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Leroy's Motor Inn

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“You know Lester, I really don’t envy you having to fuck the same woman for 20 odd years,” The stone-cold assassin remarked driving the red BMW in the Minnesota snow. The smaller man sat in the passenger seat, listening to the man talk, “It was difficult enough doing the same woman for 6 months. God.”

“Oh, why’s that?” Lester asked, smiling his awkward, naive smile like always. Lorne looked over at him with a confused grin, not saying anything, “Surely it wasn’t that bad!” He laughed, the image of Lorne being with a woman, heck, anyone at all making him flush slightly in the cheeks.

“I’ll tell you, the only thing that got me through it was the anal.” He stated, matter-of-factly, eyes focused on the icy road. Lester choked out an uncomfortable laugh,

“Woah there, too much information?”

Lorne slowed the car and stopped by the side of the road, snow crunching beneath the heavy-set tyres. He fully turned his torso and looked at the smaller man.

“You ever tried it?” The hitman smirked, lips pouting ever so slightly, and eyes creased.

“Wha- Are you crazy? Pearl would have nev- “

“I’m not taking about Pearl, Lester. I’m asking about you.” Something in his voice was slow, hushed, quiet, like what he was saying was just between the two of them. His eyes squinted in focus at Lester’s facial expressions. He could spot a bullshitter when he saw one; the question was, was Lester a one of them?

“No. No, no, no!” He chuckled, as if the mere prospect of it was outlandish and ridiculous, “I never- Would never- It’s complicated because- “

“Lester,” Lorne interrupted, head tilted forward, “Be honest with me. Would you ever want to?”

There was a pause and the smaller man fiddled with his zipper at the top of his coat. He let out a long, drawn out noise before saying,

“You know, I never really thought about it!” Avoiding the question. Again.

“Answer me, Lester.” More demanding this time. The other man’s face was fully flushed now, though he hoped Lorne couldn’t see it through the dark.

“Maybe, one day, if I get married again, if she’s up for it...” He drawled on as Lorne’s eyes pierced into his own, “Yeah.”

Lorne sat back straight into his seat and looked at the road, smirk still on his smug face. He started the car up again and said,

“What about tonight?”

 

Lorne sat in the driver’s seat of a red BMW, holding a lit cigarette between his thin lips. Lester was silent in the passenger seat once more, listening to the hitman slowly inhale then exhale the choking plumes into the closed space of the car. They were outside the motel Lorne had stayed in a year before, when the two had first met.

“So,” Lester broke the silence, Lorne turning his head unhurriedly to look at the man in his ridiculous, orange, puffy jacket, “Are we goin’ in?” Lorne took an unnecessarily long drag from the cigarette and blew it out before saying,

“You go inside, I’m going to the reception.” He stepped out of the car and tossed the keys to the other man, exhaled smoke mixing with the biting Minnesota air as he walked. Lester ambled over to the hitman’s room, inserted the key into the lock and quickly entered to warm himself up. He made a quick scan of the room: A briefcase on the bedside table, snow boots on the floor, first aid kit on the desk and…

Only one bed. A double. It was a shock for sure but what else had he expected? Two doubles in one room for the lone travelling hitman? What had he gotten himself into? Why did he say yes? Out of excitement or pressure? Was Lorne manipulating him this whole time? Or did he really want this? God knew the anticipation was killing him, just the thought of the assassin’s slim, naked body touching his… He sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

 

While Lester attempted to rationalise the situation, Lorne was over in the reception, stood by the waiting desk, cigarette still in hand. He rang the bell a couple times before the woman came out, shock in her face.

“Hey! You can’t smoke in here!” She shouted, gesturing violently to the stick in Malvo’s mouth. He stubbed it out on the desk, the ashes losing their light as he pushed it down on the wood. He smiled.

“I need to let you know that someone else is going to be staying in my room with me tonight.”

“Well that’ll be ten extra bucks.” She spat; brow furrowed in anger from Lorne’s incredulous actions. The assassin’s eyes bored into hers,

“I know. That’s why I told you,” He slapped a ten onto the counter, his artificial smile creasing the corners of his eyes, “Have a nice night.” The woman took it and placed it into the cash register. He was about to exit when she said,

“Hey, don’t I know you?” The vague memory of a skinny man with a scruffy beard was in her head from last year. Lorne had changed quite a bit since then; his hair dyed white and goatee shaved cleanly, but his mannerisms were identical.

“No ma’am, you must have me confused with someone else,” He reassured, smiling warmly to put her at ease, “Have a nice night.”

“You already said that.”

He smiled again and left the reception, making his way to the room.

 

Lester stood up as Lorne walked in, feet shifting and hands tensing. The assassin smiled, the corners of his lips turning up and eyes wrinkling. He moved closer to Lester with careful feet, almost silent movements like a wolf stalking prey. 5 feet apart.

“Is this what you want, Lester?” He asked, his voice a low whisper, mirroring the exact words used in the elevator that night in Las Vegas. The man looked up at Lorne. He blinked rapidly and breathed heavily,

“Yeah.” He said, quickly, his mouth tightening and teeth gritting. The other man took another two steps forward. 2 feet apart.

“Are you sure, Lester?” He taunted, mouth pouting slightly in amusement, slowly reaching and unzipping the orange jacket. Lester said nothing as the zip descended down. Lorne stopped halfway and looked him in the eye, Lester again refusing to speak, causing a chuckle to escape the assassin. He resumed and unzipped the jacket completely. The smaller man cleared his throat and focused on Lorne’s hands as they grasped onto each side of the jacket, slowly taking it off and throwing it on the floor. The hat swiftly followed, and Lorne’s hands drifted down towards Lester’s belt. Deft fingers unbuckled it, slowly pulling it out of the loopholes and dumping it on the floor with the rest. Lester’s breathing pace quickened as Lorne descended onto his knees, face level with the smaller man’s crotch.

“Aw jeez...” He panted, biting his bottom lip in anticipation. Lorne looked up with piercing eyes and asked with a confused tone,

“Are you okay?”

Lester tensed his fists and nodded. He un-zipped the fastenings on the other man’s trousers and pulled them down, exposing an already full erection. The hitman smiled again, coyly, and gripped onto Lester’s calves, “Could you sit on the bed?” He asked, eyes focused on Lester’s cock. The other man obliged and sat, allowing Lorne to settle in between his legs. He hesitated no further and engulfed Lester’s length into his mouth, small and pleasured wines escaping from the other man as the assassin bobbed his head up and down. Lorne’s tongue traced on the base of his dick, licking the head in fast, circular motions.

God, Pearl had never done this to Lester, never in a million years would she deign to pleasure him like Lorne was right now.

He dragged his teeth gently towards the tip as he came up, making sure to look the other man in the eyes as he took his mouth away from his dick. “I want you to take off your clothes and sit against the headboard,” The assassin instructed, getting up from his knees and beginning to undress himself. Lester’s eyes darted around the room, finding anything else to look at other than the hitman.

“Look at me.” Lorne commanded, pulling down his trousers to uncover his skinny legs.

