Loan pt 3 Radinski's hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look up into his face. His eyes were hard. The indistinct figures of his fellow inmates lurked in the shadows behind him.
"Look what we have here, comrades... Fresh meat..."
The warders turned their faces away as he wrapped my hair around his fist and dragged me towards his cell..."NO!..."
I am upright, bathed in sweat although I am shivering with cold, my breathing shallow and far too fast... I can still see Radinski's leer, still feel his hands...
Trey has switched on the lights and pulled me into his arms, rocking me, pulling my head down to his shoulder and stroking my hair.
"Hush... I've got ya... you're OK... you're safe... I won't let anything hurt ya..."
I am shaking helplessly, sobbing, my body aching with tension, with remembered pain, Trey the only solid, stable thing in my world right now. I cling to him desperately, his murmured reassurances penetrating the maelstrom of old voices, of screams, in my head. He pulls the quilt around my shoulders, rubbing my back soothingly.
Finally I stop shaking, my breathing still ragged but more controlled, my throat tight and sore.
"I... am sorry..."
He kisses my forehead.
"You OK now?"
"Yes..." In fact I am not, already know I dare not sleep again tonight even were it possible, but Trey is weary and needs his rest. "Thank you."
He smiles sleepily and strokes my hair.
"Same dream?"
I swallow and nod. He holds me closer.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No." No, I did not. That was the last thing I wanted to do. Trey understood, although he did not like it. Tomorrow he would again suggest I see a 'shrink' on our return to the States; I would, as always, refuse.
"Do you want a drink? Something to help you sleep?"
I thought for a moment, then shook my head. He sighed and ran a fingertip down my face.
"Wanna try and get back to sleep?"
I silently lay back down, pulling him with me. Once he was asleep I could extricate myself, watch TV or read a book perhaps, until morning. Anything to keep the ghosts at bay...
But he wouldn't let me go, his arms tightening around me every time I tried to slip free, half-waking if I tried too hard. Eventually I gave up, let him hold me, my arms around him, my head on his shoulder, and lay staring into the dark, trying not to think, not to see those faces...
Towards dawn I fell into an uneasy doze, to be roused by Trey kissing my shoulders and the back of my neck. I blinked up at him over my shoulder from under my fringe - it was too long, time to have my hair cut again - struggling to waken. The wonderful smell of strong black coffee helped.
"'Morning, gorgeous." Trey's voice was soft and loving, and with an effort I pushed myself over onto my back. He was already dressed in his usual sweatshirt and jeans, sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling down at me. "I ordered you breakfast."
I rubbed my eyes and pushed myself into a sitting position; Trey piled pillows behind my back, then settled the tray-with-legs thing over my lap, lifting the plate cover with a flourish. I stared at what was revealed, then frowned at him. He grinned cheekily.
"Traditional Brit breakfast!"
"I can see that." The thought of eating bacon, eggs and mushrooms at this hour in the morning after a disturbed night was not appealing... Speaking of which... "What is the time?"
"9.40 something... No you don't!" He held the tray down in place as I made to lift it. "You need to eat."
"Our meeting with de Winter is at 11."
"Yeah, I know, I've ordered us a cab. You got plenty of time. Now eat - or d'you want me to feed you?"
Trey is quite capable of making good the threat: he is stronger than me, and can be very determined. I sighed and picked up a fork.
The eggs at least were scrambled and easy to digest, the bacon crisp, the mushrooms delicious. I could not face the grilled tomato: Trey helped himself to that, and to one of the slices of toast, then drizzled honey onto the other, telling me with a smirk that I needed the sugar rush...
The memory of the last time we had honey sweetened the morning, and I felt a little happier, more awake and in control by the time I had swiftly showered and dressed. Trey eyed my suit, a conservative, nondescript dark grey, and sighed.
"What's it gonna take to get you into jeans?"
