Beyond fate, there is choice
by Ainzfern
10
On the balcony of Raoul's and Katze's apartment in Eos Tower, Katze stood smoking leisurely and sipping on a cold beer as he watched the sun descend over the city far below. It was a beautiful time of day, he mused as he cast his gaze over the sepia-washed vista below him, a time that was certainly enhanced by being up this high. He had always enjoyed looking out over the city like this, far enough away for it to appear silent and peaceful, even though realistically, he knew it was anything but. Down in the streets and byways, a million different stories, a million different lives continued unabated, some joyous, some tragic. But he liked the illusion of serenity that distance gave him. He always had, even all those years back during many of what he now knew to have been the loneliest days of his life... he would step out onto Iason Mink's balcony and look down upon the city, taking comfort from the fact that, for one brief moment, he could imagine that he was beyond it all.
So strange, the quirks of fate that had touched his existence. Those days seemed so far behind him now that they were almost like a completely different life altogether.
Sometimes he wondered if he would ever be able to express just how thankful he was for that fact.
He smiled, hearing a soft foot-fall behind him, sighing with pleasure as warm arms gently slid around his chest from behind and a pair of soft lips grazed the side of his face. "I am surprised," a deep velvet voice, warm with humor and affection, spoke directly into his ear. "You are actually home before me."
Turning within that embrace, Katze dropped his half finished cigarette into the ashtray on the nearby table and smiled gently. "Well, I figured, seeing as I was going to be putting in a pretty late one tomorrow, I'd make a bit of extra effort today." He tilted his face up, kissing the side of Raoul's mouth softly.
Raoul arched an elegant brow at him as he pulled back a little to look down into Katze's eyes. "Tell me, is this 'late one' of yours actually necessary, or are you just doing everything in your power to avoid having to attend the after-party that will close the trade conference?"
Katze artfully mirrored Raoul's expression. "Would I do a thing like that?"
"Yes."
Katze grinned, easing out of Raoul's hold and leading him back into their apartment. "In all honesty, Raoul, this time I really do have to be out at the bio-fabrication plant tomorrow. The final upgrades are nearly finished and the techs are liable to rush the hell out of the job just to get it done if I'm not there to coordinate it properly," his eyes darkened a touch. "The last thing I want is to have to start over again because some hot-shot with a lab coat tries to take a shortcut."
"I see," Raoul regarded him with tolerant affection shining from his splendid eyes as they crossed through the main area of the apartment. "Well, I must confess that, although I personally shall miss your presence, I can appreciate your fervor when it comes to completing such an involved project."
Katze paused, turning to face Raoul and smiling gratefully at him. "Thanks," he said simply. He frowned a little, looking closely at Raoul's face, noting the touch of weariness there. "Big day, huh?"
"Reasonably challenging, yes. But productive nonetheless."
Katze's grin turned somewhat sardonic. "Well, it certainly appeared to start off interestingly enough."
Raoul gave him an odd look for a second before his brow smoothed out in comprehension. "Ah," he nodded sagely, "I'm assuming you and Riki were paying quite close attention to the by-play during Chey Neeson's opening speech, then?"
"We were, yes." Afire with curiosity, Katze moved a little closer to the Blondie, sliding his arms around Raoul's waist. "So...? Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?"
Smiling tolerantly, Raoul drew in a breath. "Iason and I felt that Tahna's presence at the trade conference today was significantly out of character enough to warrant questioning."
"I see," Katze tilted his head to one side. "Because..?"
Raoul's voice lowered slightly, a serious note entering his tone. "We were considering the notion that Tahna Lam might just have been involved with the assault on Blaine Dal, and the series of Midas break-ins."
Katze felt his eyes widen.
Obviously seeing the look, Raoul nodded, although there was a touch of frustration in his deep green eyes. "As it transpired, we were mistaken." He grimaced wryly, then continued, "Of course, considering that Tahna is rather well known for his somewhat vocal criticisms of Iason's policies---"
"That's putting it mildly," Katze muttered sourly. "Actually, I would suggest that he's rather well known for his somewhat vocal criticisms of practically everything."
"Indeed," Raoul flashed a wan smile at him, "... we couldn't discount the idea that he might have taken it into his head to attempt to discredit Iason via more direct means."
