Sometimes when he dreams, lying out in the courtyard in the heat of evening, in that half-waking state where you swear it's really happening, he can feel a hand feathering over his head, then lips on his. After all this time alone, a voice says, he's finally been found.
But it's not Letty's voice, or her hand or her lips, in the waking dream. Instead the hands are rougher, stronger, and the mouth is wider. They're his, the one who betrayed him, the one he can't forget, the one who brought him here so far away from his life.
Before that last job, Dominic had promised Letty a dream of a beach in Mexico. Now he's here near that beach, but he's alone, and dreaming of the one who put him here.
This dream disturbs him and he shakes his head against it, but always, always, he closes his eyes again and tries to dream some more.
Brian O'Connor drove along the street outside Ensenada, trying to get a sense of where he was. He couldn't see half the house numbers, if they even had them, and it seemed like for every small house along the street, there were three more hidden behind them, little bungalow-type places shrouded by trees and shrubs, all dripping with beautiful flowers. He was more used to the dust and sleaze of Tijuana, not this weird mix of tourist-class niceness and run-down typical-Mexico. Finally he thought he'd found it; at least, it looked like the place they'd directed him to when he asked around about Dominic Toretto. Even if they didn't know him by name, the brief description was often enough -- in just a half-dozen months, he'd already made a name for himself. The men who knew him all seemed to want to be like him -- macho, strong, ass-kicking racer -- and the few women he'd asked all appeared to want to be his girlfriend. It didn't take him long to understand that the girls' pouty faces were due to their disappointment and confusion that Toretto lived here alone, but hadn't been wining and dining any of them. This had amused Brian considerably, until they'd decided he was ripe for the picking and tried to catch his interest. Brian pulled over and parked on the side of the street.
The place was hidden behind another house, apparently owned by one of the guys who ran a garage in town. Garages, especially anything that looked like it catered to tricked-out cars, were the first places Brian had gone looking for Dom. There was no way he'd leave off working on cars -- others, or his. As he went around the corner and through the overhanging vines, he saw a beat-up '70 Mustang Mach I with Baja plates, the racing stripes mostly scuffed off by age, the front quarter-panels both primer gray, and a rear end that looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to it. But he was sure under the hood its Cobra Boss was gleaming and on its way to becoming a decent piece of end-of-an-era metal.
And of course, nothing could have signaled that this was Dom's place any better than to have an old muscle car there.
He knocked on the front door, not certain if Dom would even be around, but there was no answer. Everything here was hidden by bushes and trees. He tried again, this time pressing his ear to the door -- he could hear some faint music, something hip-hop, so he went around to find a door off to the side back. He opened it and went in, wondering if he should call out. Brian figured he would either get himself shot, beaten up, or thrown out the door (or possibly all three); a positive outcome wasn't even something he'd considered possible. A small courtyard-type area sat out back of the bedroom, and that's where he saw Dom, lying on a lounge chair. There was a beer on the stone patio, and Dom's hand was resting on what looked like a book, spread open across his chest.
It was like getting the air knocked out of him, like getting a kidney punch that left him breathless and rubbery. He couldn't even see all of Dom's face, just the nose and the shaved head, a gleam of jawbone and cheek. But Brian had never seen anything so wonderful, and for a moment he panicked, suddenly afraid of what he'd lose when he spoke. Most of the time he was able to rein in fear, keep himself in control, but right now so much hinged on this meeting, and he was terrified of the result.
After Dom had driven away from the wreck, Brian had gone back to tell the story. He'd known he couldn't absolve Dominic, or Vince or Letty or Leon, but he had to tell them about the Trans, about Jesse, and make them understand. They hadn't. Tanner had gone after him like pit bull, the FBI had made it clear everything would be taken out of his hide for the rest of his natural life, and they were determined to get to Toretto before he could flee the country.
When Brian had finally made it back to the house a few days later, Mia was nowhere to be found -- probably taking care of Jesse's funeral, or else gone to ground for Dom's safety -- but Brian's own Toyota was there, parked in the driveway. Dominic's stuff was gone, and Brian presumed the money, as well. The detritus of a crime scene littered the front yard, markers for the shells all over the grass, the outline of Jesse's body still visible. The keys were in the ashtray of the car, so Brian drove it away, a queasy anguish in his stomach. He knew Dom was telling him something by leaving the car, but not what. By the time the Bureau and the LAPD finally brought their case together and arrested Vince at the hospital, Brian had been put back on patrol, the news of which Tanner delivered along with a sermon about what a fuckup he'd been, and how he'd probably never make detective now.
He'd walked out as Tanner was reaming him, no longer interested in anything they had to say. All the time they'd pinned his poor performance on his attraction to Mia, citing his reluctance to believe Toretto was running the jacking ring as a product of his feelings for her. There wouldn't have been any way to tell him how hard it was to turn on Dominic, no matter what he might have done. What was the point in even talking about it? How could you explain what it felt like when you met the person who made your soul wake up and come alive?
Always, in the back of his mind, he told himself not to try to find Dom. That there was too much water under the bridge, and no forgiveness allowed. What could he possibly tell him that would lead to forgiveness? But months went past, and life felt like an endless drowning. Brian went south, pulled down by the gravity that Mia had spoken of once, the pull that always seemed to bring people to Dominic Toretto.
So he screwed his courage to the sticking post and stepped into the courtyard, saying softly, "You can be a hard man to find when you want to be." He put a hand on Dom's shoulder, and Dom leapt out the chair, the book -- not a sign that he'd suddenly become literary, but just a book on cars -- flying off to the left and the beer bottle tipping over with a clunk.
