Breakdown

By Thunderhead

Rating/Warning: NC-17, PWP with violent consensual sex and foul language. It's not pretty.

Pairing: Exley/White. They are both men. You know that now at the start. To all those outside the list: If you continue and flame me, I will laugh at you and forward the letter to your court-appointed therapist.

Disclaimer: These characters were first created by James Ellroy, script written by Brian Hegeland, and owned now probably by some huge conglomerate like Sony. I'm just playing with them, warming up my writing. I make absolutely no money off of this, and I have no pretentions at owning them.

Spoilers: Spoilers for the movie, it gives the ending away.

Feedback: This is my first slash story, please be kind.

Note: This takes place several months after the end of the movie. It supposes that people finish their business and seek health, which is the biggest fiction of all.

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"You wanna help me swing it?" -Ed Exley, looking delicious on the floor

Breakdown

By Thunderhead

The Chief of Detectives sat at his desk, reviewing the file of a homicide committed last night. Quickly paging through it, he saw that it was narcotics related, and best left to those officers already working on the case. This was less detecting than it was wrangling detectives, and he was getting tired of sitting at the desk, large and impressive though he thought it was. Dust motes drifted slowly through the sunlight streaming in the dirty windows. Wearily, he picked up the file underneath it and began to read. A trim young man in a dark suit knocked on his glass paned door, opening it immediately afterward.

"Someone here to see you, sir."

"Who is it?" He looked up from his file.

"You won't believe this, sir. It's Bud White." The young man smiled, excited to be seeing someone from the good old days before Capt. Exley cracked down on all the fun in the department.

Holy Christ, thought Exley. He sat up straighter in his chair. What the hell could this mean?

"He looks all healed up and I guess he wants to talk to you." In the background, a phone rang on a desk in the main detective pool. Someone answered it.

"Of course. Well, hurry up and send him in." The man left, leaving the door to the Captain's office hanging open. Exley watched White approach through the desks, some men nodding a hello as he passed. He seemed to shoulder his way through the room, although there was nothing obstructing him. Bud White entered the office, closing the door behind him without looking at it. Bud stood in front of the desk, looking at it with a smile. Ed rose from behind his desk to shake Bud's hand. Their eyes met in friendly greeting.

"How are you doing? How's Lynn?" Exley said. A pause with no answer, so Exley continued with enthusiasm, "Hey, you look great. As good as new." Another silence.

Bud finally spoke, "I'm just back in town for a few days, and I thought we could go out for coffee or a scotch or whatever you like to do now that you're the Captain." He closed the sentence with a smile.

"That would be good. I'd like to catch up with you, see what's going on," he said, already distracted with his preparations to leave the office. He grabbed a set of keys from inside his desk drawer, and told Bud to sit while he made a two sentence phone call. Bud sat and looked out the dirty windows, no longer smiling.

-------

They got into Exley's Plymouth, and drove out into the hazy pink sunlight of the Los Angeles afternoon. Ed could smell the aftershave that Bud was wearing, and tried to remember if he always wore it. He noticed the tight, thin tie wrapped around Bud's neck, the small golden tie tack, and the way he'd let his hair grow out just a half an inch longer. It was almost like he was meeting someone important. With a sharp intake of breath, Exley realized who that was. He turned on the radio, partly to cover the strange silence that had grown between them. The mournful voice of Patsy Cline filled the car. A piano plinked along with her.

"Country?" said White, lifting his eyebrows, amused. Ed shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, why not?

"How does the coffee house on Washington sound?" suggested Ed, turning to look at Bud again.

"Yeah, sure," replied Bud, "coffee."

------

"So he doesn't know how long I've been standing there, but I heard everything. And then when I step out from behind the door- you should have seen the look on his face!" Exley put his coffee cup down to laugh.

"You always were a sneaky bastard, Ed," said Bud, smiling.

Ed took a deep breath. "Come on Bud. Spill. Why did you come to see me? It certainly wasn't for the conversation."

"Maybe it was," he said,"plus I miss the old places I used to go. We worked so well together there at the end. I wanted to see if it was just my imagination." Bud never used to think he had much imagination, but everything had changed since Exley killed Dudley Smith.

"Well, you still haven't told me anything about Lynn," Ed said, his hands twirling a toothpick on the red Formica table of their booth.

"I guess if we're going to talk about her you'd better be prepared for a public scene, Ed." White looked him straight in the eye, half threatening, half friendly. "You didn't forget my temper?"

