Disclaimer: The characters and universe of Space: Above and
Beyond are legal property of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Hard
Eight Production and 20th Century Fox Television and have been
used without permission. No copyright infringement intended.
Thanks: Thanks: Lots and lots of thanks to Una for her invaluable help, kind support and very stimulating conversations! She made this story look so much better. Summary: If McQueen fell in love... and if this feeling was mutual... would there be no more problems? Feedback: juxiantang@hotmail.com and Juxian's stories Rating: NC-17 for slash m/m.
JUST THEREbyJuxian Tang
"It is 14:00 GMT," he walked past the squadron, meeting their
attentive, steady gazes. He found the way they listened to him
inspiring or exasperating, depending on his mood. He also knew
they needed this rapt attitude, that at the necessary moment it
would get them together in no time at all - so, he was lucky he
didn't need to call for their consciousness. They would do their
best with the task, whatever it had to be. "We check it - and if
everything is all right, at 16:00 the delegation arrives and we
transport them to the Saratoga. Then we call it quit."
"Welcome escort," Wang muttered.
The inspection was going from ship to ship - the better part of
high command that usually stayed safely at home. A perfect
target. They created these platforms for changing carriers - and so
far everything went smoothly. Even too smoothly. Now they were
going to visit the Saratoga - and Ross told him to take his people
and arrange the meeting.
"Will the arrival be delayed if we find something, sir?" Phousse
asked and he didn't say that somehow he felt it would a miracle if
they didn't. He knew this feeling - when the burnt skin on his
body, grazed almost to the unnoticeable, started itching again.
"No. So, we'd better find it and get rid of it within two hours.
Sorry, one hour and fifty-seven minutes."
He turned away - and caught a look Nathan cast at him - and felt
both unreasonable anger and strange anxiety that made his hair
stand up on his nape.
Don't look at me like this, kid, don't make yourself vulnerable.
It was absurd - there was nothing in this look, no difference from
how other Wild Cards looked at him from time to time - urgent
and questioning. It was his own unquiet conscience - his guilt -
that made him see what was not there, interpret things this way.
Or was there no guilt? Because there was nothing to feel it for.
Nothing happened yet. Nothing but these looks - and this weird
feeling of warmth that was so much like madness spreading
through him every time after their eyes met. It could be worse. It
would be worse, maybe, he knew it - and quite soon. He didn't
want it to. He'd forbidden himself to think about it - as if not
thinking could make it go away.
Could make him not to feel as if Nathan's eyes melted something
in him irrevocably.
Don't make me vulnerable.
Not now, okay? There were other things to do now.
Looking at the screen of his scanner, he walked through the
sectors, avoiding the platform staff. The personnel barely reacted
to the arrival of the transport - and now they continued to do their
chores, not even looking at him. Like another kind of human
being, he thought grimly. Was he always like this? He didn't like to
remember. He wanted to leave it all behind a long time ago.
Despite his premonitions he had met nothing suspicious so far.
He almost hoped that it would be this way till the end - he
wouldn't really resent his intuition if it went wrong on him this
time. No luck. His wrist intercom beeped and he knew what it
was even before he heard the hushed voice of Cooper:
"I found something there. Sector 32. Looks like a delayed
explosive."
The sector was next to the reactor room. If the explosive went off,
it would take just seconds for everything to go to hell. They
would barely realize what happened.
"Well done, Cooper," he whispered back and connected to Wang
to send for help with taking it off.
Too bad. If there was one explosive, there could be more. And
there was no sense in asking the staff how it could happen. Poor
tanks - as if they didn't understand they would be the first to be
sacrificed if anything went wrong.
He shook off this thought angrily, calling:
"West, Vansen, explosive in Sector 32. Be careful."
"Yes, sir."
If it was so easy. He felt like trying to make a transmission and
cancel the arrival - but he knew what Ross would answer - and
despite everything he knew it would be right. Maybe, the
cancellation of the landing was what they wanted. Maybe, all
these explosive devices, set so cleverly and yet within their reach,
had only one purpose - to make the carrier stay in space and be a
convenient target for whatever was going to attack them.
There was no other choice but to continue with preparing the
meeting in time, whatever it was going to cost them.
He didn't know what made him change his way and turn to the
next sector - the big facility with monitor boards at the walls. He
looked around; he must have told others about his moves, he
thought.