Dom had his hands out like he was ready for a fight, and he was blinking, stunned. "What the fuck?" he said, and then dropped his hands when he realized it was Brian standing in front of him.
This was pretty much what Brian had expected. A look of such hostility and loathing he could feel his skin being scoured off him. But still Dom didn't say a word, just glowered.
"I'm sorry, I knocked and tried the front, but there was no answer. I thought... I don't know. I thought... I shouldn't have come in like that. I was..." He couldn't figure out what else to say.
Dom took a step toward Brian, and the quick movement made Brian react with fear. He stepped backward to avoid what he figured was going to be a punch. All Dom did was poke a finger in his chest, hard. "You coulda got yourself killed."
Which, of course, was probably right, seeing as how he hadn't been totally sure this was Dom's place, or that he lived here alone. Brian tried to regain his confidence and footing, but Dom just stood there, simmering with hostility, glaring at him with a look that almost said "give me a reason I shouldn't." There was a scar on his forehead from the accident.
Brian put his hands up in the air and said, "I'm not carrying, I don't have a badge, I'm here on my own, okay?"
For such a big guy, Dom could move weirdly fast, and before Brian knew it, Dom had grabbed a fistful of T-shirt, shaking him. "That doesn't mean you have an invitation."
"Sorry. I'm sorry." Somehow he'd hoped that giving Dom the chance to get away would make up for everything. That he could be reasoned with, but Dom wasn't exactly a model of restraint. "I wanted to talk to you."
Dom's face remained closed. He picked up the bottle and the book and went into the house. Brian wasn't sure if he was supposed to follow or not, so he stepped hesitantly inside.
"It took me a while to find you, and I guess I got a little ahead of myself. I wanted to see you, try to talk to you before you had a chance to crush my skull."
Dom shook his head as if to say, "you gotta be kidding me," and rolled his eyes ceilingward.
"I'm not gonna crush your skull. I'm not gonna do anything to you, Brian Earl SpilmanO'Connorwhateverthefuckyourname is."
Now he stepped more fully into the house, squinting at Dominic, trying to assess his mood. In the past he'd found it easier to deal with him when he was pissed off than when he was quiet. He though about apologizing some more, but figured it was better to change the subject.
"Your arm's healed. You look good. You must have gotten the help you needed." It was more a question than anything.
"Hector's a better friend than I realized." Dom opened the tiny refrigerator and pulled out two beers, uncapped them, and handed one to Brian.
"He give you that broken-down horse out front?"
"Yup. Some cousin of a cousin had it. I think he's related to at least half of Baja." Brian thought of cracking, "Yeah, and you Italian families are so small," but this wasn't the time for wise-ass remarks. Dom flopped down on the couch. "It's been a real long day, and you interrupted my beauty sleep. You wanna tell me why you came all the way down here? You can't exactly extradite me, not without knocking me out and tying me up and shoving me in the trunk of your car."
"I just... I wanted to see you. To set things right."
"Set things right?" Dom's face was a study in sarcasm. "Set... things... right? I'm a fugitive, Brian. I'm in Mexico and my sister is in Los Angeles. Jesse's dead, and Vince is awaiting trial. How exactly are you going to set things right?"
"Between us, I mean. I needed to clear it up, because I can't get it out of my head."
Dom just stared with that odd face he made sometimes, like he was both assessing and... maybe hurt was the way to describe it. He remembered that look from when he'd made his first attempt to get Dom to cut him in on the action. "Too bad for you."
But, for some reason, he didn't boot him out. So Brian sat down and gazed at him with what he hoped wasn't the sad, pathetic face he was pretty sure mirrored his condition.
"I've been trying to pull some strings for Vince. Bad as things are, I still have some connections and maybe there's a way to get a reduced sentence. One of the girls in the office has a thing for me."
Dom made that tight face, mouth drawn in a thin line. Okay, so the levity wasn't going to work. Dom wouldn't give up a thank-you, not now. But Brian knew there was a least a twinge of gratitude there, probably the same thing he felt when Brian had given him the keys. Too proud to say anything like that, though.
"I never wanted to lie to you, Dominic. I had a job to do, and it wasn't until I was doing the job that I realized it wasn't the one I wanted." He paused, took a pull from the beer, and continued. "All my life I wanted to be a cop. And then they came along and said they had this job for me, that they needed someone young who could drive. I loved cars, and I thought, this is the life. When you're coming up, you think undercover detective is just the shit, that you're made once you get a chance to do that. They never tell you about the emotional toll. About what it means to feel like you found a family, only they're your target."
He'd hoped for a reaction, anything, but Dom was just stone-faced. He finished off his beer, and Brian watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he gulped the beer. Everything about him was big and oversized and strong-looking. It wasn't hard to understand why people drifted into his gravity, why they wanted him to take care of them. Charismatic, Tanner had said. All the great thugs have charisma.
Brian took a picture out of his pocket and held it out to Dom. After a moment of suspicion, he took it. "I fixed her up. The roll cage saved some of it. It took a lot of work, but she was salvageable."
Closing his eyes, Dominic held the photo tight. Eventually he looked at Brian with eyes so forlorn that it broke Brian's heart. "Thank you."
"The least I could do." Brian had no way to tell Dom how terrifying it had been to watch the car flip into the air like that, to be certain that when he reached the Charger, Dom would be dead inside, his brains spilling out his ears. "She's at a storage place. Your money, though." He smiled, but Dom didn't really smile back.
