Rico:

Looking back on it now, I can barely believe we're the same people.

Having Sonny Crockett as your lover... that's not an easy thing, take it from me.  But having me as one...   that ain't a walk in the park either. 

What we do, the job, it's a bitch on relationships.  His first marriage broke up, his second wife was murdered.   I've lost more than I can come to terms with some days.

We've been through more hell than any one person should ever be expected to endure in a lifetime.

Maybe that's why we're so good together.

It just happened, this thing between us.

We were on the boat one night, drinking, eating.  It was a Friday, late.  The week had been quiet, nothing too great, nothing too bad. 

We started reminiscing.  You'd think we'd know better than to dredge up the past, but Sonny and I, we've never been too bright when it came to our own psychological wellbeing.

He brought up Hank Wheldon, an ex-cop we babysat years ago on our hunt for a drug baron he'd been obsessed with.  Turned out he'd killed Ancaro years before and walled him up.  That was one of my life's more creepy moments.

But what had been the most disturbing thing for me, when I looked back, was the way his partner had dealt with him. 

When Sonny lost it, developed an obsession for a home invader with a thing for flour and underwear, I remember almost going under myself trying to get him back. 

When he flipped out as Burnett, almost killed me, it felt like my heart and soul were inch by inch being ripped from me and trampled on.  Possibly by a woman wearing leather and obscenely high-heeled shoes.

That night, sitting on the boat, with the lights of the city as our background, Elvis making these deep, low, moaning noises up at the helm, I told Sonny everything.  I said that I still loved him.  I admitted to him that I couldn't bare to lose him, that he was the most important person in my life, had been for so long it was tough to remember when he hadn't been a part of me.

I don't know why all this came out when it did, what it was about that night over all the others we'd spent together chillin' on the boat.

But when it was all out, I looked at him.  And I saw this look on his face that I'd never seen before.  It was kind of intense.  His eyes are always so expressive and when I looked into them then, it was like he was all there, bared to me, his soul, everything that he was.  There was sadness too, and I hated that I'd put any more sorrow into those eyes on top of what the world had already done.

Ages passed, us sitting there staring at one another.

And then he said my name, just one word, "Rico...." in this quiet, low voice.

Next thing I knew he was leaning over in a gesture I recognised from having done it, seen it, watched it....  But never from this angle, never while looking into those eyes that scream his otherwise buried feelings to anyone who takes the time to know him.

He was leaning over to kiss me, and I met him half way.

For two guys who'd done this a thousand times with countless women, that first kiss was unbelievably sweet, heartbreakingly shy.

I wanted him to know that I needed it too.  I hadn't thought about it, but now it was happening, it was everything we both needed.  It was the only solution and I was hard just realising it.

Opening my mouth over his, I licked his lips with my tongue, tracing their outline before caressing meaningfully between them.  He gave in, and his tongue came to meet mine.

We melted into one another, arms going around each other like it was second nature.  Holding him wasn't something new.  We touched a lot, always had done.  But not like this.  At that moment, I couldn't for the life of me think why not.  Why were we only discovering that this was between us now?

Not that anything mattered after a few minutes.  I crawled over him, climbing into his lap somehow, never breaking the lip-lock.  He sat back, arms going around me again, under my jacket.  I put one hand on the ledge of the boat and pushed the other into his hair, curling my fingers into that sun-kissed mane I realised that I longed to touch.

He was pulling me down to him, and I could feel his cock pushing against mine, separated by expensive cloth.  I almost laughed; if only the Lieutenant could see us now....

Breaking the wet contact, he eased me back slightly.  I wondered if I looked as desperate as he did then.  Lips swollen, hair tussled, eyes... hungry.  Just like that hooker at that hotel all those years back had said.

He asked me if I was sure about it, about what we were doing, what was clearly going to happen.  I'd never been more sure of anything in my life.  I swore it to him, and backed up my words with a searing kiss.


Sonny:

I remembered asking him, 'you dream in colour?'