"But he hadn't."
"No." Raoul ran a warm hand down Katze's forearm, stroking the smooth skin. "Even Chey Neeson, who witnessed the interview, seemed quite convinced of Tahna's innocence."
Katze stepped back a little, his expression thoughtful. "Well, that's encouraging, anyway. Chey's quite a sharp judge of character, I think."
"True. But, alas, it does not put us any closer to the real culprit."
"No," Katze bit his lower lip gently. "Whoever it is, is almost bound to slip up sooner or later though," he suggested hopefully.
"We can only hope so."
"Well, if that's been on your mind all day, it's no wonder you look a bit worn out," Katze peered at him again, concern and fondness in his eyes. "Did you manage to eat before you left Partia?"
"I did," Raoul sighed, moving towards the bedroom and unfastening the clasp that held his heavy sash-cost across his shoulders. "I shared a light meal with Iason before leaving for the evening."
"Good." Sliding the garment from his Blondie's broad shoulders, Katze carefully hung it in the wardrobe. He chuckled softly. "Mika practically force-fed me as soon as I got in the door."
"Excellent," Raoul arched his back in a slow stretch. "Then he is following my instructions as given."
"Hey!" Katze turned and shot a mock-glare at him.
Unruffled, Raoul met his gaze. "I'm very aware of your tendency to forget such things, Katze." He shook his head, even as he unbuttoned his rich satin shirt and pulled the tails free of his fitted black pants, "I would prefer you not lose any more weight than you already have."
"Like a little meat on my bones, huh?"
Reaching out, Raoul hooked his arm around Katze's lean waist and pulled him close. "Something like that." He kissed the side of Katze's neck once or twice, the long fingers of his other hand gently working the redhead's own shirt open at the collar, exposing soft pale skin to his stroking fingertips.
Feeling a certain undeniable interest being expressed by his baser anatomy, Katze arched into the touch, shuddering with deep delight as he felt the first slow surges of heat rising his loins, gently hardening him. "I see," he murmured, twining his long fingers through Raoul's satin-soft mane of hair. "You have some definite ideas about what you want to do this evening, then?"
"Hmm," Raoul straightened, catching Katze's lips in a searing kiss, tasting his mouth with repeated dips of a hot tongue. His hands slid down the length of the redhead's body, gripping his ass firmly and pulling him close, grinding his hips forward into Katze's, letting him feel the echoing hardness of the Blondie's erection pressing intimately against him, letting him know how much he was wanted. "I feel undeniably tense, Katze," Raoul murmured, his voice low and husky, his splendid eyes darkening with lust.
"You do?" Katze eased Raoul's shirt off his broad shoulders, letting it drop unheeded to the floor as he closed his hands over the smooth warm skin of his Blondie's shoulders, his strong fingers curling in to massage gently at the nape of Raoul's neck. "Well, I might just have something for that."
"Oh?" Raoul's sultry little smile sent a sharp jolt of desire straight to Katze's loins. "Then in that case, I invite you to elucidate."
Snorting with laughter at his lover's turn of phrase, Katze gently pushed at Raoul's chest urging him to sit, then lie back, upon their bed. Swiftly disrobing, he crawled onto the bed beside the Elite, leaning down to press his lips once more to Raoul's. He stretched out on his side, propped up on one elbow, kissing his Blondie over and over again, soft and slow; delicate and tender. He slid his free hand down the expanse of Raoul's chest, his palm stroking over a flat belly to come to rest upon the turgid outline of Raoul's erection, straining hard and hot against the confining material of his pants.
Raoul hissed softly between his teeth, his pelvis lifting into the touch. With a slow grin, Katze snapped open the fasteners, his fingers dipping under the fabric. "Lift up a bit, Raoul," he murmured, nodding as his Blondie complied.
Making quick work of it, he whisked Raoul's pants down and off, turned back, and simply looked at him for a moment.
