Scan pt 2 Shortly after breakfast, Angel *contacted* Holly in the infirmary to see if Alexei was well enough for visitors.
*He's had a hard night, poor lamb, he and Trey both but I think it'll be fine. Shall I ask him?*
*Please, Holly, I'd appreciate that. I don't want to go charging in and making things worse.*Ten minutes later Angel, with Razor looming protectively at her side, stood outside the Russian's room.
"Are you okay, honey?" Holly stroked the cat-girl's upper arm.
Angel nodded, determined to do this even though the medic had told her that Trey, Alexei's lover, would be in the room as well. The thought of being in a confined space with not one but two men was making her feel ill, but the need to let Alexei know how grateful she was was overiding her instinctive fear. And - Angel gave Razor a weak smile - Razor was with her, she wouldn't let anything... bad happen.Holly knocked on the door, sliding it open a fraction, then asking gently if Angel and Razor could come in. There was a gruff sound of agreement then the medic stepped aside and let the females pass.
"Oh!" the sight of the deathly white, traumatised young Russian affected Angel deeply enough she almost forgot about the other man he was lying back against. The cat-girl approached the bedside, eyes wide and shining with tears. "Alexei... I'm so sorry..."
She's suffered worse, and for longer... Alexei focussed on the thought, trying to drag his mind back to something approaching coherency. He couldn't make himself smile, but he could try to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.
"... it's... it helped..."
A wave of compassion welled up from somewhere deep inside the ex-pet.
"At what cost?" Slowly, carefully, she laid her hand along his forearm, above the line of the bandages swathing his hands. Angel gazed into haunted eyes. "I can never thank you enough, Alexei, I am in your debt. Everyone you've helped is in your debt."Trey tensed very slightly, feeling the trembling start again in his partner's slim body, sensing the dark eyes fill with tears. Alexei's voice was rough and shaky - but at least he was speaking, responding.
"... had to try... couldn't let it go on..."
Without hesitation, or even really thinking about what she was doing, Angel reached to touch his face, her fingertips brushing away the tears spilling over long, black eyelashes.
"It will get better," she whispered, "I promise."
She withdrew her hand and sat back.
"I have to go. May I... may I visit again?"
"... yes..." It was whispered, she could only just hear it. "... thank you..."
"Please - if you need anything..." Angel touched his forearm again, briefly, then stood, bestowing another sweet, compassionate smile on him before leaving.Standing outside the Russian's room, Angel took a few deep, calming breaths and strove to control her shivering. That interview had been difficult... though oddly it wasn't until she'd left Alexei she'd realised how difficult it had been. Odder still was the fact the other man in the room, and Razor, had faded entirely from her perception while she'd been concentrating on Alexei. Angel frowned, there was something else...
"I've done that before." she murmured.
"Done what?" Holly asked.
"Comforted somebody like that." Angel blinked, pulled her gaze back from the middle-distance. She sighed in frustration. "I don't remember where though."
The medic smiled.
"Perhaps you remembering you've done something similar will help unlock the memory?"
"Maybe..." Angel shook herself, bid Holly goodbye then clasped Razor's hand, smiling up at the beautiful 'path. *Walk me to work?*"You OK, lover?"
I managed to nod, trying vainly to stop shaking, and Trey's grip tightened.
"If I'd known it was going to upset you that much, I'd've said no."
The odd thing was that it hadn't upset me that much. If anything, it had made me feel a little better. Knowing how hard it had been for Angel to face me - us - after all she'd experienced, yet she'd still wanted to do it, to say thank you... It helped, a little. I twisted slightly to look into Trey's face.
"... I'm... glad she came."
He blinked, expression sceptical, then seemed to realise I meant it.
"Well, if you're sure..."
I nodded, suddenly feeling desperately tired, slumping against him. He nuzzled my hair.
"Think you can rest, love?" His voice was soft, made the thought of sleep sound so appealing... I nodded against his chest, and he sighed happily, shifting us both down the bed, pulling my head down to his shoulder and hauling the quilt up over us.
And I managed to sleep for three whole hours before the nightmares started..."Shhhh.... It's OK..."
I dragged myself back to Trey out of vivid memories of Radinski's cell, of him breaking my fingers before shoving me face-down onto the bed, shaking and panting, disorientated, panicky. Trey was sitting upright rocking gently, with me rigid against him: he stroked my hair, trying to calm me down. Everything ached: I couldn't tell if it was real or remembered. My hands were hurting. And I felt sick.
Fortunately my stomach was empty...
Trey very carefully caught my wrists in one hand, pulling my hands away from him: it was quite possible that in my frantic attempts to hold onto him I'd broken my fingers again - the pain was certainly bad enough.
"I'll get Holly. Lie still, lover."
I wasn't sure I could have moved in any case. The room spun around me if I so much as turned my head.
In a way it was a relief, a distraction from the misery inside.
I only vaguely remember Holly arriving, frowning over my hands then strapping them again, murmuring to Trey something about trying to not let me use them for at least a week.
Then Greg arrived, and I felt faint, wanting anything but to have to relive any more memories.
He stroked my hair back from my forehead and smiled kindly.
"You are doing very well, Alexei. But we can't leave it half-done, you know that."
The awful thing was that I knew he was right...The sunlight hurt my eyes - but felt so good on my skin. Warm... it must be summer; there were insects buzzing, biting, settling on the blood on my body... would be a good idea to wash it off...
I could hear running water somewhere. There was a stand of trees not far from me, a stream behind it. The water was cold, but sufficed. It felt strange to be clean again...
No. I wasn't going to think about the last few months. I wasn't. I wasn't there any more. I was here - wherever here was.
A field full of some sort of grain crop. That probably meant there was a farm or a town or something nearby. People.
I didn't know how I felt about that. If there were people, there'd be food, and clothing. But... People.