"Far from it, far from it," Exley said, looking down into his cup. He unconsciously touched his cheek. Bud saw the movement, and a sharp pang of regret at his own stupidity flashed through him. "Hey, let's get out of here," Ed suggested, "Let's go to my house and have a real drink." He had trusted Bud with his life, two against the hostile world, and it seemed that still nothing had changed. They would figure this one out together.

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They pulled up in front of a traditional bungalow on a tree lined street. The house was modest, but had a sweet charm to it, as evidenced by a red rose growing up a trellis attached to the front porch foundation. As the two walked up the concrete front walk, Bud noticed the neighborhood looked nearly deserted.

"Well, how do you like it? I don't do so badly, now that I'm a Captain. I don't have a whole lot of time to take care of it, of course." They had reached the door, and Ed put his key in the lock, saying, "Maybe I should get a wife, huh? Help me take care of things." They walked into the living room, Bud surveying the house quickly.

"Looks pretty good to me, Ed. What I know about wives is, they need just as much care as they give." Bud's eyes flashed a smile. "Now, how about that drink?"

"You got it." Exley took a bottle off the sideboard and poured out two warm measures of his best quality scotch whiskey in heavy crystal tumblers. Exley sat on the couch, motioning Bud to the chair beside it. Exley looked thoughtful. White sat, his legs spread far apart.

"Bud, what is it about Lynn you don't want to tell me?"

White took a big swallow of scotch. "Oh, Jesus, Ed." Bud looked up at the ceiling. "I left her. I'm so sorry. I thought we could really make it, you know?"

Ed wondered quickly why Bud had apologized, if that's what he had just done. He took a sip, then looked up at Bud. "So why did you leave her?" Ed knew why, knew a hundred reasons why, but he wanted to hear Bud's reason, if he would give it.

"If you want the big picture, it's because she wasn't who I thought she was. Or maybe," he said, speaking quietly, "well, maybe, I wasn't who I thought I was, with her." Surprised by Bud's insight, but not out of his depth, Ed got up and paced around the room, swirling his glass. He took a moment to wash away the sugar coating Bud was indulging in. Finally he spoke, shaking his head sharply.

"When the words run out on you, which is nearly immediately, what do you do? You like to hit, maybe not as much as you used to, but it's a habit now." White clunked his glass down on the table, disgusted.

"Ed, listen to me. If I thought you wanted her, things would have been different. But she did choose me. She did want me. Over you. I never, never wanted to hurt her. You've gotta believe me. So no hard feelings now, okay?"

"You thought you could save her, but you were the one that needed saving. You couldn't save her even from yourself." Growing angry, feeling strangely betrayed, he moved towards Bud, to be standing right over him, "Especially from yourself. Not after what she had seen in you. Not after you hit her." Exley spoke so harshly it was as if he was slapping Bud with each clipped sentence.

Bud got to his feet, swiftly, ready to fight. Exley looked amused, and smiled in his off-center way, "Oh no, you're not going to hit me again. You big idiot. It's never enough, is it? Either with me or with her." He continued speaking, looking straight into Bud's eyes which were barely bridled with hatred. "You wanna try me out? You wanna see how much I can take?" Bud moved his shoulders forward menacingly and Exley stood right up to him, toe to toe. In a tone that was both sweet and threatening, Ed answered his own question. "Don't you already know? I'm not a woman," he said, stepping back a pace and moving his hands out in an open gesture, "I can take it all. I don't need you to protect me. I don't want you to protect me. Maybe it's you that needs protecting, Bud, you ever think of that?"

Suddenly, Bud moved forward and grabbed Ed's shoulders. Bud felt Ed's leather holster through the cloth of his jacket as he bent Ed towards him, closing the space. Their faces barely a hands' breadth apart, Bud kissed him full on the lips with a downward pull at the end that spoke of supplication. Exley's eyes were huge with surprise, both for the kiss and for the tenderness underneath. Suddenly, it seemed to Exley that the entire house caught on fire, and that the rest of the world before and beyond this moment had disappearred like the illusions they were. He was given this one chance. Like all the chances he had been given, and there were many, he was about to make the most of it. He kissed Bud back. His mouth opened with soft gentleness to Bud's rough sweet hunger. Bud was right there with him, willing to run as far as two men could go together. Their chests pressed firmly together, eyes closed, Exley's glasses slowly creeping off his face with the deepening kiss. Parting quickly, Exley removed his glasses and led Bud to his bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

------

Bud could feel the edge of his skin against the cooler air in the shady bedroom. The dresser, nightstand and bed were neat and tidy like the rest of the house, everything in order, centered and square. He watched Exley pull down the shades, and felt the floor change from wood to carpet under his shoes. Exley turned and looked at him in the halflight, taking off his jacket and slowly removing his heavy shoulder holster to hang it on a nearby wooden chair. Bud looked frightened, and he should, thought Ed, if there was anything to be frightened of in this world, this was it.