The Elite was beautifully built, no doubt about it. Every time his saw his Companion like this Katze was struck by the innate physical perfection of him. Elegantly long legs, solid and well-formed; Katze's eyes moved up from ankle to hip, taking in the contours of his lover, the hard sinew and defined musculature. His gaze paused at the sight of Raoul's erection, rising regal and thick to lay flat against his smooth abdomen, blushing with arousal and weeping freely from the slit. Katze reached out, his fingers curling around the silk hard length. To the background of the Elite's low sounds of appreciation, he stroked Raoul's cock slowly, his thumb rubbing gently across the glistening glans, the texture and heat of the flesh within his grip thrilling to his senses.
He glanced up further, his hot gaze traveling over Raoul's magnificent chest and shoulders. The dark nipples, peaked with arousal, called to him and he leaned down, tonguing one gently. Raoul shuddered, arching into it, one hand hooking behind Katze's neck to hold, to guide. Back and forth, Katze worked the sensitive points of flesh, groaning with desire as he felt the velvety buds hardening under his lips. Raoul's reaction was beautiful, as always, his long frame moving sensuously, shaking with restrained lust while he endured the sweet torture.
After a few more moments, the hand around the back of Katze's neck tightened slightly, the groans filling his ears took on a desperate note and, understanding, the ex-Furniture pulled back, staring down into Raoul's flushed face.
Burning eyes, glittering like emeralds, looked back at him. "Katze..." Raoul gasped tightly, his voice strained and uneven.
"I know," Katze whispered soothingly. "Okay, I know." He shifted again, reaching out to the bedside table and snagging what was needed to aid the process a little more. Sometimes, there was a fine line between teasing and cruelty. Katze had no intention of crossing it. Scooting up onto his haunches he propped one knee up and began to prepare himself for penetration with unselfconscious efficiency, while Raoul watched him unblinkingly, his golden main of hair spread out across the mattress and his eyes blazing with need.
Completing his task, Katze reached out for the panting Elite, pulling him close and rolling onto his back so that Raoul lay cradled between his strong thighs. As the Blondie lifted up, Katze held his gaze, reaching down between their bodies to grip Raoul's erection and guide him as the Elite drew in a deep breath and pushed inside, entering Katze fully in one deep and thrilling stroke. A soft cry was torn from Katze's throat as his Blondie moved inside him, a cry that welcomed his lover, a cry filled with almost desperate desire and enduring affection.
It was glorious, Katze thought hazily to himself and Raoul gathered him close, pressing his smooth cheek to Katze's as he rocked within his arms, within his body, sweat gathering on their skin, dampening their hair and filling Katze's senses with the warm and musky scent of maleness and sex. He closed his eyes in sheer bliss, relaxing completely. He felt incredible. So warm, surrounded by smooth skin and resilient muscle. It was so easy, so affirming to let Raoul have him like this, to trust him so. To let Raoul do with him what he would.
As the pace quickened, the pitch of Raoul's soft groans signaling his inexorable shift towards climax, Katze eased his hand down between their sweat-slicked bellies, gripping his own cock and stroking himself hard. He felt the first sharp sweet waves of orgasm rising up through him, his sensitized flesh committing to completion in earnest. A few more strokes, both of Raoul's solid cock and his own fist, and Katze spasmed and came, his cock pulsing wetly in his grip as he voiced his delight and relief with a ragged cry of fulfillment.
Raoul continued to move, steady and hard, for a few moments. Then he stilled, gripping Katze tightly to him as he shuddered through his broad chest, venting the softest of moans against Katze's smooth neck; spilling his own essence in hot pulses deep within Katze's body.
In the breathless aftermath, they lay quietly, still intimately joined, their fingertips touching here and there as their breathing slowed and their skin began to cool. Opening his eyes, Katze smoothed his hand over Raoul's hair, pushing the heavy locks back off his face, even as the Blondie propped himself up on his elbows to stare down at him with something very close to adoration.
Caught by the look, Katze swallowed hard, his heart swelling almost painfully. "I love you, you know," he murmured.
Raoul smiled. He was, to Katze at that moment, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "I know," he touched Katze's face with infinitely gentle fingers. "I love you too, Katze," he continued with endearing honesty shining from his green eyes. "You have become the foundation of my life. I hope you will always know that."
Moved, almost to tears, Katze pulled him down and held him tightly for a long time. "Yeah," he whispered, pressing his face into Raoul's satin-soft hair. "Yeah. I'll always know that."