Dom got up and put the bottle on the kitchen counter, his back to Brian. After a long silence, he turned and asked, "You wanna go get something to eat? I haven't had dinner yet."
For most of the meal they talked about it and around it all, the crash and the leaving and how Dom had ended up down here. Brian told him about the bad trouble he'd had and of going back to his old job, but he left out the details of just how bad bad really was. He didn't think Dom would understand or sympathize much, anyway.
And Dom told him a little about what he was doing, about picking up some races with an eye toward Monterrey, and what it felt like to finally be legit, tearing up the tarmac with someone else's car and not having to worry about the cops. He came alive when he spoke of it, as if Fundidora would be a lifelong dream and not just a substitute. Before, he said, he might have been king of the L.A. streets, but you realized that just meant king of nothing when you could race for real, even in Mexico.
"Does that mean you won't be going back?" Brian asked.
"I can't come home, even if I wanted to. You know that."
"Does that mean you don't want to?"
Dom didn't answer, just glanced away.
"There are things that can be done..."
"No, there aren't. The statute of limitations is three years at least, probably more because of the cars and the hooks. I'm looking at eight long, easy, and that doesn't even take into account all the other shit they could throw at me. And I'm an ex-con."
"So, what, you won't even look into it, for Mia?" He wanted to say for me but knew better.
Weirdly, Dom got still and sad. He actually looked like he cared. "I already looked into it, Brian. I know what laws I broke. I know why you had to do what you did."
Time hung there between them, along with the music from the bar next door and the conversation of the others around them.
"Hey, look. I'm racing on Saturday if you want to come watch."
"I know. I kind of asked around. It seemed like good timing, and I figured that gave me a few days to try to work my way into your good graces before I had to go back. It'd be great to see you race." Dom was actually inviting him to stay. That was more than he'd hoped for when he got here. He remembered the way Dom had looked at him in that field off the highway, the slowly anguished realization of what Brian was. Sometimes he wasn't sure things could ever be fixed; it all seemed too badly broken. But there really wasn't anything he wanted more now, maybe even more than being a cop.
He pushed at the last of his rice, and then asked, "You want to go next door? Shoot some pool, get some more cervezas?"
Dom smiled, barely, at Brian's bad pronunciation, but it reminded him of all the times he'd grinned that big, dorky smile. For such a badass, Dom had one of the goofiest smiles he'd ever seen. Dom threw some money on the table and got up, waving a couple fingers at the owner. Already everyone knew him, trusted him. Dom just pulled people in, like gravity, Mia had said. You simply couldn't fight it.
After a few brews, Dom felt like he'd finally loosened up enough to relax into the situation. Brian was here, just like in his dream, and he wanted Dom to come home with him. Hard to believe the kid could still be that naive after everything that had happened. Every time he told Brian it was impossible, though, he threw it back in his face. After a while it turned from amusing to irritating.
Finally he just smacked him on the shoulder with a cue stick and said, "Leave it, bro. I ain't coming home with you, especially not with you busted down to patrolman in the ass end of L.A. You're no good to me."
Instead of being hurt, though, Brian had just given him that weird, defiant asshole grin.
"Yeah, 'cause it's better down here, picking up crap races at some two-bit track and tricking cars for Mexican gangsters."
Dominic moved in on him and said quietly, "Keep your fucking voice down."
Brian shrugged and took a shot. Dom went over to the bar to get two more beers, and then thought better of it. The boy was obviously drunk. He watched him bent over the table, blinking, trying to guess a shot. Two hotties had been eyeballing Brian all night and now they went over to him the minute Dom had left his side, flirting. Brian looked up at him, the ice-blue eyes shining in the low light of the bar, and they just kept each other's gaze for a moment. He was beautiful, was all Dom could think of. You didn't want to use that word for a guy, really, but he was. Beautiful, shining like some weird pure light here in this dingy world.
"If you stick around till Saturday, you'll see it's a good track. And it's legit, Brian, something I can't do back in the states. The thing I do best, and I can't do it because I nearly killed a guy. You got a habit of forgetting that."
"Whatever you say. But some people really want you back. It's kind of chicken-shit to let Vince take the rap for your criminal mastermind fuckup, don't you think?"
He glared at Brian, his heart hammering in his chest, that strange feel of adrenaline and shakiness he got sometimes when the stakes were higher than he liked. It was only with people he ever felt this way, never in a car.
"Are you trying to piss me off, or are you just that drunk and stupid?"
All he got was that infuriating smirk.
He scared the girls off and they went back to the game, but Dom was too irritated to concentrate. Brian kept looking at him funny, like he really was trying to piss him off and was angling for something else to say that would do the trick. After a while, he said, "What I never got was why you had to jack those trucks on the highway like that. Wouldn't it have been easier to just hit them at a rest stop, a café, something like that? All that trouble at the end could have been avoided. The truckers wouldn't have... what happened to Vince wouldn't have happened."
With a huge, exasperated sigh, Dom said, "It wasn't just the money. That was great, but it was about the driving. You of all people ought to know that by now. Once you got a taste of it, you couldn't get enough, from what I saw. It was always about the driving."
"Maybe about you and the driving. They'd all do anything you told them, but maybe they didn't want it as bad as you did."
That did it. He tossed the stick on the table, dropped some money on the bar, and hauled Brian out by a fistful of sleeve. Brian stumbled along after him, and Dom threw him in the passenger seat of the Mustang. "Sit. Stay."
