The Administration Series (49 page)

"I can't." His head went back, tears wetting his face. "Please . . . stop. Enough."

"
Do
it."

No threat, no compulsion required. The muscles in Warrick's arms tensed, and he nearly screamed, choking the noise back.

God, how tempting to drag him off the chair and fuck him. However, there were limits to how much pain could still be erotic, and they were on the edge of it now.

"Please," Warrick gasped. "Stop. I can't —"

"If you relax, I'll break your other wrist," Toreth breathed.

"No! Please, I — Christ. Ah,
Christ
."

Pain modulating into ecstasy as his shoulders went back and he jerked up out of the chair. Toreth released his hair, steadying him with an arm across his shoulders. Another scream and Warrick came hard, shuddering against him, sobbing for breath.

Toreth sat back on his heels, giving Warrick a few minutes to recover. And it took minutes, shivers running through him occasionally as he leaned sideways against the back of the chair. Still looking good, Toreth thought. Incredibly fucking good, in fact.

Eventually, when he judged there might be a chance of an answer, Toreth asked, "Well?"

"God." Warrick's head hung forward, his breathing heavy. "Oh, God, that hurts. Sometimes . . . that's so wrong. That shouldn't happen. I knew how much it hurt and it still . . . so much. Crossed wiring, somewhere." He breathed out slowly. "You were right. I didn't think I could but . . . God. Crossed wiring."

"Good?"

"Unbelievable." Warrick looked up, lashes still wet with tears. "Amazing."

"Better than the SMS?"

"A great deal."

Toreth laughed. "You have no idea how hard I am. I should make you get down on your knees and suck me."

Warrick shook his head. "Plastic duck." A brief smile flickered, composure returning. "Sorry. Selfish, I know, but this really is spectacularly painful, now I'm in my right mind again. I think a hospital is an excellent idea."

The easy confidence that, previous scene notwithstanding, Toreth would respect the safe word, made him smile. "I can wait. It'll pass the time at the hospital, once they've given you something to take the edge off."

As they walked through the main hospital doors, Warrick said, "Pull my jacket up, would you?"

The best they'd been able to manage for Warrick was dressed from the waist down, and a jacket over his shoulders. At least that hid the cuffs — they'd garnered enough stares on the way through the hotel as it was.

"Want me to sort things out?" Toreth offered.

"It's quite all right. I'll talk to them."

Toreth took a seat in the well-appointed waiting area as Warrick made his way over to the reception desk. It would, on reflection, look better if Warrick did the talking. Now that they were here, the worries he'd had earlier were back. Justice would
love
this. An I&I senior, doing something both technically illegal and pruriently entertaining, and doing it with stolen I&I property. No chance of them letting that one go past.

Fucking Warrick was great fun, but it wasn't worth screwing up his career or worse. Too late now to do anything other than hope Warrick could sweet-talk the staff.

The positive side was that this was a corporate hospital, and they had to be experienced at keeping things quiet for their clients. Warrick wouldn't want this information out and about any more than Toreth did.

"Mr Toth?"

It took him a moment to respond to the name. Then he looked up to find a uniformed young man. "Yeah?"

"This way, please."

They were escorted to a small, private room — no wards or thin curtains here, naturally. The escort settled Warrick onto a chair, while Toreth leaned against the wall and inspected the decor. Considerably better furnished than any hospital he'd ever been treated in.

"What does this place cost a night?" he asked when they were alone again.

Warrick shrugged, then paled. "Mm. No idea. But they recognise the SimTech insurers, so that's good enough for me." He sighed. "This will do my premiums no good at all. Although I don't recall a box to select for dangerous sexual practises, so they can't complain about incomplete disclosure."

Time to mention the potential problems, since there was no reason for Warrick to spontaneously develop a concern for Toreth's promotion prospects. "Warrick, when they ask you about —"

The door opened. One reason Toreth didn't like hospitals was that a couple of years ago he'd begun to notice how young some of the doctors had become. It disconcerted him to be dealt with by someone younger than himself, even though most doctors were little more than skilled technicians following the dictates of the expert systems.

