Full Circle OR Gwen in Penderland
by SilverPhoenix13
URL: http://www.bluecatsgraphics.com/pean/fanfics/84/

I didn’t have long to wait. I’m sure Aloysius’ (how funny to think of him with a first name!) cell phone is in a single-digit dial position on his brother’s phone, because that’s the only explanation for why those two didn’t trip over each other in the lobby. I’d just gotten the sheets changed, mangled ones in a trash bag—not even I was sure I’d try to bleach those clean—when a soft knock sounded at the suite’s door.

After a final check of the bedroom to make sure everything was reasonably tidy, and deciding to leave the comforter where it was on the floor, I gingerly made my way out to the mini-foyer. Not being quite the fool I seem at times, I checked through the peephole before removing the chain and turning the doorknob. Tall, pale and handsome, Pendergast lounged against the frame, face blank of any emotion beyond well-bred ennui, computer bag dangling from his shoulder.

“Good...morning.” I said, casually checking over my shoulder to see what the clock on the end table said. “Imagine meeting you here.”

Gracefully, Pendergast straightened from the door and slid past me like a ghost. Pausing only to drop his bag on the table next to the sofa, he glided aimlessly around the living area of the suite, pausing to glance cautiously at the flowers in their vase, before turning to face me where I was leaning on the now-closed door. His eyebrows rose slightly as I slid the chain back into position.

“How did you sleep, Gwen?” He took two steps toward me, paused. “I trust it was...restful.”

“Why, it most certainly wasn’t, as you well know.” I tilted my head to the side and regarded my erstwhile rescuer. I sighed heavily. “Aloysius.” I began. “Why are we playing this game?”

His eyes briefly shone with a gleam of some emotion, then returned to their normal state once again. “Why, Gwen. Whatever do you mean.” He didn’t even bother to make it sound as if he didn’t know at once what I was talking about.

I closed my eyes, quite weary of a sudden. “You know,” I began, “I can accept the lies, the games, the deception from him, but I thought you better than that.” I opened my eyes to find him no more than six inches away. If I hadn’t been about three seconds from total collapse, I would have jumped. He moved like a cat.

He reached out carefully to brush a stray hair away from my cheek. His fingers were gentle, his touch almost tender, and in that moment his eyes softened to reveal a stunning sadness. “I am sorry, Gwen.” His voice was husky, warm and soft. “You have to know that I...”

I put my fingers across his lips. I suddenly didn’t want to hear it. I knew, or I thought I knew, what he would say. And I didn’t want to hear it. “Never mind.” I said. I couldn’t have straightened from the door, but then again, with him there that wasn’t my concern at the moment. “I know.” I smiled at him. “I am a professional, you know.” The mockery in my voice stung him, I’m sure. Well. It wasn’t the emotion I was going for, but annoyed was a vast improvement over the limited range of feelings he’d shown around me in the last forever.

“That’s not what it’s about, Gwen.” His voice was flat. “You have to know that.” Without the energy to speak, all I could do was nod wearily. My eyes again closed, this time without my permission, and I began to slide down the door. He caught me, bundled me up against him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him carry me like a baby down the hall to the bedroom. When we got there, I felt him pause for a second in the doorway, as if Diogenes might still be there, hiding in the closet or under the bed. I had a sudden mental image of the two of them as children playing hide and seek, and a small, ginger-headed boy jumping out from behind a cabinet shrieking “Boo!” in his little boy voice and scaring the older boy. I smiled against his neck drowsily.

“He left hours ago.” I pulled my head back, felt the room spin but opened my eyes anyway. The vertigo was terrible—I must have been worse off than even I knew—but I gazed up at him, into his pale blue eyes. “He left you flowers, didn’t you see?”

His eyebrows drew together over the regal nose. A nose he was looking down at me. I didn’t like that one bit. I unwrapped one arm from around his neck and tapped him lightly on the tip of his nose with my finger. In retrospect, I’m surprised he didn’t drop me and leave at that point. “You should send him a thank you card, you know.” I slurred. The nervous exhaustion was catching up to me. As I relaxed in his presence, the adrenaline that colored my experience with Diogenes was slowly ebbing, taking its toll on my mind and body. “Not every man is gentleman enough to send flowers.” Again, I gave him a loopy smile and dropped my head back down onto his shoulder, placing my palm at the top of his chest. Suddenly I noticed he wasn’t in his habitual black and white. Confused, I ran my fingers over the brown collar. “What’s this?”

