saga/title/fandom: Adagio chapter 21 (A Man Apart)

author: Rae/Celtia/Celtiareborn

rating/genre: (NC-17) - Romance/Crime Drama

warnings: het, language, violence, and graphic sexual content

summary: Officer Sean Vetter, formerly of the DEA, tries to rebuild his life in Chicago after losing his wife in a botched assassination attempt on his own life. Joining the Chicago Special Tactics Unit, Vetter’s bitterness toward life and sullen determination not to care for anyone makes him a nightmare of potential partners, until a stubborn Irish woman named Kate Shea decides she isn’t going to let Vetter chase her away – from his career or his life. (Sean/OFC)

comments/disclaimers: My summary and first chapter pretty well give away the plot of the movie, so if you haven't seen it yet you might want to wait to read this until you have. FEEDBACK: Two conditions: Please talk to me, not at me; Please do not rewrite my stuff and send it to me the way you would do it. Otherwise have at it. Thanks. ARCHIVE: A qualified yes – I would not like the story to appear anywhere else without the person discussing it with me first. NOTES: The story does involve a stalker. Also, there is some violence stemming from Vetter and Kate’s jobs as undercover officers. NOTE II: There is some Russian used in the story but I try to explain it unless it explains itself.


In the overall scheme of her life Kate knew that spending one night sleeping next to Vetter’s naked body was a relatively small event. It did not rate up there with marriage or getting her detective’s shield or being accepted into the CSTU, and it certainly could not outclass the experience of having Katie. But in its own way it was as spectacular as a fireworks show over Navy Pier, with as much excitement and unpredictability.

He spent a great deal of time holding her against him, as if trying to absorb the feel of her body through his skin. She handled her arousal better than she expected, though when he finally drifted off to sleep she had to masturbate quietly in order to release the sexual frustration she felt. She thought of him while she did, about him lying next to her in the dark as he was, and when she came she had to bite her lip to keep from waking him with the noise that tried to escape from her mouth. After that she settled into his embrace and managed to fall asleep.

In the morning he woke her. He kissed her softly, sweetly, then gazed steadily at her before bringing his hand to her face. He brushed her hair back so he could study her eyes. Then he began to make love to her, and this time he did not stop.

The fire that consumed them licked at their bodies with its fierce tongue, possessing them as if they had never before touched another living being. At the new touch of his naked body against hers she gasped. He pulled back the sheet to take in her body. It was just as he imagined it would be: her large round breasts, the nipples hard as glass, seeming to leap toward him, hungry for his kiss, and the smooth white chocolate plain of her stomach. He ran his tongue down her hip and smiled when she cried out.

He gazed hungrily at her, drinking in every smooth surface of her skin with the greed of a drunkard. She lay staring up at him with a look made of apprehension and desire. Her eyes told him he could do what he wished with her.

He lowered his mouth to her breast. He sucked eagerly at it, the nipple swelling inside his mouth, enjoying the sweet taste of her flesh. Kate arched her back to meet his tongue. He traced a path of hungry kisses down to her navel. He could smell her sex now and it incited a type of passion in him he had never felt until this moment.

"Let me touch you," she suddenly said.

He nodded. She reached down toward his erection, now a thick iron bar against her thigh. At the feel of it she bent her head and worked her body so that she could take it in her mouth. It filled her completely but she took it, wanting to taste him as much as he wanted to taste her, working her mouth over the smooth hard shaft as it were keeping her alive. He lay back on the mattress, his hands finding their way to her hair so he could caress her.

Kate raised her head. She studied the crevice between his right hip and the joint that connected his thigh to the top of his crotch. She touched it with fingers that shook like an aspen. She ran her tongue along it, savoring the intense, salty flavor as his cock swelled even further beneath her breasts. When she had licked the other crevice on his left hip she once more lowered her mouth to his cock.

He let her work him as long as he could stand it, then pulled her away and rolled atop her. He framed her face with his massive hands. He kissed her passionately, tasting himself inside her, then whispered for her to open her legs. She obeyed, and he pushed himself into her, working her open with a careful but ardent motion.

Kate felt every fiber of her body respond to the presence of his cock inside her. She arched her back again. Her nails dug into the muscles of his shoulders, drawing small lines of sweet red blood. He began to fuck her in a hard, steady rhythm, whispering to her, begging her to let him make her come. She wrapped her legs around his torso and pushed herself up to meet his thrusts. When they came they could only lay entwined on the mattress, breathing deeply.

She found herself afraid to look at him when she finally managed to recover her composure. She thought he would descend into guilt and shame again, the sense of having betrayed Stacey by making love to another woman. When he brought her face toward him what she saw in his eyes astounded her.

"I looked toward the beach," he said.

As Kate prepared for Kafelnikov’s arrival she thought of the meaning of Vetter’s dream as he explained it to her that morning. He had the same dream as so many times before: Stacey in their shattered house in the jersey he loved, her gesture for him to look out toward the beach when he started toward her. This time, he said, he forced himself to do as she wanted. And there she was, Kate, in a soft blue dress, barefoot on the sand, smiling at him just as Stacey used to do. He turned back toward Stacey to make sure he understood what she was telling him but she had vanished, and their house was pristine, as if no bullet ever violated its sanctity.

Kafelnikov took her to dinner, then spent the rest of the evening browsing through dresses with her at a high-priced boutique on North Michigan Avenue. She felt as if he commandeered every green dress in the universe and made her look at each one as if examining some fabled work of art. Not that he had any intention of letting her choose the one she wanted. She was there merely to sanction his choice as the ultimate gift. She knew her role and played it to perfection.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked as they left the shop. The large white box under his arm gleamed in the streetlights.