It's an old argument - he has been trying to persuade me into casual clothes for over a year. He knows I feel more comfortable in formal clothing. Safer. Yes, I am aware I use it as a kind of armour. I do not have a problem with that. I raised an eyebrow.
"I do not know - but please, by all means, continue trying to find out..."
He smirked and nipped my earlobe, and I shivered.
"Later, lover..."Entering the Agency building reminded me of the previous night's dream - it had been sparked by the idea of the pet trade, of course - and I paused for a moment or two, recovering my composure, somewhat alarmed by the sympathetic looks I received from several passers-by... Psis, of course. Empaths or telepaths, most likely... Trey frowned and brushed his fingers over my hand.
"You OK?"
"Yes."
"Sure? I can do this alone if not."
I scowled.
"You are suggesting I am not capable of performing my duty?"
"God forbid!" He grinned and gave my hand a quick squeeze, waving to Ms Smith as she strode towards us from the building's interior.
"Mr Alexandreivich, Mr McNabb, welcome. Please come with me."Wilma de Winter offered us large mugs of excellent coffee then introduced us to two Agency members, a telepath she called John and Lenore, a field agent and... flatscan, to use the preferred term. Trey grinned at the woman and shook John's hand firmly.
"Yeah, I guess they need you to keep an eye on us, make sure we don't find out any of your secrets."
John eyed my partner for a moment, then smiled at me.
"I do like American frankness."
I chuckled, and Trey had the grace to blush. John's eyes were twinkling.
"Would the FBI behave any differently?"
"No."
"There you have it."
De Winter laughed and shooed us out of her office, asking John and Lenore to take us to lunch when we were ready to eat. Trey's eyes lit up, and he turned to Lenore.
"So what's the food like here...?"John took us to the office he shared with three other people, all of whom were absent at the moment, and we spent the next two and half hours looking at files and asking questions. The woman Lenore was quietly efficient, and obviously knew her job extremely well; both Trey and I were impressed, and it takes a lot to impress Trey. At one thirty she called a halt.
"I think we could all do with a break and something to eat, don't you?"
Trey agreed enthusiastically. I slid my jacket back on and followed the Agency members down three floors to a large restaurant, quietly but attractively decorated in blue and white. John smiled at me.
"We have some excellent chefs. World-class. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourselves."
I watched John as he studied the menu. I do not think I have ever met a man so happy in himself, in his work. He radiated good-will - and it was genuine. It was difficult to imagine anything that could ruffle his calm demeanour. But there was something else, something *under* the benevolence, a kind of simmering excitement that seemed, as best I could tell, to be directed towards me. Not my person - John was happily heterosexual with a wife he plainly adored - my talent, perhaps?
I raised an eyebrow as an idea occurred to me. Was he looking for recruits?
I would have to consider that later.
The day's special was bœuf Wellington, which suited Trey and the two Agents. I ordered sashimi, which was excellent... Over the coffee Trey frowned, fingers tapping on the table.
"So, d'you think the cases are related?"
Lenore pursed her lips then nodded.
"Given the evidence, I would say yes..."
One of the things we had been shown during the meeting was a somewhat fuzzy still from a security camera that had afterwards been destroyed in the explosions that had devastated the pharmaceutical warehouse it had been scanning. Even after cleanup the image was faint, but nevertheless clear enough to show a... man, or what had once been a man - towering over the other indistinct figures, his legs seemingly deformed, bending the wrong way, his ears protruding above his head... He gave the overwhelming impression that he was part horse...
Lenore had nodded at my comment.
"We believe that so-called 'pony' boys and girls are a very popular choice for pets. Along with cats, dogs and rabbits."
I suppressed a shudder.
"How do you know this?"
Her face was sombre.
"We have a rescued pet in the Agency. And one of our new members narrowly escaped the same fate..."
"And speak of the devil," John grinned and waved across the room, "and himself appears!"
