It's a routine questioning. Just an excuse to get out of the sweltering heat of the local PD, the air conditioning having failed three hours ago and the atmosphere within becoming stifling. Even their boss had looked rueful as he sent them on their way, jealous perhaps of the respite they'd been given.
"You take point," Agent Coiro tells his partner as they step out of the baking sun and onto the relative cool of the porch; his friend and colleague nodding as she brushes her knuckles sharply against the door.
Rat tat tat,
and they wait impatiently, both picking up the hum of a cooling unit within the building.
The man who opens the door, Corio notes distantly, is smiling calmly, holding a glass glistening with condensation that makes his mouth water, and is subtly handsome in a way that Coiro privately envies. With his too-long brown hair and his permanently crooked tie, he's sorely aware that he'll never quite capture the man's easy confidence, despite the sharp angles of his narrow face and high cheekbones. He wears the look scruffily, where this man wears it comfortably.
"Hello," the man says, beaming at them. "How can I help? Bloody hot out here today."
"Agent Spencer, FBI," Jen says, returning the smile as she flips her credentials open, long blonde hair lank with the heat and cheeks flushed. They're both tall and thin, Coiro an easy six foot, and despite that lankiness, they're both drooping miserably. Even Jen's eyes are muted, their usual blue dulled by the exhaustion brought by the suffocating weather. "You placed a complaint about a neighbour's dogs? May we ask you some questions about the night of the incident?"
Another beaming smile. "Of course!" the man exclaims. "Jack Langur. I'd be happy to help. Come in, come in, far too hot to do this outside."
Relieved, they step into the blissful cool of the hall, following the man into a cosy living room and taking the armchairs he gestures to, opposite each other. "Water? Soda? Something harder?" he asks, winking at them as he ducks into the next room at Jen's polite, "Water, please."
Corio takes the chance to examine the room, as Jen continues chatting to the man through the open doorway; mundanities about his home and the heat and the books on his shelves. There's a plush rug under their feet, blue against the armchairs' grass-green, and the coffee table between them is scattered with magazines and a strange sculpture of a tree. Made of iron with branches that twist and spiral, tiny crystals dangle from the branches instead of leaves, glinting oddly in the light and twining despite the relatively still air of the room. Curious, Corio studies it intently.
Where the light catches them, they're a multitudinous array of colours. Red that curls into green; blue that flashes and fades to yellow; no matter how long he stares at them, he can't name all of the colours before they shift and change again, fading into the depths, ignoring his attempts to note them. They're beautiful though, despite this mystery, and he almost leans forward in his attempt to fathom them all, almost reaches out to touch, his skin tingling slightly at the idea of those colours brushing his fingers, scattering, welcoming...
"Corio!" Jen's voice is sharp, and he blinks and looks up, startled. There's a cup in front of him. He takes it with a hand that shakes and smiles at Langur, embarrassed by his loss of focus and oddly morose, as though something wonderful had been near and was now out of reach forever. A quick glance back at the tree confirms that the crystals are clear, still and unmoving, and entirely on the far side of gaudy.
"Enough about me, tell me about yourself," Langur is saying, and his voice is distant. Corio shakes his head to clear it, sips the cool water and almost groans, parched beyond belief. He hadn't even known how thirsty he was, but now it's all he can think about. Not wanting to appear greedy, he breathes deeply and paces himself, a mouthful every minute, counting in his head.
"We really are here to talk about the case, Mr. Langur," Jen says with another smile, her eyes scanning Corio. He swallows and tries to find his voice, but it's gone, taken away when the thirst hit, and he shrugs. "At what time did you notice the dogs were loose?"
Langur keeps talking, but Corio's glass is empty. He stares at it woefully, hoping it will refill. It doesn't.
"Another?" Langur asks suddenly, his voice shockingly close, and his fingers brush Corio's hand as he takes the glass. They linger. Corio opens his mouth to thank him and finds himself shivering, looking up to meet the man's gaze, noting how dark and endless his eyes are. Skin flushing hot, feeling tight and itchy and on all wrong, he wants to wriggle to escape that gaze, say something, but it pins him and within those dark eyes, there are colours... "Good lad. Thank you."
Corio smiles at the praise, the uncomfortable itchiness lifting and leaving just a warm pleasure. Langur leaves with another quip to Jen, and she doesn't reply.
"Are you okay?" she asks Corio when Langur is gone, voice low, and her cheeks are red and shiny with sweat. It's warm in here. Corio wriggles again, tugging at the collar of his shirt, looking around for the cooling unit. Hadn't it been working two minutes ago?
"I'm fine," he reassures her, voice squeaking slightly, and the heat is back. Pressing on him. Inspiration hits him. "Hey, Jen, what colour are the crystals on that tree?"
She eyes him oddly, half rolling her eyes at the question, glancing at the tree. "Clear," she says. "Why..." She trails off, blinking. "Oh. Or not."
He watches greedily as her expression smooths out, becomes alive with curiosity, mouth parted slightly. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, watching her lose herself in the tree, but it does, oh it does, and he shifts in his seat again and notes distantly, absently, that it's stupidly hot and he's so fucking thirsty.
Langur is back. He moves in front of Jen to bring the water to Corio, and as much as Corio wants the water, he still makes an odd noise of displeasure at his line of sight being broken, because he wants
this
too. "It's okay," Langur soothes, pressing the glass to Corio's lips, and he gulps it down desperately. "Good boy. Oh, fantastic. Look how well you're doing. Your mind must be something indeed to come to me so quickly... it's always the clever ones who do."
"Jennifer," Corio murmurs, trying to lean around the man, and Langur smiles and perches on the arm of Corio's chair, letting him see her clearly.
"She's fine," Langur says, and she is. Still watching the crystals, still smiling... "While she's busy, how about we talk, AgentCorio? You don't have to stop looking at her. She's beautiful, isn't she?"
"Impossibly so," Corio whispers, flushing at the admission. It leaves his lips like a leaden weight, heavy with the truth.
"Do you think about her?"
Corio frowns. What a question! "Of course, all the time," he answers, glancing up at Langur. "She's my teammate. We're together constantly." The water is gone. When did the water go?
Langur waves one hand lazily, shaking his head. "No, no. Not like that, Agent Corio. Look at her again." Corio does. He wishes Langur would turn the cooling back on. It's hard to breathe in this heat, and Jen is sweating, mouth slack and eyes leaden. "Do you think about taking her to bed? About touching her?"
Corio twitches and almost snarls,
what the hell,
but instead his mouth betrays him. "Yes."
Why are you saying that?
he thinks to himself, but Langur isn't done. "Do you touch yourself while thinking about her?"
Corio shifts in the seat. The heat makes it hard to think, hard to focus on anything but Langur's voice, coiling and looping through him. It pools in his belly and his groin and makes his whole body throb hotly. "I—" he begins, and stops as he shudders and moans with the heat and something else, something darker and hungrier. A cool hand brushes his cheek and he leans into that touch, craving it. "She's married."
Langur laughs. Corio looks up at him. Unlike the two agents, he looks blissfully composed. "Does that matter?" he asks, and Corio nods frantically, guilty and miserable and twisted inside. "I mean, you two travel together. You've never thought to slip into her hotel room when everyone else is asleep—"
Yes.
"—finding her waiting. She's naked, Agent Corio, and ready for you. You've never thought about that?"
Oh god, yes.
"And you fuck her like he never can, make her think of nothing but your name and your pretty mouth on her and your cock inside her—"
Corio whimpers, eyes closing.
Yes yes yes.
It's all he can see. All he can thinks about. She's wet and twisting and he's so good to her, so fucking good to her, better than Will...