I was afraid of people. They'd hurt me. I couldn't trust them.
But I couldn't stay here. I wrapped the blanket around me - it felt strange after spending the last months naked - NO I'm NOT going to think about that...
I started walking, randomly.At early evening I came to a farm. I waited 'til nightfall, then broke in, stole some clothes, a pair of too-big boots, a loaf. There was a road a short distance away. No signposts. The act of walking was almost hypnotic, step after step after step...
The crescent moon was high in the sky when I heard the growly sound of a vehicle coming up behind me. Suddenly frightened, I jumped off the road, into a thick, prickly hedge: the vehicle - a large old-fashioned truck - stopped and the driver leaned out.
"Hey kid! You lost? Want a ride?"
I would have run, but I was caught up in the hedge, my struggles just tangling me further, making it difficult to move. The driver laughed - though even terrified as I was it didn't sound cruel - and climbed out of the truck.
"C'mon, let's give you a hand. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you..."
I froze as he grabbed my wrist, unable to move - which allowed him to pull me carefully free and push me into the passenger seat, eyeing me curiously as he got back into the driving seat and started up the truck. I knew I should get out, should risk jumping out of the vehicle - but I couldn't. I couldn't make my arms and legs work. The most I could do was cower against the door, shaking.
The driver frowned - then one-handedly reached down beside him, pulled out a flask and handed it to me.
"Go on. It won't hurt you. And you look like you need it."
I took it, unable to disobey. Disobedience only got me hurt... The stuff was some kind of rough alcohol. It made me splutter and gag, but warmed my stomach. The driver grinned.
"That's better. So what's the story? You running away?"
I could feel panic choking me. If I said yes, would he take me back? But what else could I say?
I shook my head. He slowed the truck right down, switched on the cablight and turned to look at me, eyes raking my face and body. I'd forgotten about the bruises...
He nodded, switched off the light and resumed driving. His voice was different, softer.
"I see. So you're... heading into the big city to look for work. Yeah, that's it. Well kid, I'm going as far as Smolensk - that any good to you?"
I nodded, blinking at him in confusion, not understanding but afraid not to respond. He chuckled.
"It's a long way. You eaten recently? No, I guess not." He jerked his head towards the back. "There's a box in there - dig it out and help yourself."
There was bread, and cheese, and some dried meat, fruit... It was a feast...
But I couldn't eat much, and afterwards curled up on the seat and dozed, not sleeping - I was still too wary to do that - but resting..."Kid?" The voice was gentle; so was the hand on my hair... I woke with a jolt, cringing away from the touch. The man sighed and pulled his hand away.
"Sorry kid. I'm not going to hurt you. But we're nearly there. Thought you ought to wake up."
Wake up? I'd been asleep? Well obviously - it was daylight outside the truck. The sun was high: it must be midday. I blinked myself awake and eyed the driver. He smiled encouragingly.
"Now, I got a proposition for you. I got a series of deliveries to make, all the way to Liepaja. How'd you like to ride with me the whole way?"
What did he want in return? I tried to keep my voice steady.
"Why?"
"Eyee! It speaks!" He chuckled and grinned at me. "For the company. And because having a kid in the truck will make it easier to get past a couple of checkpoints on the way. And I'll even pay you once we get there! Enough to see you on your way to wherever you want to go, anyway."
It sounded too good to be true - which probably meant it was. But... how else was I going to escape? I gazed at him helplessly, and he frowned.
"You don't like the idea? I can let you out here if you want. Don't have much cash on me yet, though, not 'til I finish the run."
"What..." It came out soundlessly: I swallowed and tried again. "What would you want me to do?"
He looked surprised.
"Well, if you could pretend to be my son or nephew it'd help." Then he blinked and stared at me, nearly hitting another truck before he dragged his attention back to the road. He shook his head sadly. "No kid. I don't want your body. Heh, kid your age shouldn't even know what that means. I got a daughter about your age at home. Pretty as you, too. The thought of anyone hurting her..." He shook his head again, angrily this time. "No. Just want to see you safe. You'll be helpin' me, just by travelling with me. There's space in the back for both of us to sleep, blankets, spare pillow and plenty of food on offer. And we'll get you something decent to wear before we head on our way. So what d'you say?"
"... thank you..."
"No, thank you, kid. What's your name?"
"A... Alexei."
"Mine's David - but you can call me dyadi..."Trey sat with a mug of coffee, watching Greg over Alexei's sleeping body. The scan had lasted four hours and covered an awful lot of territory, and the telepath was tired and needed a break, but it hadn't been anything like as traumatic as yesterday.
"So, who was this David?"
Greg sighed.
"Drug courier - one of the best. Went undetected for decades, even by Russian talents - not that they were very organised back then."
Trey nodded. Once they'd reached the seaport, David - who had quite obviously taken a real shine to his travelling companion, even though they'd hardly spoken the entire trip - handed the young Alexei over to the overseer of the next stage of the shipment's journey with the admonition not to let him be hurt in any way: a month later the young Russian arrived at Southampton with a smattering of English, enough to let himself be understood at least, a new set of clothing, a wallet full of English currency and a handful of photographs, and directions to London. Still bewildered at the turn his life had taken, but pathetically grateful to the men who'd seen him here safely, he offered thanks and made his way to the overland hoverrail - never knowing that he'd been instrumental in delivering several million dollars worth of sophisticated designer drug formulae stitched into the headband of the baseball cap David had bought him in Smolensk and which mysteriously disappeared during his last night on the ship.
Trey shivered.
"If they'd got caught..."
"Yes - it would have been very bad for Alexei. But they weren't caught, and it enabled our young friend to escape..."London... glorious, eccentric, anachronistic London. At the time I didn't know how ferociously her inhabitants had fought to keep her unique character, to prevent her changing too much, to preserve her history. I just knew she opened her arms to me, and made me feel at home.