Gently, he set me down on the bed, pulling my hand away from his collar. He opened my fingers and pressed a kiss into the palm before pushing me down to the pillows and lifting my feet onto the bed. “I wear many suits, Gwen.” His face was very serious, but his voice was light. “Just not for everyone. Now,” he said, tucking me under the top sheet and blanket. “rest here for just a moment. I need to check the flowers. Make sure Diogenes didn’t leave any...surprises.” He brushed my hair back and dropped a kiss onto my forehead. Annoyance cut through the intense exhaustion for a moment. I did not want him to treat me like a three year old! “I will be right back.”

And with that, he was gone. I struggled against the dark for only a moment before letting it win.

I came to awareness again when his hands were running down my legs, checking for broken bones. I could tell that was all he was doing, because frankly not many men are quite so dispassionate when stroking my thighs. He found the cut, the several fresh bruises. I hissed at him when he began to probe the tender flesh behind my knees. I hadn’t realized there were fresh welts there until he found them, and the pain was not unwelcome. It woke me up, at any rate. I opened my eyes.

He was glaring down at my legs, in particular at the cut along my thigh. He ran his thumb down the broken skin, and I sucked in a deep breath at the painfully pleasant tingle that ran along my thigh. Pendergast looked up at me, his eyes shaded with concern.

“He cut you.” He said, simply, as if he couldn’t believe it. “He actually cut you.”

“Well, what did you expect, Sparky?” I asked, sardonically. “Party balloons and a pony?”

He glanced away over my feet, toward the corner. “This is getting too dangerous.” His voice was so low I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. “He’s never taken it that far before.”

“Dangerous?” I was incredulous. “Getting?” I propped myself up on my elbows. “Pendergast, have you even been paying attention lately? It always was dangerous.” I pushed the covers off my body. “You told me so yourself, remember?” He leaned back as I swung my legs off the bed.

“Where are you going?” He asked, looking up from the side of the bed where he was kneeling.

I rolled my eyes. Gesturing down my body at my tasteful and expensive lingerie, “To the bathroom. I’m not exactly dressed for the Met, am I?” I stalked past him, swearing at him and myself in every language and patois I knew. I locked myself in the bathroom and met my own eyes in the mirror. Just as quickly I looked away. For a moment, the scope of my particular idiocy washed over me, and I felt ten times the twit I’m sure I seem. Oh, sure, both brothers made me go so hot and weak I could barely function, but if I had any sense, I would have run after my first experience with them, at the warehouse. Then, knowing what I had stumbled into (because, honestly, how stupid did they think I was?) I kept playing their game. Dangled on their string. Verbed any other metaphor I could think of that implied what a massive moron I had become. Hormones can be quite inconvenient at times. In fact, they can get you involved in private warfare, fought on terms you don’t quite understand.

After a full minute of the self-denigration, I splashed my face with water and steeled myself to go out and finish the game. I couldn’t help it; I was addicted. I knew he was playing with me, I knew I was only a pawn in their game, but I. Couldn’t. Resist. I didn’t care, I had to have him. Even if I never heard from him again, I had to have this last night. Well, what was left of it, anyway. I squared my shoulders and opened the bathroom door.

In typical Pendergast fashion, he was waiting outside the door. The jacket was gone, and he looked like an average businessman, waiting for his wife to finish taking off her make-up. For a second he managed to put on a lost puppy dog face, until I raised my eyebrow at him. Then he smiled. And you know, for once, I think it was genuine.

“Ok.” I said. “You can finish this. But don’t even insult me by pretending you don’t know that I know what this is.” I fidgeted with the tie of my dressing gown. “I can’t say no. You do realize that, don’t you?” I looked at him with pleading. “I...Just...” I closed my eyes and shook my head. When I looked back at him, he was simply staring at me in that cool, distant fashion. I sighed.