Brian made like he was readying a retort, but Dom barked, "Shut the fuck up." He went around to his side and got in, just staring hard out the windshield and gripping the wheel.
"Did you just tell me to shut the fuck up? You think you can talk to me like that?" Brian had that stupid wounded puppy face on, but he laughed, like he thought it was fun.
"You're a real sloppy drunk, dog."
"You just called me dog. That means you forgive me." He laughed in a weird way, almost a giggle. "You'd never call me dog if you didn't forgive me."
Dom shook his head in bafflement. "You think this is some kind of game? Come down here and convince Dominic the world needs him back home and that Brian, junior cop with a shitass track record, can fix it for him if he does? Or is this some kind of freaking quest? Forgive me and it'll all be okay? Take the heat, but just come back?"
Brian leaned his head back and closed his eyes, testing himself for some composure. The kid ran hot and cold in a way that confused Dom all the time. "Tanner fried my ass. I mean, if he could have shoved a NOS tank between my legs and lit it on fire, he would have. He was my boss, see, and we were working in some kind of tandem with the FBI that I never really got. It was total bullshit. They went after me with everything. The only reason I only got busted down to beat was because Tanner liked me, like I was his wayward kid or something -- he thought it was all because I grew up without really having a family, and that I was in love with Mia and didn't want to break up the makeshift family you all had. Not that, you know, I wasn't crazy about her, but they really didn't get it." He opened his eyes, and turned to face Dom, his head still leaned back so that his profile was backlit by the street lights. "They hammered me about where you were, how to find you before you could jump the border. And I wouldn't give it to them, even when I thought I was going to lose it all. Because the whole point was you, not Mia. Protecting her was secondary. It was more important to me that they not find you."
Dom started the car and drove back to the house. Partway there, Brian tried to finish. "Without me, they didn't have dick. They could make a case against Vince because of the shooting, but... unless I spilled, they were out everything in regards to you. Vince would never talk, and Mia was well out of it, I saw to that. I told them I never saw you commit any crime, I never saw evidence that you committed any crime. It was all hearsay."
"So, what? You think this is going to make me come back? Like I'm safe?" He pulled into the narrow driveway and killed the engine.
"Nah. I just... wanted you to know. Stupid to think it made a difference to you."
Dom rolled his eyes. Now Brian was acting like a chick. He slammed the car door and stormed off, but Brian followed right on his heels. Jesus, he was a tenacious little fuck. Of course he was, it was that tenacity that had gotten under Dominic's skin in the first place, won him over into exactly the position Brian had wanted him in. Just the right spot to hurt him the most.
"I knew this was what would happen! I didn't want this, not after I met you, after I got to know you. You weren't anything like they told me. You were... apart from all of that other shit." Brian wheeled around. Maybe he wasn't quite as drunk as Dom had thought. He kept pinwheeling his arms for emphasis. "I never expected to be your friend. "
"Who says we were friends? Friendships aren't built on lies and deception. You can't be friends with someone whose whole existence is a lie!"
"C'mon, Dom. You know you'd never have let me into Race Wars or anything else if you didn't want that. If we weren't friends. And I knew it was too late, and I was stuck. This... all this shit was exactly what I didn't want to happen."
Like it was all about him and what he wanted. Like this was his do-over.
"You betrayed me! You lied to me!" Dominic punched the air with a pointed finger, shouting at the top of his lungs. "You! Betrayed. ME!"
"I never wanted to! Not from the first time we raced, and I could see who you really were. I didn't want to turn you in, I tried to stop you because I didn't want to lose you! I wasn't coming after you that day to catch you, I was coming after you to stop you so you wouldn't get hurt." He stopped shouting, and said so quietly that Dom almost couldn't hear him, "I couldn't lose you."
Dom laughed, a low, mean laugh, and twisted his mouth into a hard line. "Lose me? You never had me."
Brian looked at him with such hostility and hopelessness that it hurt his heart. Dom stepped forward and wrapped his hand around the back of Brian's neck roughly, hauling Brian toward him. When Brian resisted, he grabbed hold of his wrist and twisted it, then yanked his head forward. Still Brian tried to pull away, and Dom shoved his mouth against Brian's so hard that he drew blood, the coppery taste swimming against the taste of Brian. Brian kissed him back, opening his mouth to Dom's searching tongue, but then he broke away and moved to hit Dom. He wasn't letting the kid go that easy, and struck out with the side of his hand. Brian blocked it, shoving his arm back, and for a brief second they faced off, panting, glaring at each other. Brian touched his bleeding lip, stared at the blood on his fingertips, then squinted at Dom. "Motherfucker," he said in surprise, and Dom laughed.
Christ, he was hot like that, so completely off balance, so out of his element. Before, no matter how bad the situation, Brian had acted as if he wasn't afraid or fearful, even when there was a gun to his head and he should know better than to not be afraid. Now he was so off that it was enticing. Dom grabbed him by the back of the neck again, and this time Brian moved on his own, kissing him back, mouth open and eager.
They struggled to get as much purchase on each other as they could, to make their kisses go deeper, to get as close to each other as possible. He had never felt so locked within a moment of need anywhere but in a car. He pushed Brian over the hood of the car and Brian spread his arms across as if in surrender; his eyes challenged and succumbed at the same time. Dom leaned over him, grinding his dick against Brian's, accepting the devouring kisses and returning them with even more fervor. He licked Brian's neck, dragging his tongue up along the Adam's apple and over the chin, then bit and sucked hard on the space where neck met shoulder. He'd have a bruise there tomorrow, but it didn't seem to bother Brian, judging by the moans of satisfaction.
