Dark Fandom/OTP Challenge - DalKenzie Edition (edited)

Evil characters!AU (criminal activity)

[[A/N: companion piece to Knifeplay chapter, which was originally saddled with this title but I switched that so as not to mush together so many available prompts when I'm close to the end on this. That and I wanted to play around with gangsta!Dalton some more ;)]]

***

Dalton's attention is 95% focused on his beautiful lover swaying somewhat haphazardly on the dance floor, and the other five percent out the corner of his eye waiting for his contact. There are only two things he lies to MacKenzie about: that he never does any deals when they're on a date, and that the young man is a more than competent dancer. Harmless little white lies. If he can put some extra cash in his pocket to keep up all their expenses and buy his hubby nice things, why waste an opportunity? And as for how Mack can dance, well, the way he moves when he's off his feet more than makes up for it.

The shadow flickers in Dalton's eyesight and his contact perches on the edge of a velvet seat. Of course he'd make sure this club would have the best furnishings, he only owns about half the place.

"You got it?" comes the whisper.

With fluid motions and still keeping an eye on MacKenzie, Dalton sips from his glass of whiskey and reaches into his jacket pocket for the painted tin. It's even been expertly shrink-wrapped to look brand-new, and that no one would suspect it's filled with a livelier pick-me-up than some simple mints.

"Worth 10K easy."

"Better not be no 10K of icing sugar," his contact grumbles but passes the wad of bills over anyway. Quick as a wink and he's gone just like that.

Dalton doesn't know and doesn't care; he doesn't sample anything harder than the pills. Shit like that can put you six feet under if you're not careful, and who'd be there to watch over his babydoll?

Yes, everything he does is for MacKenzie, twisted as that sounds. He'd already been pretty good at dealing when he first plucked the little cutie from his safe and boring suburbs-and-barista life (without having to ask twice- whatever Dalton Louis Rapattoni wants, Dalton Louis Rapattoni gets), but he got more motivation to live the high life he knew he was destined for.

He loves MacKenzie, but money still makes the world go round.

It's not been an easy ride, what with enduring bruises and blood spills and close calls with cops who don't want to look the other way, but Dalton's been grateful his lover has stuck by him. He'd even given the young man the option to run after the first witnessed brawl and Mack was tending to his wounds.

"This is the life I live, babydoll," he'd whispered over a split bottom lip. "I won't blame you if you wanna cut out now, but if you're staying, you're staying. I need somebody to have my back when the rest of the world's tryin' to put a knife in it."

So MacKenzie had stayed. And even though he's learned some things himself about dealing and can put up a fist when he has to, he's much more content with being Dalton's lover- his arm candy, his playmate, his dress-up doll, his sugar baby, his one weakness, his loyal hubby. He couldn't ask for a better sweetheart.

Right now he watches Mack run a hand over his dance-wild hair and strut towards him, his best shoes making soft click noises on the hard dance floor. Dalton sees his skin shine under the lights with the second-best possible sweat he could work up and licks his lips in desire.

MacKenzie openly straddles his hips right there on the seat, and Dalton sees another glint under the light from his favorite ring he's given, a silver band embedded with Mack's birthstone. It's the closest thing he can give to a wedding ring for now. One of these days he figures if he ever finds himself in a tight spot and wants to make sure that Mack will have all the property and money he's entitled to, they can pop into a courthouse somewhere and make it official. But not now. He's on top of the world.

"Having fun, babe?" Dalton empties his glass and cups his lover's hips.

"Uh huh." MacKenzie snuggles closer and kisses the crook of his neck with a murmured, "But I wanna go home and play soon."

Mmm, the first-best possible sweat. Dalton's hands roam and squeeze in gentle possessiveness, not that anybody dares trying to hit on his lover anymore. "Y'gonna show me what a bad boy I am?"

"Best bad boy," he feels Mack's lips smirk against his neck. "Can we have a red?"

One of the few substances Dalton deals that he knows he can safely use as well. MacKenzie only asks for one every few months, and the other man had put two and two together that he asked before certain times they 'played'. A wide smile crosses his face as he knows Mack is going to keep him up all night and leave him shaking and begging for more.

He fills his glass again and sets it in MacKenzie's hands before searching in his jacket for the right bottle. Only a few pills in there, barely the size of red M&Ms, but contain just the right wallop they need. "Open wide," he murmurs and watches Mack sweetly obey as his lips part and oh-so-tempting tongue glides into view.

The ritual is always the same, one pill on MacKenzie's tongue, then his, then sharing long drinks from the glass while watching with each other with soft and ragged breaths as their eyes change, color darkening and pupils shrinking ever so slightly. While he still has adequate function to move due to his quickening heart, Dalton makes sure to stand them up and keep his embrace close so they can shuffle over to the driver and ask to be taken home.

It's time for Mack to show one of the most powerful people around just how good he is off his feet.