He stepped forward, and wrapped his hands around my face. “Shhh.” He whispered, dropped a soft kiss on my lips. “Let me take care of you.”

Docile now, I let him lead me back to the bed. He removed my robe, sliding his hands along my arms as it fell. He lay me on the bed on my stomach, and I felt him sit beside me. His hands ran over my limbs again, in the same motions as before when he was looking for injury, but with far different intent. I can’t tell you how I knew, I just knew that this was a caress. They were warm, his hands, and for all the strength that he showed as he would occasionally probe for deep injury, they were unfailingly gentle. As he slid his hands across bare skin and the satin of my teddy, he somehow managed to deliver a massage to my sore, aching muscles. Muscles worn out through the efforts of his brother, not six hours before. It was distressing, if I let myself think about it. As long as I didn’t, it was really quite stimulating.

Suddenly, his lips descended on my shoulder, soothing along the line of muscle that had tightened and twisted earlier. The lips moved along the curves to my neck, up my neck to press gently against the nape, around to the sensitive spot behind the ear exploited by the other brother, down again. A different sort of weakness was taking over my body, following in the wake of his hands and lips. I hunched my back upwards, curving into him, bringing my skin closer to him and I sighed into the pillow. Oh, how I wanted this!

He worked his way down my back, over the curve of my ass, down my thighs. As he came across each welt, each bruise left by his brother, his lips would press to them, part, his tongue would sweep along the length of it, another light kiss, and move on. This treatment was making the skin come alive again in a very different fashion than Diogenes’ caresses. By the time he turned me over, I was tingling all over with an electric current of need.

As he worked his way back to the deep scratch on my thigh, I closed my eyes and simply luxuriated in the pampering I was receiving. When he kissed along the painfully sensitive wound, soft, teasing butterfly kisses followed by more firm, gentle suction, my knees fell apart to allow him to get closer. I hadn’t bothered to put on the thong that matched the teddy—as I’d experienced how it tended to get in the way—and was quite shocked when I felt his lips settle between my thighs. His hands gently pushed the teddy up my torso, wandering over my hips and stomach as his tongue probed me, and his lips teased. I whimpered a little when he abandoned that place, nibbling softly up my stomach, dipping his tongue in my navel, and up, following the hem of my teddy.

When he reached the bottom curves of my breasts, he ran his tongue briefly along the now warm skin there before sitting slightly back to help me slide the teddy completely over my head. I peeked at him from under my lashes as he swiftly removed his own clothes, and wondered slightly as he reached over to turn out the light on the bedside table. It made no difference; the moonlight streaming through the window made his skin glow like alabaster. He came back to me, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me so close I could barely breathe. He rolled us onto our sides, and pulled my leg over him. As he kissed me, I ran my hands over his smooth skin, enjoying the feel of him beneath my hands. Because he was so much taller than I, his hips were several inches below mine and I could feel his erection resting hotly against my inner thigh. I pressed myself against him, pleading through the kiss for something more. Ultimately, I would be rewarded, I was sure, but at the moment I was very frustrated. He wouldn’t release my lips, and even when I dug my fingernails into his shoulders, he didn’t pull back. I could feel his hands running over my back, along the back of my thighs, and finally he wound one around my leg and up to caress me. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was much closer. I slid my leg higher along his torso and tried to press against him, but he caught my leg between his upper arm and chest and pinned me into place. I was moaning into his mouth, and I felt him chuckle.

Suddenly, he released me and rolled be onto my back. With no ceremony, he pushed into me. I looked up at his face, and surprised myself by meeting his eyes. He lowered his head to rest his cheek against the side of my forehead, I could feel his breath stir my hair. He began to move, setting a slow, steady pace. I wound my arms around his back, to rest my hands on his shoulders. I didn’t want to scratch him again, not really, but I was possessed by a great and burning desire to draw his blood. I settled my eyes on the pulse in his throat. He has a beautiful throat—slender, but at the same time well muscled, with strongly defined tendons running down from just below his ears to the top of his collarbone. I reached up, ran my tongue along his throat, tasting him. He swallowed in reaction, and I reveled in it. I wanted to bite him, mark him, leave him with something to remember me by. I planted my heels on the bed just below my hips and heaved. Surprisingly, he let me flip him over.