“Ya, sorry…” Lester said apologetically, unbuttoning his shirt and taking the trousers off fully. Once he was fully naked, Lorne crawled onto the bed, eyes continually boring into Lester’s. He appeared just as Lester had imagined: svelte and bony, but slightly muscled with a toned abdomen and pectorals. Hardly any hair graced his chest at all. The uncomfortable motel mattress groaned as the springs were pressed down with the extra weight of another person. Another man. Lester was naked with a man. It was all sinking in now, what he was about to do with the imperious assassin. Lorne bent down and returned his mouth to Lester’s hard member, using one hand to cradle his balls and the other to touch his own stiffening length. More moans released from Lester, the ecstasy and pleasure flooding his body as Lorne’s well-trained tongue made good work of his cock. The moans increased in frequency, most probably allowing those in the room adjacent to understand quite well what was happening. Lorne lifted his head up once more and looked Lester in the eyes,

“Lester, you gotta be more quiet. You want us to get kicked out?” He asked, cocking his head slightly. Lester bit his bottom lip again and put a hand on the back of the assassin’s neck, attempting to pull him closer. Lorne resisted his force and knelt up, requiring the other man to crane his neck, “You seem to misunderstand, Lester. This is on my terms. Don’t try and control me.” The last part only a whisper. Lester clenched his teeth as his face flushed.

Lorne moved forward, straddling Lester’s legs, bending down slowly and putting a thumb on the smaller man’s lip. The hitman smiled again, an almost predator like snarl, and kissed him; smashing their mouths together with force. It was uncomfortable for sure, but Lester couldn’t help but get harder at his aggressiveness. He didn’t want to admit it, but being dominated by this dangerous, mysterious man turned him on more and more with each action he took.

He grabbed Lester’s dick and lined it up with his entrance, mouths still mashing against each other. As he sank down on Lester’s hard, wet cock, he couldn’t help moaning himself. He got into a rhythm, pushing his hips down and grinding on the member, Lester looking up at him with heavy lids. The faster he moved, the louder Lester’s groans became, forcing Lorne to cover the smaller man’s mouth with his palm. With the other hand, he gripped onto the headboard for leverage, gaining more height with which to push down on and slam his prostate over and over. “Fuck, Lester…” Was all he could say as the other man moved his calloused hands onto his hips, digging nails into the skin. The hand covering Lester’s lips pulled away and he moved it to his own nipples, tweaking his own hard nubs to pleasure himself further. “Touch me.” He ordered and Lester obliged, beginning to pump the assassin’s rock-hard erection as he continued to grind down on the smaller man’s lap with more force.

“Oh, god!” Lester moaned, the tightness of the hitman’s hole driving him crazy with every grind. Never in a hundred years had he imagined doing this to anybody, never mind a man, never mind Lorne fucking Malvo, the most dangerous person he’d ever met!

Lorne opened his eyes, piercing them into Lester’s,

“Are you close?” He breathed, continuing the rhythm on his dick. Lester groaned and threw his head back, smiling,

“Not… yet…” He managed to say as he rolled over, pushing Lorne on his back. He loomed over the hitman. The two paused as Lorne looked up with blood thirty fury. His scowl turned into a twisted smirk, baring his teeth once more and moving his hands onto the back of Lester’s neck. He tilted his head to the side, murmuring with his velvet voice,

“Are you gonna start, Lester?”

The other man began thrusting into Lorne’s entrance, harder and harder, causing the headboard to violently bang against the wall with each forward motion. The assassin squinted in pleasure, the relentless onslaught of sensation driving him absolutely mad. Who knew Lester Nygaard was this good in the sack? Lorne certainly wouldn’t have guessed it, from the way he appeared, Lester was a meek and quiet man. This was undoubtedly a surprise, and a good one at that.

Through his own moans, Lorne managed a chuckle, “Wow Lester, we’ve finally found something you’re good at…” Lester gripped a hand around the assassin’s slim neck, squeezing tightly in an attempt to assert any sort of dominance might have had. Lorne snarled once more and pushed him back, wrestling for control again and landing himself on Lester’s lap for the second time.

He rocked back and forth, pushing his weight onto the other man, forcing him back down. This time focusing on his own hedonism, the hitman ground his hips down further, allowing more of Lester’s length inside of him to hit his sweet spot and bring him closer to completion. He took his own dick in his hand and pumped it with vicious speed, bracing a hand on the wall for support, “God…” He whined, pleasure radiating throughout his body as he edged himself towards his orgasm; all Lester could do was watch as Lorne spilled his load across his bare stomach seconds later, continuing to push down on the smaller man’s dick, “Come on Lester,” He beckoned, “Do it.” Lorne kissed him again, the afterglow sending him into bliss as he gradually worked on the other man. Lester moaned against his thin lips, dick throbbing as he thrusted upwards. Before he knew it, he was finishing inside Lorne, body shuddering as came, his hands gripping tightly to the assassin’s slender arms. When he opened his eyes, Lorne was unsurprisingly staring at him again with his signature glare. He carefully lifted himself off of Lester without a word, walking towards the shower the clean himself off and leaving him on the bed.

Lester listened to the gentle gush of the shower as he sat in contemplation. Every time he’d had sex with his wife, he’d think of someone else, anyone else to bear through it, but this time, with Lorne… All he could think about was him. His silver hair, his musky smell, his chocolate eyes… All things Lester could no longer resist.

A couple minutes later, Lorne stepped out of the bathroom, thin hair flattened down and towel around his waist. Lester couldn’t take his eyes off of him. The hitman paused and smiled at him. Was it genuine or fake? Being a master of deception, it was difficult to ever discern what he was ever genuinely thinking. The towel dropped and he entered the bed, lying on his side and facing away from Lester.

“Lester?” He said, eyes already closed.

“Uh, ya?” The other man eagerly replied, settling himself into the sheets beside the assassin.

“Could you turn the light off?”

“Sure.” Lester sighed, ambling over to the switch and drowning out the light, leaving the two in shrouding darkness.

Chapter Text

Lorne woke up with Lester’s arms around him, both still naked from the night before. He wasn’t quite sure how to react at first, this certainly wasn’t the position in which the two fell asleep; Lester must’ve drifted over and grasped him from behind as he slept. Carefully, the hitman turned over, remaining in Lester’s arms still, but now face to face with the sleeping man. His eyes focused on his lips: slightly chapped, but fuller than his own. They were nice to kiss, though the stupid things that came out of them… Lorne could do without.

With a soft motion, he pulled up his arm from beneath the sheets to lay his bony fingers on Lester’s cheek. His brow furrowed in confusion: What could allow a man who looked so sweet to fall into paths with an assassin like himself? Why did he kill his wife? Was divorce not enough for people anymore? Though deep down, he was thankful. Without Lester’s actions, the two would’ve never talked to one another ever again after Sam Hess’ murder. He grinned a little, then Lester opened his eyes.

Lorne pulled his hand away and returned it by his side as Lester blinked his eyes into focus, realising he was being stared at by the hitman again.

“Oh, mornin’” He said with a raspy voice, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Lorne narrowed his eyelids, skin creasing as his mouth tugged up into a smile,

“Good morning, Lester.” He rolled on top of the smaller man, looming over him, hands by either side of his head. He bent down with slow movements, their lips centimetres apart and paused. Lester breathed heavily, looking up wantonly. He noticed the hitman’s dick resting on his thigh and bit his lip. Gently, Lorne kissed him, a stark contrast to the teeth mashing and lip biting last night. He pulled away and lifted the sheets back, departing from the bed and leaving Lester on his own again. Lester’s eyes followed the silent movements of the assassin as he made his way to get dressed; his slender frame bending over to pick up his clothes and shoes and walking into the bathroom. Last night was amazing. Lester wanted it again. He wanted more from this mysterious man. Like a moth to a flame.

