Renewal "Mmmmm…"
Devon sighed and shifted slightly, nestling closer to the warm body behind him. A hand gently pulled his fringe back from his face: he kissed the fingertips as they brushed his lips.
Greg, of course. Gentle, sensuous, affectionate Greg.
Devon was very fond of the big 'path. He was undemanding and perfectly in tune with what the TK wanted, silently here when needed. He was a considerate lover too, and loved to touch and hold, content to just do that if all Devon needed was to be held and reassured - something that happened occasionally after Greg had *probed* particularly deeply. That he was attractive, his warm grey eyes as prone to twinkle as to smoulder, his long straight hair a glossy black, cool and silky to the touch, the skin over his muscular body a warm red-bronze, did no harm at all.
He nuzzled Devon's neck, his deep voice a purr in the TK's ear.
"Sleep well?"
Devon turned over and cuddled into the 'path, nodding against the broad chest. Greg kissed his forehead and slid a hand down to wrap both erections, squeezing rhythmically.
"Let's shower, shall we?"
Devon's eyes had closed, his hands sliding down to cup the 'path's buttocks.
"Rather stay here…"
"I know, sweetheart. So would I, but we have work to do…"
The TK sighed.
"Yeah… OK…"
Greg chuckled and manoeuvred himself out of the bed, Devon still clasped in his arms. The little psi was so light! As the 'path hauled himself upright Devon wrapped his legs around Greg's waist, rubbing himself against the larger man's abdomen, teasing the rigid cock below his arse until Greg paused and hugged him tightly.
"Wait until we're in the shower, brat! I don't want to drop you…"
Devon bit his ear lightly, chuckling.
"You wouldn't."
Ah. That was true, thought Greg, smiling to himself. Devon could now support his own weight without even thinking about it, using his talent, and his reactions were very fast…In the shower Devon turned on the taps, gently pushed Greg to lean back slightly, then lowered himself onto the twitching cock nestled between his buttocks, wriggling slightly as it slid into his body. Greg shivered and closed his eyes, face buried in thick, heavy copper hair as his hips bucked upwards, impaling Devon deeply. Warm water cascading over and around them, they brought each other to a sweet, slow climax, uplifting and mutually gratifying.
Minutes later, washed and shampooed and sipping freshly brewed coffee, they relaxed on the bed. Greg stretched and smiled, reaching out to brush Devon's wet hair back from his eyes.
"What do they have planned for you today?"
The TK shrugged.
"Dunno til I get there. More of the same, I suppose. You?"
"I have to spend a couple of days at the Ministry of Defence. Recruitment."
Devon frowned enquiringly. Greg grinned.
"They had a recruitment drive. They want me to deep-scan the shortlisters to check they're all exactly what they claim to be. Can't afford any flakes or traitors in MiniDef."
Devon slurped his coffee and nodded.
"Makes sense. They employ you often?"
"Fairly. They check on their current staff regularly too."
"That's… pretty fuckin' important work, isn't it? Do you ever make mistakes? Let someone through who you shouldn't?"
Greg's eyes were shadowed.
"Only once, back when I was fresh from training. Fanatic peacenik, suicide bomber. Blew up herself - and sixty-three other people. And that's not mentioning the other one hundred and four maimed and injured." He swallowed and lowered his head. "My responsibility. My fault. Never again." He gazed at Devon, eyes haunted. "I'm the toughest they have. Any doubt, any doubt at all, they don't get through. I'm still trying to atone."
Oh fuck... "I'm sorry."
Greg shook his head.
"Hey, it's not your fault! I was cocky, too full of myself, wasn't careful enough. Not a mistake I'll ever make again."
"They let you stay?"
He nodded.
"Uhuh. I'm good, you see. My talent is very, very strong. They didn't want to lose me." He sighed, then managed a smile. "One thing I'll say for the Agency, they don't allow you the luxury of false modesty. They also support you all the way. They care." He chuckled. "Of course, they get their 'pound of flesh' from us too, but that's only fair given their ongoing investment."
"Like the free board and lodging?"
"Uhuh. And the rest! They pay for everything, absolutely everything - including any legal fees you might incur. Oh, it does happen," he added at Devon's sceptical frown. "There've been occasions, outside, when tempers have got frayed and a psi has temporarily lost control… No one has ever been hurt, of course - we're all too well trained for that to happen - but there's been some damage… The Agency always smoothes it over, and they pay generous compensation…"
"What happens to the psi?"