There was no signal on the scanner. He didn't know if he sensed
or heard the slightest peep as he made another step. He whipped
around, staring - and there it was, the sensor on the level of his
feet, already flickering. Damn it.
He looked around wildly, trying to guess where the explosive was
hidden. Maybe, there was more than one. Maybe, in a moment
the whole sector was going to go boom. He would run but he
didn't know where to.
It was not a sound, just a displacement of air - and he turned
around abruptly, seeing West there, the flashlight in his hand. He
didn't know how he decided - a sparkle of insight, maybe.
"Down, West!" he hissed and, grabbing him around, he threw him
onto the floor, behind the monitor board. The explosive went off
right at the moment as he pressed West to the floor. The blast was
spectacular and the roar huge, the vibration shaking the ground
even after everything else went quiet. He felt litter and pieces of
equipment hit his body and grunted in pain. But it was nothing -
nothing in comparison with what could have been.
When it ended, McQueen shifted experimentally, sitting up on the
floor, looking in a kind of bewilderment at the twisted pieces of
metal stuck into the wall behind them. Sheer luck.
"You okay, aren't you?"
West looked slightly shell-shocked as McQueen pulled him up,
his body so slack that he groped over him quickly, checking if
something was wrong. At last Nathan nodded, with a slight
shudder going through his body.
It all took just a minute, no more, what was going to happen next.
He had been afraid it would happen one day... but so soon? He
suddenly realized that his own arms clasped like a ring around
Nathan's shoulders - and every point of touching burned him even
through the material of his uniform. He knew he had to let go -
but West didn't even make a slightest move to get free - and
McQueen didn't move, too. Holding him - feeling him so close -
there was something so... wonderful about it - McQueen couldn't
relinquish it so soon.
Not after all those times when he had dreamed about it.
Would he hold any other of the 58th the same way, checking for
damage? No, of course, not. It had to stop, right now, before it
was too late - but with some sense of unreality McQueen knew
that his arms were still there, touching West, meld of skin against
skin burning and sweet and maddening.
He raised his face quickly, seeking for some help, hoping
unreasonably that he could look in Nathan's eyes and what he
would see there would save him - maybe, even if it would be a
total rejection and it would hurt..
The little light was just of the dying fire - and West's eyes,
usually dark, were the black velvet absorbing even this light - but
what he saw there was not rejection at all. It might have been
amusing how nothing had to be said - but how surprisingly clear
everything was at once.
Just what he was afraid of.
Kiss him. Nathan's dirty face was only inches away from his, he
almost didn't have to move to do it - and he knew, he knew
absolutely for sure that his lips would be welcome on this soft
mouth, not rejected.
He had to do something. Silently he dropped his head against
West's shoulder - because it was the only possible substitute of
what he wanted to do, the only thing that he could do so that
relinquishing what he wanted to do didn't kill him. The hardness
of the collar-bone under his forehead felt unfamiliar and yet so
soothing, the warmth encompassing - and the smell was Nathan's
as he knew it - knew as a hint, not this overwhelming presence as
now - honey and lemon and something else, perfectly West.
His arms were still around West - and he knew how wrong it was,
how incongruous - but didn't let go. Then he felt as Nathan's arms
moved around him carefully, both gently and uncertainly - and he
felt the touch against his head, the fingertips on his hair as West
stroked him softly and weightlessly.
He broke the hug - moved away - as much as their position
allowed them - and saw West reach his hand to him, felt the
narrow hot palm against his cheek. He brushed it off abruptly, as
if it hurt him - and something else hurt him, his head as if the
vices squeezed his nape. He rubbed there, knowing that there
were no vices. His voice was still painfully tight as he said:
"We can't let it happen."
As if saying that could make it true. He wanted to sound resolved
and commanding but for once it didn't come off right at all.
"But it already happens," West said quietly.
His words came out muffled and McQueen saw a little trickle of
blood coming out of his mouth - got panicky at once, gripping
West again, shaking him:
"What's wrong with you?"
"Just bit my tongue," West smiled apologetically; he must have
bitten it seriously because he hardly spoke coherently. McQueen
felt a wave of relief washing him. Silly kid! They were all like
that. You expect them to fight the aliens - and they don't have the
presence of mind to keep their teeth off the tongue.
