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He should've known the Strauss case would cost him. Each one of his cases did, in one way or another.

An assassin, though? Karl hadn't expected that.

It was a Friday night, and he was finally home after a long day of trials -- all he was looking forward to was a warm shower and a glass of chilled whiskey. What he hadn't expected, not in the least, was the click of a trigger behind his head.

He froze, keys in hand, one step away from entering his apartment. "Who's there?"

"The tooth fairy." The blunt pressure of a gun nudged his shoulder. "You're Karl Roland, no? Step into the apartment. Don't make a noise."

Karl did as he was told; he had little choice. A wild, panicked part of him was tempted to call out for help -- but Karl didn't like the idea of being found dead on his doorstep, with a smoking hole in his head. It didn't take much to guess that this must be Strauss's hitman, sent to "settle" his case before it ever got to court.

"Strauss sent you?" Calm. Stay calm. Karl shrugged off his coat as he entered the apartment, turning to hang it on the rack. He caught a glimpse of the man behind him: tall, stocky and wearing a black mask. No identifying features, then.

"You're a clever boy, Karl. Trying to ID me, are you? Forget about it." The gun nudged him again. "Off with your shirt. Your pants, too."

"What?"

"You heard me. I ain't gonna get shot by any heat you might be packin' on you."

Fair enough. Karl unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off -- thinking incongruously of the Christmas party late last year, when his mother had given it to him. Good thing it wasn't stained red. Yet.

"Quite built for a scrawny lawyer, aren't you?"

Built? The hours at the gym must be paying off, then -- although Karl still couldn't believe that he was standing in his living room with a masked man, talking about being /built/.

"Why are you here? Did Strauss send you?" It isn't a good idea to needle the man with the gun, Karl, he said to himself. But he had to know. He had to, if it was the last thing he was going to know before he died.

"Yep. Strauss sent me. But don't worry, you aren't gonna die. Not if you cooperate."

"Cooperate? How?"

"By losing that little bit of evidence you discovered yesterday. I'm asking you to forget you ever found it, okay? Don't present it to the court on Monday. Don't do that, and the case against Strauss is purely circumstantial -- they won't be able to nail him. Got it?"

"Got it." This guy was a professional, then. The city bruiser accent was all an act -- this assassin was familiar with the law, or familiar enough with it to know of Strauss's case.

"You know, something tells me you're the stubborn type. I don't think you've got it, yet." The man sighed, as if Karl's stubbornness was the greatest tragedy in existence. "You know what? Call me Andy tonight. Call me that, and walk to the bedroom."

What? What the hell was that? "Excuse me?"

"You're excused, you poor son of a bitch. Walk. To. The bedroom. And get on the bed once you're there. All fours."

A deep, black terror yawned inside Karl's chest. No. This couldn't be -- he couldn't mean -- but he'd get shot if he didn't... "Fuck -- "

"Exactly. Now walk."

Karl finished toeing off his trousers -- and, in a sudden, peculiar urge to please his captor, he toed off his underwear, too. Without looking behind him, he began walking towards the bedroom.

"Nice. Very nice. What a pert ass you have, Karl Roland."

Karl bit back a reply. He wasn't gay -- okay, he'd experimented a little in college, but who hadn't? He wasn't gay. And he wasn't going to let this -- this faggot with a gun -- cow him into begging. If it was going to be rape, it was going to be rape. It was a damn sight better than murder, anyhow. He'd get up tomorrow morning, report to the police, and ask for full protection until the trial. Strauss was going to go to jail. There was no way Karl was going to give up on that.

"Look at you. All firm-jawed and indignant." Andy -- if that's what he was going to call himself tonight -- seemed to have given up on the bruiser accent. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to tempt wolves, Karl?"

You're a coward, not a wolf. "There's lube," Karl said through a tight throat. They'd reached the bedroom, and the bed lay before him, a pale expanse that suddenly seemed more like an abyss. "There's lube in the drawer," he said again, because Andy didn't seem to have heard him. Either that, or he was just surprised.