Greg grinned.
"Oh, they get their wrists thoroughly slapped: a little retraining, some time spent in the Agency equivalent of 'community service' - doing the thing they like least… Nothing too severe. The Agency understands that what they have here is a collection of astonishing individuals, trained to an extraordinary degree of self-control. There's bound to be the odd flare-up. We may be talents, but we're also human." He glanced at his chronometer, his eyes widening, and quickly downed his coffee, then leaned forwards to kiss Devon's lips gently.
"Got to go, I'm running late. You have fun, OK, sweetheart? I'll see you in a couple of days' time or so."
Devon pulled his face close, hand wrapped around the nape of his neck.
"You take care, OK?"
Greg kissed his nose.
"Always do, sweetheart."Devon dressed leisurely after Greg had left, and made his way to the training rooms, mood thoughtful. The last forty-eight hours had been both enlivening and enlightening. He'd learned a lot about the Agency, about his fellow talents - and about himself. And most of it was good.
He'd never had a family. Oh, obviously he'd had a natural mother and father - only the wealthy could afford the staggering costs involved in indulging in genetic manipulation of and for offspring, and such children were pampered darlings, protected and cherished - but he'd never known either of them. His earliest, hazy, memories were of pain and loneliness. And hunger. Jacobsen, a strong, sympathetic Agency 'path who was also a psychiatrist, had delicately taken Devon back through his early memories, detailing the physical abuse the young psi had suffered as an infant, the beatings, the being left alone in his room for days on end, the neglect, the starvation… He'd been passed from foster family to foster family, each of them taking what cash or credit they could for 'caring' for him before passing him back to the authorities when strange and inexplicable accidents started happening…
He'd been eight when the sexual abuse had started…
Devon refused outright to examine those memories. He'd already dealt with them, as far as he was concerned they were past history, finished, he would not drag them out into the open again. And for once Jacobsen agreed with him. Devon was fully aware of what had been done to him, but hadn't let it… disfigure him. It was old business. It would stay that way. There were scars, but healthy and healed. No point in reopening them. Nothing nasty lurked underneath.
Jacobsen insisted it stay that way. Pamela was very happy to concur.
And now… Devon grinned, hugging himself. He had the closest thing to a real family he'd ever known. People like him. People who liked him, and whom he liked in return.
He stopped dead and laughed quietly aloud, causing a couple of passing empaths and a 'path to chuckle in sympathy.
He just had to send Aunty Janet something very special as a thank you present…It had been an intensive training session, and Devon, Peters and Jo, the TK who'd been drafted in to help Devon with his exercises in fine control, were all ready to call it a day come two p.m. when John arrived - at which point they all realised they'd not had lunch. Jo had laughed merrily and excused herself: she had a personal appointment for the afternoon and would grab something on the way. Peters had decided he just had time to eat a snack before his afternoon meeting. And John ushered Devon out of the training suite and off in the direction of the nursery.
"I hope you don't mind." He smiled as they entered the lift. "I promised I'd meet Ox for lunch, and I'm a little late."
Unaware that the 'path was scanning him closely, Devon shook his head.
"Nah. I liked him. Be nice to see him again."
In her office a considerable distance away, Pamela smiled her satisfaction.John led Ox and Devon to a small caff close to the nursery, a cheerful place decorated in sunny yellows and pretty blues. The 'path ordered beefburgers, chips and salad for them all, with a huge jug of fruit juice, then sat back in his chair in the window alcove and beamed at them both.
"How are things with you, Ox?"
The big blocker ducked his head and smiled shyly.
"Goin' OK, John. Rather be with Devon, though."
The TK stared, then frowned.
"Why?"
Ox smiled at him, face open and completely ingenuous.
"'d like to look after you, l'il guy."
Devon glanced helplessly at John.
"Uh…"
Ox looked from one to the other, shoulders slowly slumping as his face visibly fell.
"Did I say somethin' wrong?"
John smiled and patted the big psi's arm.
"No, Ox, of course you didn't. Devon hasn't decided, yet, whether he's going to stay with us, that's all."
"Oh." Ox looked woebegone. "Oh, OK then…"John changed the subject at that point, talking about children's TVee programmes as far as Devon, thinking the afternoon over later, could recall…
It was midnight, and the TK couldn't sleep. Both Hans and Stephan had - perfectly legitimate - calls on their time tonight, and with Greg working off-site for the next few days…
Devon knew by now all he had to do was to *think* I need company and within fifteen minutes someone would arrive at his door. That it would be someone he would like went without saying.