Another explosive went off somewhere. He pushed West up and
forward:
Nobody died. When he got to the trashed place he was ready to
see the curled bodies around there - maybe, the bodies of his kids,
too - and he already felt guilt. He didn't need to do what he had
done: unreasonably - if he didn't do what he did with West,
nothing would happen.
But there was only Cooper, grinning wide and with no more than
a cut on his forehead, and Wang, starting as soon as he came in:
"There was no way to clear it without setting it off. Believe it or
not, sir, but Coop minimized the explosion."
He gladly believed it: if minimizing was like that - what would
the real explosion look like?
The delegation didn't know what it cost them. The sector where
they landed was possibly one of a few un-thrashed place on the
platform - and he watched how clean-dressed men and women
got out of the carrier, looked around, being greeted by his kids
that didn't look so clean at all but who were certainly proud of
getting at least so far.
"I don't want to sound too optimistic," he heard Ross' voice on the
radio and didn't know what he felt more - exasperation or joy,
"but if you get out of there all right, your work will be done."
He didn't know what happened - just that a part of the wall was
coming down suddenly and the current of air was sucked out into
space. The delegation was on half-way to the Saratoga carrier -
looking in sheer terror at what happened. Perfect, he thought
tiredly, just what they needed.
He saw West hitting the buttons of the panel desperately - and
knew the things didn't work. It must have been a timer, an
automatic opening mode. Hopefully they would have time to
evacuate at least some of the people.
The air swished and West - he must have bitten his tongue again,
there was blood leaking from his mouth - took off the cover from
the panel and tried to do something there with the screwdriver.
He wouldn't be able to, McQueen thought. Not in this situation.
Not with so little time left.
He almost couldn't believe when the hatch returned to the place
slowly, shutting the opening.
"It stopped," someone from the delegation remarked.
Did they know what danger there was, he thought bitterly. Oh, no
danger for them - they would have time to leave anyway. But for
others - for those who worked on the platform. What stupidity it
all was. It could cost them so much.
"Evacuate the personnel as soon as the delegation leaves," Ross
ordered and he felt huge relief. They watched the carrier take off
and walked to their transport at last.
Tired but somehow residually over-excited, the 58th chatted
unceasingly in the carrier. Cooper's gash had been cleaned and
Nathan's tongue wasn't bleeding any more, still trying to be silent,
however, failing all the time as someone wanted something from
him.
McQueen looked at them, leaning against the wall, his eye-lids
half-mast, feeling desperate closeness to them that he would
never admit aloud. He could have lost someone of them today.
Another time when it didn't happen - and he didn't know who to
thank for it.
How strange it was - they were strong and perfectly trained and
ready to solve the most complicated tasks - and yet there was this
funny childish way about them - as if they could behave seriously
only for a short time, only pretend to be serious, really.
He gasped soundlessly when his thoughts took this turn - because
of what it brought back to him. His kids... and one of them he
chose for not being his kid at all. All the wrongness of what he
was doing struck him again. How could it be? He loved them all
equally, he couldn't say that someone of them he loved less, that
the loss of one of them would hurt him less than the loss of the
other. And yet one of them he loved in a different way.
He didn't have to do it. He didn't have to separate one of them -
put him aside of others with his affection. It would change
everything, would ruin things, nothing would be the same again.
McQueen didn't believe in any supreme being - he knew too well
who his creators were - but according to what he read, in these
terms, whether he wanted to accept them or not - somehow he
knew it would fit perfectly the notion of sin.
If only West didn't... Suddenly, with a helpless resentment, he
thought how easily it would be if he was rejected - if he didn't
feel - didn't know - that Nathan wanted it, too. McQueen knew it
was not so easy - a part of him knew - but the deceptive hope
overwhelmed him. What would he do then - if West didn't behave
in the way that made happen what happened today? McQueen
would just suck it up and live with it, not trying to do anything,
not even revealing what he felt.
Yeah, right - West is to blame. Think what you say.
"Take a rest for today," he said as he dismissed the squadron after
their return on the toga- unable to look at them, hoping that
Nathan didn't look at him again, afraid more than anything else to
meet his eyes.
But West didn't look and it was even worse suddenly. Because it
made him realize that it didn't matter if he could escape it for a
moment. It was always with him - the madness so permanent that
sometimes it seemed he could learn to live with it.