Following the closure of the first day of the conference, Chey Neeson debated with the idea of simply returning to his suite at Partia and enjoying a glass or two of fine single malt before seeking his bed. However, it only took him a few moments, at best, to dismiss the notion in favor of calling his driver and instructing the man to take him directly to Jupiter Tower instead.
For some reason, Chey felt singularly compelled to see if a certain Elite might still be there, working his way rather resentfully through his quarterly report amendments. From an outsider's perspective, Chey supposed his decision might well be seen as a form of sheer stubborn bloody-mindedness; an attempt to, yet again, get right up Tahna's nose by turning up and being deliberately friendly in the face of overwhelming resistance.
But he knew it was far more than that.
He liked the man. There was just something about him that compelled Chey's attention. And there was a part of him, even understanding that Tahna was more than capable of looking after himself, that was actually kind of concerned about him following the uncomfortable interview with his Syndicate superior earlier in the day.
Which was why he was here now; at the virtually deserted Jupiter Tower carrying a decanter of scotch and two glasses down the hallway towards Tahna's office. He felt a slow grin bloom on his face as he rounded the door and saw the Elite sitting at his desk in the process of stacking files to one side with a notably sullen look on his perfect face.
"Well," Chey drawled as he entered the office, "It looks like my timing is still on par."
Tahna's head snapped up, his striking eyes at first widening in surprise, before narrowing in distaste. "You again?" he snapped sharply.
"I'm afraid so."
The Elite heaved a great sigh. "Did I not hear you specifically promise that you would not bother me anymore?"
"Actually," Chey corrected him lightly. "What I promised, was to avoid your museum."
Tahna's rich mouth twisted into a derisive little sneer. "That is sheer sophistry, Mr. Neeson."
"I know," Chey reached Tahna's desk, and smiled down at him. "But never mind. I bring gifts this evening." He raised his hands and winked, showing Tahna the crystal decanter and the glasses he had brought with him.
Tahna tilted his head, looking profoundly unimpressed. "The federation tendency towards petty crime reveals itself yet again, I see," he noted acerbically, glaring at the items that Chey held. "Really, Mr. Neeson... Thieving from the conference room bar? Isn't that just a bit infantile, even for you?"
"Oh, I wouldn't call it thieving, Tahna," Chey snorted softly. "More a case of 'liberating'."
"You may call it whatever you wish," Tahna replied, irritably shifting the files on his desk, "Just so long as you do it as far away from me as possible."
"Tell you what," uninvited, Chey took a seat at Tahna's desk, set the glasses down and pulled the stopper from the decanter. "Share a convivial drink or two with me, and I promise I'll leave right after."
"You really don't know how to take no for an answer, do you?" Tahna crossed his arms over his broad chest, glaring icily at the federation statesman.
"Well, we have that much in common, at least." Chey poured a generous measure of scotch into each glass.
Tahna heaved a long-suffering sigh, lifting his eyes to the ceiling for a moment. "Why do I have the most insistent feeling that this will end up as nothing but a disastrous mistake?"
"Oh, that's simple, Tahna," Chey shrugged one shoulder amiably, his expression oddly knowing, as he pushed Tahna's glass across the desk top towards the Blondie. "It's because you don't actually want to like me."
"To coin the vernacular, Mr. Neeson," Tahna shot back at him, "tell me something I don't know."
Chey grinned at him. "...But you do," he added.
"Do what?"
"Like me."
Tahna gaped at him, his huge eyes filled with affront. "I most certainly do not."
"Yes, you do." Chey sat back, glass in one hand, boundless amusement and, oddly, burgeoning affection rising in him.
"I don't!"
"Oh, come on... seriously. How could you not?" Chey sipped his drink and winked at the Elite. "I'm the most perfect target for vitriol that you ever had... one that just keeps bouncing back. Surely that in itself is enough warrant a spark of fondness in you."
The tiniest sound amusement left Tahna's elegant throat. The Blondie's expression became slightly startled for a moment, as if he couldn't believe that he'd actually made such a noise. Then in the next instant, he composed himself again, taking a measured sip from his glass before looking levelly into Chey's eyes. "Very well," he said grudgingly, "I am willing to admit that, just perhaps, you are not as completely abhorrent as I originally thought..."
"Hah!"
