Title: If I Had to Choose...
Author: Tinnean
Fandom: Laura
Pairing: Mark McPherson/Shelby Carpenter
Rating: NC-17
Feedback email: Tinneantoo@aol.com
Disclaimers: Not mine, never were, never will be. They belong,
first and foremost to Vera Caspary. And secondly to the fantastic
screenwriters of 20th Century Fox. And if I was making money from
this, do you honestly think I wouldn't tell you all?
Archive: If I sent it to you, please feel free! Otherwise let me
know.
Summary: The dour Scot discovers he might be willing to spend
money on the dapper Southerner. However, suppose Shelby wants
more?
Series/Sequel: No, but there's a connection with That Sunday,
That Summer
Warning: m/m, language, minor spoiler for the movie
Note: if you read the book or saw the movie, you know what the
story is; if you didn't, then I guess you'll have no clue what's
going on. Read it as PWP
If I Had to Choose...
By Tinnean
He heard the key in the
lock. I know he did. When I pushed the door open, he was sitting in that
overstuffed easy chair he had persuaded me to buy for him, his legs crossed at
the knee. A couple of inches of black silk sock were exposed, and I felt my
mouth go dry.
How was it that the
sight of his bony ankle was enough to get me hard? I wanted to rub myself
against him, shameless as a cat in heat. Instead, I turned to shut the door and
toss my hat on the coat tree that stood nearby. I didn't watch to see if it
caught on the hook: I never missed.
He was wearing a smoking
jacket. The only time I had ever seen them was in the movies, and I thought
they were an effeminate affectation. Until I saw him in one.
Cradled in the palm of his
right hand was the pipe I had left behind the last time I was at his apartment.
His chin rested on the fingers of his other hand, those long, slender, elegant
fingers that worked such magic against my skin.
A large volume lay
opened upon his knee.
The son-of-a-bitch was
posing!
He knew I was there. Why
didn't he look up to acknowledge me?
And when he did, and
frowned, I knew why. I was supposed to be at Laura Hunt's apartment, tying up
the loose ends, waiting for the coroner's office to send over a meat wagon to
pick up Waldo Lydecker's body.
He wasn't expecting it
to be me.
He set the book down on
an end table, casually placing the pipe beside it and rose to his feet, lithe
and graceful.
"Mark. I wasn't
expecting you." He confirmed my fears with casual disregard.
"Obviously." I
stalked toward him, furious that he was reverting back to his tomcatting ways.
He had *promised* me! "Who were you expecting, Shelby?"
"Don't take that
tone of voice with me, McPherson! I'm not some doll you can buy a fox fur for
and then disappear for days at a time!"
"Well, I'm the guy
who can make you come so hard you think the top of your head exploded!" I
grabbed his arm and jerked him close to me. "I'm not some sugar daddy
who's going to keep you in style!" We were standing chest to chest, and I
let him feel how aroused I was getting.
His blue eyes, darker
than my own pale ones, turned hot, and he leaned into me. "Mark!" he
whispered hoarsely, and then I took his lips and he couldn't do anything else
but moan as my tongue fucked his mouth.
My fingers were
massaging his scalp, the thick weight of his hair filling my hands, sliding
through them. I bit at his lips, then slid my mouth down over his throat,
needing to mark him in some way as mine, needing him to know he belonged to me.
Desire was building in
me, and I was becoming almost frantic with it, to be inside him, to have him
inside me.
I began walking him
backwards toward his bedroom.
Suddenly he pulled
savagely away from me, and I froze. I opened my mouth, but I had no clue what
would have come out.
"Someone's at the
door!" he hissed before I could say something regrettable.
"Get rid of
him!" I snarled.
He scowled back at me
and jerked his head toward the bedroom door, indicating he wanted me out of
sight. Then he straightened his smoking jacket and smoothed his hair and went
to answer the door.
That was the problem
with these Suth'n aristocrats. They thought their word was law.
Well, Shelby Carpenter
didn't know me very well. I was from Brooklyn. I ate fancy college boys like
him for breakfast!
That thought made me
feel better. I settled myself in the chair he had recently vacated and picked
up my pipe. The bowl was cold. Of course. He was just trying to make an
impression!
////
He much preferred
smoking Sweet Capperals, which was probably an old family tradition, handed
down from father to son, world without end, amen. I found an old news vendor,
who knew someone who knew someone, and he got a supply for me.
I thought Shelby would
weep like a baby the night I handed him the carton. Watching him light the
cigarette was an experience in itself. He inhaled a lungful of that smoke and I
thought he was going to come in his handsewn, silk pajamas.
