Under the Skin by Nicki Bennett & Ariel Tachna

Grisha’s killer. Not that Alexei would have admitted it had the man been among them. He was treading an even more dangerous line than usual, for the law of the vory was to never cooperate with authorities. But he had suspected Patrick knew he would not get anything substantive—it was an excuse for the two of them to meet, nothing more.
    To Alexei’s surprise, Flaherty actually produced pictures to show him, asking if any of the men looked familiar. Alexei looked at the lines crowding in and out of the station and drew Patrick toward the restrooms. “Too many people,” he muttered, but the flare of awareness in Patrick’s eyes belied that excuse.
    Between the commuters from the trains, the adjacent Greyhound bus station, and the homeless men looking for somewhere to spend a few hours off the streets in the increasingly cold weather, the restroom was far from private, but Alexei was beyond caring. He pulled Patrick into the first open stall—which happened to be a handicapped unit—and backed him against the door, crashing their lips together. Patrick returned the kiss with the same hunger, his hands burrowing beneath Alexei’s coat with insistent familiarity. Alexei allowed the invasion but broke the kiss and pulled back after a heady moment.
    Patrick didn’t care for that turn of events at all, the pictures in his hand fluttering to the floor as he unbuttoned Alexei’s coat and reached for his belt, obviously intending to continue where their previous meetings had left off. “What’s the price this time?” Patrick goaded. “What do you want from me in exchange for the answers to my questions? My hand or my mouth?”
    “You presume I answer your questions,” Alexei retorted, but he remembered Patrick licking the come off his hand after their last meeting, and this time neither hand nor mouth would be enough. Grasping the detective’s shoulder, he spun him around, wedging him against the small sink in the corner of the stall. He leaned into Patrick’s back, his arousal hard against the younger man’s ass, his hands working at the fastening of his belt.
    Patrick struggled against him, not quite fighting, but certainly not bending over passively. “That’s the deal,” he ground out. “You touch me, you tell me what I want to know. Take it or leave it.”
    “Oh, I take it.” Patrick’s belt conquered, Alexei worked a hand inside his jeans, wrapping a fist around the policeman’s shaft. He wasn’t surprised that it was already hard and wet. He dragged his thumb over the swollen crown, smiling at the hiss of pleasure the rough caress wrung from his partner’s throat. With his free hand he thumbed the button from its hole and dragged the jeans down the lean hips. “I take everything you offer.”
    “Use a condom,” Patrick demanded, the order the tacit permission Alexei needed to take what he desired. What they both desired, he told himself as he opened Patrick with his fingers, the rough entry eased by the packet of lube he’d slipped in his pocket. When Patrick was pushing back against him, he rolled the condom on quickly and buried himself with one fierce thrust.
    Patrick choked back his cry, their location hardly giving them the privacy for more uninhibited expressions of their desire, but Alexei heard it. He felt it, too, in the way Patrick bucked against him, the arch of his back proclaiming his need as loudly as if he’d shouted it to the heavens.
    Alexei grasped Patrick’s flank with one hand as his other worked Patrick’s cock, his hips driving them against the stall’s sink hard enough to leave bruises on the policeman’s thighs. Patrick met him thrust for thrust, squeezing so tightly that Alexei had to bite his lip to hold back his climax, his thumb rubbing the slit of Patrick’s cock until it spurted. The contractions of Patrick’s orgasm dragged Alexei with him. “Patya,” he groaned as he shuddered through his release, no longer able to delude himself that this was just about