A panic attack made itself known as Livingston tightened the bulletproof vest. They’d gone over the plan a hundred times, and still, he wasn’t confident in it. Blood packs were taped to the vest with small charges to explode by remote. Pure tried to appear reassuring, but the maniacal glimmer in the man’s navy-blue eyes made him nervous. He didn’t put it past the crazy man just to hit him with one rubber bullet. They kept telling him death was the best bait in situations like this.

“You have to breathe, baby.”

He closed his eyes to focus on the gruffness of Livingston’s voice. It was the same tone Livingston used last night as he pushed him closer to the edge. Brought the memory of the first burn of Livingston’s fingers as he prepared him. He savored the fullness, the pleasure, and even the pain. His ass and cheeks were still sore from Livingston fucking and spanking him.

Every time he’d sat down the discomfort brought him back, and he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to go home. Curl up on Livingston’s lap and let his Daddy take care of him. Instead, Livingston was going to walk him across the street, and Pure was going to shoot him with a rubber bullet.

“Why am I doing this?” he asked.

“Baby, you’re going to be fine. Pure is the best sniper in the country. We’ve had our best on this, and this fucker isn’t leaving so much as a digital fingerprint on anything. Drawing him out is our only option. He needs to get sloppy and the very beautiful object of his obsession being dead or hurt is a way to do that.”

“I know that, but what if Pure misses, it’s going to hurt.”

“I’ll reward you for being a good boy.”

“Really, what will I get?” he asked as the scarred side of Livingston’s mouth pulled into a smirk.

“What does my boy want?”

“Anything?”

“Within reason, remember it’s at my discretion.”

“Do I have to answer now?”

What he wanted he knew he couldn’t have. Staying there with Livingston to try for something permanent wasn’t possible. Livingston made it clear that when they drew the stalker out that he’d let him go.

“I won’t push on this one.”

He nodded his thanks and Livingston helped him into his t-shirt. He shivered as Livingston’s big hands smoothed over his stomach, then settled on his hips.

Pure peeked into the room. “I’m going to get in position. Five minutes.” The big man practically skipped out of the room.

He shook his head as Pure disappeared. “Is it just me or is he way too happy about this?”

“Maybe a little. He gets to play with his big gun and not his little one for a change.”

He giggled and dropped his gaze. When he’d met Pure, he’d assumed the man was the normal one. That wasn’t the case. Raul stepped into the room, and there was the reason he thought Pure was odd. Even though Pure appeared normal to anyone who looked at him, the man was hopelessly in love. Raul was a cold, dangerous man, and Pure was sweet, virginal for fuck’s sake.

Then he mentally chided himself because wasn’t he just as bad. Livingston was dangerous, cold, and still, he couldn’t resist. The moment he saw Livingston, despite the scars and anger, he was drawn to him. It had been mere weeks, and he knew he couldn’t go back.

Calloused fingertips slipped under his chin and pushed his head up.

“What’s going on in your head?”

“I’m just nervous.”

“Lying to me will only earn you correction.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“I can’t offer more, baby, we’ve talked about this.”

He knew it was his imagination that produced the slight sadness and regret in Livingston’s voice.

Tears slipped down his cheeks because he’d known Livingston’s answer. He should be thankful for Livingston’s honesty. Livingston didn’t tell him lies to have sex with him. It was his decision to give in, and he didn’t regret that he let Livingston be his first. If nothing else, when he went home, at least he’d have the memory to keep him going.

Did Livingston think him too naive and young? Maybe the man didn’t think Fielding could love him or anyone could love him. Livingston had his moments of being an asshole, he could be hateful, but everyone had their quirks.

“Let’s get this freak show on the road. Pure is getting impatient.”

“You need to control your boy more, Raul.”

“He ain’t mine to control, Liv, and maybe you should take your own fucking advice.” Raul’s voice had a sharpened steel edge, and the warning in it was clear.

“I’ll take care of my boy, and you take care—”

“Finish that, and I’ll knock your fucking teeth out.”

He tensed at the impending violence and didn’t relax until Raul left the room. He wasn’t used to violence and anger, around Trenton Security it was barely leashed, always simmering just below the surface.

“Do you do that on purpose?”

“Raul asks for it.”