Bud spoke first, clearing his throat, "Seems strange to be doing this in the day."

"So it's the daylight that bothers you?" asked Exley, smiling, then, "Take off your clothes."

Bud shifted gears and began to undress, first the tie, then the jacket. Exley walked over to face him and began to unbutton his shirt quickly and efficiently. Bud stepped out of his shoes.

"What's this? Cufflinks?" said Ed, trying to pull Bud's shirt off him. Exley looked at White out of the corner of his eye. He then made a show of sniffing the cologne around Bud's neck, "Well, if I didn't know better, I mean if I didn't know Bud White was a red blooded American male and not a cocksucker, I would swear I was being seduced. Don't tell me this was all for me?"

"Jesus, Ed, did you have to say that?"

"What, 'cocksucker'?" Exley smiled at Bud, starting to unfasten Bud's belt and slide it out of his pants. He wrapped the belt around Bud's neck, sliding it loosely through the buckle and gave it a sharp, short, tug. "Well, isn't that what you are? Aren't you just about to suck my cock? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I thought you were about to get on your knees." Releasing the belt, Ed knocked Bud's knees out from under him, which shook him down for just a second. Although visibly surprised, Bud quickly recovered to a standing position, then seemed to think twice and slowly knelt on the floor of his own volition, eyes cast down. Ed ran his fingers through Bud's short hair with one hand as he unfastened his own belt and pants with the other. Bud looked up into Ed's eyes, a new softness underneath the desire. "I know you need this," said Exley, "but the question I want you to answer is: Do you want this?" A frozen moment passed between them. Bud thought he could hear the blood moving in his body. He could feel the vein in his neck pounding.

"We're not going to continue until you tell me you want it. All of it. In your mouth." Exley's face, in this stern and imposing state, looked surprisingly impressive. Bud felt the tension around his neck holding him in place, smelt the faint whiff of warm leather, and the impossibly familiar smell of Ed's bedroom. Oh, God, how he wanted him. How to say it? How to get it out?

"Please let me suck your cock, sir," Bud said, looking off to the side, "I want it."

"Then do it. Do it now," Exley hissed. Bud pulled down Ed's pants, and taking the firm shaft slowly in his mouth, began to move his head back and forth. Ed staggered slightly, closing his eyes and leaning in to Bud's solid shoulders for support. Bud squared himself against the pressure, and breathing deeply through his nose, began to move faster. The room seemed to spin slowly on a center axis. Ed looked down. There was Bud, doing his best to please, his eyebrows crushed together in concentration and strain. Bud sensed Ed's gaze and looked back up at Ed. In response, he moved his fingers through Bud's cropped hair and tugged with one hand at the slack belt end. Their eyes met and the truth passed between them. Ed began to thrust into Bud's mouth, at which Bud began to back off and accept Ed slowly and thoroughly fucking his mouth. The hot slick wetness was all too much, and Ed cried out as he climaxed into Bud's mouth. Bud made a noise of heavy breathing through his nose, then swallowed all Ed had to give. When he was finished, Ed staggered sideways, collapsing on the bed. Bud shifted off his knees, still sitting on the floor, looking dazed and bewildered.

"Oh my God," said Bud, slowly realizing what he had done. He put his hand up to his throat, removing the belt, and coughed. "Jesus Christ, what did you make me do?"

Exley laughed tiredly. "What did I make you do? Oh please, Bud, what did you just say? I didn't think you had any shame at all." Exley shook his head slowly, and looked up at the ceiling. A soft breeze outside could be heard to ruffle through the trees. Exley's eyelashes fluttered, as the breeze seemed to blow through him. Bud slid up next to Ed on the bed, as much to rest his legs as seeking comfort. Welcoming him, Ed put his arm around Bud and nestled his head against his chest. Bud closed his eyes and seemed to concentrate on the man in his embrace.

Exley used this moment to recover and think. He knew the beast was just underneath, the beast asking to be tamed and resolved. Bud was looking for someone whom he could not hurt, not really. Bud was looking for someone to free him of his own burden. Ed knew he was that man. But it was going to take some time.

Exley raised his head up to look into Bud's opening eyes. He saw the hunger there, wrapped with the almost childlike need for love underneath the tough, hard exterior. Bud wanted forgiveness for what he had just done, some kind of absolution. Ed wasn't about to let him get away easy. Bud was ready to break wide open, and Ed had the hammer and chisel.

Ed moved his hands beneath Bud's undershirt, gently touching with spread fingertips.

