Mo's assassins for hire

Lance & Lyle

"In my defense, it was supposed to be a small explosion," the infuriatingly adorable twink said, batting eyelashes at Lance.

But he wouldn't have any of it. "You do realize your little stunt just destroyed our only chance of getting back to civilization without having to walk across the entire Gobi desert?" he ground out, tipping his chin to indicate the wreck of the compound.

"Well" –Lyle crossed his arms and rolled his pale-blue eyes – "I only meant to blow up the guard post where the bad guys were, not the whole thing." He wrinkled his nose and pouted. "Definitely not the helicopter and the pad. I miscalculated."

"No. Fucking. Shit," Lance groaned. This mission had been a disaster from the start. From that first day he and cute adorable pyromaniac-psycho Lyle had been teamed up together to take care of Boss's 'little problem' in Mongolia. He leveled a glare but the little shit just smiled at him innocently. His hands came up to his face and he rubbed his eyes, groaning again.

"What?" Lyle demanded, somehow sounding even more exasperated than Lance.

"You're a menace."

"Fuck you, Lance. Mistakes happen."

"Mhm, yes. They do. It's what you said in Brisbane, too when the house we were supposed to break into went up in flames. Juust a mistake." He ran his hand through his hair, feeling dampness, sand and soot. "And in Manila – that security guy whose car tires we were after? Damn thing left a crater in the ground, Lyle! A fucking crater! Oh, and let's not forget Murun while we are at it, shall we?" He picked up his backpack and fished out the sunglasses and wig. "Our faces are all over the news because of your little mistake at the airport."

"Yours is, mine isn't," Lyle had the audacity to correct Lance, which only made Lance growl in frustration. "Look, we took care of Mo's problem in the end despite our... difficulties. All that's left to do now is to get back. Then you don't have to ever see me again."

Lance hefted his bag and grabbed Lyle by the collar of his shirt, practically lifting him off the ground. "Yes, smartass? And how exactly do you think we'll manage that when we are in the middle of the desert with little water left and no vehicle?"

The twink thought for a few moments, his blue eyes roaming Lance's toned arms. Then he shrugged. "You'll figure something out?"

Lance let him go, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself from beating the shit out of the man otherwise. "I thought you were the brains and I was the brawn," he said, defeated, gesturing for Lyle to grab his bag too.

Lyle picked it up and secured the straps over both his shoulders. "You always complain about my ideas, so I decided to let you handle it this time."

With his pale complexion and blue eyes and blond hair, Lyle looked so out of place here in the desert. He had an area reddening along one arm, the skin sunburned because unlike Lance, Lyle couldn't exactly tan. Shifting his weight impatiently, he cocked an eyebrow. "Well, which way?"

Sighing, Lance took off his makeshift cape and draped it over the smaller man's head and shoulders. He could afford to go shirtless, so it didn't bother him and besides, as much as he hated to admit it, there was something sexy about having Lyle don the too-big-for-him shirt. "North. If we don't die of dehydration, we should reach Altai Airport by noon two days from now." He tucked his sunglasses on and squinted at the empty golden landscape ahead. "Let's go."

"Wait, Lance! You can't seriously expect me to walk for two days straight. I'll die," Lyle huffed, his jog to catch up to Lance making the shirt's sleeves flap.

"You'll die if you stay here anyway." Lance stopped abruptly and Lyle crashed into his back face first with his mouth open. He'd been about to bark something in response no doubt, but whatever it was got muffled as his tongue met the area below Lance's left shoulder blade. And damn if Lance didn't feel a shiver run down his spine and right to his cock.