On the other side of town

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

Some things never change.

Ramon lights up another cigarette. Half a dozen butts litter the street by his feet.

He knew the minute he saw Issac's body. The additional data Mr. Lensherr sent along only confirmed it. This shouldn't be possible. Isaac's killer has been dead for over twenty years.

Ramon stares at the juggling rooster on the Cock and Balls bar sign. He doesn't have to do this. He could send in Mortimer or Dominic instead. They've never met the man.

He doubts they'd survive.

The broken glass outside the window, layers of peeling paint on the badly repaired doorsill, and strong stench of whiskey and cigar smoke are like a set piece from the worst part of his past. They should've stayed in Europe. America is too cold, too hard.

He takes one last drag on the cigarette and lets it fall to the ground. Time to go to work.

Comments

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

Rough hands are met with an angry need. The musky scent. The ever present stubble. The painfully familiar flesh lost for these last two decades. Ramon devours his mouth. Fingers dig into his skin, as though Logan will evaporate if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

Twenty three years.

Lips drag up along his neck followed by a heavy breath in one ear. "I've missed you."

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

The feeling is most assuredly mutual, evidenced by his grip digging into Raven's - Ramon's - thighs. Pheromones, coarse and thick, saturate the air between them.

The patrons who've remained in the bar are exchanging marked, if somewhat nervous, glances.

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

Ramon's hard as a steel girder. His blue hands are still wet with Logan's blood.

The smell, the taste - he's going to wake up any moment to find himself clutching damp sheets and calling out the wrong name.