Not that it wasn't a struggle, at first. Work - proper work - wasn't easy to come by, certainly not for an underaged Russian with little English. But I managed. There were jobs to be had doing the things no-one else wanted to do - usually involving sewerage, which I loathed, but my choices were limited. I learned to defend myself, taking classes in aikido and tae kwan do. I learned to keep myself closed, to reveal as little as possible - it was safer. It became a habit. I learned to speak and read the language well, and started offering my services as a translator, somewhat surprised to find that business was good. Then one of my clients brought me to the attention of the American Embassy in London...
Someone must have seen my potential. I was taken on as one of their interpreters: after six months I was given what they called 'the basic training that everyone gets' in marksmanship, and made to take classes in political history. I was subjected to a battery of psychological tests, aptitude tests, IQ tests. They must have researched my identity and personal history, I had to tell them where I'd come from, but as to what they found... either it passed muster, or they simply didn't care, because a few days past my sixteenth birthday I was called into the office to meet the man everyone simply called Stone. I was not invited to sit down.
"Alexei. What do you know about terrorism?"
He looked up at me, eyes cold. Was he accusing me of something, or just asking? His body language and face gave little away, but then again, so did mine.
I gave him the dictionary definition; he gave me a cold half-smile in return.
"Could you kill?"
A more difficult question. I considered it for a minute.
"I believe so, in the right circumstances."
"And what circumstances might those be?"
"If I were threatened..." I faltered for a moment, a wholly unexpected feeling of dread suddenly making me breathless, then swallowed and continued, "or if the individual deserved to die."
He inclined his head.
"And how do you decide if someone deserves to die?"
"They prove their worthiness to live by their actions." I frowned. That didn't sound quite right. "Those who kill needlessly, indiscriminately, for a cause that hurts others - these people do not deserve to live."
Stone nodded.
"A little naïve, but on the right track. Would you fight against such people?"
"What do you mean?"
He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on the desk, his fingers linked together.
"There is an international force that fights terrorism, in all forms and in all countries. It is always watching for suitable recruits. It's not an easy life, agents run the risk of being hurt or killed - but it helps to keep the world safe from those who seek anarchy, control or the death of innocents. It is autonomous, answering to no one government, and its agents come from every nation on earth."
"It is secret?"
He pursed his lips.
"No. Well, not overtly, though of course it's also not publicised. Have you heard of the IATF?"
It didn't sound familiar, and I shook my head.
"Good. Would you be interested in joining?"
"Not without finding out a great deal more about it first."
He smiled for the first time.
"Excellent. I will make sure you have the time and resources to come to an informed decision. Then we will run our own tests and trials. If at the end we are both satisfied... well, we'll see." He rose to his feet. "Thank you for your time, Mr Alexandreivich. I hope to see you again soon."Trey poured another mug of coffee, handing it to the weary 'path.
"Want to leave the rest 'til tomorrow?"
Greg took a long swallow of coffee and shook his head.
"I'd rather finish today if we can, it'll be less stressful for Alexei. And for us. Let's try another couple of hours then take another break..."At seventeen I became an agent in training for the IATF.
The training was vicious for field agents - and I wanted to be a field agent: sitting at a desk or before a computer screen did not appeal, no matter how vital the work. And I discovered a drive for perfection that a few years earlier would have frightened me. It certainly made me unpopular with the other recruits. Or perhaps that was my solitary nature - and the way I responded to their overtures of friendship...
My life had been hard and frequently lonely - I found it almost impossible to trust. I knew why, even though I had made myself forget Moscow. I could not relax with others, could not relate to them on any level other than IATF business. And the first time someone tried to touch me - outside of hand to hand combat training - I broke her arm and nearly her neck.
I had been sitting at the training camp's bar, my head in a book, a glass of some weak American beer beside me, when... Diana I think her name was... slid her arms around my neck. I froze inside, panic gripping me: my body reacted as taught but considerably faster, breaking her hold and slamming her to the ground, narrowly averting my follow-up blow to her throat and shoving myself backwards, horrified.
It was only then that she felt the pain of the broken radius and ulna in her right arm, and whimpered, gazing up at me with big accusing eyes.
"I'm... sorry... you startled me..."
"You fucking prick!" That was Scott, the big bluff American boy scout - pardon, recruit, who I already knew was destined to fail the course: he was far too chivalrous, too soft. He raised his fist - but Diana struggled upright and shouted at him to stop. We both turned to her, and she managed a smile, though she was white with pain.
"It was my fault. I shouldn't have surprised you: I know how fast you are. I'm sorry, Alexei."
"As am I." And I was. I didn't enjoy causing pain, and she would lose several weeks training time while she recovered. "Let me take you to the infirmary."
She shook her head.
"No, it's OK. Though I would appreciate it if you would be there for the report."
"Of course." I had to give my side of the incident, and admit to overreacting, though I already knew it would count in my favour. But her rational reaction wouldn't do her any harm either. Not that that was much consolation right now...
The result was that I was left more alone than before. Which suited me.At eighteen the actual work began...
Over the next two years I 'clocked up' a goodly number of successful missions, partnered with a variety of other agents. I worked reasonably well with others - we were all of a high calibre, after all, and dedicated - but outside of assignments I had few colleagues and no-one I could call friend. Usually it didn't bother me, but just occasionally I would see a couple, together, in a sort of warm intimacy, and feel miserable, knowing I was missing something very human but too afraid, too... gauche to do anything about it.
It was during these years that I attempted to explore that strange ability I'd first noticed in Moscow, the being able to feel others' feelings - but the overwhelming flood of emotion released was too much, far too much for me to deal with, and I stopped trying. Except when it was useful for the mission, and even then I only dared let myself feel for a second or two.
It wasn't until later, until I met Trey, that I bothered to really investigate what it was I had.