But he didn't want that, tonight. He wasn't at all sure what it was he did want, but it wasn't that. At least, not right now… Hmphing to himself, barefoot and in a loose baggy tracksuit he made his way up to the rooftop garden.It really was beautiful here. He sprawled on the grass by the pond, almost wistfully envious of the ducks - for them it was night-time, therefore it was time to sleep. None of this frantic 24/7 wakefulness that ruled the human world.
Above him the moon was full. He couldn't see it too clearly, obscured as it was by the city lights, the polluted atmosphere, the dome above him, and the few wispy clouds in the sky, but it was there, nonetheless, a hazy shimmering globe in the sky.
He frowned. So far he'd allowed himself to be carried along by events - happily, yes, but still… Very soon he'd have to make some decisions - long term decisions that would affect the course of his life for the foreseeable future…Cloudie had been busy all day, happily busy for the most part, singing along with the radio while she immersed herself in tinkering with the fiddly internals of some cybernetic prosthetics brought in from outside. But no matter how busy, how involved she was in her work, there was always a small part of her awareness watching out for a glimpse of copper-coloured hair.
Later that afternoon Cloudie got a call from the nursery; someone had broken off a key in a lock, could she pop up and fix it? The tinkerer stretched and grinned - of course she could, she needed a break and it was always fun visiting the nursery; some of those kids were so damn cute...She'd dealt with the key in less than two minutes – lifting the broken part out of the lock then smoothly rejoining the two halves – and now Cloudie reckoned she could play for a bit. She nimbly folded a square of brightly patterned paper into a pseudo-origami butterfly then using her TK she wafted it aloft above the heads of the children.
"Ohh! Fairy!" one of the little ones shrieked and within seconds a small horde of young children were scrambling and giggling about the play area trying to catch the 'fairy' that darted erratically just out of reach. Cloudie laughed; the little kids loved this game and it was great watching them have such noisy fun. The tinkerer kept the scrap of paper out of the way of eager little hands for a few minutes before letting it drift close enough for one of the smaller girls to catch it.
"I got it! I got it!" the child squealed, jumping up and down excitedly while she carefully cupped the piece of folded paper between her small palms.
"Brilliant, Bella!" Cloudie laughed, "now what do you do?"
Bella giggled.
"I kiss the fairy," she planted a smacking kiss on one of the 'wings', " – and let it go!" she tossed the paper toy into the air where Cloudie caught it and wafted it away out of sight while the little ones waved and called out their goodbyes to the 'fairy'.
Mandy, one of the teachers, stood to one side, hands on hips and mock-frowning.
"Well now that you've thoroughly disrupted the children, Cloudie, would you like a cup of tea?""Hey, Ox, how y'doing? Can I sit with you?" Cloudie, steaming mug of strong sweet tea in hand, stroked the big man's shoulder affectionately.
"Sure, Cloudie," he beamed at her. "Have you met Devon?"
"Uh," the tinkerer blinked, "yes I have."
"He's very pretty. I like him."
"He is pretty, isn't he?" Cloudie smiled and nudged the man with her shoulder, "I like him too."
The smile faded from Ox's face.
"He mi' not stay."
Cloudie smiled encouragingly.
"We'll just have to give him some reasons to stay, then, won't we?"Cloudie flopped over onto her stomach, wriggling petulantly against the crumpled bed linen. It was very late, she was tired out from a heavy day but buggered if she could drop off to sleep. She turned herself onto her back and stared resignedly up at her ceiling; even in the dim light she could easily make out the patterns she'd painted up there when she'd first moved in to these rooms. Cloudie sighed and closed her eyes, putting herself again through the supposedly relaxing mental exercises...
"Shit." The tinkerer's eyes popped open. That hadn't worked, she was still as far away from sleep as she was an hour ago.
Sex?
Maybe some hard and fast loving would help?
Nah. Be nice but the climax she'd given herself earlier had gone a long way to dulling the edge of desire – and face it, it wasn't just sex she wanted. Cloudie sat up, reaching for the t-shirt she'd been wearing earlier.
If all else failed a walk was always good...The tinkerer stepped onto the grass and stretched deliciously to her fingertips, breathing in the moist, coolish air of the park and exhaling with a sigh. It was always nice up here, relaxing. There was a lot to be said for the therapeutic effects of green growing things. Cloudie ambled across the grass towards the pond thinking how nice it would be to get out to the countryside again; she was due some leave…
"Hi, Cloud."