The woman who entered looked to Toreth barely old enough to have completed a school first-aid course. Not a good start. He'd been hoping for someone old and world-weary enough not to want the hassle and form-filling generated by reporting an assault to Justice. Maybe she wouldn't be too keen.

From her frosty expression, he was shit out of luck.

Her first words were, "Excuse us, please."

Toreth considered arguing, but in the end he simply nodded and left the room. The door closed firmly behind him. He lingered outside for a while, listening and not bothering to hide it, but all he could make out was a low murmur of voices. After a few minutes, he heard a yelp of pain.

Well, they'd obviously got past the level one interrogation phase and on to the examination. Whether that was good or not, he couldn't tell.

As a distraction, Toreth went in search of something to drink. The restaurant made him wonder briefly if he'd wandered out of the hospital and into a leisure complex. The food smelled good enough that he was nearly tempted into buying a meal, until he saw the prices. Clearly not subsidised by the per diem charges.

He examined the room. Rich patients and rich visitors, but no staff eating in here — no doubt they had a less salubrious place somewhere else.

A few minute's searching found it. A sign on the door barred entry to non-employees of the hospital, but, of course, with the right attitude of confidence, no one questioned him. He'd planned to have dinner with Warrick after the fuck, and he was ravenous, so he bought a plate of chicken and bacon sandwiches to go with his coffee.

The food in here was a step up from the I&I canteen. As he ate, he wondered how long would it take them to cut through the cuffs, assuming that they couldn't find a way of forcing the lock. Depended on whether they had the appropriate kit to hand. He couldn't imagine that corporate hospitals had to deal with many pairs of jammed long-term restraint cuffs.

The doctor had obviously evicted him so that she could quiz Warrick over exactly how he'd ended up there. Toreth was torn between hoping that Warrick would come up with some convincing lie (although what that might be, he had no idea) and that he'd simply tell the truth and make it sound very consensual. After that, it all depended on her attitude. Nice of Warrick to remember Marcus Toth, but if the woman decided to involve Justice, a false name would provide little protection.

Ah, well . . . if he was about to be arrested, he might as well enjoy himself while he could. There was time for another coffee, anyway.

When he returned to his half-eaten dinner, he found a woman sitting at the table. As he slowed down by the table, she looked at the plate, looked at him, and said, "I'm sorry — I thought whoever was here was finished."

Toreth gave her a basic three-second appraisal. She scored well on the fuckability scale: nice height, nice weight, with short, wavy brunette hair and a relaxed, friendly openness to her voice. Her face was nothing special, but that was more than compensated for by the pleasantly curved body beneath the blue technician's uniform.

He smiled. "Please, don't move." He sat down quickly, not giving her a chance to retreat, although she didn't look like the bolting type. "I'd like the company."

While he poured milk into his coffee, she studied him, not hiding the scrutiny. "I don't recognise you," she said when he looked up.

"It's a big hospital."

"Where do you work?"

He thought about spinning it out, but in the end he couldn't be bothered. "Not here, actually — the Department of Medicine. My name's Marcus Toth."

"Carri Fenwick. Why are you in here, then?"

He lifted his cup. "I couldn't afford a drink in the patients' place."

She paused, smile hovering on her lips, then said, "No, I meant in the hospital."

"I was fucking a guy, and I broke his wrist." Her eyes widened, and he shook his head. "It was an accident. He fell off a chair. Actually, the chair fell over, and he was handcuffed to it. Still an accident, though."

"Oh." Her shoulders relaxed. "How embarrassing!"

He grinned, trying to project honesty and casual friendliness. "Not for me."

"I suppose not. Is he all right? Apart from the wrist?"

"As far as I know, yeah."

A short silence before she said, "You don't seem very upset about it."

He shrugged. "We're not serious — it's just sex. Besides, accidents happen, especially if you like the kind of thing he gets off on."

"So what do you get off on? Breaking wrists?"

He considered his response while he drank some coffee. "Not really. I top for him, and with other people I usually just fuck. Male or female."

She raised an eyebrow. "Flexible."

"Oh, yeah. Very flexible."