Trey...
I don't think back to our first meeting very often. I prefer to keep it a special memory, only revisited rarely to keep it bright.
It had been a tougher than usual assignment, and the four of us were looking forwards to a little downtime - myself more than the others, perhaps. I'd heard the rumours that the powers that be were considering the pros and cons of allocating me a permanent partner. I wasn't at all sure how I felt about the notion. Permanent partners had to 'get to know each other' rather more closely than normal colleagues, and I did not at all relish the thought of allowing anyone any kind of intimacy. Yet the most difficult, challenging missions only went to partners. Whether I liked it or not, I would most likely have to endure a permanent partnership.
There were six others Stone wanted for future such missions, and fourteen potential partners. Weary as we were, we were given two hours to report, shower and make our way down to the lounge - then shown into the room and ordered to 'mingle'...
I loathe clichés, but I'm not sure what else to use to describe what happened. My body started tingling even before I'd entered the lounge, and once inside my eyes were drawn to him, as though he were the only other person in the room. A little taller than me, bigger, obviously stronger, broad face, broad hands tugging self-consciously at the collar of his shirt... obviously he wasn't used to wearing one...
He was beautiful. He glowed, tanned skin, grey-green eyes, warm dark copper hair. And he caught my eye, and for a moment he stopped talking to the other agents around him and stared at me. I couldn't breathe.
Then the woman beside him said something, her arm on his, and he lowered his head to look at her, and I could breathe again. Though I was so dismayed I wasn't sure I wanted to.
I found myself wanting a man.
After Moscow...
I slipped out of the door and made my way outside, my head aching. At the back of the building was a small garden with a low wall: I sat on it, rubbing at my temples and trying to think.
I had never had such a strong reaction to anyone before. It was terrifying. If I'd thought about it at all - which I'd tried very hard not to do - I'd assumed that my experiences in the prison had warped my whole perception of sex. I'd certainly never wanted to try anything sexual, with anyone, since then. And yes, I'd read enough to know that that was incredibly unhealthy. I didn't care. I didn't want anyone to touch me, far less... do anything to me. Or me to them, for that matter.
And one glimpse of this man had upended everything I believed of and about myself.
I did something I'd never done before - went to the bar, bullied the barman into giving me a bottle of vodka, went to my room and drank the lot.I woke to a pounding headache, dry, sore throat, stinging eyes - and Stone standing at my bedside, glaring down furiously.
"OK. What happened?"
I levered myself up on my elbows and peered up at him, wincing.
"What do you mean? Sir."
"Last night. What happened?"
I managed to roll over, biting my lip as the room swirled around me.
"I... overindulged. I'm sorry. Won't happen again."
"Damn right it won't!" He took a very deep breath then sat on the edge of the bed. "You realise the only reason you aren't up on a charge is because you're too bloody good and we can't afford to lose you."
I had no answer for him. Suddenly I could see the image of the man from last night, behind my eyes, bright and beautiful. And no doubt already partnered with someone else. I could have wept, if there'd been any moisture to spare in my body. I pushed myself into a sitting position, resting back on my hands. Stone glowered.
"We know your feelings about being partnered. We'd hoped you'd find someone, last night, you could - might - feel comfortable with. OK, that didn't happen. We're not going to push it. You're back on normal duty for another six months, then we'll try again."
I nodded miserably, then swallowed...
I had to know.
"Sir, what was... decided... last night?"
He stood, folding his arms.
"We have everyone potentially teamed up. We need to run a few tests and simulations, but so far things are looking good. Interesting results, really. Most surprising was Charlene. We know her tastes - at least, we thought we did. But she and McNabb seem to be reasonably well suited." He eyed me narrowly. "You disappeared before you could be introduced, but I'm sure you saw him. Trevor McNabb, ginger hair, green eyes."
I felt sick. Stone smirked.
"I'll leave you to recover. Report to my office at thirteen hundred hours."I drank a lot of water, and orange juice. Vitamin C was destroyed by alcohol: replenishing it was supposed to help get rid of hangovers.
I suppose it did, physically, anyway.
But inside I was aching. There'd only been one person with copper hair and green eyes of any description in the lounge...Soon afterwards my group was sent to the South African States, and for three months all any of us could focus on was the assignment at hand, vicious, bloody and dangerous. Peters was killed in action: I came close to losing my own life. By the time we returned to HQ we all needed rest and recuperation.
It was summer, the days long and hot. I spent much of my time in the grounds, reading and soaking up the sun, resting an obstinate leg wound that seemed to be resisting treatment. I was lying on a recliner in the afternoon sun when the shadow fell across my book: I squinted up into a dark figure silhouetted by sunlight.
"Hi. Want some company?"
I nearly said no. But the sun turned his hair to a corona of flame; it could only be one person. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and he dragged a chair closer and seated himself. Sprawled, rather, Trey never sat if he could sprawl.
"I'm Trey. You're Alexei, aren't you."
"Yes." He was even more attractive up close, fine laughter lines at the corners of his eyes and lips, and a spray of small freckles across his nose. He grinned.
"Pleased t'meet you." He glanced down at my leg. "Sorry to hear about the last mission. And sorry to lose Peters. She was good."
I managed to keep my breathing even, my thoughts under control and my expression impassive. Yes, talking about work was good, the easiest way to... connect, this first time. To my relief Trey seemed happy to talk, not bothered by my monosyllabic answers. In the space of twenty minutes I learned that he'd been FBI trained, came from a large Irish-American family - and was currently without a partner, the collaboration with Charlene having not been successful.
I tried very hard to quash the surge of hope that snippet caused. Physical attraction was absolutely not a good thing on which to base a partnership.
"I'm hot - gonna get a drink. Can I get you anything?"
I blinked, realising I'd missed the last minute or so of his conversation - monologue rather, I'd said nothing. I risked a small smile: he grinned back.
