Until now.

"Oh…God." His head hits the wall and it hurts, but he doesn't care, relishes the pain that's probably going to last for days. He wants this to last for days. He bucks up against the mouth wrapped around him and slides his hands beneath the collar of the once pristine white t-shirt until he feels hot skin then he digs his nails in. He feels the answering groan around his cock and digs in harder, feeling the answering push of fingers against his hips, hard enough to bruise.

He wants to be marked, wants to be owned. No one would believe it if he said it, least of all the man on his knees, but he does. Wants proof of ownership rather than just the personal knowledge that he's belonged to them since the day they hit town.

His head hits again and he fights against the hands at his hips. He wants this, wants more. God. Wants him.

"Kennedy."

He's not so big a fool as to call him by his first name. Knows that belongs to someone else, but he can't not speak, can't hold his tongue any longer.

He groans low and deep in his throat, his hands sliding up the curve of Archie's neck, threading into his blond hair - disheveled from the rough time in processing before Edrington got to the station. He's sore and bruised and Edrington doesn't need to see those infamous blue eyes to know he's fucking angry, practically vibrating with rage.

He rasps the name out again, feeling himself getting closer to the precipice and wanting to fight it, wanting to pull back. Wanting. Wanting.

"Kennedy, God damn it." He's breathing hard and barely hanging onto his control as he tightens his fingers in Archie's hair and guides his head back, staring down at the blue eyes, the wet mouth and the hard length of his cock a mere breath away from Archie's parted lips. "Fuck me."

He's not sure where the words come from, and he's sure as fuck not going to say them again.

"Fuck me."

Kennedy gets to his feet like some fucking languid cat, not like a convict in a fucking interrogation room in the middle of the fucking night. He's stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers, marks on his wrists from cuffs twisted too tight on the ride in the car. His eyes are ice-cold, but Frankie can see something pulsing just beneath them, like a beat of music out of sync with everything else.

"That what you want, Frankie?" Archie's voice is rough and thick and his boxers are doing nothing to hide his own erection, doing nothing to keep Edrington from wanting this now. "You gonna give me something for the price of it?" He grabs Edrington and turns him around, pins him to the wall with his elbow hard in the middle of Frankie's spine. "Isn't that what you taught me, Frankie? Always negotiate the terms first?"

"Don't look too much like a man in any position to negotiate, Kennedy." He's harder than he's ever been, can feel the brush of Archie's cock against his trousers, the heat of him pressed against Edrington's ass. He knows he's wrong - Archie's got all the fucking power here - but he's not about to show a weakness. Another weakness.

Fuck.

He hears the click of the gun before he's even aware that Archie's pulled it from his holster, before he even remembers he's wearing it.

"Is that so?"

Frankie closes his eyes. "You gonna kill me, Blue Eyes?"

The muzzles pushes hard to the nape of Frankie's neck, digging in the flesh. "God damn cop, Frankie. Why shouldn't I?"

"I may be a cop, Kennedy, but I've done nothing but help you."

"For a price."

He turns his head, risks the bullet in his brain. "You don't have a price? Archie?"

The muzzle digs in and he winces, feels it against his spine. "Horatio." Edrington's eyes close and he shudders, lets Archie take it the way he wants. The hand not holding the gun pushes Edrington's trousers down off his hips, lets them slide to the ground. "My price is Horatio."

"You want me to take him off your hands?" Edrington laughs, keeps the soft sound going even as the gun digs even harder into his flesh. He's not going to be able to turn his head for a week at this rate, assuming Kennedy lets him keep it attached to the rest of him.

"Pellew's got him in hand. Gonna make a man out of him. His man. I want you to keep him out of jail. Keep him under the radar." Kennedy's cock brushes Edrington's ass, and they both barely muffle a groan. Frankie's not sure about this, not sure about anything, but he wants it, even if he's going to have to tell the little woman he got into a brawl with someone who thought he was bigger and stronger and smarter to explain the fact that he's beaten and bruised and can barely walk. "Keep him safe, Frankie."

"He's a g…holy…" He stops talking, can't talk as Kennedy pushes against him, slow and easy and determined. Frankie bows his head, hair mussed against the stone wall as Archie keeps pushing against and inside and hard and tight and… "G-god."

"Keep him fucking safe, Frankie." The gun moves from the nape of Edrington's neck to his temple as Archie settles against him, buried inside him. Frankie feels like he's going to split in two, full and hard and if Archie so much as moves, Frankie's going to come on the god damn interrogation room wall. "Or next time you see me, you're not going to have a chance to explain before you eat this fucking gun."

The gun clatters to the floor and Frankie can't care that if it goes off, everyone on shift is going to clamor to this room and his career - and likely their lives - would be over. All he can care about is the deep heat and pressure of Archie's cock as he starts moving.

"He stays alive. He stays out of jail. He stays safe." Archie's voice trembles and, for the first time, Edrington's aware that Archie's fucking scared and he should be. He made an enemy of Jack Simpson and he's going to Jackson and men either come out changed or don't come out, and no matter how safe Frankie keeps Horatio, there's fuck all he can do for Archie. "Swear it."

"T…I'll take care of…him." Frankie's panting and desperate and he reaches down for his cock, stroking it in time to Archie's increasing thrusts. "Guardian fucking angel. I swear."

Archie's body jerks and he spills himself deep inside Edrington, triggering Frankie's own climax. He slumps against the wall and Kennedy lays against him, one hand on the wall by Edrington's face, and the other curled around his hip. "You'd better be as good as your word, Frankie."

He glances over his shoulder at Archie, meeting his blue eyes. They're not cold anymore. For the first time since Frankie met him, they're the eyes of some scared, young kid no one's seen since Archie crossed the threshold of Jimmy Keene's territory. Archie pulls away, the mask slipping in place once again. Edrington's body spasms as he slips free, the sting and stretch of the skin throbbing hard.

"I'll do that - payment or no."

Archie tugs his boxers back up and glances up, managing to look just as intimidating half naked and slightly broken as he does in full dress with a tommy gun in his hand. "I know that, Frankie."

He starts to dress, stopped by Archie's words. "Then why…?"

Archie shrugs and moves back to the table, lights a cigarette and stares into the flame of the match. Edrington watches him, watches the match as it sways in his loose grip, wonders how hot it must burn. "Because, Frankie," Archie raises his eyes and there's nothing there - not even ice. "One good betrayal deserves another. Don't you think?"