Lorne emerged from the en-suite minutes later, polo neck sweater tucked into his skinny trousers and looking like the epitome of bad ass. He had returned his hair back to a fringe. Lester smiled.

“I’m going out for a bit,” The hitman announced, rolling his cuffs to the correct length for his wrists, “You should check out before nine.” He shrugged on his coat, fur lapel stroking his cheeks as he pulled it closer to his body.

“Hold on now,” Lester interrupted his movements, holding up a hand. The other man turned around, eyebrow raised as he slid his hands into leather gloves, “Where are you going? What are you doing, are you coming back?” Lorne stepped towards the bed where Lester still sat, reaching into his jacket. He procured a pen and grabbed the smaller man’s wrist, writing something down on it.

“Meet me in three hours,” He glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, “That should be enough time.” He grabbed the briefcase on the desk and left without another word.

Even when writing on skin with a biro, his handwriting was near perfect cursive. It was the name of some other random motel; Lester recognised it from the highway. Room number 28. Right. He threw on his clothes, hurriedly tidied the room to the best of his efforts and left the room, giving it one final glance before locking the door behind him. Looking out to the parking lot, he saw Lorne had taken the car. If the assassin were in his position, he’d just steal another one, but compared to Lorne, Lester was still a novice in this criminal world. He couldn’t risk it. He bit his tongue and walked over to the reception, nails digging into his palms.

 

After being judgmentally stared at for 4 minutes in the reception, Lester left the premises, ambling through the Bemidji streets to find the closest bus stop. Then something dawned on him: he hadn’t looked at his cell phone since Las Vegas. Aw heck. He fumbled through the pockets of that blindingly offensive tangerine coat of his and pulled out his Nokia.

Linda – 20 missed calls. 18 new messages.

The man took a long breath, sucking in air through his teeth and forcefully exhaling it out. He played the first message:

“Hey Lester,” Linda’s soft and heart-warming voice sounded in his ear, “It’s getting late are you coming up soon? I love you…” Lester grit is teeth. The last 48 hours were a blur; as if he’d forgotten all about his wife… He played the next message,

“Hey Lester, I’m getting worried… the bar staff said you left a couple hours ago, are you alright? Call me back as soon as you get this.” He debated calling her back. She’d probably still be in Las Vegas. If he could just let her know he was alright; she wouldn’t freak out and panic… but then she’d come back to Minnesota and find him and Lorne and-

Lester cut off his own thoughts before he could begin to spiral. Hands shaking, he returned the cell phone back into his pocket. Lorne would help him out. It’d all be okay once they met back up, right?

 

After a gruelling two hours on public transport, Lester ended up where he needed to be: The mysterious and frankly crass motel Lorne had instructed him to meet at. It being an hour before the two were scheduled to convene, Lester begrudgingly sat in the diner situated on the other side of the road. He downed two coffees before he noticed a crimson car pulling into the nearby lot, then a tall, slim, silver haired gentleman exiting it and walking to his room. He bolted out immediately, eager to, firstly, update Lorne on the situation with his wife, and secondly, to find out what the heck he’d been up to.

Lester went straight up to the door of room 28 and turned the handle to find it unlocked, as expected. The briefcase was on the bedside table. He was in the shower again. The assassin must’ve heard the door open, as he turned the shower off as soon as Lester stepped past the threshold.

“Lester?” He inquired, wrapping a towel around his waist. He stepped out and when his eyes fell on the other man, he smiled, “You really ought to get a new coat Lester.”

“Look, we got a prob-“ He attempted to raise the issue, but the hitman cut him off,

“You’d look good in tweed, I think. Or even a beige gabardine, you know, like a trench coat.” He adjusted the towel as Lester looked at him in disparity,

“Are you finished?” His voice was slightly raised,

“Shit, Lester,” He undid the towel and sat on the bed, stark naked, “No, no I’m not finished. I have two questions for you,” Lester had to fight himself to not focus on the hitman’s body laying before him, “Have you ever given head and-”

“This is more important, listen: my wi-“

“Don’t talk over me.” Lorne stared at him with his dark, penetrating eyes. His voice was only shallow murmur, but Lester understood. His hands kept tensing as he spoke,

“My wife, she’s still in Las Vegas. She’s been blowing up my cell nonstop and she’s bound to be looking for me; heck, she might’ve even reported me missing by now!”

Well, that caught Lorne’s attention. The hitman’s eyes narrowed as he gritted his teeth. He stood up from the bed and walked over to Lester, slow and careful movements, until the two were inches apart. Lester’s eyes were still full of worry as he looked into the focused gaze of the hitman. Lorne grabbed him by his collar and brought his face closer, forcefully pulling him towards his body. The smaller man expected a slap or a punch or something worse, but instead, their mouths connected in a furious, burning passion. Lester’s hands immediately reached forward to grip onto the assassin’s hips and before he knew it, he was naked too, and the two of them rolled onto the bed.

He pinned the assassin down and towered over him, pulling his legs apart to settle between. Lorne continued to gnaw on Lester’s lips as his hand snaked down to find his dick, gradually hardening as those nimble fingertips massaged its length. With his other hand, he grabbed onto the back of Lester’s neck again, squeezing gently to bring him even closer.

Once fully hard, Lester lined up his dick with Lorne’s entrance, hesitating beforehand to make eye contact with Lorne. He didn’t want to hurt him, but maybe that’s what the hitman liked… Lorne replied with a coy smile, telling Lester all he needed to know. He thrusted in, and the assassin’s grip on the back of the smaller man’s neck tightened as pain melted with pleasure, each forceful motion going deeper and deeper inside. Lorne threw his head back and yelped, drawing air in through his teeth. His haughty gaze met with Lester once more,

“You’re such a bad boy, Lester…” He panted, “What would she think? Huh?” Lester’s concentration broke and he slowed his pace, blinking fast and breathing rapidly. Lorne took the opportunity to push him back and roll on top of his lap, “She finds out that you’re having carnal relations with a man…” His hands traced to Lester’s hair, fingers gently interlacing with his locks. He pulled violently to jerk him up, “All the while knowing that man could kill anyone he wanted to, without any repercussion…” Their lips joined again as Lorne pushed his weight down, his prostate receiving immeasurable stimulation from Lester’s hard cock. The smaller man braced his hands on the assassin’s hips while he ground down, the mattress creaking as their rhythm continued. With impetuous force, the assassin pushed both of his palms onto Lester’s chest to compel him back down, allowing his figure to loom over him with his basilisk eyes, filled with a baleful glare.

The threat excited Lester more than he could describe; the danger of just existing around Lorne was enough to make him mad with anticipation for his next inexplicable move. It was no wonder that when he saw the assassin by chance, sitting with ‘friends’ in a Las Vegas hotel, that his heart forced him to confront him, to taunt him, after a year of silence from one another. Lorne was everything he wanted and more…

“But you like it, don’t you Lester?” The hitman confirmed with a twisted smirk, “Breaking the rules?” He smiled again, holding his own member in his hand. All Lester could do was moan in response and grip onto Lorne’s free arm. The assassin continued to slam down onto Lester’s length, taking great pleasure in dominating him, but it wasn’t exciting enough; he wanted the resistance, the want for control from the timid man. “Fuck me, Lester.” He commanded. The smaller man’s eyes lit up with passion; watching Lorne roll over to let himself be taken, poising himself on his knees.

