Title: Double Indemnity, 5/?
Author: Scribe
Fandom: Double Indemnity in Three of a Kind by James M. Cain, movie Double
Indemnity, screenplay by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler
Pairing: Walter/Philip
Rating: FRAO
Summary: Some pairings are poisonous, but meant to be.
Archive: Yes
Feedback: poet77665@catlover.com
Status: WIP
Sequel/Series:
Disclaimer: I did not create the characters here, I don't own them. I derive no
profit from this effort. I mean nothing but respect for the creators, owners,
and the actors and actresses who portray them. Genders of some characters have
been reversed.
Websites: http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/scribescribbles and
http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/foxluver
Warnings:
Notes: ~Represents the narrator's (Walter's) voice~, *Represents thoughts*

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Chapter Five

~The beer didn't help much. I didn't feel like dinner, but I wasn't ready to go
home, so I stopped at a recreation center and bowled a few games. I was hoping
that having to concentrate would get my mind off something that looked like it
had the potential to become an obsession. That didn't work, either. I found
myself throwing gutter balls, and I never do that. I'm too careful to just
throw something away, I always score--at least a little.~

~I finally gave up and went back to my apartment. I got back just in time. It
was starting to rain as I pulled into the basement garage. They don't keep many
lights down there, but usually it's pretty well lit from the sunshine or glow
from the streetlamps coming through the entrance. This time the light was dim
and watery. Depressing.~

~When I got to my apartment I didn't even bother to turn on the lights. That
didn't help, but it just wouldn't have felt right. Not that I felt right. No.
Everything was wrong. I was beginning to realize that I still had hold of that
red hot poker. I realized that I hadn't ended anything with Philip Dietrichson.
It was just begginning. So I knew it was coming. When the doorbell rang at
eight o'clock, it seemed like the most natural and predictable thing in the
world, and I knew exactly who was standing out in the hall. And I knew I wasn't
going to send him away.~

Walter had been standing in the dark in front of the window, smoking and
watching the raindrops strike the pane. When the doorbell rang he froze, only
his head moved as he turned it to look at the door. It rang again, and he
moved. He walked to the door with a slow, but steady step. It was the step of
a man approaching his destiny.

It was Philip Dietrichson, of course. He was standing very straight in the
hall, feet together neatly, hands clasped before him. His fair hair was
plastered against his small, well shaped skull. There was a slight smile on his
lips, and his blue eyes were inscrutable, but bright with an unamable emotion.
He said quietly, "You forgot your hat this afternoon." Neff glanced down.
Philip's hands were empty, and he was slowly turning his wedding ring around and
around. "Don't you want me to bring it in?" he breathed.

Walter fought down the need to swallow. Yes, he wanted Philip to bring it in,
bring it all in. "Sure." He stepped aside and gestured in invitation. "Put it
on the chair." He closed the door. "But you ought to take off your coat if
you're going to stay."

He shrugged out of the coat, somehow making the movements seductive, never
losing eye contact with Walter. Then he offered the coat, saying, "I'm afraid
I've dripped all over your floor."

"I'll survive." Walter took the coat and hung it on one of the hooks near the
door. When he turned back Philip had taken a seat, but not in the armchair. He
was on the sofa, and he wasn't bothering with correct posture. He'd canted over
to one side comfortably, half reclining, leaning on his elbow. "Make yourself
comfortable. How did you find me? I didn't leave an address."

"You're in the phone book--it wasn't difficult." He lowered his lashes. "I may
be blond, but I'm not dumb."

Walter went over, standing right in front of him. "No, not you. You're a sharp
cookie. Your wife isn't sitting at home, worrying about you, is she?" It was
more of a statement than a question.

"She's in Long Beach," said Philip carelessly. "They're putting in a new well,
and she couldn't just leave it to the men she pays to do things like that. No,
she had to go supervise..." his lip curled, "PERSONALLY. Anything so that she
doesn't have to stay home with me."

"Poor baby."

Philip reclined a little more. "You haven't said that you're glad to see me."
He paused. "You haven't said that you're surprised, either."

Walter found that he was smiling a little. "I knew you couldn't leave it like
it was this afternoon."

He bit his lip, and his voice was small. "I must have said something that gave
you a horrible impression of me, Walter, but for the life of me I can't think of
what it was. I don't want you to think that of me."

"Okay."

He sat up. "You're just saying that, you don't believe it. I want you to
believe."

Walter's throat was dry. The top of Philip's sleek blond head hovered just even
with his belt buckle. He was so close. "What do you want me to do?"

Philip looked up at him. His voice was low as he said, "I want you to be nice
to me, Walter--like you were that first afternoon."

"It can't be like that anymore. Something has happened."

"I know, Walter," he breathed. He reached out and laid one hand lightly on
Walter's fly, then ran a finger down the length. "It's happened to us. The
only question is--what else is going to happen?"

Walter growled deep in his throat, and what he did next had nothing to do with
manners, social mores, or even civilization. He reached down and gripped Philip
Dietrichson's shoulders roughly, and hauled him to his feet. The smaller man
came up easily, as if he'd been expecting just such a move, and was cooperating
with it. It brought him up flush against Walter's body, and Walter could FEEL
him--feel the solid heat. It wasn't like it was with a woman. They were all
softness. Philip wasn't hard, but he was firm. He didn't feel helpless. It
wasn't like Walter was forcing this embrace on him. It was clear that it was
Philip's choice, and the thought enflamed Walter.