Beneath him Brian pulled at Dom's pants, yanked the zipper down to reach inside. His hand was hot and rough, the texture like that in his recurring dream, and when Brian teased his thumb over Dom's cockhead, his knees trembled. Brian took his hand away and shoved Dom around and up against the grill of the car, yanking his trousers down, then the boxer briefs. He knelt before Dom, gazing up at him with those ice-blue eyes, and took Dom's cock in his mouth, licking it with agonizing slowness, hand ranging around his lower belly, his balls, toward his ass.
The noises coming out of his throat in guttural sobs embarrassed Dom, but goddamn, this was amazing. He wanted to close his eyes and lose himself in this but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Brian looking up like he owned Dom now, his mouth open around his cock -- his -- and working it like he was some kind of pro. Then he did lose it, coming in hard, silent spasms, and Brian took it like it was exactly what he wanted, letting it spill into his mouth, not stopping until he was certain Dom was done. He wiped the sides of his mouth and chin as he stood up, and grinned that stupid, arrogant grin that Dom had missed more than nearly anything else.
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"Naughty, naughty. Nice Catholic boy like you, taking the Lord's name in vain."
"Where did a straight piece of white bread like you learn to give head like that?" He was shaking and rubbery, but Brian just continued to smile at him. Dom worked his way out of his fog, aware of the bulge in Brian's jeans, the way his breath still came in shallow pants, and he grabbed a fistful of Brian's shirt to pull him forward. He reached down, undid the fly and took Brian's cock in his hand, so hot and hard. They were practically on top of the car now, and Dom didn't know what he liked best, the feel of Brian's cock in his hand as he writhed against his body, or the wet, open mouth that bit and tore at his own. Finally Brian stiffened, moaning, and the hotness spread over Dom's arm and hand. He let Brian down slowly, watching his face as he relaxed. He brought his other hand up to Brian's face, thumb along the chin, fingers on the cheek, stroking the lower lip.
"Maybe we should take this inside," Dom said against Brian's neck, biting it, this time more gently. "Just my luck someone decides to visit. They might get more of a view than I want them to."
Brian's hand tightened around his forearm as if to say he couldn't quite believe they were talking about doing this some more. He nodded and took Dom's earlobe in his teeth, sucking it hard, biting. He ran a hand over Dom's head. "Never thought I'd have to whine about getting beard burn from macking with someone."
Dom slid off the car and pulled his pants up. "More where that came from."
Had he wanted this, all the time he was looking for Dominic? Had it always been his goal to be here, in bed with him, tracing lazy circles along the hard muscle of his back, following every curve and line of his sculpted body? Hindsight was always 20-20, but he didn't think that had been his goal, at least not consciously. Yet it had all led here, as if each step on the path was made by something larger. As if he was supposed to be here but he'd just never seen the guideposts. He'd genuinely cared for Mia, but wondered now if that was just one more step toward Dom, a way to open himself up to feeling for someone again. All the time trying to build up his other persona, to keep it all inside and master the art of being alone, and he'd thought maybe he would never be able to feel something true again.
How hard you fall when you're not looking, though. Dom rolled over with the sheet twisting around his hip, the line of the external oblique emphasized in the movement, and Brian placed his hand proprietarily on those magnificent abs, smiling. They'd expended every bit of energy they had through the night; still he couldn't sleep, just watched Dom relaxed and at ease for once as he slept quietly. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but every time he'd ever shared a room with another guy there was usually a cacophonous accompaniment of snoring, smacking, and other unpleasant bodily functions. The most he'd heard out of Dom was some wheezing and that low growling purr sound on occasion. Every time he awakened, they fucked some more, things Brian had never imagined doing, nor wanting to do. He was sore, tired, but happier than he could remember ever being.
Brian sensed that Dom was coming up out of sleep now, and so he leaned over and, pulling the sheet down along Dom's thighs, began kissing around his lower belly. That did the trick and Dom groaned as he awakened fully, dragging a hand through Brian's hair, running it down to grip the back of Brian's neck.
He liked that, the way Dom used his physical power and intensity, but never abused it. He'd noticed that with Letty, how unafraid Dom was of allowing her the boss role, but still clearly identified as the strong one. Letty would tell him what to do, scare other girls away and flay Dom's skin right off with her glare, but no one would ever dare call him whipped -- and anyway, Dom was the one getting laid when the rest of them were laughing like stupid little boys. Brian was thrilled to have Dom direct that confidence and strength to him.
Brian took his cock in his mouth but Dom pulled him away and rolled over, directing Brian's hand between his legs. He spread them wide, then turned his face slightly and said in his rich voice, still thick with sleep and now with lust, "Ride me."
"Hell, yes." He didn't have to be told twice. They'd had to improvise with some cooking oil -- he was pretty sure that sex with another guy had not been on Dom's weekly schedule, so his lack of accoutrements was totally understandable -- and that had been all right, but he was starting to think a trip to the farmacia was in order if they could ever get themselves out of this bed.
He did everything slowly, the way Dom had to him, and when he was at last inside him, that strong body moving beneath him in eager rhythm, Brian thought he'd lost a part of himself he could never regain. He was in Dominic, physically and spiritually, and maybe this was where he'd wanted to be all along, from the moment he first looked up to see those eyes on him in a dark little store in East L.A.