Lester looked at the back of the assassin’s head, his slim neck connecting to his broad shoulders, spine tracing all the way down to… He gripped onto Lorne’s hips, eagerly shuffling closer to begin once more. This time without delay, he slammed into his hole, immediately picking up an equal pace to before. He noticed Lorne unhinge his mouth and drop his head down, controlled moans escaping him with every other thrust, the pain not truly showing in his expression. With fervency, Lester sustained the speed, the assassin backing into his movements to synchronise and edge himself closer.

Lorne knelt up, pushing his back against Lester’s chest and wrapping his arm behind him to grip onto his neck again, “Harder!” He demanded, the word choking out as a whine while he grasped into the smaller man’s hair once more. Lester obliged and sped up, while also taking it upon himself to give the hitman a reach around and bury his face into the crook of his neck.

He smelt Lorne’s divine musk, the enigmatic scent that drew him to the stone-cold hitman. His hair was still damp; the residual water dripping slightly on to his shoulders as their rhythmic motions jerked him forward. The sensations were almost too much for Lester: the grip of Lorne’s bony fingers on his neck, the sight of his perfect form in front of him and his sweet aroma drove him closer and closer to his orgasm,

“I’m gettin’ close!” He barked, hands gripping tighter to the hitman’s hips. Lorne moaned again and pushed his body against him harder,

“Pull out.” He ordered through his bated breaths. Lester withdrew his dick sharply, causing Lorne to wince as he flopped onto the mattress. He took his own dick in his hand and stroked it with speed, eventually finishing on Lorne’s back. The hitman turned over, eyes rolling and dick still hard, “I’m disappointed, Lester…” He shook his head sarcastically. But Lester was serious; he didn’t let himself bask in the afterglow, he wanted to satisfy the man. What he’d mentioned earlier, about giving head: he wanted to do it. He wouldn’t be nearly as good as the assassin’s careful tongue, but he could try…

It was as if Lorne could see the cogs turning behind Lester’s eyes as he moved back and smirked, giving the smaller man room enough to lean down.

“Aw jeez…” Lester whispered, psyching himself up to give Lorne what he needed.

“It won’t bite, Lester,” The assassin joked, “Even if I do...” The smaller man laughed nervously and bent down. He sized it up; about an inch bigger than his own. He took a deep breath and after a bit of hesitation, he engulfed it, not bothering to just start with the head or work his way down gradually. Lester wanted to impress. Lorne moaned deeply, guttural groans escaping him while the smaller man’s warm, wet mouth worked on his stiff dick. He returned his fingers to the back of Lester’s neck, pushing it down with force to make him continue his movements, though it wouldn’t be long before he’d need to breathe.

A couple seconds later, Lester choked, rising up to catch air. A string of saliva connected his soft lips to Lorne’s tip. The hitman smiled, looking at the perfect image before him, “Use your hands too.” He directed, pulling Lester’s head back down for it to return to his cock.

He bobbed his head up and down, unintentionally dragging his teeth up as he moved, using one hand to stroke the base. The assassin moaned again, progressively edging closer to his orgasm and grasping Lester’s locks even tighter. He smiled and watched Lester’s face, full of utmost concentration, making it that much more satisfying as he spilled down his throat without warning seconds later. Lorne laughed intensely as Lester came up, spitting out his ejaculate out onto the sheets, face the picture of betrayal. The assassin sucked his teeth and smirked, “Rude.”

“I- I just didn’t expect it is all!” Lester tried to justify his impulse, “Next time I’ll-“

“Next time?” Lorne’s smile remained; his head cocked to the side as his eyes focused of the smaller man.

“I mean, I want-“

“Of course, Lester,” He assured. Was there a hint of warmth in Lorne’s voice? Lester felt like he was dreaming, “Next time.”

“Ya…”

Lorne reached onto the floor to grab the discarded towel and clean off his back while the smaller man flopped on his front and closed his eyes. This could be his life now. For the first time in a long time, Lester was happy. But then the hitman reminded him of their predicament,

“Tell me exactly what your wife said.”

Chapter Text

Lester sighed heavily and buried his face into the sheets. The hitman had provided him with a distraction and decided to immediately ground him in reality again. Was he incapable of letting the two just have a moment to breathe? The slender assassin stood up and began to pull his clothes back on,

“I’m waiting Lester,” He said, fixing his hair back down, “Tell me what she said. Exactly.” Lester sighed again,

“Can’t ya just let me rest?” He asked, voice muffled into the sheets. Lorne furrowed his brow and grasped Lester’s hair, pulling him up from the mattress to look him in the eyes. The smaller man yelped in surprise, the assassin returning to his serious self,

“No. This is important, you said it yourself.” He released his grip on Lester’s head. The smaller man rubbed his scalp and smirked,

“Tell me how I was first. I wanna know.” He taunted, getting up and slipping his clothes back on too. The hitman looked at him with narrowed eyes, pouting his thin lips slightly. He didn’t respond. He’d given Lester his fun, now it was time for the two of them to focus. Lester continued to press the subject, cocky grin on his face, “Honestly, tell me how I was.” Lorne shook his head slightly,

“Okay, Lester,” He murmured, “You want me to tell you how good you are at giving head?” The smaller man looked at him with eager eyes, awaiting the approval he was so desperately starved of, “I’ve had better,” Lester’s expression depleted, but Lorne continued, “Though, they say practice makes perfect…” The hitman’s grave face cracked slightly into a smile and he raised his eyebrow suggestively. He saw Lester’s smug face, satisfied, and returned his composure, “Now tell me.”

“She left messages on my cell phone,” The smaller man explained, “she sounded real worried like she was gonna-“

“Play the messages.” Lorne commanded, picking up his briefcase and opening it on the desk, revealing a tape recorder beside rows of named tapes. As Lester fumbled into his orange coat, the hitman loaded a new tape into the recorder, readying the microphone. The two listened to the messages; Lester sat on the bed, squeezing his hands and Lorne stood up, leaning against the desk. Five messages in, Lorne presented his palm to Lester, “Give me the phone.” Lester did as he was told before having the chance to ask why. As he handed it over, he panicked,

“What are you gonna do?” He asked, tensing immediately as the assassin started to press buttons. He watched as Lorne taped the microphone onto the back of the cell,

“I’m going to call her back.” He announced nonchalantly, pressing the record button and dialling the phone. He put a finger to his lips. On the second ring, Linda picked up,

“Lester? Lester, are you there?” She asked, the anxiety palpable in her tone. Lorne dragged out a silence and replied,

“This is Lester Nygaard’s cell phone,” He was making dead eye contact with the smaller man as he spoke, straight faced. He paused for a second before continuing, “I’m afraid Lester can’t come to the phone right now.”

“Why, where is he?”

Mrs Nygaard is it?” He asked, emphasising her title while he deadlocked with Lester’s eyes. She said nothing, presumably from the panic, “I’ll take your positive silence as a yes then, just to speed this up. And to answer your question, he’s with me. In Bemidji. You see, the two of us needed to have a little chat about something,” He drew out another silence, watching Lester shake his head in worry, “He owes my establishment a fair bit of capital, and he thinks that he doesn’t need to pay it. What do you think about that Mrs Nygaard?”

“I- I don’t understand, what capital, where from?” Her naïve whines made Lorne smile,

“Well Mrs Nygaard, may I call you Linda?” He didn’t let her respond, “Linda, your husband has borrowed over fifty thousand dollars of my associates’ money, and I’m sorry to break it to you, but he’s not coughing up his toll and that makes us angry.”