Devon's gravel voice coming out of the blue startled the tinkerer out of her thoughts.
"Dev! I didn't see you there." Cloudie smiled, changing direction and heading towards the young man sprawled comfortably on his side by the pond. She dropped down beside him.
"How are you?"
"Not bad. Couldn't sleep though."
"Me either." Cloudie dropped her head forward, attempting to stretch the bands of taut muscles running down the back of her neck. "My head's too wired to sleep."
"Busy day?" Beside her, Devon smoothly pushed himself up to sit cross-legged on the grass.
"Yeah." Cloudie slowly rolled her head around in a circle on her neck, wincing at the little flares of pain. "And intense. Always takes a lot of focus to work on cybernetics." She grinned at him. "Could you give me a back rub? I'm really tense."
"Uh, yeah," Devon looked surprised, "guess so."
"Great, thanks!" Cloudie stripped off her t-shirt then settled herself on her stomach, head pillowed on folded forearms, thighs relaxed apart. "Really appreciate this..." She sighed, wriggling happily as Devon's warm hands rested lightly over her shoulders. Devon was hesitating, Cloudie realised after a few seconds - hadn't he given a massage before?
"Just use the flat of your hand," Cloudie instructed gently, "and don't press too hard, 'specially over the bony bits."
"'K."
"Mmm. Good." The tinkerer sighed again as Devon began stroking lightly over her back and shoulders, relaxing under his touch, "You could make a living at this..."She had nice skin, very soft, very smooth, flesh firm and velvety under his fingers. And this was such an innocent thing to do, somehow. She was almost purring. Yet he wasn't doing anything special, just stroking: he'd never tried massage before and was afraid to press too hard. He didn't want to cause any damage…
Cloud sighed deeply and relaxed further, the tension in her neck and shoulders easing under his touch. Concentrating on the task, fascinated by the texture of her skin where it stretched over bone or dipped between muscle, it was a few minutes before he realised she'd fallen asleep.
He smiled and lightened the pressure of his fingers. The simple, rhythmic action had relaxed him, too: he breathed deeply, enjoying the smells of the plants around him and the sweet muskiness that rose from Cloud's skin. It was quiet here, the sound of the city dulled by the dome, the little noises of night insects clearer than the traffic far below.
Devon slid his hand from Cloud's back and lay down, one arm tucked under his head - raising an eyebrow when the woman beside him wriggled slightly in her sleep, rolled over onto her side and snuggled close, resting her head on his shoulder and one arm across his chest. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her: it wasn't cold here, exactly, but it wasn't that warm either. She sighed - happily, he thought - and slid into a deeper sleep…
But they couldn't stay here. It was too cold for that - and he wasn't at all sure he wanted to sleep on the grass. There were insects, and the ground was hard and felt a little damp. Sighing regretfully, he lifted her, then hauled himself upright and lowered her back into his arms, her head lolling against his chest. Time to get her back to her bed.
Lifting her t-shirt and draping it lightly over her body, he carried her the two floors down to her suite, opening her door (this was Agency HQ, no-one locked their doors - there was no need) and entering her space for the first time… It was something of a shock - like walking into a treasure chest and rainbow combined. Colour and pattern everywhere, bright and sparkling things, and the mingled scents of flowers and herbs and spices nearly made him sneeze. A pot of jasmine, covered with fragrant white flowers, and another of basil sat on a windowsill, surrounded by glittering chunks of crystal: above them hung a couple of mobiles and a wind-chime with a sweet, mellow sound. The bed was half-covered with cushions in a myriad different colours and textures and fabrics, the sheets themselves rich lavender cotton. He laid her gently down onto the bed, hesitating for a moment as to whether to leave her loose, purple drawstring trousers on, then decided she'll be more comfortable with them off. Easing them down long legs and dropping them over a chair already partly covered with clothing, he pulled the thick, downy quilt over her - then impulsively brushed a kiss over her forehead. She sighed and nestled down into the bed, smiling, and he lightly trailed his fingers over her curls before quietly leaving the suite.He still didn't feel tired enough to sleep, and while putting Cloud to bed had been a gentle, friendly, un-arousing act, now he felt twitchy. Still not entirely sure what it was he wanted, but at least now sure it involved another person…
There was a figure outside his door, slim, tanned, sparkling hazel eyes and a cheeky smile under an unruly mop of light brown hair.
"Hullo. I'm Paul."
