Sometimes Brian wondered if he'd really made the right choice, particularly when they’re forced to pack up what they can grab and run. Again. He’d gotten good at living out of a backpack. They all had out of necessity. But then Dom would give him that look, the one that warmed a part of him, and all their problems would fall away. For the moment. It was stupid and sentimental, a little bit of lightless in the hard life they now had. It was worth it for Dom.

When Dom would stretch out over him, hold him down, and press Brian’s hands above his head, the world fell away. All that mattered was the slide of sweat slicked skin against skin and quickened breaths as Dom possessed him, took everything Brian was and remade him anew again. When Dom collapsed against him, Brian relished the weight, the connection. The sex was amazing, but it wasn’t just about that. It was about the intimacy, the passion.

Brian hadn’t been a good cop, had been an even worse fed. Go figure that he’d be a great criminal. It wasn’t Dom’s fault. It was Brian’s choice. Brian loved it, loved Dom.

He regretted nothing.