The driver of the muscle car had killed without hesitation. The Russian was more than just a little impressed. "Most talk a lot. Few are up for the moment," Yorgi had said after studying him seriously a few minutes. He paused, putting his pistol away. "Welcome to Anarchy 99."

Xander looked at him, turned the car around on squealing tires, and headed back in direction they had come. Instead of turning in at the warehouse, though, he sped past without even looking at the men waiting at the open door. Glancing over to his passenger, he waited for Yorgi's reaction to being whisked away. The Russian's eyes were on him, and in the soft light, they were almost black, although he knew they were blue. Xander put his large, multi-purpose pistol on the floor and reached for his hand. "Come here," he urged, pulling him across the seat.

With a hesitant smile, Yorgi scooted over to sit close to him. "So, it turns you on, is that it? Killing makes you hot, makes you horny. You're a sick man, my friend, but I cannot blame you for this. Watching you kill that annoying cop without a second's hesitation gave me goose bumps! Tell me, what do you want from Yorgi?"

Xander gave the steering wheel a sharp twist, which brought the car around to face the other way, far off onto the opposite shoulder at a lonely stretch of road. Switching off the engine, he turned all his attention to the gorgeous crime boss beside him. "Come here," he repeated lowly, his voice laced with seduction.

Yorgi chuckled and gave him what he wanted. Lifting his mouth to submit to Xander's, he closed his eyes as the darker skinned man began to gently suck on his lower lip. The top lip became involved as well, and both lips were tasted and savored. Yorgi's heart spun out of control. Not for one second did he understand or condone his present situation. He was a ruthless, cold-hearted killer. How could a man like Xander Cage, armed with nothing more than a sweet kiss, shake down the iron walls that made him capable of doing the things that he must do?

Frightened by his own senses, Yorgi shied away, but Xander held on, and kept kissing him. Those warm brown eyes broke deeper and deeper into him, and Yorgi wanted to push him away, but he was helpless against the attraction that had driven him into the arms of this man since the moment their eyes had first met.

Xander's tongue dipped between his parted lips, and Yorgi was aware of some animal spirit ritual of being claimed. He caught the tongue, carefully tasted it, and danced his own tongue all around it.

When they pulled back to regard each other again, Xander's look of absolute surprise left Yorgi feeling a bit less derelict. It was a surprise to both of them, but Xander had controlled it, and that had left Yorgi feeling slightly inferior, as if Xander expected him to play the bottom in a long-term relationship. The whole idea was…extremely exciting. The prospect of giving himself to Xander gave him a quickening that not even his absinthe could match. His blue eyes fell to the bald man's shoulder and distractedly studied the tribal tattoo that was displayed because he wore a sleeveless shirt. "We should be getting back or they will look for us," Yorgi said, tracing the tattoo.

"Let 'em look. I got what I want," Xander said quietly, pulling him close again. "I want more of this."

The Russian did not protest. He responded willingly to the unfinished kiss although he hated his foolish heart for being enchanted by this amorous stranger. There was no so way he would ever make himself believe he hated Xander, though. In all his life, having met thousands of men and women, he had never felt this degree of attraction to anyone before. Fatal attraction, or was it a fixation? Because attraction was a natural thing - it was usually all about sex. The way he felt about Xander was deeper than that. It was powerful, gripping, and endless. It could be nothing short of love.

What if he were forced to kill him? This was the most prevalent obsession he had ever suffered! He could almost feel his mind melting at the possibility of it! What if he had to kill him? How would he live with himself afterwards?

He wouldn't. He would die.

Shivering, he pulled out of the kiss and wiped his lips. "Please, Xander, take me back."

Xander studied him a moment, and nodded. "Sure, if that's what you really want," he said, caressing his cheek. "I really want to get together with you later, though, okay?"

The blue eyes brimmed, knowing it would be impossible, but Yorgi quickly wiped them, and leaned back in his seat. "Of course," he lied. "Yes, of course."

If the universe were a fair and habitable domain, and fairness ruled in all hemispheres, it could be. If no pain existed in the world, no oppression and no cruelty, it could happen. If all little children had a good place to sleep at night, and all mothers tucked them in safely, if all churches preached the love instead of the wrath of God, if all hate were to suddenly disappear from all hearts, it could be possible. 'If' was a big word.

Yorgi leaned across the car seat and gave him an agonizing hug. "Why have you come to me now? Why now?"

"I came to save you," Xander answered simply.

"It's too late for that," Yorgi said bitterly.

"Well," The American squeezed him tightly, his cheek against his forehead as he played idly with his long hair. "I'm here to try."

~~