"But that doesn't mean that I like you."
Chuckling, Chey saluted him with his glass before draining it in one swallow. "Well... Coming from you, I'd say that's praise enough."
Tahna frowned at him, something close to marvel crossing his face. "You really are a sad, strange, abnormal little person, aren't you?"
Chey snorted and reached into his pocket for the notebook he'd made a point of remembering to bring with him. "Sorry... Just can't let that one pass." He flipped it open and fished for his pen. "Won't be a second."
"Oh, for goodness sake..." Tahna vented a harsh sound of disgust and drained his glass as well.
Deliberately laying the notebook down, Chey held up his hands. "Okay. Truce." He topped his glass up, holding out the bottle and raising one eyebrow at Tahna, who nodded and slid his own glass over for a refill. "The fact is, I came here tonight to see if you were all right."
The Blondie peered askance at him. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well," Chey pulled an artfully casual face at him, "It was a kind of rough day for you."
"You mean Iason Mink's little interrogation?" Tahna sniffed disdainfully. "I hardly think that counts as 'rough'. Believe me, the Elite circle that frequents my art galleries and museums are far more terrifying in all their critical glory that Iason could ever be." His perfect nose wrinkled slightly, his face growing thoughtful. "I've actually always felt Iason was far too decent for his own good."
"Odd way of looking at it," Chey mused.
"Yes. Well. I'm like that, sometimes."
Setting his glass down, Chey stopped and looked at Tahna for a moment, seeing the little signs of weariness on that perfect face, the slight shadows under his eyes. He was quite convinced that, no matter how vehemently Tahna might like to deny it, the scene in Iason's office had gotten to him.
After all, Chey thought almost sadly, no one enjoyed being suspected of something that they didn't do.
He noted that the Blondie had stilled under Chey's scrutiny, staring back at him with an air that was half challenging, and half something else; some other oddly familiar expression that Chey couldn't quite put his finger on. He shook his head. "Do you have much left to do?" Chey indicated the files on Tahna's desk.
Tahna blinked, giving himself a tiny shake as he looked down at them. "No, as a matter of fact I had just finished." His eyes flashed with an impatient little glint. "I was, actually, about to leave for the evening. But... as usual, Mr. Neeson, your timing was irritatingly impeccable."
Huffing a soft laugh, Chey nodded at the scotch decanter. "You want another?"
Tahna stared at it for a moment before shrugging, once more pushing his glass over. "Why not?"
Refilling both their drinks, Chey looked sideways at Tahna, curiosity rising in him. "Tell me something," he murmured. "You mentioned this morning that you have an apartment in Apathia."
The Blondie lifted his glass, nursing it in one elegant long-fingered hand. "I have several residences in Apathia, Mr. Neeson," he smiled almost wryly. "Not that I ever get to use them much these days. I seem to be imprisoned within Eos and Midas by various never-ending demands on my time."
"And you have Pets there?" Chey took a slow sip of his drink, keeping his tone light and casual.
Tahna gave him an odd look. "Yes? And..?"
"Well, I was just wondering," Chey tilted his head. "Why keep them, if you never actually see them?"
"I do occasionally visit them, Mr. Neeson," Tahna's back stiffened slightly, a touch of offence entering his violet eyes. "I am not totally without a sense of responsibility, you know."
Chey blinked, a previously unconsidered perspective beginning to occur to him. "So, that's how you see it? As the duty of a responsible Pet owner?"
Tahna shook his head, looking puzzled. "Of course I do. They appreciate my attention as much as I appreciate their presence." He grimaced then, taking another slightly longer sip from his glass. "In fact, Tei and Elle have a tendency to be quite sullen if I ignore them for too long."
"That's their names?"
"Yes," Tahna reached for the decanter, topping up his own glass this time. "Two little males. Quite charming, too."
Chey sighed sadly. "I see."
"Ah..." Tahna's eyes narrowed shrewdly. A slow, faintly evil smile curled his rich mouth. "Perhaps I have just found the one thing that does get under your skin, hmm?"
"I think I'm comfortable enough with my nature to say 'yes'," Lifting his broad shoulders Chey smiled, calm and unruffled. "I won't deny it, Tahna."