The silence finally broke. "Well, aren't you the eager one?" Andy's voice was hoarse. "Okay, then. Get the lube. I wanna see you prep yourself."

Huh? He'd only ever prepped women before, and that hadn't taken much time -- but Karl guessed it'd take longer to prep a guy. He'd never bottomed, not even in college, and in those dope-hazy days he couldn't recall ever having to prep anyone.

"Get on with it, or I will."

Karl scrambled for the lube. He fetched it from the drawer, unscrewing the cap. Then, after squeezing it onto his fingers, he paused. Glanced at the bed, and at his fingers again.

"What? You don't know how to prep yourself?" Andy chuckled. "Just get on the bed, all fours like I told you, and feel yourself out." The gun pushed Karl's lower back, gently. "In here, got it? Stretch yourself like a good little boy."

Watch who you're calling little, said that distant, panicked part of Karl. The rest of him, though, simply got on the bed. He felt like a puppet, strung up on someone else's strings, acting on someone else's commands.

Which he was.

He took a deep breath, feeling the bed give beneath his knees as he leaned forward. It was humiliating to be bared like this, to a total stranger no less, rather than one of Karl's occasional, lovely girlfriends.

"You are a good boy." The gun's muzzle -- cool carbon, slowly warming to Karl's skin -- trailed down Karl's back. "Now stretch yourself. Take as much lube as you need. Because trust me, you're gonna need it."

Need. Karl closed his eyes against the pillow, feeling tears threaten. This was ridiculous. Was this all it took to make him cry? A grown man?

He reached behind himself with his right hand, his fingers slippery with lube -- and fumbled around behind himself in a way that made him flush with shame.

"Can't even find your own hole. A real virgin, huh?"

Shut up, Karl thought. "Just -- just give me a moment, okay?"

"A moment," Andy echoed, sounding amused. "Sure."

Karl sighed with relief when he finally slipped a finger into his anus, his arm an uncomfortable stretch behind him. It wasn't so bad, that one finger, slick as it was with lube. It didn't hurt. The second finger, which he pushed in a few moments later, hurt a little more. The third -- oh, God, the third one burned -- and he found himself arching away from his own touch, quivering. Was he going to be able to take a dick in there?

"Hey, wait. Slow down, you moron." The gun paused where it touched Karl's back. "This ain't a competition. Take it slow. Like I said, you're going to need it."

Need it? Just how big did this megalomaniac think he was?

"You know, for a lawyer, your thoughts are pretty obvious. They're written in the way you move. The way you breathe."

Wouldn't anyone in this situation think in the same way?

"It's not me I'm worried about, Karl. It's this." The gun nudged Karl's lower back again, but this time it slipped lower, and lower, until --

What? He couldn't be -- was he serious/? Karl pulled his fingers out of himself, scrambling upright. "Did you just -- you're going to put your /gun in me? Are you fucking insane?"

"Fucking? Yes, hopefully. Insane? Not quite." Andy waved the gun again. "On all fours, Karl. Don't make me repeat myself."

Karl sat there, panting. He was already sheened with sweat; he stank of terror, and he hated it. He wasn't going to -- going to roll over and just be shot in his fucking ass --

"Get. On. All. Fours." Andy walked up to the bed, until his knees touched the edge. He angled the gun downwards, slowly, and Karl watched with a sort of breathless disbelief as the gun pressed against the pillow, tightly, and fired.

Karl flinched.

The shot didn't ring out, like Karl had expected, because the pillow acted as a silencer -- but Karl had still heard the shot anyway, a quiet bang within the apartment, not loud enough to be heard outside. The pillow had a black, smoking hole in it. Karl stared.

"Karl, I think you need to understand something. I ain't out to kill you, if you cooperate with me. But I've got the feeling that you won't, that some stupid part of you's still gonna fight the Strauss case on Monday. I can't let that happen. If I have to kill you, I will -- but if I can convince you to forget your new evidence, you'll live. It's that simple. I'm saving your life here, Karl. You should be a little more grateful."

Grateful. Grateful?