“Let me talk to him… Please!” She begged, her distressed breaths growing more and more ragged.

“Oh, I’m afraid we can’t do that. He’s in a… situation with my associates right now. I guess you could call it an altercation; deriving from your husband’s lack of compliance with our demands,” He drew another breath to continue, but she began to cry. Lorne closed his eyes and listened to her pain across the line, smirking sadistically to Lester’s horror and excitement. The assassin continued his ruse, “Mrs Nygaard - Linda – please; listen to what I have to say. All we are asking for is that which is due to us. Who we are doesn’t matter. We ask for fifty-five thousand dollars for your husband’s release, and the two of you can go back to your lives.”

Lester’s faced dropped. Was the hitman trying to sell him back to his own wife, to his mundane and mind-numbing life? He couldn’t believe it, he just couldn’t. Lorne hung up the phone and stopped the recording. He looked up to see Lester’s face, a mixture of anger and sadness.

“What was that?!” He hissed brow furrowed, “Was this your plan the whole ti-“

“Lester, stop.” Lorne soothed, standing up to approach the smaller man on the bed, “I’m not doing what you think I am.”

“So, what the heck are you doing?!” Lester retorted, standing up. He couldn’t lose this - this thing they had going on was too good. To go back to being a pathetic salesman would kill him… Lorne sighed and tilted his head to the side, but Lester wasn’t going to take this cryptic nonsense. He raised a fist which was immediately caught by the assassin’s steel grip and was pushed onto the mattress. Lorne sat on top of him and bent down, putting his mouth to his ear, whispering,

“I’m going to kill your wife, Lester.”

That shouldn’t have turned him on, but it did. He bit his lip. The hitman released his hold on the smaller man and got back up, turning around to pack the briefcase back up. Lester tried to collect his thoughts,

“The money she has is half mine anyway, we’re married for god’s sake!” He reasoned, this additional risk of a murder plot being equally thrilling and anxiety inducing. Lorne turned around and leant on the desk again,

“Two birds, one stone, Lester,” Was all he said in response, “We need to get food.” He stated, picking up his coat on and shrugging it over his thin frame. He gestured for Lester to do the same as he picked up the briefcase, to which he obeyed. The assassin opened the door for him, picking up the ‘cleaning services required’ hanger and placing it on the handle as they left the room.

 

The two stepped out into the lot. They approached the red car, Lorne reaching into the trunk to retrieve their luggage and Lester standing idly by the door. The assassin side eyed him and sucked his teeth,

“Give me your coat, Lester.” He ordered, holding out his hand expectantly as he shut the trunk down.

“It’s freezing!” The smaller man laughed, pulling it even closer to his body. Lorne’s face didn’t waver. Lester’s brow furrowed in confusion and asked exasperatedly, “Why?”

“I don’t know whether you forgot, Lester, but you are known by a lot of people in this town; this coat makes you even more identifiable,” Lester didn’t move. The hitman rolled his unforgiving eyes, “It’s just a bit of cold, Lester.”

“Then give me your coat.” The smaller man goaded, attempting his best to argue with the stone-cold assassin, whose expression was less than impressed. Lorne bit his tongue and complied, taking it off and remarking in a deep murmur,

“Be careful with it. It’s worth more than your second mortgage.”

Lester knew the assassin wasn’t estranged from using hyperbole, but at the same time, he didn’t doubt that Lorne would spend his lucrative spoils from his long list of contract kills on style.

As the assassin watched Lester change out of the horrendous jacket and into his own dearly precious coat, he couldn’t help but smile. You didn’t have to be a genius to know Lorne had a soft spot for Lester’s idiocy sometimes. Key phrase being sometimes. “It’ll be a few hours before she’s here, assuming she got the first flight she could,” Lorne started to walk away from the car, scouting across the lot at the other vehicles; a cold wind catching the blazer of his suit, “So we might as well have fun while we wait,” Lester raised his eyebrows at that, clearly expecting something else more explicit than what the assassin was actually about to propose. Lorne smirked and asked, almost condescendingly, “You wanna steal a car?”

 

Five minutes later, the two were sat in a newly obtained gunmetal Ford, luggage in the back seat. The assassin allowed Lester to drive as he sat in the passenger seat and lighting up another cigarette. Taking an extensive drag, Lorne watched Lester’s knuckles turn white as they gripped to the wheel, his eyes dead focused on the road. He exhaled, blowing to fumes towards the smaller man to distract him. Lester choked slightly, not letting himself be tempted into the reaction the hitman so desperately wanted. But Lorne wouldn’t give up that easily. He leant towards Lester, dangling the cigarette between his thin lips and smirked, taking another hit. Embers glowed in Lester’s peripheral. Ashes fell onto his leg. He cleared his throat,

“So, um, where are we gettin’ food?” His grip on the wheel tightened still. Lorne sat back in the seat and threw the cigarette out of the window,

“That fancy place we saw on the way up here, I wanna try it,” The assassin’s eyes drifted down to Lester’s trousers, “It’s on me.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do th-“

“I want to.” Lorne reasoned, smiling again. The assassin continued to eye Lester’s legs. He reached forward to brush on the ash off his thigh, then gripped. Lester shot him a side glance, not daring to fully take his eyes off the road. Languidly, Lorne’s hand drifted across his leg to rest on his crotch, squeezing gently to get his attention. Lester’s balls hadn’t been empty for half an hour and he was already stiffening. The smaller man tilted his head, uncomfortable, but afraid to admit it; lest it repel the assassin from continuing,

“What are you doing?” He whispered, anxious to make a noise and force Lorne to stop. The hitman chucked, his deft fingers working to undo the zipper on his trousers,

“What do you think I’m doing…” He unbuckled his own seatbelt while he was at it, shifting his body over to focus solely on Lester’s crotch. He reached in and pulled out Lester’s dick, already sporting a semi.

‘Aw jeez…’ Thought Lester as Lorne began to slowly bend down; head below the dashboard and lips centimetres away from the tip of his cock…

Teasing, Lorne extended his tongue, laying it flat against the head and licking it in slow motions. He could feel Lester’s tension as he tried to concentrate on the road in front of him, but he wanted a reaction to add another slice of danger to this already risqué scenario. So, he descended his mouth down fully onto his length, his face nearly entirely buried into Lester’s stomach; deepthroating him with deliberation. The smaller man’s tip hit the back of his warm, wet throat, forcing a yelp out of him as he attempted to focus on driving and avoiding an accident. Being the tremendously skilled man that he was, Lorne didn’t gag, keeping his composure as he came back up with his tongue carefully tracing the base, Lester gnawing his own lips.

Heart thumping terribly and anxiety acting up, Lester panted with stress; though the thrill of it compelled him to want more of Lorne’s gratifying and hard-working mouth. His eyes continued to strain on the highway while the hitman returned his lips to his stiff member, and as he moved his head up and down with intensity, the assassin snaked his hand up to massage Lester’s balls, generously touching him and bring him closer. But he didn’t want Lester to have all the pleasure; then he would finish too soon, and the restaurant was still a few miles away…

Once he reached the base with his lips again, Lorne bit down gently, his teeth digging into the supple skin of the smaller man’s cock. Lester gripped the wheel and barked, eyes looking down at the head still in his lap and away from the road. When Lorne came up, dragging his teeth, he scolded the smaller man’s reaction,

“Focus, Lester. Remember, we’re in a stolen car…”

Lorne replaced his mouth, going straight down once more and hollowing his cheeks as he sucked, causing Lester to throw his head back, the road only a blur before him as the sensations built up. His breathing sped up, and the assassin braced himself for the release. He continued his steady focus, ensuring he was providing maximum pleasure to Lester once more, and before long, Lester’s ejaculate spilled down Lorne’s throat. He swallowed without hesitation, forcing a groan of pleasure to come out from Lester for the second time in one hour. The assassin sat back up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, not bothering to return the smaller man’s deflating dick back to his trousers.