He'd thought that when everything with Dom had first started, he was the driver, that he would set the destination. As a cop he had a goal, he was the one who needed a result from the relationship. Now, with Dom's body held against him and moving in time with his own, he knew that he'd only been the passenger, waiting to be told where to go, and ending up here.
Later they ate and lay in bed talking. Dom told him about the races and how well he'd done. He became a different person when he talked about racing, and Brian remembered him saying that he lived his life a quarter mile at a time. He'd been so moved to realize what it meant to Dom. Now it felt somehow worse to think of him trapped here in Mexico, but at least he could race for real: no fear of the cops shutting him down or hauling his ass back to slam, the consequences of his assault weighing only on his own conscience, not barring him from the track.
He like listening to Dominic talk, the way he'd flip back and forth between the macho tough-guy 'tude to someone tender and soft, the loving family guy who drew everyone around him. The guy he'd seen with Mia, and sometimes, with him.
"Do you talk to Mia much?" Brian asked him at one point.
"A lot. She sold the store to a cousin and she's in school still. With the money from the sale, not from the haul." He gave Brian a stern look.
"I know. She told me what you did with the money. That you took some of it to get down here, but that the rest went to Vince and Letty for the hospital bills, and for her to pay the mortgage. She didn't want it, though."
"Nah, she never did."
"Don't you miss her? And Letty and the guys?"
There was faraway look in his eyes. "All the time."
"You think about Jesse, don't you? Blame yourself?"
No answer, of course. But Dom ran his fingers through Brian's hair, down his arm, and twined his fingers through Brian's. Sometimes Dom looked at his body like he was studying it, the way he'd look at cars, figuring something out.
"But you won't come home."
"This is my home now. Got nowhere else I can go. And Letty's long gone. I knew that the moment I saw her face after the last job went bad."
"Vince said he talked to you."
"Yeah. You think I'm a coward for leaving him there, but it's his choice. I don't wanna get into it right now. You have to trust me on this."
Dom was quiet for a long time, just scrutinizing Brian's face, running his hand up and down his body."What's really going on? Why do you keep hammering on this coming back thing?"
Brian fidgeted. "I don't know. Maybe I guess I just need to prove I can make it okay for you to be where you want to. That way it'd be a choice -- you could race here, or come home, but at least it would be a choice." And to show everyone I'm not the fuckup who'd let my mark go because I can't tell the difference between right and wrong.
"I'm okay." But that wasn't the way he acted with Brian... Dom acted like he was too lonely. Like he was stranded.
"I could help fix it, make it safe." He hated the urgency in his voice, how pleading he sounded, but he couldn't help the jumbled emotions that seemed to have consumed him since he set foot in Mexico.
"You know you can't. You've barely got your job to hang on to. I won't let you throw it away on me."
It stayed there, sullen in the air, this idea of sacrifice for each other. A whisper, almost, of what they didn't want to say of their feelings about each other's choices and lives. But he'd always felt that way, since he'd made physical contact with Dominic Toretto in the midst of a fistfight. Every time he'd looked at him after that, he knew how deep he'd gone and that he'd never really climb back out.
They'd talked about Brian's life before, about his lonely childhood as a kid from a deeply broken home, about how it felt to believe he belonged somewhere, even though that belonging was a lie. Admitting he'd been lonely was easy; admitting how much he'd wanted to be with Dom, even at the beginning, came harder. Where Dom was expansive and unashamed of his emotions, open and easy with people, Brian was reserved and, sometimes, timid.
"If you came back, they'd want to see you. Of course, they'd want to know why I'd help you. Maybe that's one of the other reasons you don't want to come back. I wonder what they'd say if they knew... if anyone knew about this. Us." It was the first time he'd ever really thought that there was an us there.
Dom gave a soft chuckle. "You're so full of shit. Always acting like you know something. That's what amused me the first time -- you telling me you almost had me. I thought you were just insane to take me on and then try to goad me. But I kinda liked it, having someone throw down on me like that." He traced a finger down the front of Brian's chest to his cock, and fondled it until Brian was hard, just staring at him the whole time with those serious brown eyes. "And what are people gonna say? I've been in prison. I made a rep because I wasn't exactly interested in being someone's bitch, but do you think I was a monk while I was in there? I almost killed a guy; I'm a criminal and a fugitive." He licked all the way up Brian's chest to his throat, and sucked hard on the side of his neck. "You think I'm scared someone's going to call me a faggot?"
He kissed Brian with ferocious ownership, wet mouth open, biting his lip, sucking hard on his tongue. "Anyway, it's true, isn't it?"
He said other things between the kissing and the sex, but Brian didn't really catch much after that.
It was the wildest week he'd ever had. All the months in between, thinking of Brian and not wanting to think of him, feeling like his life was in limbo. Even when he did wonder what it would be like to see him again, his imagination had never been like this. He'd taken Brian to the race the afternoon before, a good luck charm for his turn driving, and sure enough, Dominic had won. Beforehand, he'd tossed some bills on the table and said, "Fifty says I smoke 'em all," and Brian had taken him on, grinning that stupid grin and making him feel like he'd already won. Something about knowing Brian was there in the pit waiting for him with that damn dumb smile made it so easy -- easier than anytime ever on the street.
He'd called in sick every day, and Luis, whose little bungalow house he was living in, just laughed at him, perfectly aware that he had a guest. "Save your strength for racing," Luis had told him. He'd been good to Dom from the beginning, but it served him to be good -- the more he raced, the more sponsors he got, and the more people came to Luis's garage. That mutual working relationship was refreshing; there were no games, no jockeying for position down here. Luis had known right away that Dom liked to race -- and that he was good.
