The journey itself, is freedom
by Ainzfern
8
There was a popular saying on Amoi that certain quarters of the civilian population were fond of using – 'Tanagura never slept'. Whether they were referring to the constant ebb and flow of life through Eos and the upper and lower sections of Midas, or whether they were obliquely commenting on some more insidious and ever-watchful element from above them, was a subject best left for private speculation. However, such conjecture aside, the former description was certainly accurate. Whether under the bright light of the sun or the cool glow of Amoi's twin moons, Tanagura's population continued incessantly about its business. The only difference in the time zones was the altering demographic; a mass 'shift change', for want of a better term, between the night people and the day people.
And, lifting away from the currently thronged nighttime streets, illuminated by a thousand different shapes and shades of neon, and moving up to track the soaring graceful spire of Eos Tower; one might be tempted to believe that here, at this late hour, the outward silence of the tower represented the repose within. That all was calm and quiet and still. Closer inspection, however, would reveal that assumption to be incorrect.
Indeed the spacious main area of the penthouse suite atop the very pinnacle of Eos Tower was darkened and empty, this much was true. But towards the rear of the apartment, in Riki's home office, the lights continued to burn and the low murmur of male voices could be heard.
This, in Riki's opinion, was one of the most enjoyable parts of his day. Just sitting in his office, tidying up the odds and ends from various projects he'd been working on, while beside him, his long and elegantly proportioned body folded gracefully into a deep and comfortable armchair, Iason scanned over his own day's efforts.
And they talked. Just talked. About everything and nothing. Sometimes they touched on quite important subject, other times, they merely chatted lightly about little things, sharing soft laughter and amusing remarks that only the two of them really understood.
Riki loved it.
This time, alone with Iason, sharing intimacy of the mind and the character as opposed to intimacy of the flesh... in many ways, it had an intrinsic value to the dark haired mongrel that almost outweighed the physical side of their relationship, strong through that undeniably was. It was just that, Riki honestly felt, the fact that his mate, a hyper-intelligent Elite Blondie with the might of Amoi at his fingertips, genuinely valued Riki's mind, appreciated his opinions, wanted to talk to him. It reinforced to Riki just how much he was loved by his Companion, just how much he was respected.
And, considering their history, considering where Riki had come from, this was knowledge that Riki would never grow tired of embracing.
"...So we ended up bringing the kid back here to hang out for a while," Riki finished saving the last of his open files and pushed back from his desk, swiveling his chair to face Iason squarely. "I'll tell ya', Iason, that's one besotted Companion. According to Esra, Laron Tak walks on water and holds the moons in his hands." He grinned almost fondly, thinking of the young man that he and Katze had met earlier in the day. Damn nice kid, the kind of genuine guy that you couldn't help liking. But green. Really green. Riki had to wonder if he'd ever been that wet behind the ears.
Probably not, Riki thought with an amused little smirk, considering where he grew up.
Stretching his long legs out in front of him, Iason propped his chin on one hand as a meditative frown creased his normally smooth brow, his splendid pale eyes narrowing with memory. "Laron Tak," he murmured in his velvet voice. "I must confess I have only ever heard good reports of him from his department superiors. I have never met the man, personally, but I assumed upon hearing of his union with Esra that he was a likeminded individual to myself," his full mouth curved into a wicked little smile. "In some matters, at least."
Riki chuckled, closing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, raised his arms above his head and stretched luxuriously. "Another Elite seeing the light, huh?"
"Something along those lines, yes." Iason's answer seemed peculiarly soft and deep, almost husky.
Opening his eyes, Riki glanced over at his Blondie, one dark brow arched inquiringly. He stilled as he looked at Iason, seeing those ice-pale eyes focusing in on the region of Riki's midriff where his t-shirt had risen up during his stretch, exposing a smooth expanse of tanned skin. The Elite moved forward, bending across to him, one hand lifting, reaching out to stroke elegant fingers over the warm skin of Riki's taut belly.
Riki shivered a little, his breath gasping in, partly from the sweetly ticklish sensation, partly from the burgeoning feeling of waking arousal warming low in his groin. He adored the feeling of Iason's hands, Iason's ungloved hands, upon his skin, no denying it. The Elite never wore his gloves at home anymore, a fact that Riki was deeply grateful for.
One more old Elite custom relegated to the past where it belonged.
Pale eyes lifted and met a dark heated gaze, an elegant brow on a flawlessly perfect face arched, a silent question asked. A dark hand cupped the side of an alabaster face, the thumb stroking gently.
It really was amazing, Riki reflected even as he stared into Iason's beautiful eyes, caught by the way they deepened as the Blondie looked up at him, by the sheer intensity, the physical energy that began to flow from him like an aura, filling the suddenly silent room with the rising scent of sexual desire, the promise of touch and warmth and fulfillment.
Strange... and sweetly sad, that Riki could read it so easily now, could want it so much. That very intensity that seemed to personify Iason; not so long ago, Riki had both hated and feared it. He had been drawn to the man; that much was true... but he had loathed the way they had always come together. With Iason taking, as if Riki's feelings were of no import to the process whatsoever.