“Jeez, uh, thanks…” Was all Lester could manage as he tucked his length back to his underwear, still biting at his lips. Lorne smiled coyly again,

“Don’t mention it,” He gazed out of the window, looking at the road signs, “We’re nearly there, next left,” He commanded, turning back to the man driving. Lester’s face was beaming, presumably from the thrill of what the assassin just did, this whole experience being a dream come true for him. Lorne understood, he also liked this game, and was going to do everything in his power to keep it going…

Step one: Kill Linda Nygaard.

Chapter Text

The gunmetal ford pulled into the lot of the restaurant, crunching down the fresh snow beneath its tyres. Lester turned the key, shutting off the engine, and the two sat in silence for a second. It was just like last night in the BMW. This time, Lorne was the first to speak,

“Are you ready to go in?” He turned to Lester; his hand already braced on the door handle. Lester nodded once,

“Ya, of course.”

“Okay, let me do the talking.” He exited the car and slammed the door shut, Lester furrowing his brow. They were just getting food, why should he have to be quiet?

The two began to walk to the entrance and when they reached the door, the assassin grasped the handle for Lester, holding it open for him to go in before him. He led the both of them to stand beside the sign where a waiter eagerly stared at them.

“Can I help you?” He beamed, holding menus in a tight grip,

“Yes,” Lorne smiled with such an artificial warmth that Lester was taken aback slightly. His accent was altered too, almost imitating Lester’s own, “One table for two.”

“And the name…?”

“Nygaard.” He replied, the smaller man’s eyes darting towards him, who quelled his objection with a side glance. A quick look over the list and the waiter saw the two weren’t expected to be there. He looked up, confused,

“We have no reservations under that name sir I-“

“Oh, we didn’t make one.” His smile eerily remained, putting a hand in his pocket to seem more casual.

“Sorry sir, there’s a 45-minute wait time I’m afraid…”

Lorne’s feigned smile slowly slackened into a straighter expression. The waiter awkwardly shuffled and cleared his throat before the assassin said in a deep tone,

“I don’t think so.” He blinked slowly so as to convey his impatience; the waiter was clearly intimidated by his daunting presence and looked to Lester, then back to Lorne,

“I’ll be right back, gentleman, I think one’s about to become free…” He smiled uneasily and shuffled away, clearing off a couple already sat beside a window.

Looking away awkwardly, Lester tried to avoid the hitman’s imperious stare, remaining impressed with his manipulation of these simple people. Lorne glanced over at him, eyeing the coat he was still wearing,

“You can give it back to me now.” He whispered, leaning down to his ear. Lester obeyed and shrugged it off, gently holding it before passing it to the assassin’s expecting hands. When the waiter returned moments later, Lorne’s smile stretched his lips again, eyes creasing.

“We have one available, is the window okay?” He almost stammered the words out, gesturing across the room to the table for two that was recently vacated. The hitman shot a satisfied side glance to Lester, smirking in contentment.

 

They sat down opposite one another, the assassin immediately reaching for a menu; Lester looking at him vapidly. Lorne glared at him through narrowed eyes, biting his tongue – could he be nervous, or just intolerant of the waiting staff?

“What are we doin’ here?” Lester asked, voice lowered. The assassin chuckled and put down the menu,

“Well, it’s early enough to be breakfast, but close enough to twelve to be lunch… Do you know of a helpful portmanteau to describe this type of meal?” Sarcasm was a trait of Lorne’s that Lester appreciated most times - even enjoyed - but right now, it wasn’t necessary,

“I mean why not the diner across the street?” His tone was clearly frustrated, perfect for the hitman to taunt him,

“Oh, Lester,” He smiled, showing his teeth, “Where’s the fun in that?” He winked, pouting his lips as he always did to goad the other man into a reaction. Lester began visibly tensing, biting his lip; eyes darting around the room. Lorne sighed, “Look, Lester, I know it’s gotta be stressful for you - the whole ‘killing your wife’ thing - but if you’ve done it once you can do it again,” He picked up the menu again, smiling, “I mean, hell, I shot my ‘fiancée’ dead because you told me to; all without batting an eye.”

“I never-“

“Lester, we’ve been over this before; you said yes.”

The smaller man sighed heavily, putting his hands flat down on the table to calm himself. One of the assassin’s drifted from its grip on the menu to rest on top of Lester’s; his eyes unmoving from the list he was reading. Lester swallowed, hard. As the waiter approached, notepad in hand, Lorne withdrew the soothing hold and returned it to his trouser pocket. He slouched slightly in his seat before saying with his faux accent,

“We’ll have the chef’s choice,” He locked eyes with Lester, “And a bottle of champagne.” The waiter stammered again,

“Apologies, sir, but we don’t serve alcohol before 4pm…”

“Sure, you can,” His eyes didn’t stray from Lester’s, “Just go back there, find a bottle and bring it to me.”

“Sir, I-“

“Am I gonna need to go back there and get one myself?” His eyes snapped up the waiter, who was noticeably shaking at this point.

“I’ll be right with you.” He shuffled away again, the assassin’s twisted smirk returning to his face. Lester couldn’t help but choke out a laugh. Making him laugh felt good to Lorne - not that he needed approval from him, but just knowing he was happy to be around him was nice,

“You liked that?” He asked teasingly, licking his lips. Lester looked at his mouth; his clean-cut silver goatee, his thin lips, white pearls and deft tongue that were tracing around his cock just ten minutes ago. He relaxed his breathing and leaned forward in his chair, preparing to say something when the waiter returned, another two in tow; setting down the food and champagne on the table.

He watched as Lorne began to dig into his meal, taking satisfying sips of the alcohol from a flute glass. He leaned forward again and said in a hushed tone, similar to the muted whispers they exchanged in the hospital when they first met,

“Are we on a date?” A smirk rivalling the assassin’s own grew on his own lips, waiting for his reaction. Lorne was stopped in his tracks, lifting the fork to his mouth. He gazed to the smaller man and put it in his mouth, making effort to lick it clean of food before murmuring in a subtle, yet seductive tone,

“Yes.”

Lester’s eyes widened, face full of pure excitement; Lorne rolling his eyes and continuing to eat.

“Can I ask you another question?” Lester asked, still just as quiet. The assassin looked up and took a deliberately long gulp of the champagne,

“Depends. If it’s about us; leave it, if it’s about anything else; go ahead.” He replied, leaning back into the chair.

“What were you doing this mornin’?” There was an inquisitive look in Lester’s eyes, almost expectant of a story he might tell. Lorne cocked his head to the side,

“Other than you?” He tried to keep a straight face, but wavered slightly, “How about we figure this out together: What is my job, Lester?” The smaller man bit his lip, scared to say it out loud, in public. Lorne rolled his eyes again, “It’s okay, you can say it.” He said it encouragingly, like coaxing the first words out of a child,

“A contract killer…”

“I didn’t think Minnesota was the place for a lot of contracts, but through the amount of time I’ve spent in this state over the past years; y’all get up to some real shit,” He laughed, “So how are we finishing off your wife?” Lester almost choked on his food,

“We?”

