I was dreaming in anime, and caught sight of myself in a mirror...
And there was Alexei (me) and Trey, my partner, just as I've described them here. The dream itself was only a snippet, but I described it to Lutra, who immediately said it sounded like Dystopia material... Next thing I knew I was writing this...
There will be more...
Loan There probably are disadvantages to having an insufferably bright, bouncy Amerikan as a lover, but right now I would be hard pressed to think of them...
I am trying to finish dressing, but Trey has his arms draped around my neck, his chin resting on my shoulder as he smirks at me in the mirror. It's an interesting contrast, his mop of wiry dark ginger hair, freckles across his tanned face, and grey-green eyes next to my own hopelessly fine thick black hair, colourless skin and eyes such a dark grey that they often appear black. Particularly at night.
Then again, I am a nightbird, happiest when the sun has gone down. Trey calls me his personal vampire...
He grins at me in the mirror, then licks my ear, and I shudder. Damn him, he knows exactly what to do to fire that heat in my groin.
"Alexei, tovarisch..." His accent is deliberately bad, and I scowl at his reflection. He chuckles and kisses my neck sloppily, then whispers,
"Y'know I love you."
And I melt. Every time he does this to me.
"Trey..."
"Let's go to bed."
And I shiver, hearing that low, throbbing undertone to his voice as he presses against my backside, rubbing his erection against me. I close my eyes and swallow, trying to regain some self-control: when I open them again his expression - shifting as the clouds - has become sad. Before I can speak he sighs and nuzzles my hair, moving back a little. The loss of contact is painful.
"Sorry lover. That was unfair. I know you have to work."
I grit my teeth and take a deep breath - then twist and press my mouth to his.
A kiss, they call it. Trey turns it into an artform: I swear I can feel every tiny line and crease on his lips as he caresses mine, his mouth tasting of the strong black coffee he loves so much, his breath of that minty gum he favours, one hand unconsciously tangling in my hair, the other in the small of my back, holding me close...
Wholly focussed on the act of kissing me. It is just one of the things I love about him, this complete dedication to the thing he is doing right now and to hell with everything else.
Reluctantly, slowly, he breaks the kiss, leaving me panting and thoroughly aroused. My own fault - I know by now what will happen if I behave so. He sighs and cups my face in his hands - broad, strong, labourer's hands - and kisses my nose.
"Later?"
I smile, just a little.
"I will look forward to it."I am Alexei Alexandreivich. I have several other names, but I don't use them - they only serve to confuse the issue. I am an agent of the International Anti-Terrorist Force. That means 'spy' to the average person in the street.
My partner is Trevor Dwayne Dwight Albert McNabb, known to all and sundry as Trey. When I am annoyed with him I call him Albert. When he is annoyed with me he calls me 'Poochie'. Fortunately we are not often annoyed with each other.
Trey is FBI trained, and very, very good at his job. He freely admits that I am better, which is, in the main, quite true.
They call us in when all else has failed."Mr Alexandreivich?"
The chairman's secretary - Josette, I believe, is her name - smiled warmly up at me from behind her desk. I bowed my head very slightly. She blushed and gestured towards the door.
"He's ready to see you, sir."
I nodded and entered the inner sanctum. Ernesto Shayne, CEO of Shayne-Driftganger Pharmaceuticals, rose and stretched out his hand.
I ignored it. I do not shake hands. He hesitated for a moment, then lowered the limb.
"Alexandreivich... good of you to come so promptly. Coffee?"
I eyed him for a moment. Fat, swarthy, worried. I couldn't blame him. His company had been the target of a sustained series of attacks in Europe, their losses in the millions, their loss of face even graver cause for concern.
"Thank you."
The tension in the room eased somewhat. I seated myself, accepted the cup of almost-decent coffee, strong and black, and settled myself to listen...
"London, England? We gotta go to England?"
Trey was sprawled in the seat opposite, half-eaten burger in one hand, bottle of some sweet fizzy stuff in the other. I suppressed a shudder, but I had long ago given up trying to correct his eating habits and posture - although I do try to make sure he eats properly at home... I shook myself.
"Tomorrow. We leave at 7.30 a.m."
He sighed.
"Well bang goes my surprise..."
I frowned.
"What surprise?"
He tossed the last piece of the burger down onto the plate and gazed sadly at me, reaching for my hand under the narrow table.
"You know how long we been... together?"
I blinked. He chuckled dryly.
"Nah, you wouldn't would you? How'd I ever fall for such an unromantic sumbitch?" He sighed. "I moved in with you exactly nine months ago this Sunday. Was gonna take you somewhere special to celebrate."
I had that cold feeling in my stomach that happens when I realise I have done something wrong. Oh, not that Trey would see it that way - he knows me too well to take such a lapse on my part personally - but... I do not cherish him as I should. He is a large part of my world, and yet I have only ever once told him that I love him... I squeezed his fingers.
"Perhaps... perhaps we can find somewhere to celebrate in London. It is an old and culturally rich city, after all."