Karl wanted to burst out laughing, or perhaps crying -- he wasn't sure anymore, and he wasn't going to risk it. All he could see was the hole in the pillow, smoking. Like my head.

So he turned around again, shaking, returning to all fours. His arms shook, and his balls seemed to have shrunk in on themselves, as if hiding.

"Take it easy, Karl. Didn't I say I wouldn't shoot you? All you have to do is whatever I say. Yeah?"

Karl panted harshly against the pillow. He smelled gunpowder on the air.

"Answer me, Karl."

"Yeah," Karl croaked, trying to stop himself from shaking. "Sure. Whatever you say."

"That's my boy." The lube had disappeared from next to Karl's elbow, and Karl realized that Andy must've taken it. "Now. Enough entertainment. It's time for us to start work, wouldn't you agree?"

Entertainment. This was entertainment for him? /Sick fuck/, Karl thought, trembling. He jumped when he felt a hand -- gloved, smooth leather -- settle on his back.

"Easy. We're going to take this slow. And you're going to tell me where that evidence is, all right?"

"The bullet," Karl gasped. "I'll never tell you where it is. Strauss deserves to go to jail."

"Does he? Well, everything's relative. You're going to tell me, anyhow." The gun brushed Karl's ass. Karl was startled to feel that the muzzle was now warm and slick -- Andy must've lubed it up.

Karl swallowed. "Is that -- are you -- going to fire that thing in me?" His voice shook, and he hated it.

"Am I? Well, maybe. Depends on your answer. You tell me where the evidence is, I get rid of it, and we all go home happy. You don't tell me where the bullet is, or you lie about it, and I'll plant a bullet of my own in your fine ass. Deal?"

Deal? This man was crazy. "No deal," Karl whispered, wondering if he'd gone mad, too. Anyone would give in right now. Why wouldn't he?

Andy sighed. "Like I said. Stubborn." The gun settled against Karl's anus, a threat of gentle pressure. "In we go."

Karl braced himself. He couldn't stop shaking -- and as the gun's muzzle circled his hole, he felt a strange dizziness grip his head. Oh, fuck, I'm going to faint. He almost wanted to faint. No matter how much he wished for it, though, it didn't happen.

The gun pushed in.

For a moment, Karl couldn't even believe it -- he couldn't believe this was happening, that a gloved man with a mask was pushing a gun into his ass on an average Friday night. That disbelief was what kept Karl from feeling the pain, for a second -- but then the gun pushed in again, and the tearing pain made Karl bite into the pillow. His scream was muffled into a thin, long whine.

"Relax. You're doing good." The gun moved again, deeper, and Karl felt as though the pain was a dull knife slicing him open -- fuck, he was bleeding back there, wasn't he? He had to be.

"You're fine. See? It's almost all the way inside."

Karl nearly retched. The thought of being buried face-down in his own vomit, though, wasn't appealing.

"Thinking of telling me where the bullet is, yet?"

"No," Karl answered, still muffled by the pillow. "No way."

"Huh. You might need a little more convincing." The gloved hand reached under Karl, cradling his balls. Karl stiffened.

"Shh. I'm not going to hurt you."

What the hell? Did this man even realize how cracked he sounded?

The hand kneaded Karl's balls, gently, almost lovingly. It slipped forward -- so strange, that glide of smooth, fingered leather -- to touch Karl's cock.

"What -- "

"I'm just making you feel good, Karl. Trust me. You'll like this."

Like what? The pain in his ass or the humiliation of being seen like this? Karl shuddered; the touch of that gloved hand on his dick was sickeningly intimate, stroking it with a surety that spoke of experience. The gun shifted inside him, all hard corners and slick lube -- a strangely heavy presence that became less painful with each passing moment. Andy's hand continued working him, and to his horror, Karl found himself responding -- his dick lengthened and curved upwards almost despite itself, rising in slow, grudging degrees.

"Unh -- "

"Didn't I tell you you'd like it? Look at that. What a sweet cock you have."

Shut up, shut up, Karl thought again. Why the hell couldn't Andy just keep quiet?