“I thought I made it clear, no?” He looked at the smaller man with a coy glare, “Well, I was wondering, are you sticking with your MO or are you flexible?” Lester shook his head with disparity and hissed,

“What’s my MO?!”

Lorne nodded his head expectantly. When the smaller man didn’t respond, he looked around; once no waiters were nearby, he gestured a hammer swinging motion with his arm, grinning,

“So, what’ll it be, Lester?”

“Jeez!” He shouted in exasperation, receiving a few shocked looks from the diners surrounding them, “I- I just don’t think it’s ethical to be planning this over a meal!” He stammered, looking away from Lorne’s icy eyes.

“Oh, Lester,” The assassin said again, “Ethics can be expelled as soon as the plot of murder is brought up, don’t you think?” Lester closed his eyes momentarily and when he opened them again, the assassin’s were boring into him, creased with a smile.

“I want it to be painless,” He replied, and when Lorne rolled his eyes again, sucking his teeth, he justified it, “She never did anything to me!”

“That’s exactly it, Lester,” The hitman tilted his head forward, “She never did anything to you.” He resisted a wink again; he knew Lester understood what he was talking about.

“Now hold on a second-“

“It’s your choice. I’m just saying.” A smirk returned to Lorne’s thin lips.

 

They finished their food and the rest of the champagne; Lorne leaving a 100-dollar bill on the table for their trouble and then returned to their new car. Before Lester started it up, he turned to the assassin, hesitated, then said,

“Have you got a knife?”

Lorne smiled, presenting his three-inch hunting blade from his trouser pocket. The smaller man nodded, inserted the key and pulled out of the lot, making their way back to the motel.

Chapter Text

“So, what, are you gonna slit her throat or just jam it in there?”

Lester looked over, horrified. The assassin laughed, as if what he just said was a reasonable conversation starter, “Look, Lester, I’m just trying to grasp how we’re gonna go through with it. All good murders have a plan. You don’t wanna be going in blind.” He brought out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket.

“Aw, jeez, I don’t know,” Lester’s grip on the wheel tightened, “I thought, maybe, you could show me how to do it. You’re more experienced than I am.”

“In more ways than one.” Lorne muttered, drawing a cigarette from the packet and placing it between is teeth then lighting it with a zippo.

“What?”

“Nothing,” He took a long draw, “I’ll let you know one thing, it’s very…” He waved the cigarette in his fingers as he thought of the word, smoke following it, “Intimate.”

“Oh?”

“Usually, you’d use it as a threat, then the gun is to finish them off.” Lorne finished, taking a longer drag and puffing out the smoke with his eyes closed, reclining on the head rest.

“That’s not how it went down in Las Vegas…” Lester argued, a coy smirk growing on his lips. Lorne snapped his eyes open and shot him a side glance, not moving his head,

“And who’s fault is that, Lester?” He brought the cigarette back to his lips, Lester’s smile deflating.

The tension in the air was almost palpable. Lorne drained the cigarette and threw it out, looking over to the smaller man with an unreadable glare.

“What?” Lester laughed awkwardly, glancing over to him to figure out what he was trying to do. Lorne lifted his chin up, remarking with a cold tone,

“You’re gonna be the one to do it. Don’t expect me to hold your hand through everything.”

Lester breathed out calmly, keeping his eyes on the road,

“You betcha…”

 

They eventually arrived back to the motel, the journey seeming longer than last time without the… distractions Lorne had so generously provided. They stepped back into their room, seeing the hanger had been removed from the handle. Lorne threw the briefcase onto the mattress and sat beside it, hands either side of his legs, spreading them apart slightly. He eyed the smaller man, stood by the desk with gritted teeth. With a smirk growing on his lips, he lifted his chin, beckoning for Lester to walk over. He promptly obeyed, Lorne looking up at him with an obvious lewdness in his eyes.

“Clean sheets…” The assassin whispered it, his coy grin making Lester bite his lip. His hand drifted to Lester’s waist, touching the leather on his belt with his thin fingers, their eyes still locked together. Lester smiled, glad of the fact that he was always there to take his mind off of things; even if his intentions weren’t completely altruistic, the affect was still there, and he wasn’t thinking about his wife.

He leant down to kiss him harshly, their lips firmly pressing together as Lorne’s hand wandered to his shirt collar, unfastening the top few buttons. Lester moaned into it, his own hands moving to feel the assassin’s slim neck, gripping at it to pull him closer, forcing his tongue through. Lorne mirrored his action, taking a fistful of his hair and smashing his mouth onto Lester’s using his teeth.

The assertiveness and hostility in his affections was what Lester longed for, his brazen and forceful behaviours making his dick twitch. Lorne pulled him down onto the mattress, legs wrapping around his hips to let him settle between, his hand snaking to his zipper to retrieve his length. Then, from the other side of the mattress, Lester’s mobile began to ring.

The assassin’s eyes snapped open as he disconnected from Lester’s lips, reaching over to the briefcase. Any intention of engaging in coitus was now replaced by the task at hand. Lester sighed while he watched Lorne unpack his recorder again, fixing the microphone to the back of the cell, holding it in his hand. He waited for a second, offering a confirming glance to Lester who nodded in reply. He answered the phone and pressed record.

“Hello?” Lester’s wife said down the line, loud enough for him to hear it from the other side of the bed. Lorne winced at the volume, flinching away from it as she continued, “I- I have the money! Please tell me where he is!”

Lorne returned his composure and sat on the edge of the bed,

“Leroy’s Motor Inn. Parking Lot. 5pm.” He fixed his dishevelled fringe back down as he spoke. Lester was in complete shock; to hear this plan unfold, to kill his wife in the same place that he and Lorne first had sex was undoubtedly sadistic, though he suspected that was the exact reason why the assassin chose it. Lorne contemplated hanging up straight away, leaving his instructions at that, but then she continued,

“Let me talk to him, please…” Her distressed tone made him smile once more. He turned around to Lester who was now stood beside the bed and fixing his shirt back up, seeing in the assassin’s eyes it was an offer to talk to her. He thought about it; even though he’d already firmly chosen Lorne over her, it would still be common decency to say one final goodbye before they ended it - before he ended it. He outstretched his hand to accept the phone from him and when he placed it to his ear, he heard the muffled cries of his soon to be dead wife. He hesitated, mouth open and thinking of what to say. Lorne nodded silently as he listened and Lester managed to say her name,

“Linda?”

She choked out a cry, both relief and terror for what his condition might have been. He was alive, but was he okay? He was speaking to her, but was he being listened to? She yelled out his name,

“Lester?! Lester- My god!”

Lester looked at the assassin again, their eyes locking as he said,

“Just- Just come to the parking lot and everything will be fine. Give them their money and…” While looking at Lorne, he struggled out his last words, “I- I love you…” He hung up the phone and Lorne stopped the recording, smiling. Lester sunk back down onto the mattress, sighing with relief as Lorne checked his watch,

“We have two hours,” He said smoothly and with a clear suggestiveness in his tone, “What do you wanna do?” He slipped off his belt and pulled his trousers down, beginning to edge closer to Lester in a slow crawl that led him onto his knees, looking down on the smaller man.