In his quarters he winced pulling the clothes off of his bruised
body. The exhaustion was wrestling him down - he didn't feel it
till then but now he nearly swayed on his way to the shower. The
water, hot and hard, hitting his back and shoulders, was pure
luxury. He closed his eyes, standing under the vicious stabs of
water, planting his hands against the wall to keep from falling.
The jets made two sets of tags clink against his body.
His eyelids flew up suddenly as he grasped the tags that didn't
belong to him. How could he forget? Tearing them off, looking at
the small face of Kylen, he chuckled humorlessly, not hearing
himself behind the rustle of water. He didn't know how it had not
crossed his mind before now. Maybe, because he used to think
about these tags not as about belonging to West but as given to
him by all the 58th.
And yet it was Kylen - Nathan's love - fiancee. Very good. What
are you doing to her boy? Want him to bend over for you? He
would bend over for you, you know it, right? And knowing it was
the worst thing.
It had been easy once. At the very beginning - he thought it was
dislike he had to fight. Unreasonable - just 'cause West seemed to
be everything what McQueen was not. A clean boy - family,
brothers, girl-friend - home - everything what McQueen never
had. Opportunities. What McQueen got - he had to fight for it.
While the kid never had to fight for anything by default.
Even after he got to know him and realized that he was mistaken -
he still kept clinging to it - because it fit the pattern too well.
He was doing him good, McQueen thought, making him tough -
even if somehow he had to admit that seeing West's soft brown
eyes get big and dark and hearing his voice falter had some weird
pleasure in it.
When did he realize that he thought and felt about independently?
Beyond the feeling of coaching and teaching? He had been afraid
at first - and had tried to expel it - to send away this feeling. Only
it returned. It returned since then so many times that the
realization of what he felt didn't surprise him any more; just made
him feel bitter.
They were his kids... no matter whether he admitted or denied it.
How could he look at one of them with these eyes?
On the briefings - feeling West's presence so close, looking at his
lowered head, seeing his fingers twist the tags - and going so
badly mad with it - he thought dizzily: you have no idea, kid, how
I feel.
Only the truth was that West possibly had quite a clear idea about
it. And it didn't make things better.
He got out of the shower, toweled - still having the tags in his
hand, still somehow stunned with the intensity of this last
realization. He put the disk in the player automatically and
listened to the disturbing sounds filling the cabin. Siegmund and
Sieglinde's duet - his favorite place in this particular opera, so
much gentleness in the music and at the same time so much
pagan, un-saintly triumph. How easy the things were for Wagner!
West was not his kid. Not literally, not in any way. There was no
incest in what he felt. It was a punishable misdemeanor under the
military codex - but not worse. Why did he feel as if it was worse
- why did he feel he would want it to be just military codex?
He wondered suddenly whether it would be different if he felt the
same towards Cooper - or towards Shane. He both could and
couldn't imagine it. It was different - because what he felt for
Nathan was there.
He thought about the briefings again - and imagined how it would
be to look at West - already on the next meeting - as at his lover,
know that after a little while he would be able to have West's
body in his arms, to hold him as much as he wanted, to do
everything he wanted to him.
He shook his head angrily, getting rid of the image, staring at
Kylen's face again. And what was her place in all this? West
loved her. What was it now? Why was he so ready?
Don't you know the answer? Because it is really there. He
wouldn't do it if it was not - not Nathan. If he did - then it was
true for him.
"It already happens," Nathan's soft, almost gentle voice as if he
was correcting a mistake.
No wrong! Nothing happened yet! Even with what happened
today.
Maybe, later, after the war, somehow...
Oh don't lie to yourself! After the war he is, maybe, going to be
with this girl - and where will you be then? Maybe, dead.
Suddenly he felt like throwing the tags in the corner, in a fit of
childish rage - but restrained himself, squeezed the metal in his
palm as tight as he could.
Save me from myself, Kylen.
The intercom call was a small buzz, toning down the music
automatically - and he thought with a strange unwillingness that
he would better prefer not to hear it. It was Ross.
"You remember we have this party tonight, Ty? I'll be waiting for
you in an hour."
He forgot, of course, and winced at the thought of going there. So
much for the relaxing evening. Well, there was nothing he could
do about it - another duty, nothing else.