"Was he still in the chair when you brought him in?"

"No, luckily. But I bet you've seen a lot more entertaining than that, working here."

She smiled impishly, which improved her face no end. "Oh, you should hear some of the stories."

He took a small bite of the sandwich and leaned his elbows on the table. "Go on."

"I shouldn't really, but . . . okay. Last year we had a couple in. They had some kind of game going — him dressed as some kind of superhero, I forget who — and she was tied to the bed."

Toreth raised his eyebrows, and she grinned again. "I know — you'd think he'd be dressed as a villain, but there you go. Anyway, he'd jumped from the top of the wardrobe onto the bed. He slipped as he jumped, horrible crunching noise when he landed on her — this is what they said — and he cracked a couple of her ribs and did something to his back. He'd had a muscle spasm, but he thought he'd broken it. They couldn't move, so they just lay there until his wife came home."

Toreth laughed. "Really? What did she do?"

"Called the medics. I'd have left 'em there, myself."

"Heartless woman. Go on — tell me another one."

He listened with half an ear, commenting when necessary, making plans for the rest of the evening, assessing as she moved from friendly to interested. He definitely wouldn't mind something to relieve the tension from the interrupted fuck.

Eventually, she finished her last story and sat back.

He took his cue. "Listen, it's been great, but I've got to go. He'll be wondering where the fuck I got to." And I need those bloody cuffs back.

She sipped her tea. "Do you want my number?"

"Sure. Or —" He paused, considering, finally deciding that Warrick wouldn't be in the mood for anything more tonight. "What time do you finish?"

Carri raised her eyebrows, but all she said was, "Nine."

"Know any good bars near here?"

"A few." She was smiling now. "But I'll have to go home and change first. Have a shower."

"Suits me. I'll wait for you in the main entrance, shall I?"

She hesitated a moment, then nodded.

When he reached Warrick's room, the door was still closed, so he took a seat outside. No point barging in and upsetting the medics.

Eventually, a technician carrying a scanner case came out of Warrick's room and walked down the corridor, without giving Toreth a second glance. A few minutes later, the doctor emerged, stopping when she saw him.

"He'd like you to go back in." Her manner, although still cool, seemed slightly friendlier, which Toreth took as a good sign. The continued non-appearance of Justice added to his optimism.

Warrick was sitting up on the bed, arm encased in a protective plastic sheath and held across his chest in a sling. Judging by his colour and the set of his shoulders, pain relief had been administered a while ago.

Toreth looked round the room — shit. No cuffs.

"Looking for these?" Warrick lifted his good hand, revealing the mangled cuffs concealed in a fold in the sheets. "I slipped them under there while everyone was busy. I thought you might like them back, bearing in mind their provenance."

Genius. "Too fucking right." Toreth examined the cuffs — completely ruined, with both bands cut in half. "What did you tell them?"

"The truth, minus the bet." Warrick adjusted the sling slightly. "Awkward in places, but it seemed by far the easiest, and she was sympathetic enough."

"She didn't mention Justice?"

"Once or twice." His mouth twitched. "And an abuse counsellor. And after that, a psychologist."

"Fuck. Listen, if they —"

"Don't worry. Persistent cheerfulness on my part seemed to put her off the idea. Ideas. She did mention that she wouldn't like to see me back in here, and I promised to be more careful in future."

"Thank fuck."

"Easy for you to say. I'm going to have a fascinating entry in my medical file."

Toreth almost said, until you get home and fix it. However, Warrick's overfamiliarity with Administration systems was almost as forbidden a topic as interrogation. He glanced at his watch — five to nine.

"Right, I'll be off," he said. "I've got a date."

Warrick's eyebrows shot up. "A
date
?"

"Yeah. Met her while I was sneaking a coffee in the staff canteen."

"Good God." Warrick's half-smile mask was firmly in place. "Is there anywhere you
can't
find an opportunity for casual sex?"

He didn't sound at all happy. Toreth lingered, knowing that when he walked out Carri would be waiting for him. It was quite irrationally enjoyable."Did you want to carry on tonight, then?"