"Thank you. Mineral water would be... refreshing."
"Mineral water... OK - be right back."
I watched him saunter away, long legs moving smoothly, muscle rippling... my throat suddenly dry, I wondered if he always wore such... tight clothes...
His absence gave me time to compose myself. To try to compose myself, at any rate. To analyse what it was I was feeling.
Lust, yes. In fact - I reached inconspicuously into the sweatpants I was forced to wear at the moment, to allow for the dressing on my leg - I had better 'arrange' myself, before my physical state gave me away...
The sensation of my fingers on myself made me gasp quietly. I was no stranger to masturbation, but this... this was different. I gritted my teeth and pulled my hand back, resisting the urge to leave it over my groin, imagining Trey's hand there instead.
The thought sent a surge of arousal through me. And Trey was on his way back, two tall glasses in his hands...
I have heard myself referred to as Iceman, amongst the agents, and it's fitting in one way. I have worked hard to maintain my composure, my veneer of emotionless restraint, and I do not blush. But here and now, with Trey sprawled on the chair smiling at me, I could feel my face flushing.
"You look hot. Here." He handed me my mineral water - and our fingers touched. I almost dropped the glass: he caught it and pressed it into my hand, his own cupping mine. "Sorry. I'm not normally clumsy. Here."
"Th... thank you..." I took a long, long draught of the water, frantically trying to claw back some self-control. Trey leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, face raised to the sun.
"Mmmm... Nice."
Running my gaze over his lean, muscular body, I quietly agreed. He grinned and opened his eyes.
"So, how long 'til you're back in action?"
"I do not know."
"Hm. Well, I'm on downtime for a couple weeks. Got nothin' planned, so if you need anything, just ask, OK?"
"Thank you." I frowned. Why would he want to spend his free time with me? Unless, of course, he was attracted to me, too... No, it was more likely he was 'checking me out' as a possible partner. After all, I am very good at my job.
It wasn't what my body wanted, but just to be with him - it might be enough. He glanced at his watch and sighed.
"Gotta go. You be OK?" At my nod, he grinned. "Good. See you later!" He stood and turned to walk away, then paused. "If you're not doing anything else, like to eat with me tonight? Just in the canteen."
The 'canteen' was actually HQ's pleasant restaurant, and the food was good. I'd planned to eat there anyway: having Trey's company would be... interesting.
"Certainly. Seven o'clock?"
"Can we make it half past?"
"Very well. I will see you there."It had been an enjoyable meal - though I can't now remember what we ate. Trey talked more about his family, about films he'd seen; I discovered he liked basketball - both playing and watching - and that he wasn't a great lover of books, although he seemed to recognise those I mentioned, and had even read a couple of my favourites. He asked about Russia, what it had been like growing up there - but carefully didn't ask about my family. Which told me two things; firstly, that he'd checked my personnel records, and secondly, that he was surprisingly tactful. I found it endearing. It made it easier to speak to him, to ignore the aching, thrumming arousal that plagued me in his presence...
It was eleven before I realised it. Trey blinked at his watch, then grinned at me a little shame-facedly.
"Sorry. Lost track. Time really does fly when you're enjoying yourself."
I nodded.
"Thank you for a most agreeable evening."
"My pleasure. Like to do it again tomorrow?"
I would, very much...By the end of the week we'd eaten together every evening, and Trey had joined me most afternoons in the grounds, often just sitting with a book, occasionally commenting or bringing drinks. My initial lust had changed into an intense longing, partially assuaged by being able to spend time with him. And my leg was finally healing: the doctors agreed that I should be able to dispense with the crutches in a couple of days, and have the dressings finally removed a few days later. I faced a month of physical therapy, but there was no reason why I should not be back in peak condition afterwards.
Trey had cheered when I told him.
"We should celebrate!"
I'd smiled.
"Shall we wait until I am fully recovered?"
He chuckled.
"Nah. Let's do it now. We can celebrate again, later."
Trey, so full of the joys of life...My first day without crutches Trey drove us off the base in the evening and into town, for a meal in an excellent restaurant - and afterwards to see a film. A very old film, Forbidden Planet, which, he told me, was a sci-fi version of a Shakespeare play, The Tempest... I didn't know the original, but I enjoyed the film. 'Monsters from the Id'. Yes, that had a familiar ring to it.
Trey stretched widely as we exited the cinema, then turned to me.
"How about a drink?"
I shook my head.
"You'll forgive me, but I'm tired - and a little sore." In fact my leg was aching ferociously, and I was struggling not to limp too obviously. Trey slapped his forehead melodramatically.
"Of course - you've done too much. Dammit, I just don't think, do I? I'm sorry. C'mon. Let's get you back to HQ."
He held the car door open for me, then drove back almost sedately as we discussed the film. At the door to my room he laid a hand, very briefly, on my shoulder as he wished me goodnight. The first time he had, deliberately, touched me.
It felt like an electric shock.
I managed to smile and thank him for the evening, and limp as far as my bed before I collapsed. Trey filled my dreams that night.We still met up for the evening meal, and occasionally for lunch, but the next two weeks were both painful and hectic for me. The Force threw me into an intensive programme of therapy, exercise and retraining that filled my days and left me exhausted at night. But it had the desired effect: I would be ready for action in less than the postulated month.
At the end of the second week, Stone called me into his office. Blunt as ever, he gestured abruptly to a seat then stared at me.
"McNabb has put forward a request to be considered for partnership with you."
I kept my face neutral as I nodded.
"What do you think of the idea?"
I thought carefully for a moment.
"We have... become friendly while I have been incapacitated. Whether we could work together effectively, I don't know."
"Of course not - you haven't had the opportunity to do so yet. So we're entering you both into the special programme. Assuming you have no objections, that is."