“Three times in one day?” Lester asked, sitting up to be on the same level, their faces fractions apart. Lorne pushed his chest down and sat on top of his lap, staring down with lust burning in his eyes,

“You’re only counting yourself in that, Lester…” He bent down to return his mouth to his, biting at his lip gently. Lester moaned at the feeling, the assassin’s fingers working to free him from the confines of his trousers, taking out his dick and stroking with elite precision, his thumb running along the underside. With slower, drawn out movements, he inched down Lester’s torso until his mouth met with his cock once more, his hand stoking the base as his tongue worked on the tip, lips tightly wrapped around it. Once he was sure that enough of his saliva covered Lester’s dick, he removed his mouth, allowing a tether of his drool to connect his lips to the head.

Lester watched through his eyelashes as the assassin mounted him again, sinking down onto his dick with a deliberate slowness, biting his lips and savouring the sensation with closed lids. He exhaled once it was fully immersed inside of him, then opened his eyes again to look down on Lester laying below him. His lips were parted, gazing up to the assassin with pure joy. As he loomed over him, the hitman’s shadow cast onto Lester’s face and he smiled his twisted smirk once more before he rocked back onto his cock, bracing his hands onto Lester’s chest to keep him down. They released a groan in unison, Lester grasping to the assassin’s wrists tightly while he panted.

Lorne towered over him again and slammed down onto his dick with more force, seizing his wrists and holding them at either side of his head for him to stay beneath him, dominated by his position. He drew his breath through his teeth, releasing a hand from his grip on Lester’s wrist in order to stoke his own cock, maintaining eye contact with him, moaning deeply as he sank back down and started a rhythm to match his strokes.

Lester’s free hand clawed at Lorne’s shirt, snaking beneath it to feel his abdomen tense as he rocked back and forth, closing his eyes to bask in the feeling. His head fell back, disconnecting his eyes from the hitman’s piercing gaze, focusing on the pleasure he was receiving and listening to his intermittent gasps. Without forewarning, the other hand removed itself from his wrist and the Lorne’s palm met with his cheek, harshly slapping him back into focus,

“Look at me, Lester!” He commanded in a low growl, staring down with his wicked snarl and bared teeth. The pain stung in his face as his eyes blinked into focus, watching the assassin’s fingers grip around his own cock, pumping it with speed; quick breaths escaping him that expressed all his pleasure. As they increased in speed, Lester knew he was almost at his limit, his pushes becoming more vigorous and forceful. It wasn’t long before he finished, spilling onto the Lester’s shirt, groaning through it all. Once he re-opened his eyes to look down, his wolfish grin returned. He sat up again, but this time when Lester thought he was going to continue with it, he lifted himself off of his hard dick and flopped beside him. Lester turned his head to look at the assassin, disappointment in his eyes,

“You’re not gonna finish me off?” He asked, equally disheartened and confused. Lorne matched his gaze and mockingly remarked,

“Finish yourself off, Lester,” He grabbed his trousers and pulled them back on, fastening his belt quickly. When Lester continued to stare with his pleading gaze, the assassin only rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth, “You’re probably spent anyway, don’t count on it.”

“Jeez…” Lester sighed tucked himself back into his trousers, still hard. Lorne was unapologetic, but that’s what he liked about him; his stone cold and often callous attitudes were some how endearing in his own way, making Lester be all the more drawn to him. He tried to change the subject, “I need you to teach me how to use a kni-“

“God, Lester, I’m not gonna teach you how to kill someone while your dick is still hard!” Lorne laughed softly, smirking to the smaller man, “We’ll do that later.”

“Jeez, if only there was a way to speed that up…” He murmured sarcastically, laughing nervously in anticipation for the hitman’s response.

“Don’t push it, Lester.”

“Or what?” He continued to taunt. Lorne smiled again, looking to Lester with a side eye,

“Or I’ll give you back to your wife.”

That shut him up.

 

A while later, Lorne returned to their conversation from before, drawing out his knife,

“You want to do it in one confident strike,” He held it in his tight grip, the blade pointed away from him, “A smooth cut is what you want, Lester, otherwise the mess will be too much.” Lester nodded, watching the way Lorne held his knife as he thrust his arm forward, like a punching swing through the air. He passed the blade to the smaller man for him to practice, smiling like a proud mentor. He checked his watch and looked to Lester, “We should set off now.” He picked up the briefcase and opened the door, leading him to the car. Lorne got into the driver’s side, glancing to Lester before turning the ignition, “You ready, Lester?”

“Ya. Of course.” He grit his teeth and the assassin started up the car.

 

Leroy’s Motor Inn. The first thing Lester recognised was that sign above the reception, the bright white light illuminating the snow-covered lot outside the rooms. He waited in the car as Lorne got out, noticing how he’d taken that orange coat with him. His wife stood just thirty feet from the car, duffel bag in hand and visibly shaking; both the Minnesota cold and the anxiety getting to her. As Lorne approached, she offered the bag, hand outstretched. He took it and dropped it by his feet, not even bothering to check the contents. Lester couldn’t lip read from that faraway, but he knew the hitman was exchanging words as he passed her the coat, ones she evidently wasn’t too eager to hear as she covered her face with her hands. Then, Lorne looked towards the car, beckoning for him to come out. Lester checked his pocket for the knife, counted to three and left the car.

As he got closer, he was able to see the tears rolling down her face, holding the coat in her hands. When she made a move to walk towards her husband, the assassin stopped her,

“Now, Mrs Nygaard, don’t take another step. You ask, ‘What’s going on?’, well, your husband has something to tell you.” Lester said nothing and stared at his wife, playing up his worries and hesitations, when in reality he had none. He was just as eager to go through with it as Lorne was. The hitman grasped onto his arm and pulled him closer to Linda, making her squeal, waiting with bated breath to find out what he had been hiding from her.

Lester stared at her neck; the soft, pale skin that was soon to be severed with the assassin’s curved hunting knife. He kept it in his grip, concealed within his pocket just like Lorne would. He moved forward; Lorne’s clutch sill tight on his arm. Just one swipe, like Lorne said, one cut and she’d be done for. He didn’t plan on a slow killing like he had done to Pearl; this would be done quickly, or so he thought…

The hitman shot him a side glance, a subtle nudge to get it over with; he stood by his word, he wasn’t going to hold Lester’s hand through this, despite his literal grip on his arm. When Lester withdrew the knife, she gasped, confusion melting with horror as his grip tightened, turning his knuckles white. Her eyes solely focused on it, not even noticing how Lorne had let go of her husband’s arm, taking a pace backwards to watch it all happen.

“L- Lester?”

In a rapid move, he thrust his hand forward with the knife in his grip. Instantly, the skin of her throat split open, blood slowly leaking from the laceration. Her face conveyed all of her shock and betrayal, looking into her husband’s eyes, the man in her peripheral staring with the same predatory snarl as he watched. She stumbled back, attempting to grab the split and stop the pour of her blood on the concrete blow when Lester went in with another swipe of the blade, slicing it deeper into the skin. Blood began to gush out heavily, spraying onto his face as well as Lorne’s, coating his silver goatee with red. He watched the woman fall to the floor, lifeless, a hand resting limply on the cut with pools of rich, red blood oozing from her neck and soaking into her hair, slowly spreading into the snow. Lester looked to his partner; no horror or regret in his face like there usually was. He smiled at Lester with his teeth, the ruby of the blood a stark contrast to his pearls,

“Let’s get this cleaned up.”

He grabbed onto Lester’s hand and squeezed.