It was all Livingston said before the big man took his hand and led him out of the break room. Livingston slipped his fingers between his, and a sense of calm came over him. Whatever happened he didn’t doubt that Livingston would protect him. He tried not to think about what would happen when they left the building instead he focused on Livingston’s touch. The way the big man held his hand as they stepped out onto a public street.

He imagined it was a normal day. He ignored the situation.

“I know what I want for my reward.”

He smiled as Livingston brought their joined hands to his mouth and kissed his knuckles.

“And what would that be, boy?”

“Ice cream sundae, a Guinness World Record sized sundae with extra hot fudge.”

“Out of everything you could have, you want ice cream?”

“So much ice cream.”

The deep bass of Livingston’s laughter made him bury his face against the big man’s chest.

“You’re obsessed. Who was talking about looking fat?”

“But it’s ice cream.”

“Then you can have all the ice cream you want.”

He tilted his head back and smiled up at Livingston. Livingston stroked the back of his fingers down his cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

If anyone else told him he was beautiful, he’d cringe at the mention of it. He knew he was attractive. Enough people thought that word was the be-all of flattery. He was supposed to be grateful for it, but to anyone else, it was a shallow compliment and one casually thrown around. Livingston believed him beautiful and didn’t consider it an empty attempt at fucking him.

“I’ll be okay, right?”

“You’ll be curled up in bed tonight with your reward. Just take a deep breath, you do this for a camera all the time. You were born for this role.”

“Dying isn’t exactly Oscar-worthy.”

“Depends on how well you do it.”

He stepped off the curb, and according to plan, a series of shots could be heard. One whirred past his ear, and he inwardly cursed. He felt the minute power of the mini-explosions against his chest through the vest. Livingston’s big body taking him to the ground knocked the breath from his lungs. He panicked at the inability to take in oxygen. Screams echoed around him. Livingston yelled for someone to call 9-1-1. The events to take place were cemented in his brain, but it felt too real. He fought Livingston, but he tried to hold him closer at the same time.

“Fuck, baby, breath, you’re fine. It’s all—”

Livingston voiced faded in and out, too much chaos and yelling.

“Fielding, my name is Gibson, you have to calm down. You’re sending yourself into a panic attack. Take a deep breath, exhale, repeat for me. I know it’s chaotic. I know it’s overwhelming, but everything is fine. You’re better off than Liv, man, Pure hit him twice.”

He opened his eyes to find a man who would make Gods jealous, perfection from his almost translucent blue eyes, squared, stubble-covered jaw to a fitness model body. Holy shit, he knew actors and models who would kill Gibson just out of jealousy.

“Motherfucker, I’m going to take him out,” Livingston growled.

“Who me because your man is staring at me because I’m so pretty or Pure for shooting you?” Gibson asked.

He felt the need to laugh but thought it would be inappropriate.

“Both, but you can’t help being too fucking pretty. Pure did that shit on purpose.”

He needed to calm the situation down. A pissed off Livingston meant the man would start throwing punches. He had a feeling that would ruin the plan. “How did I do, Daddy?”

“Oh, boy, you earned your reward.”

“Um, maybe you two could plan to fuck when you don’t have an audience?” Gibson spoke quietly then raised his voice. “We need to transfer the patient now.”

Gibson should be an actor, the urgency in the man’s voice completely believable.

“I’ve lost the pulse!”

He held still, turned his breathing shallow and forced himself to lay still as he was roughly transferred onto a stretcher.

“Clear the street, but no one leaves without answering questions.” Livingston’s angry voice almost caused him to flinch as the ambulance doors slammed.

He knew he was alone except for Gibson and the driver, Pure and Little would meet him at the hospital and sneak him out.

“You doing okay now, Fielding?”

He opened his eyes to stare up at the gorgeous smiling man.

“You should be an actor.”

“No, I’m good, being fire chief is exciting enough for me. Been awhile since I’ve worn a paramedic uniform though.”

“Was Livingston okay?”

“That beast is perfectly fine. I don’t see Pure living much longer though. Rubber bullets or not, that shit had to hurt. Just lie back and relax, once we rush you into the ER you can get up. We already informed the ER staff that it’s a police operation.”

It was over, at least for the moment, and as much as he wanted his time there to last, he didn’t want to have to look over his shoulder. He wanted to be safe. Livingston would make sure he made it out. He closed his eyes and let the anxiety fade away. He’d think about all the pros and cons later, all they could do was wait.