"I'm -- that -- " He didn't even know what to say. A thought flashed through his mind -- tell Andy about the bullet, make something up, and get Andy the hell out of here. So what if Andy found out he was lying? Karl'd be in the police station by then, huddled under a blanket with a hot coffee in his hands, and a police detective taking down his statement. He could lie. Sure he could lie.

"You're thinking of talking, aren't you? Maybe making something up." Andy moved the gun again, out a little, in an aching inch of withdrawal.

Karl gasped. "Leave -- leave it in there."

The gun pushed back in again. "Now that's interesting. Why should I? Do you like it?"

No. It wasn't that he -- that he liked it -- but when the gun moved, Karl couldn't help but push back against it, just a little, like a whore riding a cock. It disgusted him. "Please."

"Oh, I don't think so." A finger stroked up Karl's erection. "Something tells me you're enjoying this. Why? Does the gun remind you of a cock? Is that it?"

No. No. That wasn't -- fuck -- "Stop. Please."

Andy didn't stop. The gun withdrew again, just an inch or two, before thrusting back in again -- and that, combined with the gloved hand warm around Karl's cock, made Karl's hips jerk despite himself. "Oh..."

"Beautiful. I wonder what the jury would think if they could see you now. The way you look in court -- so confident and upright -- but here you are, moving like a bitch in heat, begging me."

In court? Andy had seen him in court? Karl immediately began wracking his mind, thinking of cases -- any cases at all -- in which someone with that voice had sat in court. But what if Andy had been a member of the jury itself? Was there any way to know?

"You're Strauss," Karl guessed, wildly. "You're Strauss, aren't you?"

The gun paused. "No," Andy said simply. "I'm not. Strauss would have to be fucking stupid to do his dirty work himself, during a trial."

"Kevin." Karl refused to give up. "Kevin Strauss -- that's your name -- "

"All right, sure it is. Sure it is, if you want it to be. Doesn't matter anyhow, what you call me."

Damn. He hadn't scored a hit.

"Enough messing around." Andy clicked the trigger. Karl tensed. "You're gonna tell me where the bullet is. Where'd you keep it? Tell me, or I'll make this pretty ass of yours bleed for real."

Lie. Lie. "In K-Kathleen's office," Karl stammered.

"Kathleen Lowenstein. The DA?"

"Yeah."

"Why the fuck would she keep your evidence?"

Good point. "She's a -- she's a friend."

"A /friend/?" The gun twisted inside him, as if angling for a shot. "Or a lover?"

"A friend. Just a friend." A sudden, terrifying thought occurred to him. "Oh, God. Don't hurt her."

"Don't hurt her, huh? A good friend, then." The gun moved again, in and out, fucking him. "Well, think about this, Karl. If you're lying to me, Kathleen gets shot. Fair enough?"

What? He hadn't -- he hadn't meant --

"That's right. Hm. Look, you're still hard..."

Forget about that! Karl thought frantically. He had to say something, something else, or Kathleen would -- would --

"I lied," Karl said, trembling again. "I lied. She doesn't -- she doesn't have it."

"Oh, really?" Andy's voice was deadpan. "Who has it, then?"

Karl closed his eyes. He couldn't lie. If he said anyone had it, and they didn't, Andy'd simply threaten to kill them. Karl might be sitting safe and sound at the police station, right after this, but he couldn't guarantee that safety for anyone else, if Andy followed up on them tonight...

"Thomas. Shane Thomas. He has it."

"Thomas. Thomas... Is he your assistant?"

"Yes. He -- he has it. In his office. I swear. Don't hurt him."

"Okay. Okay, Karl. If you say so. Remember, though -- if you're lying, no more Thomas. No more you, if I get my hands on you again."

"Sure." Karl swallowed. "Sure. I'm...I'm not lying."

"I don't think you are. Not anymore. Realized the stakes, have you?"

That was one way of putting it.

The gun pulled out of him, slowly, and Karl sagged in relief. He suppressed the urge to reach back and check if he was bleeding -- he felt filthy inside, still wet and slick with lube.