The track was one of the only times they'd left the house, though. If they weren't fucking, they were eating. Brian had teased him about being a good Italian boy, because everyone knew good Italian boys could cook. He liked doing it, the same way he liked working on cars -- there was a kind of precision and art to it at the same time. And when they weren't fucking or eating, they were talking. Brian always avoided talking about being a cop, which Dom was happy to avoid as well, but sometimes they would steer close and he'd be reminded that this was all just a temporary pleasure, the way his dreams let him forget, sometimes, and the way racing used to be.
But what pleasure. There wasn't a surface they hadn't had sex on, nor anything they hadn't been willing to try. Sometimes it was actually comical, like when Brian had straddled him on the lounge chair in the courtyard, impaled on his cock, head thrown back as he thrust above him, holding onto Dom's shoulders, and the chair had collapsed beneath them. All they could do was laugh, but it hadn't stopped Brian, the maniac, and he finished the job with the clatter of metal all around them.
He could have given Brian shit about being insatiable, but Dom felt the same way, hungry for something he hadn't known he'd wanted so badly. Just the touch of Brian's hands across Dom's head would send a shiver down his spine, or the challenging way he'd glance at Dom with eyes that told him to do whatever he wanted. He'd lost what little self-control he'd possessed; though that was his pattern where Brian was concerned, wasn't it? From the start, he'd thrown away whatever sense of self-preservation he'd ever had. Bewildering that it was Brian, out of all the people he'd met in his life. But he'd known even in the beginning that it was different. More important.
Just to have him here, to talk to him and know that he'd come all this way simply to be here with him... Dom didn't really know what to make of it. But did it matter? He was here, in his bed, under his hands, and that was what mattered. Not how close you came -- just whether you won or lost.
And yet Brian wanted him to go back. If he'd learned anything about Brian, it was that he was one stubborn little fuck. The hardest thing in the world was to say no to him. Dom watched him for a while, appreciating the way he moved around the house and how much like home he'd made it feel. That was Brian's gift, he knew then: to slip into your life, to fit in any place. No wonder they'd tapped him for undercover; he could slide right in to any situation they put him and you'd believe it.
They were watching TV when out of the blue, he felt the need to tell Brian, "I got sick of it, you know. Being on top, being the one everyone looked to for answers. But you're right: I knew that whatever I asked of them, they'd do. It is all my fault, what happened to Vince and Letty, but I think... I think Vince knew I was sick of it. That I was just this guy going nowhere in life because I fucked up and cost someone his whole life."
Brian stared at him, his face impassive but his eyes hinting at anguish.
"He won't say, but I think that's why he's willing to take the rap by himself and not bitch about it. Like he's giving me my freedom. I'm not saying I didn't like it, it's hard to let go of that status once you got it, but I was tired, especially after prison. In a way, what happened was maybe the best thing that could have happened. Maybe you both gave me a gift."
Brian pushed him back on the couch and crouched above him, his hands on either side of Dom's face. He didn't say anything, just stared hard for a while before kissing Dom, working his way down his body. While he didn't want Brian to think that sex was the only way to respond to emotional stuff, by the time Brian took Dom's cock in his mouth, he'd lost whatever he intended to say about that. Brian had an unerring ability to leave him weak and shaky, and he would punctuate his actions with pauses to look at Dom and declare that he was "amazing," or "gorgeous." Dom didn't believe a word of it, but he also wasn't going to argue.
Once he'd finished Dom off, Brian lay for a while with his head on Dom's stomach. "I'm glad you have a life here. I guess in the end, that's what I was thinking when I gave you the keys. That you could leave everything in the past, even if that meant me, too." Dom weaved his fingers through Brian's hair.
While Brian went and showered, Dom got on the phone to the track manager, taking care of some of the details he hadn't had time for with Brian around. His Spanish was slowly improving, but it was a good thing that everyone here spoke fractured English, or he'd never get anywhere. When Brian came back in he lay down on the bed, sprawled across the sheets, his damp hair curling against his neck. It was distracting, because he looked like some picture out of a porn mag. Dom kept talking about how they should get out, go to a bar or dinner or even just the beach, but when he looked at Brian like this, the last thing he wanted was to be somewhere he couldn't put his hands on the guy. This might be your only chance to be with him.
Eventually he put the phone down and went over to the bed. Brian was asleep. His body was covered in small bruises left by Dom's eager fingers, hints of bite marks, and deeper hickey bruises in some of the oddest places. He was pretty sure that an inspection of his own body would show how much of an oral fixation they both had. This really was the wildest damn week.
He knelt down on the bed and bit lightly on the place where Brian's lean, golden thigh met his nice round ass. Brian made a little noise, shifting slightly. Dom pushed his legs farther apart and Brian woke up all the way, drawing his arms under his face, twisting slightly. Dom licked up along the curve of ass, down the other cheek, and then between them on that soft, musky flesh. He laughed when Brian practically shot off the bed, panting out "Jesus Christ" with a shocked breath. Dom gripped his hips harder and continued, feeling Brian turn to jelly under his hands. He pushed two lubed fingers inside Brian, who moved back and forth, eyes closed, fingers gripping and ungripping the sheets in time with his hips. Dom bit softly along his neck, slipping a hand under Brian to grip his cock. It was incredible watching him: unleashed, all that distanced watchfulness and caution wiped away by simple desire. When he came in short, sharp gasps, Dom held him against his chest, back to front, because he didn't want Brian to see his face, how happy and sad and awestruck he was to have him in his arms.