And that thought almost
made me come.
////
The sound of my
thumbnail striking a match brought him to a jolting halt. He glared at me from
over his shoulder. "Mark, get out of here!"
I didn't smile, but the
look on my face arrested him. Mentally, I stripped those tasteful clothes from
his tall, slender body, and he could read every movement in my eyes. I leaned
back in the chair and stroked the front of my trousers.
"Want to take care
of this for me, Shelby?" I asked softly.
The tap on the door became
more imperious. "Shelby, open this door at once!"
With an imprecation that
would have earned him a trip to the woodshed if it didn't have his Daddy
washing his mouth out with soap, Shelby spun around and answered the door.
The woman who stood there
expectantly was in her mid fifties. Her hair was too dark to be natural, and
curled so tight I was willing to bet each strand hurt. Her face was carefully,
expertly made up to conceal the years of hard living.
"Susan!"
"Shelby!
Darling!" She offered him her cheek to kiss.
Shelby was
uncomfortable. After Laura had broken their engagement, he had planned to have
an affair with her aunt, maybe get the very wealthy, older woman to marry him.
But then something unforeseen had come up.
Me.
He darted a glance at
me, extremely uncomfortable, before leaning forward to kiss the air next to her
cheek. "You didn't use your key."
//*She* had a key? Did
the whole fucking city of New York have access to his apartment?//
"Oh." She had
seen me. "I didn't realize you had company, darling." She crossed the
room easily, her hand held out to me. "Detective McPherson, I won't say
it's nice to see you again. Are you still investigating Shelby?"
I rose to my feet. My
mother had beaten manners into me at a very early age. "Mrs. Treadwell.
You're looking very well."
But she was already
dismissing me. "Shelby, darling, I just wanted to let you know that I
shan't be able to see you for a while. That's why I didn't use the key."
She held it out to him.
"Susan, was it
something I said? Something I did?" Dumbly, he accepted the silver key.
"Of course not,
Shelby." She made a great pretense of fiddling with her wrist-length black
gloves. "This whole dismal affair with Waldo! So distressing for my dear
Laura! She's on the point of a breakdown, you know. I'm taking her out of
town."
"I'm so sorry she's
taking this so hard!"
Mrs. Treadwell glanced
at him reproachfully from under her mascara-ed lashes. "Really, Shelby, having
someone killed in your apartment is not something one gets over easily! Not to
mention the fact that it was the wrong someone, that Waldo actually intended to
shoot Laura! I'm surprised at you!" she scolded.
He blushed and ducked
his head. I watched in fascination, determined to wring the details of his
'friendship' with the former Broadway ingenue from him. How was it that she was
able to get under his skin?
And could I learn to do
that as well?
"Well, I just
wanted to let you know why I need the key to my duplex back. I'm sure you
understand, darling. The whole place will be shut up, and I'm sure there will
be no need for you to go there!"
She held her hand out,
calmly waiting for his compliance. Shelby was pale, but he retreated to his
bedroom and returned a moment later with the key. "I'll be here in town if
you or Laura should have need of me," he said formally, but she was
already heading for the door.
'*I* have need of you!'
I wanted to shout at him, but gripped my pipe firmly in my teeth to keep my
mouth shut.
"I sincerely doubt
either of us will have any need for you again Shelby, but do wait if that suits
you."
I started after her.
Shelby caught my arm and dragged me to a halt, and then the door was closed
behind her. I turned my anger on him. "Listen, you cocksucker..."
Before the rest of the
venom that was roiling inside me could spew forth, Shelby grabbed the lapels of
my jacket and pulled me sharply against him. His mouth found mine and his teeth
ground painfully against my lips. The coppery taste of blood flooded my mouth.
"Shut your fucking
mouth, you stupid, miserable...New Yorker!" It was the worst he could
think to call me, and he gave me a shake. "Do you realize what you've
done?"
I stared at him, my
mouth hanging open in disbelief. Shelby Carpenter never swore, and now, twice
in one night vulgarities had passed his cultured Suth'n lips. I was enchanted,
and made the mistake of showing it, letting a smile twist my lips.
I found myself abruptly
hoisted into a fireman's lift, the breath whooshing out of my lungs as my
diaphragm hit his shoulder. He might look like a pansy, but under those
expensive suits he favored, his body was hard and well muscled.
He strode into his
bedroom and tossed me down onto his bed.
"Don't say a word,
McPherson! Not one, fucking word!"