"Wait, it isn't over yet. You can't expect to give me a show like that and get away with it, can you?"

A show? What? All Karl heard was the sound of a zipper, pulled quickly downwards, and the wet sound of lube being slapped onto a cock.

Was that -- was that what he'd meant? "Wait -- "

"I can't wait, Karl. You've been a little more appetizing than I expected." Karl heard the rustle of clothing being pushed aside, and felt his heart thump in terror. He'd thought getting fucked with a gun was bad enough; he'd hoped he'd be left alone after that.

Apparently not.

Andy's gloved hand -- still tacky with lube -- moved to steady Karl's hip. "Good thing I brought a condom with me," Andy said. "Wouldn't want to leave traces, not that you'd take a condom for testing, would you, Karl? It'd ruin your reputation."

Karl grit his teeth. If he was going to have to go through this, at least he had relative assurance that he was going to get out of it alive...He hoped. The gun, slick and warm, still pressed against his hip.

Andy pushed forward, and Karl gasped as he felt a man enter him for the first time in his life -- a wide, blunt, entirely living burn, so different to the pain he'd experienced with the gun. Maybe it was because he'd been stretched out enough, but this time the pain only brought tears to his eyes -- he found himself flinching, like a nervous horse, but the discomfort was nowhere near what he'd expected.

"Oh, fuck. You're tight, Karl."

Karl flushed. Shame filled him again, at the thought of how he must look: crouched on all fours, sweat-sheened and gleaming in the darkness, with a masked man fucking him from behind. It was so...humiliating, so utterly foreign, that Karl felt like the faceless one, instead of the man behind him.

"Never knew fucking a pencil-pushing lawyer would feel so good." Andy bent forward, a shadow of warmth against Karl's bare back, and Karl was startled to feel the lick of a tongue -- hot, wet and cat-like -- against his neck. "You taste like the sea. Fresh salt. Fear."

Karl shivered. To his shock, he felt himself hardening again, although he'd softened a bit in the interlude -- now he felt his erection returning, a tightening of muscle and heat that felt as though it were being pullled upwards by a string.

Andy chuckled against Karl's neck. "Would you look at that. Hard all over again, like a little boy having his cock teased for the first time."

"I'm not -- "

"What? A little boy? But you are a virgin, aren't you, Karl? At least when it comes to this."

Karl fell silent. It was better to stay silent, he thought, if he was going to get taunted every time he spoke. He was also worried, although he hated to admit it, that his open mouth might make noises he'd prefer not to hear. It was difficult not to moan as it was, with Andy's hand coming forward to stroke his cock again. That, and the surprisingly slow, gentle rocking of the cock inside him, threatened to break Karl's self-control. The friction from that cock, oil-sheened and slick, felt like it was touching every nerve within him -- it felt like it was setting him on fire with a heat that surpassed anything Karl had ever known.

Sweat dripped onto the pillow, and Karl tried not to notice the bullet hole right next to his eye. Somehow, though, even the sight of that bulllet hole didn't soften him -- nothing seemed capable of stopping the slow build of his orgasm now, even though he was heading towards it entirely against his will. He panted, finally closing his eyes, letting himself be rocked back and forth in the seething, heat-filled darkness -- feeling Andy's mouth slide open against his neck again, biting him gently.

"Ah -- "

There. That was the sort of sound he didn't want to make. Karl snapped his mouth shut, but not before Andy groaned and thrust in more forcefully than usual, as if the sound of Karl's moan was directly connected to his movements. The hand around Karl's cock tightened, almost painfully, and Karl found himself bucking into its grip helplessly, shooting a string of pre-come.

"Oh, yeah. So hot. Do you know how dirty you look, Karl? How completely fucking delicious?"

Karl shook his head. "No," he gasped. "No -- "

"/Yes/, Karl. A thousand times yes." Andy started jacking him off quickly, the slide of creased leather against Karl's dick making him move his hips into each stroke, turning his head to the side to bite the pillow again. Saliva soaked the fabric between his teeth, and Karl heard himself making the sounds he'd feared so much -- eager, broken sounds that failed to be muffled entirely by the pillow -- small, shocked arches of sound that mimicked the jerking of Karl's hips.