When Dom woke the next morning, Brian was already gathering his things to leave, hoping he wouldn't wake him up till he was ready to go. Dom rubbed his face, stared at the stuff in Brian's hands, and said, "I gotta piss." He went to he bathroom.
Great. So Dom was going to get shitty now that he had to leave, punish him for making him have the time of his life. What a waste of fucking time. He sat down on the sofa to wait for him to come back and get dressed, which he took his own stubborn time doing.
"What is it, man? You're going to burn me for leaving because time's up?"
Dom sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over his head. Brian had learned he always did that when he was troubled. "Sorry, man. It's just... I hadn't really thought about you going. Knowing it's gonna happen and it happening are two different things."
He looked up at Brian with that hurt look, the one he'd had when he'd finally found out Brian was a cop. Why did it always have to come back down to that? he wondered. It was like the elephant in the room, and even after all of this, somehow it still stood there between them.
"I don't want to go. But I have to. I'm in enough shit without disappearing for over a week." He stopped and put his stuff down. "I just I have to prove this thing, that I'm not the fuckup they think I am. I'd stay if you'd have me, but I feel like I've got to prove I can do this job. I don't want to come down here just because I couldn't hack it at home." He paused, sucking it up, hoping for at least a shred of control. "So I guess that means we're just fucked, aren't we? Choices with no choices. Unless you let me try to fix it back home." But he knew that was just stupid, there really was no choice for Dominic. And god, he'd been so happy racing for real, so at peace in a way he could never be in the states.
Dom paced around the room, alternately putting his hands on his hips or wiping one of them over his face. "You're barely a cop now, Brian. You said yourself, you're pulling shit details a cherry beat cop wouldn't even get. They're not going to play on your team, especially not for a fugitive and a convict. You just have to let it go."
But Brian could tell that Dom couldn't let it go, so how the hell was he supposed to? It was written all over his face, how bad he missed home, how bad he wanted the fragments of his life back. Or maybe just that he wanted Brian to stay, to give up being what he was, but Dom didn't know how to ask that.
"What am I supposed to do?" Brian asked. "Go back and pretend this wasn't the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me? That knowing you hasn't changed me so much I don't know how to go back to being who I was before?" The tightness in his throat was painful. "It's like there's a line -- on one side of it is this life I had before, and it feels like it belongs to a whole other person now. And then everything after is when I knew you. I can't go back to that other person's life. I don't want to try to live it without you. But I'm better than they think. Than any of you think."
"I know. I know. But I'm not willing to take the risk and fail, not this time. Not even for you." His eyes were so anguished. "I've got sponsors, and I'm racing, and I know that you know what that means to me."
Unfortunately, he did. He knew he was being childish, but this was more than he'd ever bargained for. "So, what? If I'm really lucky and get back to undercover, and I don't get stuck in months-long ops, assuming I'm even in California, I can come down here and visit my boyfriend every six months or something?"
That almost roused a smile from Dominic, and Brian struggled against smirking himself. Shit, if he could be with Dom 24/7 and still live the life he'd tried to start, he would. Already he was doubting his devotion to being a cop, to righting everything he'd done wrong. If things worked out for Dom, he could... well. No point in the fantasy.
"Beats taking a chance and me back in Lompoc if it doesn't work. At least here we get conjugal visits."
"It's not funny, Dom."
"The hell it's not. It's fucking hilarious if you like black humor." Dom touched his face, that proprietary way he had of putting his thumb under Brian's chin and the fingers on his cheek. He wished Dom could touch him that way forever. Mia had once joked that Dom owned him -- and that was what he wanted more than anything to be true, now. Then he wouldn't have to take responsibility or make decisions about an entire future. "We gotta laugh about it, or else we'll go crazy."
Brian leaned his forehead against Dom's, closing his eyes, letting the feel of Dom's strong hand on his face ground him.
"Good to go?" Brian asked.
"Yeah."
"I'll come down and watch you race when I can." That was about all he could bring himself to say; even though it might be an empty offer if the job interfered. He was still so awkward at talking about how he felt; he envied Dom for his ability to say things and be emotional. The token offerings of his own emotions felt like meager crumbs in comparison.
"That'll work."
He kissed Dom, a searching, rough kiss that Dom returned with vigor. After gathering his stuff, he walked to the door, trailing his hand along Dom's arm. Dom reached up and touched it briefly, then his fingers slid away and Brian walked out into the heat of the day.
He would come back down here, he knew that. There was nothing as important as this. Maybe when he got his shit together, even being a cop wouldn't be as imperative. Maybe he'd figure out an answer for both of them, find a real choice.
Because Mia had been right. Dom was like gravity, and gravity always pulls you back down.
After Brian leaves, he looks around the at the place he's called home for half a year, which never felt like a home until this week. He picks up the plates, the bottles, tries to put the broken lounge chair together. Everything seems to echo hollowly, though, and he goes back to the bed with its dirty, tangled sheets, still redolent of Brian's skin.
He'd had a dream of a beach in Mexico, a life on a track somewhere. A life going forward, not stuck in neutral. He'd had a dream that Brian came looking for him, and found him.
So maybe it can happen, he thinks. Test the limits, full throttle. Just
keep dreaming until you reach the finish line.
End
7/28/04