I had my reservations - I really didn't know if I would be able to work with a man to whom I was so attracted - but I could not say no. Didn't want to say no.
"I have no objections."
"Good. You start next week."Trey sighed happily.
"God, I remember that course. Never enjoyed training so much."
Greg smiled: Trey was transmitting so much happiness. The 'path knew how difficult it had been for him, keeping his feelings to himself, respecting Alexei's initial reserve...
His first sight of Alexei had been like a slap in the face. Slim, tall, dark eyes serious in a pale face - an exotic beauty, disorientating, neither male nor female. Everything else faded into non-existence as their eyes met - then that damned woman had tugged on his arm, insistent, demanding... by the time he'd looked up, only ten or so seconds later, Alexei had vanished.
He'd wanted to go find the Russian, make sure he hadn't just dreamed the whole non-event. But the woman at his side had grimaced when he'd asked who the stranger was.
"Oh, him? Alex, our pet Russian. The Iceman. Probably the most unfriendly guy in the world. Pretty, but completely cold. Wouldn't know an emotion if it bit his ass."
And over the evening that followed Trey was to hear the same sentiments over and over again, and by the time Charlene asked if he was interested in being her partner, he'd reluctantly decided that, given he was new here and didn't know anything about Alexei, perhaps it would be a good idea...
A week later, tiring of Charlene's subtle attempts at control, he'd decided he'd made a mistake and went in search of the Russian's personnel records. He'd come away from the database intensely curious: what information was held there was sketchy, and when he'd tried to look deeper he'd found he didn't have the authority to access the files - which must mean that there was more to Alexei than any average agent knew... But by then the Russian was in South Africa, and Trey had spent the next three months training and waiting anxiously for Alexei to return.
He'd forced himself to watch as they repaired the shattered leg, inserting a steel replacement bone, regrowing tendons and muscle and sealing the skin, but his attention had been on Alexei's face, the pale almost translucent skin, the fine black hair. The Russian was as lovely as he remembered...
It hadn't been hard, after that, to find a reason to approach him. And Trey had been infinitely aware of the tiny, almost subliminal signals Alexei hadn't realised he was giving, that he found his new American friend attractive. So much for Iceman! But this odd repressiveness, his apparent refusal to accept his physical response, must be caused by something in his past...
It was too soon to ask: no way was Trey prepared to risk their deepening friendship in any way shape or form. He could wait.
He'd had to wait nearly a year...I had heard that in the best partnerships there is almost a psychic link between the people involved, that they know each other so well they do not even need to think before acting in concert. That is what Trey and I had, almost from the first. We were aware of each other, our relative positions, our strengths and weaknesses, the best way to tackle any situation instinctively, almost intuitively.
Apart from that, we were almost complete opposites.
Maybe that was part of what made him so attractive to me.
Our assignments were successful, and we tended to spend much of our downtime together too: unavoidable to some extent as partners usually shared quarters, although we had separate bedrooms. I'd found it disturbing, at first, that he flirted with others - men and women both - until I realised it was just a habit. The relief I'd felt worried me; I had never considered myself possessive, but it was somehow important to me that nothing intruded on our friendship.
Then came a mission that... changed things.
It should have been routine, a quick in, wipe out the terrorist cell, out again and home. It ended up with me being shot in the back.
I was lucky: the sniper was aiming for my heart, but something - I was later to conclude it must have been my 'talent' - made me move at the last moment. I was told that the bullet missed all vital organs, tearing through my intestines instead. At the time, all I knew was a red-hot pain that felt as though it tore my body in two - then blessed nothingness.
I came to some hours later - half naked, red-splotched bandages tightly wrapping my body, pain blazing through me - in Trey's arms. My partner was cradling me against him, his face buried in my hair, and... crying?
"... what...?"
He gasped, then moved to stare down at me, eyes brimming.
"'lexi... hold on, love. We're gettin' you help..."
He suddenly came into focus.
Love? He'd said love. Called me love...
I passed out again.The next time I came round, the pain was considerably lessened; I was lying on a bed, in a place that smelt of chemicals. Some sort of hospital. And Trey was sitting at my bedside, holding my hand, watching my face. He smiled. He looked exhausted.
"How you feelin'?"
I blinked, and tried to tell him I felt like hell. What actually came out was,
"You called me love..."
Given the colour of his hair I really shouldn't have been surprised at the depth of colour Trey was capable of blushing. He lowered his eyes.
"Thought you'd passed out."
"Not quite." I shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position and failing, but discovering in the process that any kind of movement hurt. Trey seemed to suddenly realise he was holding my hand, and laid it quickly back down on the bed.
"I'm sorry... D'you want me to leave?"
"No..." I held my breath as a wave of pain and weakness ebbed through me: Trey looked around anxiously for a nurse. "I would rather you stayed."
He eyed me for a long moment, then suddenly smiled, a beautiful, warm, affectionate smile.
"We need to have a good long talk, you an' me. Later, when you feel up to it."For the next couple of weeks Trey hovered over me, always at hand in case I needed anything. It would have been embarrassing had it been anyone else - and had it not been needed.
Eventually I felt recovered enough - strong enough - to talk with him. And he knew it before I said anything, and poured himself a large whiskey, before settling down opposite me. He took a deep breath.
"OK... But before you start, can I ask you something?"
I eyed him warily, but nodded.
"Thanks... Alexei... are you... I mean, no-one knows if you've ever been in a... relationship..." He blushed again, then blurted out, "Do you like women?"
I frowned.
"I have a good working relationship with the female agents."
"Yeah, I know. That's not what I meant."
"Then what do you mean?"
"I mean... to be with. Date. Sleep with. Make love to."
"It's... not something I've ever done."
He looked a little happier for a moment, then his face fell again.
"What about men?"
My breath caught for a moment, a feeling of panic hovering at the back of my throat. I shook my head.