Devon smiled uncertainly.
"Uh, hi…"
Paul chuckled.
"If you don't want company, just say."
But Devon could feel his groin responding already. He sighed and offered a lop-sided smirk.
"Yeah, OK…"
Paul reached forwards and brushed heavy copper hair back from the pale face.
"You don't have to do a thing…"Devon woke slowly, Paul nestled into his back, one hand cupping his groin, kneading gently.
The young precog had been as good as his word, easing Devon onto his back and settling between his spread thighs, talented lips and tongue and teeth - and later fingers - bringing him to climax and arousing him again three times, until the TK felt as though his bones, his entire body, had melted. He drifted into a deep and restful sleep and dreamed of tree-circled sparkling pools under cloudless skies…
"Mmmm. Good morning." Paul nuzzled his neck, stroking his erection. "Let me take care of that for you…"
And before Devon could speak Paul was between his legs again, lips wrapped around his cock and suckling forcefully. The TK gasped, grabbed his hair, bucked twice and came, collapsing back onto the bed as the precog swallowed, brushed a hand across his lips then slid up to cuddle close.
"I love the way you taste." he whispered, lips tickling Devon's ear.
The TK shivered, then chuckled.
"Thanks…" He reached between their bodies, for the rigid hardness pressing against his stomach, but Paul caught his hand, shaking his head.
"That's OK. We should get up: it's ten thirty already."
"Ah fuck…" Devon was supposed to have been meeting Peters at nine thirty… He scrambled from the bed, diving for the bathroom.
"It's OK, Peters's been told you'll be late…" Paul called after him. Devon stuck his head back around the door and frowned.
"All very fuckin' well but it's not very fuckin' professional, is it?"
Paul pulled himself up to sit cross-legged under the quilt.
"We're not that rigid, you know. Allowances are made…"
"Good. Great. I don't wanna work that way." He slid under an extra-hot shower, was out again in four minutes flat - Paul timed him - and dragging clothes onto his still damp body. "I don't like breaking my fucking word."
Paul smiled.
"I bet you hate breaking promises too."
Devon paused in wrenching a wide-toothed comb through his wet hair and eyed the precog, a little sadly.
"Don't make 'em any more. Had to break too many in the past."
Paul nodded.
"Sorry."
"S'OK - you weren't to fuckin' know… Sorry to have to kiss and run…"
The precog chuckled against Devon's mouth.
"I'll see myself out…"Cloudie woke slowly, warm and comfortable – in her own bed.
Hang on? Last thing she remembered was being in the gardens, Devon's hands soft and gentle on her back... She laughed; she must've fallen asleep, and Dev must've brought her back. Cloudie hugged to herself the rosy, loving feeling suffusing her insides – he was such a sweetie! He had to stay with the Agency – the thought rose unbidden – because life was better with him around...
Cloudie shook her head impatiently, where'd that come from? She glanced at the clock and frowned. Time for introspection later, she had another full day today and needed her wits about her, but first...*Switchboard.*
Cloudie *spoke* the keyword that alerted the team of telepaths who handled the Agency's internal communications.
*Morning, babe!* Misty's cheerful voice chimed lightly in her skull.
*Hey, Misty,* Cloudie grinned, *could you patch me through to Devon?*
*Sure.* There was a pause. *He's still asleep.*
*No matter, I'll catch him later, thanks.*
*No problem. So when am I going to see you again?* The female 'path chirped cheekily. *Been a while.*
Cloudie chuckled.
*Like you don't have enough on your plate with Ethan and Bill?*
*There's always room on my plate for you!*
*Aww, thanks, you say the nicest things,* the tinkerer grinned, *I'll bear that in mind, but not for a couple of days, okay?*
*Okay, but I'm going to chase you up on this.* Misty's *voice* was gentle, *You've been by yourself -*
*I'm fine.* Cloudie cut her off. *Thanks, Misty. I'll talk to you soon.*Peters gestured him to a wide desk with two computers, and poured two enormous mugs of coffee while the TK settled himself in one of the two seats, frowning. Peters smiled.