"And take a couple of your kids with you," Ross continued.
"General Kashirsky wants to meet them."
"The kids are exhausted," he said carefully, thinking me too, me
too. "They should..."
"Come on," there was a little trace of metal in Ross' voice,
practically imperceptible, as always when he thought McQueen
took a wrong step. "It will be a token appearance. Nothing will
happen to them. Take two... Who were these ones who excelled
today? West and that kid of yours, Hawkes."
Oh no, he thought, switching off. He didn't resume the music.
It was agony to put the clothes on. He unclenched his hand and
took a look at the tags, still there. He was so used to wearing
them that the weight around his neck seemed unnoticeable now.
He didn't know why he did it - but instead of putting the chain
around his neck again, he put the tags in the drawer of the table.
Later he thought that it was what decided things, in the end.
Cooper and Nathan made identical half-fascinated "ugh!" sounds
when informed about the high command party they were to attend
today - but they didn't make any other comment, whether they
were dead tired or not. Actually, McQueen doubted they would
take it easy all the same this evening.
He felt a strange pride, standing between them in the lift, looking
at them askance. How stern and immaculate they looked in their
full dress, so strong and serious and tall and beautiful - and yet
their lips were trembling in suppressed smiles.
"Don't discredit me," he whispered a moment before the lift
stopped - and they both grinned openly.
The party was as flashy and boring as he had expected it to be,
the hall aglow with bright lights and everybody in full dress. The
meeting with the General that had longed to see them turned out
to be as McQueen foreseen it - the man just slid his eyes coolly
over him and not even gave a look to Hawkes and West. His
accent was harsh as he said:
"Good work, go on the same way."
He found himself soon with the untouched glass of champagne in
his hand, flirting - impossibly - with some Colonel from those
who arrived today. Her name was Brooke Davis - tall, dark and
with wide brown eyes that looked at him with shameless humor
and almost unrestricted appeal.
"I heard a lot about your achievements, Colonel. You are an
oddity in our stiff-through army, aren't you?"
I can have her in my bed tonight, he thought unkindly. With the
way she looked at him it was only a fact to admit. She was long-
legged, perfectly shaped, her perfume, as she leant closer to him,
practically imperceptible but still there - and he couldn't believe
that his eyes kept wandering around instead of devouring her...
for she deserved being devoured mercilessly and more.
He saw Ross talking with a short female Major - and looking at
him kindly over her head, nodding slightly as if saying: "You see
you didn't come here for nothing, Ty."
He saw Hawkes and West, too, left alone, standing together at the
wall, talking about something, looking as if they were impolitely
discussing everybody in the hall. He frowned disapprovingly and
met West's eyes. He didn't want it to happen. There was no
bewilderment in them, no smile - but McQueen didn't know what
expression would make him feel good, was there any such
expression. He tried to look away and realized he couldn't - and
then, as if afraid that his gaze would be considered obtrusive - no
- too absorbing, McQueen thought - West looked away.
Jealous? No? He caught himself on this childish thought and
knew at once that he both wanted Nathan to be jealous and was
angry with him whether he was or not. Being jealous would
indicate something between them - something that was not there.
But asking this asking already indicated it.
Stop it, stop it... He must throw it out of his head. Colonel Davis
was exquisite... he was sure she would make him forget all about
his stupid thoughts. It was just that he was unsatisfied - he needed
sex like the next guy, war or no war - and she looked like she
knew for sure what she needed.
"You are listening to me, Colonel, aren't you? I told that my
father always said In-Vitro could do better in some fields than
humans could," she repeated. He had met her father - Admiral
Davis - once.
He knew how it would be - he already could imagine it - going to
his quarters with her. It wouldn't be a secret to anyone that he laid
the beautiful Colonel tonight. It would be an answer to everything
- West would get it.
As if the problem was with West. As if he was McQueen's enemy
who needed to be scared off, to put on his place somehow. He
couldn't stop thinking about it. Would it hurt West if he did it? Oh
yes, he knew it would. Constantly aware of his own agony, it was
probably the first time when he thought how his struggle with
himself must have been hurting West. How could he do - this - to
one of his kids?
His hand clasped on the glass of champagne so tightly that he was
afraid it would burst. There was no answer, was there?