Bud ducked his head to slide out from under the shirt as Ed lifted it off of him. He moved in closer to pet Bud's back in long slow strokes. Bud exhaled deeply, burying his face in Ed's neck and shoulder. Ed gave him a tight hug, then released him to finish removing his own clothes. Bud saw what he was doing, and followed suit. They got back on the bed together, side by side, both totally naked, facing each other. Bud wished he had more scotch, to wash down the taste of Exley and the sharp metallic taste of fear that was taking its place. Ed's brown eyes were searching his. Bud was beginning to get lost in them, and then he began to notice the peculiar warmth radiating from them. I think that always used to be there, he thought, but is it only for me? Had he done this with any other man? He was sure White had. What did that make him? Either of them?

"You know, if we don't start doing something..."

"We're going to get cold," finished Bud. "I'm cold already."

Ed decided to start hammering. He spoke with no emotion but a light searching tone, "Now you're complaining of the chill. What next, Bud, you're gonna ask me to fuck you? You're getting to be like a woman." Ed noticed at the mention of the forbidden word "fuck" a muscular wave of desire passed through Bud, sending off a current of heat. That was more than enough of a tell for Ed. What happened next was also not unexpected.

Angry at being called a woman, Bud's thick hands gripped Ed's forearms in a violent motion that sought control but was strangely pleading as well. Ed moved his arms outward as much as he could, and backward, to diffuse the forward force brought upon them by Bud, which swiftly brought Bud, still pushing forward, right up against Ed's chest. Ed felt Bud's hot breath on his neck and felt his soft chest hair against his own as he completed the movement, his hands down without resistance.

They were pressed right up against each other, and it was only a small kick of Ed's foot between Bud's legs to get him to spread them. Ed rolled on top of Bud, nestled between Bud's legs. At the feel of Ed's heat between his legs, pressed against his own, Bud was certain that he was going insane. Absolutely certain. He felt like he was shrinking and expanding all at the same time.

"Open your eyes, Bud." Bud opened them, looking all around the room quickly like a frightened and trapped animal. He was trying not to look at Ed, for all their intimacy, trying not to show him who he was or what he really needed. "Look at me."

Bud looked into Ed's eyes, and at that same time a sound of intense desire and need came out of his mouth, a sound that nearly forced Ed to fuck him immediately. Ed gritted his teeth and held Bud there, eyes locked together. Not too fast. Don't want to burn the poor boy up. "Sweetheart," said Ed, "do you want me inside you?"

Bud nodded. He couldn't believe Ed had called him sweetheart. He liked it.

Ed spoke through his teeth, breathing shallowly, "No, honey, don't nod. You have to tell me. I need to hear your voice." Looking at the white painted wall of the bedroom, Ed saw little red stars swimming in his vision. He hooked his arms underneath Bud's willing, arching back.

"Yes," came the hoarse reply. "Yes."

"Don't forget you said that." Ed worked himself free and found some Vaseline in the drawer next to the bed. He tried to warm it up in his hands first, but there was no more time. It was cold only a moment. Bud sucked his breath in sharply, then the little boy look in his eyes was lost as he became again the man who handled pain easily and stoically. Now Bud nodded briskly in preparation of the unknown.

Bud brought his knees up nearly to his chest, and Ed took each leg over his shoulders, spreading them wider to take the pressure off Bud's chest. Bud, careening on the edge of excitement and fear, found some of that anger strength and put it into his body.

Suddenly, he almost dared Ed to fuck him. Somehow he felt more powerful that way. Ed was slowly in him and it was painful. It didn't feel right. Maybe it was supposed to hurt, thought Bud.

"Relax, Bud. You're hurting me."

"We're hurting each other, then."

"I should have forced more whiskey down your throat," said Ed, shaking his head and biting his lip.

"I think there's been enough forcing down throats around here," came the tight reply. At that they both laughed a little. Now everything would be easy.

"Oh God yes, you want this, right?" said Ed, beginning to move slowly.

"Fuck me!!" Bud's eyes blazed the demand as he yelled at full cop strength. Ed would worry about the neighbors later. He grabbed the back of Bud's neck for leverage and forced himself deep inside him. They both cried out a wide, throaty yell. Ed wanted to plow this man right into the ground, to annihilate him with a bone shattering fuck. He no longer cared if he was going too quickly, he knew he was going to do whatever it took to break this boy down. He was in for the long haul.

Bud began to make whimpering noises of pleasure as Ed struck at a certain angle. Ed looked down momentarily in surprise, and repeated his motion faster. "Who would have thought Bud White would be such a good fuck?" he said out loud. Bud looked into his eyes for just a second, showing his need.