"You mean you never have, or the idea's a turn-off?"
"I mean..." Could I tell him? It was really only fair he knew. I closed my eyes and took a long, slow breath. "When I was young, I was taken from my home to a Moscow prison and given to a crime lord. He and his friends, seven of them, kept me there for six months, naked. I was... r... raped, every day. Several times a day. I have not... thought about... considered..."
I kept my eyes closed, but could hear the horror in his whisper.
"How old were you?"
"It was my thirteenth birthday."
"... my God..."
I was aware of him moving closer, and tensed, but when I opened my eyes he was kneeling in front of me, tears trickling down his face.
"I'm so, so sorry..."
I forced myself to shrug.
"It was not your fault."
He was silent for a moment: I could feel his desire to comfort me. To hold me - Trey is a very tactile person.
He was also my partner, and my friend, and I still wanted him, despite everything. Maybe he saw it in my face, because he knelt up and took my hands.
"I would never, ever hurt you."
"I did not think that you would."
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes on mine, then groaned.
"I want to hold you. I want to prove it doesn't have to hurt." He gritted his teeth. "I want you, Alexei. Have done since I first saw you. I love you."
"Why?"
He hadn't expected that response, and gave me an almost comically half-dismayed, half-bewildered exasperated look.
"Fucked if I know. Why does anyone love anyone?"
An honest answer. I was equally honest.
"I do not know. I was hoping you might be able to tell me."
He eyed me for a moment, then sighed.
"I don't know. All I know is you're beautiful, intelligent, desirable, and... I love you."
"Does that mean you want to fuck me?"
He stared, startled, then blushed, his hands tightening on mine.
"Well, yeah, I guess so - or have you fuck me, I don't mind..." He frowned to himself. "That might be better. Maybe that wouldn't remind you... I mean..." He floundered for a few seconds, then groaned.
"Sorry. Haven't even asked you how you feel, if you want it, have I? I'll understand if you don't. Hell, if you never want to! After... I'd understand, truly I would." I kept my face impassive, and his fell. "Aw shit. I fucked up, didn't I. Shoulda kept my big mouth shut. Alexei, I don't wanna lose my partner, but if you can't work with me after this..."
"Trey..."
"I'll never bloody learn, will I. And there I was, hoping I might get it right, not say the wrong thing, and all I've done is spoil things..."
"Trey..."
"I'm sorry, 'lexi. Really sorry. You can hit me if you want..."
"Trey!"
He flinched and eyed me nervously.
"'lexi?"
"Trey, please shut up. Just for a minute."
He nodded, lips firmly pressed together. I watched him for a moment, wondering what to say. It was strange to feel so vulnerable, yet so powerful, at one and the same time. Honesty was perhaps the best policy.
"I have... found you attractive since we met." His eyes brightened, but he remained silent. "I enjoy working with you, and would not want our partnership to end. But..." I could feel myself starting to tremble and took a calming breath. "The only sex I have ever known was degrading, humiliating, agony. I do not know... I have never..." I bit my lip, bowing my head, trusting him with the secret. "You are the only person I have ever found arousing."
There was a shocked stillness, then I flinched as I felt his hand under my chin, pushing my face up gently to his.
"'lexi... I never dreamed... You mean it?"
I nodded, struggling to keep the fear hidden. There were tears in his eyes.
"Can I... can I hold you?"
I swallowed hard and nodded again, and he slowly shuffled forwards, between my legs, and wrapped his arms around my waist, lowering his head to my chest, one hand stroking my back. It was soothing, and non-threatening, and I slowly relaxed, slowly realising that it felt... pleasant. I closed my eyes to focus on the sensations...
"'lexi?" It was a quiet whisper, and I took a deep breath and blinked my eyes open.
"Mm?"
"Could we change position, please? I'm getting cramp."
I blinked - then felt amusement bubbling up.
"I would rather you felt comfortable. Please, move. One thing though."
He paused, on one knee preparatory to standing, eyeing me quizzically and a little anxiously. I smiled.
"Don't call me 'lexi. I really do not like it."
He grinned with relief and stood, carefully pulling me with him.
"Sure!" Standing facing me, my hands in his, he hesitated, then slowly raised a hand to lightly cup my cheek.
"Not gonna rush you, love. When you feel ready, just say, and we'll move on."
Such sweet generosity! I turned my head slightly, to kiss his palm, and he shivered.
"'lex... Alexei... can I kiss you?"
I felt my heartrate speed up, I'm sure of it. I nodded uncertainly, and closed my eyes...
... only to open them as I felt the brush of his lips, delicate tiny little kisses before he settled his mouth against mine, one hand at the back of my head, the other in the small of my back, holding me still but so gently, careful not to put any pressure on the still-sore bullet wounds.
And I melted.It wasn't until later that I fully appreciated his skill, but that first... my legs were weak by the time he pulled away, brushing more of the little kisses before letting me go. I must have looked stupid, my lips parted, my eyes half-closed, but he smiled tenderly and stroked my face.
"Beautiful."
So are you... but I wasn't quite confident enough, yet, to say it aloud...I asked Trey to keep our relationship private: I had no wish for others to know and possibly exploit my new vulnerability. He thought I was overreacting, but agreed, to keep me happy. In public we behaved as we had ever done.
But in private...
I later looked back on that month as a series of steps to my liberation. It started with kisses, my lips, my face, then my shoulders and neck and chest and back, moved to touches, with Trey stroking my upper body, my neck, my hair, and gently encouraging my tentative attempts to return the caresses. We would lie together: I learned to feel safe in his arms, rather than trapped. And the whole time he was aroused, I knew it, could feel his erection against me when we... cuddled, but he never tried to hurry me. The night he shyly asked if he could touch me, and wrapped his broad hand around my rigid penis as I nodded yes, was a night of revelation for me. His touch, firm and thrilling, my own excitement... I came within seconds, gasping and holding him tightly, feeling the tears of happiness on his face as he kissed me deeply.
