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The Mongoose and the Cobra

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Danny didn't know what Mickey was so fussed about. It wasn't like he'd never been nicked before. It wasn't even like he'd never been nicked 'cause of Danny before, and besides, the whole thing was a setup. It wasn't Danny's fault there'd been no time to let Mickey in on the plan.

Back at the hotel, Danny held up his hands, backing away as Mickey advanced.

"You never know when to stop, do you?" Mickey said, low. Danny couldn't stop the shiver that tone awoke in him, though on a bet he'd never admit it.

Something glinted in Mickey's hand. Handcuffs, Danny realized, and felt something give. He kept it together because it was what he'd done all his life, but his own bullshit had never felt so flimsy, so transparent. "Mickey, what you doing with those?" Mickey's only answer was a tight smile. Despite his best efforts, Danny's voice rose. "Mickey, seriously."

"Oh, I'm dead serious." Mickey clicked one cuff open like he'd flip a card to the bottom of the deck.

"All right," Danny said, "yeah, you're right, I deserve that. I do, I deserve that. No question. Tell you what, let's go down to Eddie's and drinks are on me, yeah?" What was he saying? He came up smack against the wall with no idea how he'd got there.

"Danny."

"Yeah?" Danny swallowed. The heat of Mickey's body overwhelmed him, and he couldn't get enough air. He felt hypnotized by his own confusion, by the intensity of Mickey's gaze, by the sudden lack of space between them. He always felt a little mad around Mickey, but it was worse when his attention was on you, the full strength of him almost too much to take. Danny knew he was no slouch in the charisma department, but Mickey Bricks was in a class by himself.

Danny tried to focus on the threads of Mickey's blue silk shirt, the tiny turned-up corner of his collar, the only thing in his field of vision that was safe. It didn't help. His eyes strayed to the curve of Mickey's mouth, that secret smile that always made him feel like he was some green kid off the streets.

The snick of the handcuffs snapped him out of it, too late. Mickey moved as slowly as a cobra; Danny could have slipped free, could have made some kind of protest, but he didn't. And Mickey, like always, was three jumps ahead of him, his hands warm and painfully gentle as he pulled Danny's wrists behind him and clicked the cuffs home.

He wasn't joking. It sank in slowly, and Danny shuddered with the heat that stabbed through him, Jacobs and belly and chest and oh, God. He breathed in and got a heady wave of Mickey's cologne and the scent of his skin, and it was inevitable--in a heartbeat, he'd gone so hard he couldn't think.

That tiny, deadly smile played about Mickey's lips. He bent his head to see Danny's face, and Danny felt his cheeks burn. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to see you like this."

"Mick--" He had to put a stop to this. He had to, or...or he didn't know what.

"Hush, now, Danny," Mickey said, putting one hand against Danny's neck, and Danny almost swallowed his tongue. He felt hot, dizzy, like he might dissolve if Mickey let go.

This couldn't be happening. Sure, yeah, he'd fantasized--he'd got a pulse, and Mickey was Mickey, and he was pretty sure everyone who'd ever met the guy had some kind of fantasy, but fantasy was one thing and this was--

It was going to bloody kill him, he realized, as Mickey's lips grazed his neck and shivers burst over his skin. It was going to--oh, Jesus. Mickey's lips found Danny's heartbeat racing under his jaw, and then Mickey leaned in, one muscled thigh between Danny's legs. Danny shuddered and molded himself to Mickey like a fucking limpet. He couldn't stop himself; he groaned and wondered if it was possible to die from feeling this good, from wanting something this much. And Mickey knew. Just like he always fucking knew everything--Danny could feel his smile, the knowing grind of his thigh against Danny's desperate heat and, fuck. Oh, God, Mickey.

"It's all right, Danny," Mickey breathed against his neck. "If you want to beg me for it, I won't hold it against you."

Danny writhed against him, helpless. "Fuck you." It was all he could find breath for.

Mickey chuckled, the rumble of his laugh rolling through Danny like a promise. "Oh, I don't think so, do you?"