"Come on, Colonel," Davis was so close, her breath tickling his
ear. "Enough of this, Colonel. Why don't we just retreat to your
cabin and I check up on that heightened sensitivity of that in-
Vitro thing of yours. I heard that it does wonders to IVs."
He put the glass on the table neatly, almost silently. There was
this strange clarity in his mind suddenly. He looked around,
seeing his kids again, Cooper screwing his eyes shut. Just a
moment from starting rubbing his eyes with his fists, he thought
with amusement, like a kid whose parents allowed him to stay up
as long as he wanted - and he stays even when his resources are
exhausted.
"Excuse me," he walked away from the Colonel. "It was a
difficult day."
He didn't know what she said - maybe, nothing.
"Come on, enough fun for today," he called for West and Hawkes
and they followed him without a word of comment.
"But it was fun," Cooper said without much enthusiasm in the lift.
"Especially that tall guy who was drinking champagne from both
hands," West answered dryly, imitating the gestures.
"No, that skinny lady that clung to our Colonel," Cooper giggled
and McQueen didn't know whether to laugh or to make a strict
face. Gossiping... nice.
It was strange how it could be that the tension made the air seem
impossible to breathe in - even though they didn't even look at
each other. Just being near each other was enough to charge the
air. Cooper couldn't feel it, he was certain about it - but it seemed
he could sense the warmth of West's body even with the distance
between them, coming from him in waves again and again.
They came out of the lift and stopped for a moment, McQueen
looking at them.
"Good night, Cooper," he couldn't believe how calm his voice
sounded, how casual. "Nathan, come in to my quarters for a
moment."
He turned away before he could see any reaction, from either of
them. He was sure Cooper didn't even shrug - it might be
whatever McQueen wanted to discuss with West, maybe, today's
operation.
Maybe, it would be just discussing today's operation. How
desperately he needed to believe in it - that even knowing the
truth he still continued to say it to himself.
He switched on the lower light coming into the cabin - yeah, look
who is trying to make you believe that this is not intimate. The
door slid shut, he heard it and turned back, looking at Nathan
without almost any defense left.
Say something... be rude or indelicate - save me from it
happening... It could be prevented if there was no this total
welcome stare - this strange - accepting - look that made him
dizzy almost from the first time when he saw it, even when he
didn't know what it would do to him soon.
"Nothing will happen if you..." he said tightly.
What are you doing? Putting the decision on him - taking it off
your shoulders. Real good. And then Nathan's voice, serious - and
it was incredible how something so soft could be so ruining for
everything at once.
"I want it to happen."
He didn't say it, he didn't say it. And yet he did - and it was the
answer. West gave the answer he couldn't give himself - and he
resigned.
It was such a simple gesture to reach his arms - and they were
close enough for just a minor shift to get them together; he almost
couldn't believe that doing this little could change everything so
much. But it happened and he held West and West's arms were
around him, warm, with his body warm and bony. And it was so
scary and such a relief suddenly that McQueen swooned slightly
and felt the holding arms tighten around him.
He holds me, McQueen thought with sadness and irony at once,
raising up his mouth to meet with Nathan's. The lips were soft,
the tongue wet, the slightest blend of champagne - and a little
salt, maybe, of blood in the small wound on his tongue that still
didn't heal completely.
There was something so simple in that kiss; for all he thought
about it, the ground might have opened under his feet - but it
didn't. He just felt so safe and so - normal - in Nathan's arms, the
connection of their mouths as if it was always supposed to be like
that.
He let Nathan go - freeing him slightly - but there was no tearing
feeling in it as if he ruined a part of himself with this parting. He
knew it was only for a moment, only to lock his door to eliminate
even slightest chance of anybody to stop by accidentally. And
then he was back, looking into Nathan's eyes and falling into
them, their mystifying darkness and softness that had hurt so
much with for so long no more painful but his, his own. They
were so close but McQueen's touches were swift and light, wing-
like - Nathan's face, his hair, the warm place under his jaw. As if
he needed it to get convinced it was real.
He was almost surprised when he felt the hands on his face,
cupping it - as if Nathan needed an assurance in reality, too - the
touch gentle and firm at the same time, more forward than
anything he expected. West almost pulled McQueen's face to the
kiss again - the kiss passionate, almost rough now, more
passionate than McQueen could imagine it would be.