"Oh, love..." His whisper was shaky. I stroked his face, then glanced doubtfully down at his groin. He was still hard, weeping pre-ejaculate, and it would not be fair to leave him like that... I reached for him, but he caught my hand in his.
"It's OK love. You rest. I'll do myself - will you watch?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Yeah. But only if you don't mind."
So I watched, memorising the things he liked, the way he stroked then pumped himself, and the following night I put what I had learned into practise...The following week I decided it was time. We had two days' downtime, the weather was dreadful, cold and stormy, and we both needed a rest. I felt safe and comfortable with Trey, was now easy with his touches, didn't find him threatening. And I wanted to prove to myself that he was right, that sex could be a happy, enjoyable thing.
We left the range together, Trey smirking: he'd narrowly beaten my score. Back in our quarters he kissed me and headed for the bathroom for a shower, stretching and grinning at the thought of two days break...
I gave him five minutes then slid into the shower with him - for the first time.
He yelped as I wrapped my arms around him from behind, glaring back over his shoulder.
"You could've warned me! That tickled!"
I chuckled and nuzzled his neck.
"But I thought you liked surprises..."
He twisted and pulled me into his arms, erection pressing against my own, and kissed me.
"Mmmm.... So, you going to wash me first, or shall I do you?"
I regarded him sombrely.
"Equality, vorolye. Let us wash each other at the same time."
He pouted.
"But then I can't concentrate on your delicious body."
"You can do that later, in bed."
There must have been something - in my voice, or in my face. He paused, eyes widening, hands on my shoulders.
"Love...?"
I nodded.
"I think it is time. I believe I am ready."
I swear his hands were trembling as we washed each other...Back in the bedroom he paused, facing me.
"You sure about this, lover?"
I nodded, and he wrapped a hand over my hip.
"OK. I'll be bottom for you. That way you keep control." He reached for a tube of gel, frowning at my curious glance. "Lube. Make it easier for both of us... you've never... they didn't...?"
I shivered.
"It was an overcrowded prison, Trey. There wasn't enough food to go 'round, there certainly weren't niceties such as that."
He hugged me gently.
"I love you." He sighed and pulled away, moving over to the bed and lying on his back, legs spread, uncapping the gel and squeezing it onto his fingers, easing it into his body as I watched, fascinated - fighting back the old associations of shame and dirtiness... After a minute he smiled at me.
"C'm here. Let me put it on for you."
Hesitantly I knelt between his legs, flinching then relaxing as he smoothed the cool, slippery stuff over my erection. After the first shock it felt very nice indeed, gliding over the sensitive skin, increasing my arousal. Then we were both prepared, and... I was afraid. Afraid it would hurt, either or both of us, that I would do something wrong. He frowned at my slackening erection, then sat up and caught my shoulders.
"Love? What's wrong?"
I shook my head, too ashamed to admit the fear - but Trey knew anyway. He kissed me, gently but thoroughly, then gazed into my eyes.
"You won't hurt me. I won’t hurt you. It feels - wonderful when done properly."
"I don't know how to do it properly." I could hardly hear my own voice. He kissed me again.
"Go slowly and gently. You can't go wrong." His hand slid down to my penis, stroking and fondling, arousing me again. "I've wanted this for so long, love. Please. Please make love to me."
He lay back. I took a deep breath, positioned myself - and pushed into his body..."Oh..."
It felt... hot, and snug, and smooth... Masturbating, I was always aware of the twin sensations, in my hand and on my penis: this was quite different. I pushed in a little further, rewarded by a small groan and Trey's hands on my buttocks, urging me on. I leaned forwards, taking my weight onto my elbows, and eased all the way in as Trey hissed, his head rolling back. For a moment I thought I'd hurt him and tried to move back, but he held me still, and after a few seconds gazed up at me, eyes half closed and dreamy.
"You're wonderful..." he wriggled slightly. "Try moving... please?"
That part, at least, was instinctive. I closed my eyes to focus on the sensations, feeling that familiar tension building, then opened them as Trey moaned and angled his hips slightly upwards into me.
"Am I hurting you?"
"... no... oh God no... so fuckin' good... can you move a bit faster?"
I could, and did, and the effect was startling. Trey grabbed my shoulders and began rocking into my thrusts: I could feel something inside him, something I was rubbing against, that seemed to be increasing his pleasure... I'd ask him later. For now it was as much as I could do to keep pace with him.
He cried out as he came, his whole body going stiff and trembling, warm stickiness pulsing between us, internal muscles squeezing my penis firmly... oh, that felt amazing... as he shuddered down, he grinned up at me.
"Sorry... meant to wait for you..."
"It is alright." I made to withdraw, but he grabbed my buttocks and held me in place.
"What are you doing, love?"
I eyed him uncertainly.
"You have finished, climaxed..."
"But you haven't! C'mon. I want to feel you come inside me. I've wanted this for a year, love."
I began to move again - and he consciously set up a rhythm, tightening then relaxing inside. I had never imagined anything could feel so good. His hands on my buttocks pulling me tightly into him, reaching his head up to kiss me... I could feel heat gathering in my groin...
I whimpered as I came, jetting deeply into his body, trembling, beautiful sparkling lights behind my eyelids, then collapsed shaking onto Trey's broad chest. He stroked my hair, sighing contentedly, then chuckled.
"A long time to wait to lose your cherry, love. Hope it was worth it."
I raised my head, blinking at him confusedly.
"Cherry?"
He grinned and stroked my back.
"Your virginity, love."
As my slackening penis slid from him I realised that he was quite correct. It was the first time I had penetrated anyone. And it had been sublime.
© 2004 July 15th Joules
Darkside
© 2004 WaveWrights