Trey and I both glanced over to the entrance. Two young men had entered, one tall, sleek, dark, with a dangerous air; the other... the other shone. It was probably his mane of improbably bright copper-coloured hair. Or the pale green eyes, like a cat's. He moved like a cat, too, loose and fluid and sure of himself.
Stunning.
Trey stared, speechless. The darker of the two waved back and ushered his partner to our table. John rose to his feet.
"Stephan, Devon, this is Trey and Alexei, of the IATF, here to investigate a case of sabotage..."
The darker man - Stephan - nodded.
"Ah, oui - I 'ave 'eard of the organisation." He eyed us speculatively. "An' you think we can 'elp you?"
"They may be able to help us too." John glanced swiftly at Trey, who'd bristled at what he saw as implied criticism. Stephan inclined his head.
"This would be good. Mutual co-operation - always to be 'oped for."
Devon chuckled and prodded him in the ribs.
"Sarcastic bugger."
I blinked - the rough low voice was startling. Devon grinned at me.
"You Russian?"
I nodded.
"Thought so. Stephan's mum was Russian."
Not that that gave us very much in common, of course. But I smiled anyway. Devon's cautious friendliness was infectious. Stephan wrapped an arm around his waist.
"What do you want to eat?"
Devon leaned against his... lover? I opened, just a little. Yes, they were lovers. And had just spent the last couple of hours making love: satisfaction and contentment poured from them. I glanced at Trey, wondering if I could ever feel comfortable enough to be that open...
He touched my hand under the table. It would take only the slightest encouragement for him to pull me into his arms, I knew. But I was not yet ready for that so-public demonstration of our... relationship.
Devon glanced up at Stephan - he was very small, I realised suddenly - and grinned.
"Don't mind. You choose."
"Will you join us?" John indicated the two empty chairs at the table: Stephan nodded.
"Merci."
He ordered chicken salads for them both, and for a while the conversation revolved around our respective talents, both psi and otherwise. Somehow I could not find it in me to be surprised to hear that Stephan was a marksman: it was easy to believe him capable of killing. That his pretty lover was telekinetic intrigued me - I had not thought such power existed. But then, our sources of information were limited. Trey was fascinated.
"Are there many like you? How much can you lift? What else can you do with it?"
Devon blinked - he wasn't used to being interrogated, certainly not this bluntly. Stephan wrapped a protective arm over his shoulders and regarded Trey narrowly, face impassive except for a hint of hostility in his eyes - which was returned. I sighed to myself. I could wish Trey would be a little less... 'in your face' is the expression he uses. And not take such instant likes and dislikes to people: there are times I grow tired of apologising for him... John smiled at me, his voice echoing lightly in my mind.
*Don't worry. Devon is more than capable of taking care of himself.*
*I am glad of it...* I thought back at him. *If you wish, I can have words with Trey, have him be a little less - blunt...*
John chuckled. *No, that's OK. It's quite nice actually - breath of fresh air, keep our agents on their toes, and other such clichés...*
I smiled. I liked John.
*Very well, but if he becomes too much, please say.*
*Certainly.* He eyed me for a moment, then, *Excuse my asking, but how often have you *spoken* before? Your *clarity* is very good for a non-path.*
I blinked, then stared at him, feeling suddenly cold.
*I have never... This is the first time...*
His eyebrows rose.
*You do surprise me. However, such natural skill is a good thing - certainly around here!*
I would need to think about this later, talk about it with Trey, but right then my attention was needed at the table: Trey had just challenged Stephan to a shooting competition... I sighed and shook my head.
"You are incorrigible."
"Nuthin' wrong with a bit of friendly competition!"
"As long as it remains friendly..."
Stephan's smile did not reach his eyes.
"Shall we say, tomorrow morning?"
Trey glanced at John, who shrugged.
"I have no objection."
"Very well. I will meet you in the foyer at 8.30. If that is not too early for you."
I could have sworn there was a touch of sarcasm in the Frenchman's voice, but Trey did not notice.
"Y'r on."