"You're ready to come, aren't you? Look at you, dripping onto the sheets like a whore."

Whore. He wasn't -- wasn't -- "No..."

Andy began fucking him in earnest, the hot, heavy glide of his cock in and out of Karl suddenly no longer gentle, no longer slow enough for Karl to catch his breath. Instead, every thrust left Karl a little more breathless than before -- and he felt himself growing dizzy again. "P-please -- fuck -- "

"Yeah." Andy bit him again, a sudden flare of pain at Karl's nape that, for a reason completely beyong Karl's understanding, made Karl's cock jump and shoot its first load of come -- and Karl couldn't stop after that, feeling his vision go white with lust, his ass pushing back onto Andy's cock as his own come slapped the sheets. "Oh --"

"God, that's -- " Andy seemed beyond speech, too. Karl, as he gasped for breath against the pillow, felt a peculiar sense of victory. He felt himself trembling again -- but this time it was the trembling of exhaustion, his back and his thighs sore as if in the aftermath of running a race.

Andy pulled out of him, slowly, and Karl realized that he must've come, too -- Karl hadn't felt it, which seemed strange, until he remembered that Andy was wearing a condom.

"Where are you going to throw that?" he asked.

"What?" Andy was panting, his voice rough.

"The condom. Where're you going to -- "

"Don't worry about that." There was a short silence, after which Andy let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You're pretty amazing, you know that? You've just been fucked up the ass for the first time in your life, and all you can say is..." Andy laughed again. "I wouldn't mind breaking into your house again."

Karl sat up, wincing at the pull on his muscles. "You're not coming here again. If you think I won't ID you, somehow -- "

"Somehow? How? I'm taking the bullet from your pillow." Andy leaned forward, reaching under the pillow for the bullet. It was lodged about an inch into the mattress. "You'll have a tough time trying to ID me, pal." Even though he was masked, Andy gave the distinct impression that he was giving Karl an appreciative glance. "That's a good look on you, you know. The sweaty, come-soaked one. Better than that damn suit you're always wearing."

"I don't care for fashion advice from a man in a mask." The shivering under Karl's skin intensified, and he realized that he was getting cold -- in more ways than one. He'd just been raped. Raped. What the fuck was he doing, talking to his rapist? Had he lost his mind?

"Ha. Well. Be seeing you, Karl -- unless you told me the truth, of course."

And that, apparently, was that. In a surprisingly ordinary gesture, Andy cricked his neck before pocketing the bullet from Karl's pillow. "Good night, Karl. Thanks for your hospitality."

Hospitality? Karl wondered, again, if "Andy" wasn't certifiably insane -- and if Karl weren't just as insane, to have gone through what he'd gone through, and to just be sitting here, feeling a sense of incompleteness when Andy left the room. Something felt...strangely unfinished...

In the quiet darkness, Karl heard the door to his apartment close. Andy must've left, then.

He got out of bed, stretching his cramped legs, and walked to the shower. Everything seemed unfamiliar to him, and the silence rang like a gong in the dim moonlight.

He stepped into the shower, turning the hot water on, and stood in the rising steam. The water beat down on his back, relentlessly, soothing his tensed muscles. Snaking a hand between his legs, Karl saw that he hadn't bled after all.

The bite at his nape still ached.

For a moment, Karl thought of bending over and throwing up -- he wanted to throw up, to purge his body of the feeling of having something inside of him -- but oddly enough he couldn't bring himself to vomit. His head felt clear, and his thoughts well-connected; he didn't feel broken at all.

Andy/. Karl cast his mind back, in case after case, trying to recall the jury's faces -- hell, /anyone's face that reminded him at all of Andy.

Strauss might get away, now that the bullet from his murder would be stolen from Shane's office; Strauss might get away, but Andy wouldn't.

Call me Andy.

Karl closed his eyes, tilting his head up under the raging water. He had a new case to fight.


Fin.

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