A jagged breath escaped Bud's gritted teeth. He felt goosebumps all over, and realized he was sweating. He felt Ed's clipped nails dig into his neck in a grasp of dominance and control. The rest of him, as much as he was aware of, which wasn't much, was burning with friction. The sensation was too much. Bud began a high-pitched keen, a sound he didn't know he had in him. Ed had to concentrate on the stitching in the bedspread to keep from going out of his mind with desire and ending it all right there.

"Breathe deeply," said Ed, feeling Bud tighten, "Breathe. You are fine. I can't hurt you now unless you want me to." Bud looked confused a moment, then took a deep breath. The sounds stopped. Something low and raging began to build in Bud's chest, the counterpart to the earlier sound. He let it all out. Ed was there to catch him.

"You want to hit me now, Bud? You want to kill me? I'm fucking you, you know. I'm taking you." Bud couldn't reply, lost in sensation. He knew it was true. Some part of him hated Ed for fucking him, making him submit to this. He shouldn't want this, and it shouldn't feel so good. It must be Ed's fault, he thought, his eyes flashing.

"Yeah, now we're getting somewhere," said Ed, as always, breathing heavily, working hard, his face flushed, "You can't stand it that you're my bitch." No meaning in his words but passion, he continued, "I bet you'd be anybody's bitch, Bud. I bet, deep inside, you're afraid right now because you know you're such a whore." At that, Ed felt himself come inside Bud, shooting himself into him. He strangled his cry in his throat, then let the sound of release come out slow and easy.

Something thumped inside Bud's heart and he knew he'd never be the same. His entire body felt different, penetrated and open, and there was a fluttering feeling in his chest. Everything Ed said was true, it was all true. Ed broke away from fucking Bud, finished with him for now. Bud slowly bent his knees back down and turned onto his side to relieve the pressure. Bud had a raging hard on he didn't know what to do about. He began to touch himself, sure to bring himself off in two quick strokes. Recovering quickly, but still breathing hard, Ed was on him in an instant, stopping his hand.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Jesus, Ed, you're not going to leave me like this."

"Who said I was leaving?"

"You're driving me crazy. Let me go."

"No." Ed had a playful look in his eye.

"I swear Ed, if you don't let me jack off right now, I'll deck you senseless."

"Oh, I wish you'd try." Ed leaned back from Bud and smiled lop-sidedly. "I wonder what you'd do to me then?" Ed's smile disappeared in an instant. "I love you Bud, but you're a little lacking in the brains department," he said, "here now, you're trying to hurt a man who has just given you exactly what you needed and this is how it ends? I don't know if it's smarts or just plain cussedness." With that, he suddenly let go of Bud's hand to backhand him hard across the face. "You remember that, the next time you want to go pinning your shame on me." Bud was stunned into silence. He heard the clock in the kitchen ticking. Blood rushed to his face, tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn't help it. His desire was gone now, replaced by something far more dangerous. Ed was watching him like a hawk and he couldn't take it anymore. What was this man doing to him? Why was he always watching and waiting for him?

"I'm not done with you yet," said Ed.

Bud made a fist and expertly pivoted it at Ed. Ed saw the punch broadcasted over Bud's face first, and reacted a half a second faster, deftly moving out of the way just in time.

"You want to fuck me now, Bud? Or do you wanna hit me again? 'Cause let me tell ya, you aren't going to do either. You want to show me you're all man." Ed moved in on Bud, approaching with his head down to close in like a bull, "Well, listen to this: I know you're all man," then whispering, "I know you're all man. Only I do. Now." Bud's shoulders dropped down from fight position. Moving his head up, Ed looked into Bud's eyes with the kind of firm, sure knowledge usually known only to schoolteachers. Bud, no longer wanting to strike back, kissed him hard and desperately, as if to say, "never forget." They embraced tightly. Bud began to move back and forth against Ed, his desire unsated and returning quickly. Ed was sure he was on fire. Something was on fire, maybe the house, maybe the world. He didn't care. He had to have Bud inside him, but that was for another day. Fucking Bud was like being on a thrill ride. Seeing that exposed, broken open look in Bud's eyes, Ed knew he was going to do Bud again, to make sure he didn't forget his lesson. He would finish Bud off himself, and make him come back for more like a wino to the saloon.

"Get on your hands and knees," commanded Ed.

Bud's cock leaped up at the words, and he obeyed, more sure there was nothing to lose and possibly something to gain. He didn't know if he could take it, but he would try. He looked at the headboard, lost to conflicting emotions yet again.

The End

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