There was this maddening feeling of having his lips sucked, the
pleasure from his mouth running through his body in a steady
current. It shouldn't have amazed him, after all these nights of
bitter arousal mixed with remorse - that the feeling would be so
intensely sexual, not only the amazing feeling of completion that
at last descended on him. He answered the kiss eagerly, his hands
moving so fast as if he wasn't sure he had time to get enough
feeling of Nathan's body.
He felt faint when they stopped at last.
"I..." somehow it seemed to him that the moment was too intense,
he needed something to tone it down, even if it would be a wrong
thing to say - but he had to. "It was good."
"Was worth waiting, huh?" Nathan said in a hasty whisper, with a
lisp - maybe, his tongue hurt him again. This time his voice was
not serious at all.
McQueen thought he felt relief flood him - and yes, it was there:
he was doing it... It was not that there was no way back. But
somehow he knew that going back now would be more sinister -
more wrong - than anything else they were doing, would do.
Yet his fingers trembled minutely when he reached the clasps of
his jacket and pulled them open. He was startled with how
shockingly sensual it was - getting undressed, taking off even a
part of his clothes when Nathan looked at him. He felt as if he
was already naked. Then Nathan's hands caught his and helped
him pulling off the jacket - and it was even worse - better -
maddening - sending shivers through him.
Nathan's arms around his ribcage were tight and almost burning,
as he pressed McQueen to himself, kissing again, pulling the shirt
off of him.
Will he notice that the tags were not there, McQueen thought
briefly - and then knew that if he would - and if they were there -
it wouldn't change anything. Nathan was more determined than
he was.
He felt slow kisses on his throat, under his jaw, Nathan's mouth
moving over his chest, tracing gently the marks of the burns. His
chest was fluttering under these kisses; he was not cold - and yet
deep inside he was so chilled that he would shudder. But the arms
around him were warm and held him.
He watched as Nathan lower to his knees and kiss his belly,
pulling his pants open at the same time. He gasped at the boldness
of it all.
"Did you..." he didn't know why he asked but he had to. "Did you
ever do it before... with another man?"
West's face was white and flushed and with bright, drunk eyes
staring up.
"No," he said simply. "But you did it."
Yes, he did. But not like that. Never like that.
Pulling Nathan up through his slight resistance, handling him
towards the bed he recalled unreasonably how it had been - men,
women. The first shock and pain of the brutal intrusion - there, in
the mines of Omicron - he was nineteen yet - he couldn't believe
his body could be used like that, that something like this could be
done to him.
It was beautiful with his wife - as long as it lasted - but the end of
it so painful that he vowed that he would never let another soft-
haired, sweet-faced demon deceive him again. His wife had never
deceived him, never made it more difficult to him - but it scared
him even more to know that it was not so bad, that she might
have hurt him worse.
He had had bar encounters with both men and women - these had
been anonymous quick tumbles, hasty touches in some backyard -
with no names or niceties exchanged. Some of them were
interested in the same question as Colonel Davis was - whether
they could manipulate an In-Vitro with that bud of flesh on his
neck.
Suddenly he felt a mad laughter caught in his throat. Brooke
Davis... she might have been in his bed with him now. What a
fool he would be!
What a fool you are now, thinking that what you do solves
everything, a voice answered him sadly but he didn't want to
listen to it. Not now.
He looked down at West's face as he lowered him on his bed,
bright lips and bright, almost feverish eyes. It was almost a waste
to take off his eyes of this face - but he needed to do it to start
getting West free from his clothes. Too many of them, wasn't
there? The jacket and the shirt fell on the floor at the bed and then
he reached for Nathan's zipper, pulling it down, getting his shaft
free.
The sight was both added a fraction to his arousal and gladdened
him on some level of inner satisfaction, to see West so aroused
with what they were doing. His own penis, half-free, was
weeping clear liquid and twitched as he took it and took Nathan's
cock in the same hand.
Silk against silk - but the feeling of heat was even more startling.
Leaning over Nathan he rubbed their flesh against each other,
looking down at the pale face that was almost delirious in its
expression.
Looking at his soft mouth, he suddenly thought that he knew now
what the expression "made for kissing" meant. He wanted to kiss
it but at the same time he wanted to look - and he felt Nathan's
hands slide over his chest, daring, unrestricted, feeling his
nipples, pulling them slightly to make him gasp and miss a stroke
of his hand.