"Yeah, I guess." He sighed ruefully, then grinned at me. "I've heard there are some killer nightclubs..."
He laughed at the shudder I could not suppress. He knows full well I loathe nightclubs.
"Nah. Wouldn't do that to you. Well, not for our anniversary anyway."
"But an anniversary celebrates a year. We still have three months to go."
He pouted, but his eyes were twinkling.
"You can be so godamned anal sometimes, y'know that?"
"And this is a problem? I was under the belief that you liked that part of my anatomy."
He stared, then blushed with a delighted grin. It always surprises him when I... talk dirty, as he phrases it. Especially in public. He twined his fingers with mine.
"Let's go home."
"But you have not yet had your apple pie with cream."
"Fuck that... I'd rather have you.""So, y'gonna tell me about the meeting? What're we supposed to do in England?"
Trey is lying over my back, his limp penis tucked between my buttocks, his semen trickling down between my thighs. I ache, but it's a pleasurable ache, one I welcome as I welcome his weight upon me. He nuzzles my neck, then slides to my side, pulling me over to rest against him.
We are both sticky, but for once my habitual shower - which has become our habitual shower - can wait for a few minutes. I kiss his jaw.
"We are to investigate a series of sabotages."
"Uhuh. Why us?"
"Because the company does not trust the English authorities to apprehend the perpetrators." I dragged the duvet over us - Trey insists on having the air-conditioning on and I dislike the feeling of cold semen on my skin. "They have been unsuccessful to date."
"OK. So why us?"
He was not going to like my next words.
"Because it is believed that psis may be involved."
He jerked upright, frowning down at me.
"So it's dangerous... Fuck it, Alexei, you know how I feel about that."I know all too well. I am a wide-range empath - not an absolutely top class one, but certainly good enough to be very effective in my work. And I only use my talent when I work: the rest of the time I shield. Instinctively and automatically. Trey knows and understands, and more importantly accepts. But then, he has seen me unshielded, seen how it affects me to feel the emotions of everyone within a half-mile radius... Five days later when I regained consciousness, he was sitting at my bedside, clutching my hand, looking, as he would say, like death warmed over. He'd all but collapsed when I opened my eyes.
"God damn you Alexei you bastard!! Why didn't you tell me...You ever do anything like that again I'll fucking kill you..."
I winced: his voice grated like a saw in my pounding head. A nurse with a disapproving frown laid a hand on his shoulder and said something harsh, and Trey quietened, stroking my face with his free hand.
"'m sorry. But you scared me. I thought you were dying..."
His hands were soothing, and I tried to smile.
"... do not normally... let down shields like that... think... there was... projecting empath in area... overrode me..."
He stared at me in complete incomprehension - but by the time I was allowed out of the hospital he had read everything there was to read about the talents. And he had moved into my apartment, 'temporarily', ostensibly to tend to me while I recuperated...
And the episode had had one interesting and useful side effect, though we were not to discover it until a little later, when Trey found he could... filter out the perceptions reaching me, allowing me to focus on the matter - and persons - in hand. He had been surprised and delighted; I was pleased, myself - focussing has always been a little difficult for me, requiring me to maintain a partial shield which hampered my effectiveness. It would have been easier for us both had we had access to the sort of training available to psis in Europe, but here... making our talents known would have required registration, and there is a faction - a large and powerful faction - that believes talents are dangerous and should be strictly controlled. It is easier and safer to say nothing.
But I digress.I pulled him back down to lie beside me.
"You will be there, 'protecting my ass'."
He pulled me close, large hands cupping my buttocks.
"It's not your ass I'm worried about..."
Trey can be annoyingly protective at times, and I am forced to remind him that I am more than capable of looking after myself. I have a long string of successful missions behind me, including the deaths of seven known terrorists. Yes, I can kill when the situation requires it - coldly and cleanly and without remorse. I only kill those who deserve to die, who have no respect for human life, no regret for the ending of it.
Trey holds me close: I can feel the tension in his body.
"I know. But..." He sighs. "I love you."
Sometimes his love is a burden. Nothing is sure in our work, and it may be that one or other of us will not survive a future mission. I refuse to think about what that will mean to the one left alive.
"Come. We must shower, and pack. Then I will take you to dinner - Italian? - and we will take an early night. We need to be at JFK by 5.30 to check in for our flight."
"5.30?!" He covers his eyes and groans. "That's the middle of the fucking night!"
Trey is, fortunately, easily distracted. And hungry, having not finished his usual late lunch. And Italian is his favourite. I can almost see him make himself put his fear for my safety back into its drawer in his mind.
I kiss him, sighing as he wraps a hand around the back of my head and pulls me tightly to him, lips hard against mine, erection hard against my groin - Trey has always had a higher libido than me, although the way he is moving against me is having its usual effect. His voice is a low murmur as he kisses my ear.
"Fuck me."
I smile and scratch gently down his back as he gropes for the tube of lubrication on the bedside table.
"Are you not hungry?"
"I can wait. I want you in me."
It is my pleasure to comply...
© 2003 December 30th Joules
Darkside
© 2003 Wordwrights