Neff bent, and Philip tilted his head back. There was no avoidance, no coyness.
Philip accepted the kiss, lips parted, and Walter didn't bother with the tender
preliminaries. He thrust his tongue deep into the other man's mouth, exploring
hungrily. He was met with equal fervor, and Philip's hands came up, gripping
his arms. If Walter had been able to think he'd have wondered how such slender
looking hands could feel so strong.

It was a first for Walter. Oh, he'd had sex with other men before, but he'd
never kissed one. Sure, it was a stupid rule. It wasn't as if he believed that
as long as he didn't kiss or say 'I love you' he wasn't really queer. He wasn't
trying to fool himself like that. But like so many people, to Walter kissing
meant 'love'--not lust. He'd never been with anyone, male or female, who made
him want any more of a connecting than a few nights of mutual desire. He hadn't
spent more than an hour all told in Philip Dietrichson's presence, and now what
he thought was a fundamental rule had crumbled like old sandstone under a
sledgehammer.

Philip pulled his head back, and his voice was breathless as he said, "I want
you to trust me, Walter." He pushed, and Walter let himself be separated from
him, but only because he could sense something better coming. He wasn't wrong.
Philip sat back down, dragging his hands down Walter's torso, nails scratching
lightly, to take hold of his belt. He opened the belt with quick, deft
movements--movements that said he had practice opening a belt when HE wasn't the
one wearing it. He drew the zipper down slowly, saying, "I want you to think
well of me."

Walter felt like he should say something--something witty and cynical, but the
words caught at the back of his throat as Philip Dietrichson slipped a hand
inside the gap he'd created and pressed a warm palm against the hard on that had
started growing the moment that Walter had seen him standing in the hall.

~Philip said he'd been a nurse before he married his wife. Yeah, I could see
that. He had good hands--strong, smooth, and agile. I could imagine those
hands doing a lot of comforting things--soothing a fevered brow, giving a
relaxing massage... But if he never did anything with them other than what he
was doing right then they'd have justified their existence.~

Philip's fingers crawled, finding the slit in Walter's boxer shorts and slipping
inside to make contact with heated flesh. "Ah," said Philip. "So you are glad
to see me after all."

"Shut up," Walter whispered.

"If you like." His hand moved slowly and smoothly. He used his other hand to
unfasten the top button and spread the gap wider. He pushed Walter's trousers
low on his hip, giving himself more room, and pulled Neff's stiffened cock out.
The artificial fire in the small fireplace hadn't done much to disperce the
coolness brought on by the rain, and the air felt almost chilly against the heat
of Walter's engorgement. "But I won't shut my mouth." He leaned forward, and
his tongue lashed out, swiping across Walter's cockhead.

~I've always been a silent lover. Making noise--moans, pleas... That was all
right for women, or for the guy on the recieving end of a good fuck, but not me.
When Philip Dietrichson bent down and took my cock in his mouth, sinking down
till I was engulfed in hot wetness, I groaned. When he started sucking,
stroking the underside with his tongue, I whined like a dog that's just smelled
a bitch in heat. He was good. He was so good.~

~He knew what he was doing. He didn't need any directions, but I couldn't stop
myself from taking fistfuls of that silky blond hair and holding him. Then I
started to fuck his mouth. I wasn't brutal, but I wasn't gentle, either. I was
waiting for him to pull away, to choke, to tell me it was too much, and I was
going to have to stop, or at least slow down.~

~It never happened. He shoved his hands into my pants on either side, reaching
around till he could grab my ass. Then he pulled, jerking me harder into my
thrusts. Those strong hands squeezed, spreading my cheeks under the cotton of
my shorts, and I felt a wild desire to feel them slide deeper into the cleft.
This was wrong, it wasn't me. I was always the doer. I'd never let anyone play
with my ass. It might have indicated that I enjoyed it, and you didn't admit
that--not if you ever wanted to be on top again.~

~I'm lying. Maybe it WAS wrong, but it felt right, and it scared me. I
couldn't help thinking what it would feel like if Philip would slide one of
those slender fingers deep into my ass while he sucked my cock. Slide it in and
work it back and forth. I got even harder, thinking about that.~

~If it had gone on any longer I might have wandered into completely alien
territory, and started thinking about what it would be like if I let him replace
that finger with his cock, but it never got that far. He let go of my ass with
one hand and reached down, grabbing my balls firmly. He squeezed and rolled
them, using just the right amount of pressure, firm but not painful, and I came.
It felt like an electric current was passing through my body, exiting my cock.
I could feel the pulse as my come shot out strongly. I'd been on a backstroke
when it hit me. Philip didn't spit me out as I'd have expected.~

~When he felt the hot liquid burst on the roof of his mouth he grabbed me again,
pulling me in close. He buried his face against my groin, taking my throbbing
prick all the way down his throat and holding me there, swallowing. I thought I
was going to go insane. Maybe I did. I had to be a little crazy to be thinking
what I was thinking, even while he pulled off and started cleaning my sticky
cock with little cat licks.~

~I was thinking that anyone who could suck cock like that ought to get EXACTLY
what they wanted, and that maybe I could be the one to give it to him.~