I couldn't have said
anything if my life depended on it. My mouth had gone dry. Shelby stood at the
foot of the bed, glaring at me, while his hands ripped off the smoking jacket,
tossed the Ascot he wore around his neck to the floor and dropped his hands to
the waistband of his lounging pajama slacks.
"Get your pants
off. Don't bother with anything else, you won't have time!"
I fumbled with my belt,
watching him breathlessly as he pulled a tube of lubricant from his nightstand.
In spite of his orders, I was able to slip out of my jacket and throw it. I was
aiming for the chair in the corner, but somehow, this time, I missed.
I didn't really care.
"You want to give
me that, Shelby?" I nodded toward the tube.
"I intend to give
it to you, Mark. Just not the way you think!" His erection was already
beading with precome, and I licked my lips nervously. My cock twitched in
excitement. Was he going to do what I thought he was going to do?
He squeezed a goodly
amount of the lube into the palm of his hand and allowed it to warm before
covering his cock with it.
I just lay there
stupidly, unable to tear my eyes from his lower body.
"I'm not a tramp,
McPherson. I do what Ah have to in order to get by, but Ah was truly fond of
all the women Ah took to my bed." While he was talking, he was preparing
my body. I had never been had by a man before, and I was trembling with nerves.
And with desire. He pushed my legs back and apart and found the puckered opening.
I gasped as he thrust a finger into me.
"So you're telling
me you're fond of me, Carpenter?" I managed to utter while he finger
fucked me. I pulled my legs back to give him better access.
The look on his face was
savage. "No!" he snapped. "Ah am not fond of you, north'n boy!
You think you're tough an' cold an' hard! And Ah got bettuh sense than to fall
in love with someone like that!" His accent was becoming more and more
pronounced and I moaned his name.
He balanced his weight
on my legs and began pushing the broad head of his cock into my ass, stretching
me, filling me.
I had to feel his naked
chest on mine. As if he could read my mind, he tore my shirt open, the buttons
scattering to the corners of the room. The wiry hair at his groin teased my
cock as it was pressed up against him. His hips set up a hard, pounding rhythm
that measured his length in me again and again.
The first time he hit
the spot that had me begging for more, I was lost. The second time, and I was
his.
Long fingers captured my
face and then his mouth was feeding off mine, his tongue licking, thrusting,
fucking my mouth this time.
With a wild cry, I began
coming, covering my chest and his with the hot liquid. And still he fucked me.
His hand took my flaccid cock, pulling and squeezing until, unbelievably, I was
hard again.
And then he was pouring
himself into me, filling me, scalding me with his heat. I whimpered and
shuddered and came once more.
For long minutes we lay
there. Idly he licked a path from my shoulder to my ear and worried the lobe.
Finally, carefully, he eased out of my no longer virgin passage, and in spite
of his care, I winced.
"Did I hurt you
Mark?" Once again, his accent was just a hint of mint juleps and hot
suth'n nights. He rolled to the side of the bed and got up, padding into the
bathroom. I felt like something out of a stag reel. He had never taken off
those fucking black socks! The light went on and water ran.
I turned to my side,
appalled by what I had done. Not the act, I had played with sex too often to be
disturbed by any of its many, varied aspects. I had deliberately fucked with
Waldo Lydecker's head until he had no choice but to reveal his murder weapon.
I knew Shelby Carpenter
was hiding something too, and I fucked with him until he revealed it.
Only it was not what I
had anticipated. "Ah got bettuh sense than to fall in love with someone
like you!" he had said. So now I knew where I stood. I had no one to blame
but myself if I was unhappy with that.
"Mark?" Shelby
sat next to my hip and began cleaning off my chest with a warm washcloth.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked again.
C'mon, McPherson, you're
the tough guy, the Silver Tibia. All you have to do is say no, get dressed, and
get the fuck out of this place. You don't belong uptown, you never did!
"No, Shelby",
I said quietly. "I'm fine. I...want to thank you for showing me what all
the fuss was about."
"Yeah, it was
pretty special, wasn't it, north'n boy? Maybe next time, y'all won't be so
reluctant to let me have you."
I swallowed hard.
"Next time?" I asked cautiously.
"Well, shoot, boy.
My gravy train derailed because of you. Ah need me a new sugar daddy! And Ah
reckon you've been elected! You gonna get me a fox fur, north'n boy?"
I know I was grinning like
an idiot, but I didn't care. The accent was back, flowing like warm honey.
I lay back on the bed
and stacked my arms under my head. "Yeah, doll, I just might do that!
~Fin~