Tahna huffed a tiny sound of disgust. "How is one supposed to have a satisfying disagreement with you when even the things you dislike don't upset you?"
"I suppose it depends on your definition of 'upset'," Chey mused thoughtfully. He grinned then, arching a wry brow at the Blondie. "But I can slam my hand down on the desk and shout a little if it'll make you feel better."
"Don't be so facetious."
"Look who's talking." Chey chuckled softly. "Tell me about them."
"Who?" My Pets?" Tahna shook his head, perplexed. "Why?"
"Humor me."
Tahna remained silent for a moment before sitting forward, his eyes oddly intent. "Well, something you needn't concern yourself about are my Pets, Mr. Neeson. I can assure you that they are perfectly happy." He tossed his hair back with a little jerk of his chin. "I'm not even certain why I am bothering to explain this to you, but... Tei and Elle have been with me for some time, now. And, as my Pets, they serve two specific purposes," he smiled a little. "They amuse and divert me whenever I return to Apathia; and they are expected to be at my side, looking absolutely gorgeous, at every gala that I host for my department. Other than that, they live their own little lives from my apartment under the care of my Furniture and the arrangement works for all of us."
"And what happens when they became too old, Tahna?" Chey leaned forward and grabbed the decanter again, once more refilling his glass.
Tahna smiled blandly at him, one elegant brow quirked. "How do you define 'old', Mr. Neeson?"
"Oh, I guess, for a Pet... Eighteen or nineteen, maybe?"
"Tei is twenty and Elle is twenty one." Tahna drained his glass again, setting it down with a certain air of finality.
Chey felt his eyes widen. "Really?"
"Oh, don't look so shocked." Tahna waved a hand at him. "After all, it was your dear friend Iason who made it all perfectly acceptable for me to keep them beyond the standard age of retirement. Besides, they're already well-trained and used to my nature." He shrugged lightly. "It's just common sense to retain them rather than putting myself through the unnecessary process of acquiring new ones."
Chey stilled for a moment before he felt a smug grin rising across his face. "You voted for Iason's reforms," he said, surety in his tone.
Tahna froze, before shooting him a deadly look.
Chey laughed delightedly. "You did! You actually voted for them, didn't you? All that fuss Iason told me you kicked up over it, and you had voted for them all along."
Lifting his chin, Tahna glared haughtily down his nose at Chey. "You are drunk, Mr. Neeson."
"Getting there," Chey wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes. "Ohhh, too priceless, you really are."
"I don't happen to think this is amusing, you wretched little backwater philistine."
"Don't worry," Chey hiccupped discreetly, "your terrible dark secret will be safe with me."
"Why does that not fill me with confidence?"
Grinning amiably at him, Chey checked his watch and sighed, a small yet quite genuine pang of disappointment running through him. "Regrettably, Tahna, though it has been both illuminating and educational talking with you, I'm afraid the hour grows late. I really need to be going."
"Thank God for small mercies," Tahna muttered.
Chey shook his head and vented another chuckle. "Y'know, we really ought to do this again."
"I don't think so, Mr. Neeson." Tahna's expression cooled slightly.
Smiling, his eyes sparking with almost secret mirth, Chey bowed his head politely to the elegant Elite. "We'll see," he murmured. He pocketed his notebook, turned away and took a few steps towards the door before snapping his fingers and turning back, a sudden thought occurring to him. "Ah... one more thing?"
A pale brow rose slightly on a flawless face "Yes?"
"What are the odds of scoring an invite to your Ephedrian gala?"
Tahna gave him a look at that spoke volumes. "Less than encouraging, I would say."
"Ah. Right," Chey nodded again. "Well, I thought it couldn't hurt to ask."
"Good night, Mr. Neeson," Tahna replied pointedly.
Chey's smile grew warm. "Good night, Tahna Lam." With that he headed out once more, making a quick call to his driver to meet him outside the main lobby.
It was only later, when he was actually almost all the way back to Partia that he remembered, with mild regret, that he'd left the scotch in Tahna's office. Although, Chey laughed softly as the car pulled into the underground lot of the Partia complex, he could accept that philosophically. The Blondie probably needed it right now a lot more than he did.
Beyond fate... – chapter 9 << >> Beyond fate... – chapter 11