There was so much he could do - so much he had imagined in his
daydreams - but for now there was no time - and, in fact, he knew
it wouldn't change anything, wouldn't make things better. His
hand moved over their shafts, slick with pre-cum - and he knew
he could make it more bizarre by the tricks he learned for his life
- but somehow he didn't want to. He just liked it to build like this
- till the climax, reached naturally like this.
He felt Nathan's hand clasp in the back of his neck, not caressing
but just holding - pulling him down - and he didn't resist this
time, covering him with his body, length to length - and hearing -
feeling - a small moan, almost like with pain coming from
Nathan, feeling the shudders that racked him.
He held West tight until the shudders subsided, feeling his hand
and their bellies wet with cum - and knowing that some time he
came, too - but it was dispelled in the feeling of Nathan's
vulnerable body shivering in his arms.
Yes, that was it. That was what he earned with stepping over his
doubts, his consciousness of sin, of wrongness that he would
never be able to get rid of now, even if it wouldn't happen ever
again.
But it will happen, right?
Who knew if it was worth it? If even he didn't know.
His forehead was pressed to Nathan's collar-bone again - just like
in the morning, only now there was no clothes to separate them -
and he rolled his forehead as if in pain.
Worrying again? For God's sake, why couldn't he just take it like
a man - do it and live with consequences. Consenting adults...
He was angered with himself for this weakness, for the question
he was going to ask - for the reassurance he wanted - for needing
Nathan to be stronger than he was - but he asked all the same:
"How can we do it?"
All there was, was in that question. How can he let it happen -
with Kylen somewhere alive... or dead. All the things it would
entail, all the pain it would bring - and that he knew about it and
yet he let it happen. Knowing that if anyone knew - it might be a
loss of everything he had reached with Wild Cards, the step that
would never be forgiven. Knowing that now, every time when he
was going to send his kids to death, he would send one of them
who was more than that... if it was more. And wouldn't it be that
one day that he would have to choose which one of his kids to
save - and his choice would be dictated by these clandestine
relations.
He felt Nathan shift under him, sitting up on his heels - slowly,
languidly - as if the question was not a shock for him, as if he
already had an answer. He sat up, too, next to Nathan, and looked
how he twisted his fingers around the tags automatically, the
shivering pleasure of seeing him naked and with him returning in
a hot wave that didn't know any doubts, was the only doubtless
thing.
"But can we not do it?" West said. "I can't. Can you?" He
chuckled slightly as if recalling something that was not so funny
as ironic. "You know a while ago I asked Phousse about
something in her life how she could live with it. She said she
didn't have to live with it. It was just there. Now I know what it
means. Just there."
Perhaps it was an answer. Not worse than the ones he had.
He looked at the watch and noticed that only half an hour had
gone by since he had Nathan to his cabin. Cooper might be
sleeping already, just as other Wild Cards.
And if not - would anyone know anything? He looked at West
who put on his clothes that were not even ruffled. No sign, no
anything that could give them away, let others know.
Others - because could he delete the knowledge how West's body
felt in his arms - how silky his skin was when flushed - that little
painful sound he made when coming.
You will have to delete it. You will have to split yourself in
halves - and damn you if you can't do it!
"Everything that happens here is going to stay here," he closed his
eyes and opened them again and continued because he knew he
had to say it. "Never and never we are going to touch each other
beyond this cabin. Never recall about it. There will be no
difference in how I will treat you - I will expect from you the
same things as I expect from others, no more, no less."
He was amazed by his own voice that sounded this calm and firm
- and was amazed by what he said, by what he thought suitable to
say. What did he really say? That he expected Nathan to agree to
what - to secret fucking from time to time, quick fix - quick
enough and rare enough for nobody to suspect anything?
How could he believe it could be like that? How could he believe
it was going to save him?
He saw Nathan straighten, his uniform flawless again, his eyes
serious and intent as always - and his voice was affectionate and
slightly amused at once:
"I wouldn't have expected anything less from you."
Without name. How do you call me? Do you have a name for me,
boy? How do you call me in passion?
But now he reached his arms around Nathan and pressed him
again to his chest, overwhelmed with the closeness of his one
more time - as if it was enough for him to go through all this time
until the next time.
"See you tomorrow."
He could live with it. There was nothing else he could do.
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