"Sorry - you are probably not going to find today tremendously exciting. Nevertheless it is important. We're going to study a little history…"
The Agency had been formed fifteen years ago - fifteen very long, very fraught years, Peters had commented wryly. At that time things were teetering on the edge of chaos, not just here but all over the world. Talents had started appearing in the previous two decades - not just what used to be called sensitives, but real powers, telepaths, empaths, precogs, a tiny handful of telekinetics… They were feared and hated and brutalised, to start with. Then a woman - their founder, Amanda Birch, a powerful empath - had realised two things: firstly, that the psis needed to be protected, and secondly, that their talents were needed, badly, in the world at large. They could be such a powerful force for good…
It took her five years, five years of seeking out those she knew would be sympathetic to her cause, or who could see themselves benefiting from what she proposed, or who wished to be seen to be philanthropic, before she had enough force - and money - behind her to start putting her plans into action.
Devon had listened to Peters, his eyes on the monitor before him as facts and figures scrolled leisurely down the screen. There was something almost chilling about sitting here hearing the history of what could, he realised with a start, be considered his people…They broke for lunch at 1.30. Devon needed the break - his head was spinning. He'd had no idea the Agency had such a complex past. Amanda Birch had had to fight for special legal protection for her psis, for their unique evidence to be made acceptable to the authorities - for the whole legal process to be changed. And then there'd been the social problems - the fear and mistrust of the normals, the victimisation, the jealousy… She'd campaigned tirelessly to demonstrate that the only normals who had anything to fear were those who broke the law, that psis were just humans with a gift. And eventually the Agency became, if not revered, then at least accepted. Psis began to be treated with wary respect, rather than fear and hostility. Security concerns, banking institutions, the military, the police, the health service… all came round to the idea that using the talents could be - beneficial.
There was a downside, of course - there always is. Gang leaders, drug barons, crime lords also saw the benefits of using talents, and began trying to collect their own. And Devon already knew how they were treated: he'd seen an 'escapee', a young man, pretty once, now a gaunt, starved, quivering wreck literally dying without the drugs they fed him, to keep him quiet and complaisant, to keep him alive. The trackers had found him and dragged him back to his owner and Devon hadn't seen or heard anything more about it - but it had scared him shitless at the time, made him grateful he was a normal…
Except he wasn't, was he? He froze, fork halfway to his mouth, a sudden chill raising goosebumps across his skin, and stared at John sitting opposite. The 'path smiled gently.
"You were very lucky, Devon. You would be a prize for the Syndicate that captured you."
Fuck…
John nodded.
"That's why we don't allow our psis out unprotected - no matter how well they can look after themselves."
Devon nodded slowly, his appetite gone. He lowered his fork and rested his chin on his fist, frowning at the 'path.
"But… You were talking about me being able to go places…"
John smiled.
"The 'underbelly', yes. You wouldn't go alone, Devon. You'd have a partner, and a long-range 'path *watching* you at all times. And there's no way we'd give you any such assignments until we were certain you were ready."
Devon rubbed his forehead tiredly. He really hadn't had enough sleep last night…
"How many?"
John blinked.
"How many what?"
"How many fr… talents do the bastards have?"
John's expression was sombre.
"We don't know."
Devon snorted and swept his hand in an all-encompassing arc before him.
"All this fuckin' talent and you don't know?"
"Devon, the fact that we don't know argues that the Syndicates have some very powerful talents working for them."
The TK chewed his lip for a moment, then scowled.
"Poor fuckers…"
John hesitated for a moment, then sighed.
"Not all of them are unwilling, Devon. There are always people prepared to use their abilities - normal or psi - to their own advantage, regardless of how much it hurts others." He watched as that sank in, Devon's mobile face reflecting disgust, then added, "but we think most of them are captive."
"Can't we… rescue them or something?"
Far off in her office Pamela smiled to herself, and wiped away a sentimental tear. He didn't know it yet, but those words proved that he was already an Agent…It was 6.30 before Devon returned to his suite.
"Ah, mon cher!" Stephan grabbed him into an enthusiastic hug, then pulled back a little to regard him, head tilted to one side. "You are tired, mon petit. That will never do… Come, bath, then eat. 'ans will be 'ere in an hour."
Devon groaned and closed his eyes, cock twitching despite his weariness. Stephan nuzzled his hair.
"It is all right, cheri. 'ans and I, we will do all the work, tonight. You will lie back and enjoy! And then you will 'ave an early night."
Devon chuckled. Stephan was about the only person allowed to... uh... 'boss' him around...
"And why is that, mon coq?"
Stephan pouted - apt as the nickname was, he hated it: and it sounded so crude en anglais - and swatted Devon's arse lightly.
"Because, my uncouth barbarian amour, tomorrow we are going shopping…"
© 2003 February 9th Joules and Lutra
Darkside