening in his hair, urging more. It turned him on more than he'd expected, feeling those strong, nimble fingers rubbing over his chest, his mouth sucking at the crook of his neck, nipping teasingly at the skin as his fingers pinched and tugged lightly at a nipple, the combination of teasing sensations sending a shudder of arousal down his spine. "God, more," he whispered, arching closer, hips rocking against him, needing to feel his passion, needing to be closer to him.

His lover's voice was husky, almost raw. "You feel what you do to me? Every time I've called you, Stu, it's been like this. Your voice turning me on, your sweet little moans. You see why I couldn't stop? Why I couldn't stay away from you?"

Stu drank up the words, head falling back and eyes closing in pleasure as the man rained hungry kisses on his neck and throat. He was half aware of John pulling back the covers of the bed, and even that was erotic, the thought of making love in a stranger's bed, decadent and opulent. He pulled back and stretched out in the middle of it, holding his arms for the man, who smiled, eyes running over him more than a little appreciatively before joining him, kneeling half over him and claiming his mouth with more kisses, hips rocking slowly against his, pressing him down into the softness of the bed.

"God, Stu. You're so beautiful. So perfect." A tremor, a roughness in the voice that was normally so composed, even more desire evident than when he'd heard the man's pleasure on the phone. He drank in his kisses breathlessly, giving himself entirely to his lover, to touch and caresses and sensation, everything he'd craved and dreamed of each time the man called. It was more overwhelming, more beautiful than anything Stu had ever experienced, finding completion in John's arms. He clung to him almost helplessly, drawing sharp gasps of breath as his mind reeled with the combination of sensations as pleasure crested, finally letting his head fall back against the pillow with a breathy groan.

They curled together in bed afterward, and Stu ached deliciously from the sex, which only added to the completely boneless, sated satisfaction that claimed his body. He had never been one for cuddling or talking or even really staying awake after making love, but he found himself somehow craving it now, not wanting the intimacy to end. He tilted his face to receive soft kisses, stroking fingers through his hair, warm and lazy and gentle.

His lover smiled, watching him almost wonderingly, and Stu felt himself calm, feeling unexpectedly cherished under the gaze of those blue eyes, under the voice that spoke, soft and tender. "Thank you, Stu."

"Thank you," he breathed softly in response, sighing softly against the lips that pressed to his, returning the kiss slowly and warmly, more tender than he could have ever thought possible between two men, his heart aching with joy when his mouth was released.

"Was this the choice I had to make?" he asked quietly, watching his lover. "What you said in the garage... that I needed to be sure?"

His lover's eyes darted away, suddenly a little uneasy. "Part of it, yes. The rest of it is whether or not you're sure you want to stay with me."

"Of course I want to - "

"Don't be so quick to answer, Stu," John's voice was unexpectedly somber, blue eyes holding his seriously. "Do you know what I am? What I do?"

Stu's eyebrows knit together a little. "Besides trying to reform people with a phone call and the subtle application of a sniper rifle?"

John gave a soft laugh, relaxing a little. "I'm a hit man, Stu. Usually for money, sometimes for personal satisfaction. Occasionally both. You were one of the second types, don't worry, none of your clients were that rich or that pissed off with you. And there have been a few other survivors, but none like you." His fingers trailed slowly along Stu's jaw, and he let his eyes fall closed briefly at the pleasure of the touch.

"I can handle that," he said softly, feeling the man's thumb trace his lips.

"My plan right now is to spend some time in Europe," John continued, voice low and soft. "I've only taken two contracts in the past year. I've only needed to, I have plenty of money set aside. But it's a very lonely life, you must understand. I don't even meet my clients. It was something I could deal with, for a time. Until I met you."

"I'll go with you," Stu replied, watching him speak, drinking in his features, watching his lips move.

John smiled, leaning down to brush his lips with his own. "I can't ever entirely start over, Stu. I have certain... obligations that will call me back to work from time to time. And my work is not without risk."

"But you're the best...."

He chuckled softly. "Why thank you, Stu. But there are still risks. I will do my best to stay clear of it, and we can make a life together somewhere. Pretend to be like everyone else. And I'll make sure that you are taken care of, no mater what. Is that a change you would like to make with your life?"

Stu was silent for a long moment, watching him, trying to take in everything he'd said. But he couldn't see or sense any deception in him, any ill intentions. "If I agree... can we have lots of this mind blowingly amazing sex?"

John laughed, relaxing instantly. "That's part and parcel, Stu."

"Then it's a deal." He arched up to kiss him warmly, giving a soft, happy sigh against his lips. "Mm, just one more question...."

"Yes, Stu?"

He grinned. "Do you happen to hang on to my cigarettes?"

~~~~finish~~~~