I'd always dreamt in black and white.  Every since I could remember.  Sometimes I'd wonder why.  And other times, when things got really bad, I was thankful that I didn't have to wake up to a red haze.

Since the night we got together, I mean, really got together, I've dreamt in colour.  And it's not as bad as I'd imagined it would be.

We'd been talking about the good old days, before life had got all crazy, had turned into a real living nightmare.  I remembered the thing about the dreams, and that reminded me of Hank.

It was the way Wheldon's partner had talked of him that had always bothered Rico.  Not that he knew that I knew, not that I'd ever said anything.  I swore back then to myself that he'd never have to worry about either of us.  Well, I broke that promise big time.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't do what I did - didn't get into this - because I felt guilty.  Rico never made me feel like I owed him squat, and I loved him for that with every day that went passed.  It got better, very slowly, in tiny weeny increments.  And Rico was there with me every step.

He's still with me.  And nothing in this world amazes me more than that.

So for him to be saying all that stuff about not knowing what he'd do if he lost me, I couldn't believe it.  I should have been the one saying it to him.  I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost Rico.  I doubt living would be an option any longer.  If I'd succeeded in killing him that night in Lauderdale, I'd have shot myself the day that Castillo and Stan told me what I'd done.

These thoughts, these alternate futures that might have been, all that shit was in my brain when Rico was telling me how much he needed me.

He blew me away.  And I realised then, like a revelation, that he'd always been there, and that I wanted him to always be there.

After that bombshell, learning my partner was the one person I needed more than anyone on this god-forsaken planet, kissing him wasn't the big thing that it might otherwise have been.  Kissing him was just my way of showing him what I suddenly knew.

Not for a second did I even consider that he wouldn't respond.  I could see it in his eyes, in his face, hear it in what he was saying.

My lips had gone dry, and I licked them.  As I did, I saw Rico's gaze flick to my tongue for just a moment.  I don't think he even knew he was looking but my heart soared and my dick took more of an interest than it had in anyone or anything for a long time.

His mouth's like a furnace.  He's incredible.

As we kissed, Rico climbed over me, those powerful thighs either side of mine.  His tongue was exploring like it had never been inside a mouth before.  He'd never been inside mine, and I knew we were both loving it.

He still has a thing for my hair.  I spend nights trying to straighten his while he tells me he loves mine just the way it is.  It's a slight obsession with him. 

I should have taken that first night as a warning.  He was petting it, combing his fingers through it, while all I could think about was the rock-hard dick pressing into my gut.  My brain was going nuclear on me.  The part of my brain that was once called 'Burnett' tried to fight its way out of the cage I'd ruthlessly locked it into.  No way in hell was that getting free.  Not that night, not ever again.

I had to stop, just for a moment.  Had to think.  I pushed him away a bit, asked him if he was sure.  When I looked at him I realised I didn't need his answer.  He looked gorgeous.  A bit of a shock to realise that after five years of living practically 24/7 with a guy that you find him arousingly attractive.  But I was too hard, too desperate to care.

He kissed me again, like I'd never been kissed before.

After that... we went a little nuts for a while.


Rico:

Man or woman, the technique for giving pleasure is the same.  Sonny and I found that out real fast.

The principals are all the same too.  I love giving him mind-blowing orgasms that have him screaming louder than Elvis's roars. 

That first night, I swear his 'gator thought someone was attacking his Dad.  He hollered so loud that after the third time we came, he had to go up there and make some fuss. 

I followed Sonny up, grabbed Elvis' favourite blue blanket from where it was hanging on the rigging, and threw it into the huge, gaping maul.  He snapped shut on it and rumbled his displeasure at recent events.  But at least he'd stopped his roaring.

It was a sight, though.  My new lover, standing gloriously naked, sweaty and damp with several kinds of bodily fluid, cooing to an alligator on the deck of the expensive yacht.

I'm more than happy to say that it's a sight I'm quickly and blissfully getting used to.