"Well, I'm glad that's sorted." John rubbed his hands together then rose to his feet. "If we are all done here, I suggest we return to my office..."Trey kicked the suite door shut and grabbed me to him, hands cupping my buttocks, kissing me as though we'd been apart for a month. When he finally let go in order to take a breath, I caught his face between my hands.
"Shall we go to bed?"
He stared at me, then placed his hand on my forehead.
"No fever... You sure you're feelin' OK?"
I frowned.
"Why do you ask?"
"'Cause, love, you're suggestin' we go to bed. Now. At 6 in the afternoon. Before we've compared notes, or eaten, or even got properly into the room... What's up?"
I was, and so was he, his erection hard against mine, and said as much. He groaned and flicked my nose.
"You know perfectly well what I mean!"
I didn't want to tell him I was jealous. Jealous of the openness Stephan and Devon enjoyed, of the fact that everyone knew they were lovers and partners and did not give it a second thought. Jealous both of their honesty, and circumstances that made it easy and acceptable for them to be so open. And I felt suddenly - drab, dull and uninteresting in comparison with Devon or Stephan. I nuzzled his ear, then murmured,
"You would prefer business before pleasure?"
"No..."
"Then let us... indulge ourselves, just a little."
He grinned.
"Sure!"He cried out my name as he came, his hands gripping mine, his body taut, his eyes closed, lips parted. He is so beautiful like this, so vocal in his pleasure. I learned young to be silent: to give voice, to anything, only meant more pain, and even now the conditioning persists. A whimper, a whisper, it is all I can allow myself...
I whimper now as I come, Trey's flesh enclosing me tightly: it is like being clasped in hot velvet, the vice he has made of his legs around my hips holding me to him. He shudders and suddenly wraps his arms around my shoulders, kissing me as though there were no tomorrow. By the time he has satisfied himself my lips feel bruised, the roof of my mouth itching from the passage of his tongue. I lie limply atop him, my hands buried in his thick mop of hair, my penis slipping from his body as he sighs, his legs sliding apart to rest on the bed.
"God I love you... How'd I get so lucky?"
I have often wondered that myself. I kiss him carefully, licking along his lips.
"Vorolye...you are precious to me..."
He chuckled.
"An' you've got me wrapped around your finger, I know..."
I frown - this has the feel of some kind of pun, or reference, but I do not recognise the source... Trey sighs and nips my jaw.
"Forget it, s'not important... Guess we should get those notes looked at, yeah?"
"In a minute..." In all truth, I do not want to move. Lying here on top of my lover, warm and content and safe, the outside world seems very far away...
Yet I know it cannot last, and five minutes later, with a regretful sigh, I pull reluctantly away from him.
"Shall we shower first?"
He nods.
"And order a snack from room service. I'm hungry."
"You are always hungry."
"An' whose fault's that? You wear me out!"
I push myself up to straddle his hips and regard him sombrely.
"Then perhaps I should stop."
Strong hands on my shoulders yank me back down to him.
"Don't you fuckin' dare...!"Half an hour later we had showered and dressed - for once I allowed Trey to cajole me into wearing black linen trousers and a light polo-necked sweater in dark grey - and spent an hour collating everything we had learned from the day. Trey sighed and eyed me grumpily.
"We're gonna have to stay here, aren't we?"
Indeed, that had been my thought as well. The case had become far more complicated than we had first envisaged, and the Agency's involvement had added an extra dimension. It was in the interests of both organisations to resolve the problem: tomorrow I would contact our controller while Trey 'shot it out' with Stephan and explain why we had to stay in England for the foreseeable future.
Tonight, however, we would eat in the restaurant, enjoy the fine cuisine and the hotel's discreetly famous classical pianist playing while we ate our meal. And then we would have an early night.
Perhaps I should rephrase that. We would go to bed early, but from Trey's sidelong glances and little loving touches, I somehow doubted we would sleep early...
© 2004 January 12th Joules
Darkside