I gazed down at him. He had splayed his arms out as we’d rolled over, and he was looking up to me with his eyes shadowed. I spent a moment or two still with the surprise before I began to move over him.

I reached over his head to brace myself against the headboard that was bolted directly into the wall to get better leverage. As I set the pace, I glanced down. His eyes were half-closed, but I knew he was watching me watch him. A ghost of a smile crossed his face before he raised a hand to gently stroke my stomach, trailing his long fingers from the valley between my breasts to my navel and farther. It was the lightest touch imaginable, setting off shivers and tingling streams of icy fire across my skin. My whole body clenched and I gasped for breath. I know he smiled at that, a rather smug, self-satisfied smile. Usually, I would be overcome with an impulse to wipe it off his face, but that night it was working in my favor, so I let it go and rather hoped he’d do something else to make that Cheshire grin cross his face.

He took both hands to my knees, ran them up my thigh to my hips in that same gentle caress, then wrapped both hands around my waist. Suddenly, I was pulled back so my hands didn’t reach the wall anymore and flipped back over to beneath him. I opened my mouth to protest and he dropped his head to kiss away my words. It was a hurried, but apologetic kiss, barely there and gone, before he grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the pillow above my head. Digging his knees into the mattress practically under my thighs, he levered my hips off the bed completely. I had no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist, which he really didn’t seem to mind all that much. Another kiss, this one more passionate and deeper than the last, and he was rocking into me with enough force I was vaguely reminded of his brother. He slid his mouth around to just behind my ear to suck on the sweet spot there, and began to alternate—first behind the ear until I was so excited I was almost ready to explode, then back to kiss me so thoroughly I was sure the neighbors could feel it.

The climax hit me quite unexpectedly, so suddenly I couldn’t even cry out. He may or may not have had his own—I wasn’t really paying attention. All I know is when I came down again, he had collapsed on top of me. It struck me then, that the whole thing had been nearly silent. As if he hadn’t wanted anyone to know...For all I know, there was a very prudent reason for it, but at that time I couldn’t have thought of one. I was wrung out, physically exhausted and spent, and only wanted to curl into his warmth and sleep.

He rolled to the side, pulled me spoon fashion against his body and curled his arms around me. I believe I began to shake at that point, and he pulled away briefly to grab the covers from the floor before wrapping them around us both. He dropped a short kiss onto my hair, soothed it back from my face, then whispered, “Sleep.” in my ear. I was only too happy to oblige.

When I woke up again, I was surprised it was still morning. Barely. Ok, ok, maybe only technically. Aloysius, as I had guessed, was gone. Busy guy, what with the world to save and the insane brother and all that.

I showered, packed up all my momentoes, and made ready to leave the room. I wasn’t sure where to go, although all signs indicated I was probably safe to go home. Either brother could find me there, but then again, I wasn’t sure that would be such a bad thing.

I stepped out into the small living area. The flowers were still in their vase, although a bit shabbier than when I’d last seen them. Pendergast had apparently gone through them with a fine tooth comb looking for whatever it was Diogenes left him. I did a brief glance around, on the very off chance Aloysius had left me a note. No luck, although I did find the two small dvds on the table, about 1/3 the size of a regular music cd. They’d been propped up on one of the roses, so I knew they were my copies. I picked them up, knowing instantly what was on them and not wanting them to fall into anyone’s hands—although had what was on them become public, the repercussions for the public-making person would have been...severe. They were already in thick plastic slips, so I dropped them into my purse.

As I arrived at the desk to check out, the clerk smiled at me, told me that the room had been signed for, and gave me an envelope. Inside was a ticket to my home town (never you mind where that is,) along with a brief note: “Gwen, I am sorry. Forgive me, and let me know if I shall be an unwelcome visitor. P.” I smiled. It took less than twenty minutes on my way to the airport to arrange for flowers and a certain small gift to be sent to the Dakota. A girl, after all, must be sure to thank a gentleman who has just shown her the most interesting time of her life.