"Ice cream," she answered.

"Such a simple pleasure. Can’t you think of anything more expensive to do?"

"I told you I’m not good at being rich."

"Very well then, darling Katya. Tell me where you want to go."

Her favorite ice cream shop sat a mere three blocks from her house. She saw the surveillance van parked halfway up the block when they arrived. At least she could be sure her wire still worked.

He bought her a huge dish of Rocky Road and they sat sharing it in a booth, laughing as she tried to feed him with her eyes closed. She wiped the chocolate away from his nose. He took the spoon and placed a tiny dab of ice cream on her mouth, then licked it away with such erotic pleasure that other people in the shop stared at them.

"You’re embarrassing me," she whispered.

"They only stare because they’re jealous of me," he replied.

The bell over the door jangled. A distinguished looking gentleman with white hair led a group of laughing children inside the store. Kate happened to be looking at him when he noticed her and Kafelnikov. The man blanched and she thought he might hurry his brood out the door, but the children were already clamoring at the ice cream case as they excitedly talked about which flavors to get.

"Gaspadin Ovsyannikov!" Kafelnikov suddenly cried, breaking into a huge smile. "Come and meet my good friend Katya."

The older man hesitated, then cautioned the children to be polite when they ordered and walked over to the booth at which Kate and Kafelnikov sat. Kate noted the barely concealed rage in his eyes but pretended she saw nothing more than a new acquaintance.

"Katya Shea, I would like you to meet Gaspadin Vadim Ovsyannikov," Kafelnikov said. "He is a most respected member of our community."

Kate extended her hand to the gentleman, who accepted the gesture in clear surprise.

"Are those your grandchildren?" she asked.


"They’re wonderful. I always wanted children."

She saw a small smile curl the corners of Kafelnikov’s mouth that puzzled her.

"May I speak with you a moment?" Ovsyannikov asked Kafelnikov.

"Of course."

"I meant alone. Not to be rude to Miss Shea, but I think we need to discuss a private matter while we have a moment," Ovsyannikov said.

"I’ll go get some air," Kate volunteered.

Before she could get up Kafelnikov said, "No need. If you won’t think us rude, we’ll speak in Russian with each other."

"Sure. I’ll just pretend it’s Irish and that I know what you’re saying," she commented.

Kafelnikov laughed at the statement; Ovsyannikov remained stone-faced. As the two man began to converse in Russian Kate focused her attention on the mass of animated children besieging the store clerks.

"What do you think of my fiance’?" Kafelnikov asked.

"That she’s too decent for you," Ovsyannikov answered.

"Poor Ovsyannikov, still angry about this yacht nonsense. Why are you so upset with me, my friend? Have I not promised to take care of you in this matter?"

"I want your word that after Friday night we are finished with each other. Swear it to me on the memory of your father," Ovsyannikov said.

"If you like. Yes: after our business is completed on Friday evening you shall never hear from me again. I hope that satisfies you, Gaspadin Ovsyannikov."

Ovsyannikov did not attempt to conceal his relief. He started to rise but Kafelnikov stopped him by saying, "I find it interesting that you would invoke my father’s memory over a matter such as this. I wonder what he would have thought about it."

"And I wonder what he would think of his son becoming a criminal," Ovsyannikov shot back.

"Don’t throw stones there, my friend. You’re liable to hit yourself."

"What I did so long ago is nothing compared to your sins."

"You sound so cold about my father. That surprises me."

"I will always be grateful to Yuri Andreyevich for his friendship to me, Grigori Yureyevich, but that does not excuse the fact that you have blackened your father’s sacred memory by becoming nothing more than a hoodlum. He must be turning in his grave knowing that you get your way by threatening his old friends," Ovsyannikov said.

Kafelnikov laughed so loud that Kate jumped.

"Well, we’re all entitled to our opinions," he said. "Come to my house at 6:00 on Friday. That will give us sufficient time to solidify our arrangement. And dress well, Gaspadin Ovsyannikov. You are coming to my engagement party."

Ovsyannikov arose and bowed to Kate, bearing an expression she could only describe as one of complete pity for her. She watched him walk back to the counter. He hurriedly paid for the ice cream and led the children out of the store.

"Did you get your problem worked out?" Kate asked. The words "coming to my engagement party" rang in her head until she forced them out.

"How did you know we’re having a problem?" Kafelnikov returned, studying her intently.

"I’m a detective, Grigori. Interpreting body language is a tool of the trade."

"Ovsyannikov is an old friend of my father. We’re trying to close a business deal, and because of his relationship to my family I think he should take the terms I’ve offered him and he thinks he should be able to dictate the terms to me. We’ll settle everything. He’s coming to the party Friday. I have a feeling that by the end of the night we’ll be quite pleased at how our partnership evolves," Kafelnikov predicted. He fed her a spoonful of ice cream. "I’m lucky that you don’t understand Russian. You’d have been bored to death by our conversation."

"I’m sure that even if I did speak Russian I wouldn’t understand a single word of business talk. That sort of thing just goes right over my head."

"No matter. Such things needn’t concern you. I’ll take care of you."

Kate felt the same tension creeping through her as when he first mentioned the party the night before. She dished some ice cream onto the spoon and held it up to his mouth.

"Your turn," she said, remembering to smile.

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