It had infuriated the mongrel because, in his heart of hearts, he had wanted his feelings to matter.
Of course, now he understood. With the benefit of hindsight, everything was clearer.
Riki's anger, his rage, had stemmed in a great part from his frustration with Iason, with the fact that the Elite had been unable to express love and affection. He simply hadn't known how. He had taken from Riki because that was what Elites did, because he hadn't known how to ask.
But he knew now. Riki smiled again, feeling love for the man before him filling his chest.
They both knew now.
"Yes?" Iason whispered, tilting his head to press a slow and gentle kiss to the palm of the hand that held him.
Riki smiled down at him. "Oh yeah." He leaned forward, catching Iason's soft lips in a lingering kiss of warmth and welcome. "Oh yeah, Iason."
With a faintly evil glint in his pale eyes, Iason huffed a delightfully rich little chuckle, eased Riki's sweatpants down and off, discarding them over one broad shoulder, and proceeded to go down on his mongrel with typical Elite thoroughness and attention to detail.
With a soft grunt of surprise and pleasure, Riki let his head fall back, surrendering to the wonderful wicked heat enveloping his solid erection, to the delicious pressure, the slow deep sucking pulls up his shaft. He lifted his trembling hands to Iason's silky head, letting his fingers sifts through pale gold satin strands, touching lightly as Iason worked on him, bringing him closer to orgasm with every second that passed. "So sweet," he whispered, glancing down through heavy lidded eyes, the very sight of Iason, on his knees before Riki's chair, his full lips gliding smoothly over the mongrel's swollen cock, sending a sullen wave of renewed lust through Riki's loins. "Oh, God, so fuckin' sweet Iason..."
Iason hummed his approval and Riki's entire body jolted, a soft keening cry leaving his throat as the vibration of Iason's voice thrummed through his sensitized flesh. Long fingers dipped delicately between his legs, under his tightening balls, lifting gently, pressing, touching him in the just the right place. Riki's fingers clenched in that so-soft hair as he arched into it, his legs lifting, giving his Blondie more access to his most private places. His cries became rougher, rawer, tinged with just the slightest touch of desperation, as Iason applied a firm pressure with his tongue just under Riki's glans, massaging that insanely responsive spot with rapid strokes.
He couldn't hold it, couldn't stop from coming any more than he could stop himself breathing. It was too good, too fucking hot. He was too primed for it and, with a deep gasping breath Riki flung back his head, the tendons in his neck corded and tight as his climax thundered through his flesh. He shuddered deeply, his body clenching and shaking as he groaned his joy and relief, feeling his cock pulse in rapid beats, spilling his seed in sharp spurts into the talented haven of Iason's hot mouth.
In the aftermath he rested, letting Iason pull him close and cradle him, petting him gently here and there as the sweet shivers of afterglow drained slowly from his belly and thighs.
"Gotta tell you, Iason," Riki panted softly, pulling back to meet his Blondie's somewhat self satisfied gaze, "you are really good at that."
"And your feedback, Riki," Iason's voice, low and warm and filled with desire and amusement, murmured into his ear, "is greatly appreciated." To Riki's surprise, he felt Iason's fingers slips down between his thighs once more, this time easing something cool and slick up between the cheeks of his backside.
"Do I actually want to know what the hell it is you're putting up my ass, there?" Riki chuckled weakly.
"Nothing too heinous, I promise you," Iason kissed his face, his lips, the tip of his nose, even as he smoothly and efficiently discarded his own clothing to the floor. "Just a useful little product I was keeping in my pocket."
"Shit," Riki snorted gracelessly. "Elites. Organized for every occasion."
"One tries to be." Naked and perfect, the Blondie shifted then, pulling Riki towards his chest, tensing his powerful body. "Put your arms around my shoulders," he whispered, his warm breath sending little shivers down one side of Riki's' neck.
With a soft sigh and a slow sultry smile, Riki did as instructed.
Iason stood. With the softest grunt of effort from deep in his broad chest, the Elite hefted Riki easily as he turned toward the nearest wall of the office. Resting the mongrel's shoulder blades against it, Iason slid his hands down, cupping Riki's firm rump, pressing his hardened groin up against Riki's pelvis, grinding against him. He moved one hand again, working quickly, fumbling his own erection into the right spot before he gripped Riki with both hands once more, powerful muscles working hard under flawlessly pale skin as he lifted and braced and pushed slowly up inside the tight heat of Riki's body.
"Oh God," Riki whispered, his voice shaking, his arms holding tight to his mate's solid frame. He dropped his head forward over Iason's shoulder, panting, as Iason waited with inhuman patience for Riki to be ready, for his body to relax and accept the invasion. The angle was intense like this, the penetration deep, and the mongrel truly appreciated his Blondie's control right now.
"Riki?" Iason asked at length, a note of concern audible.
Riki smiled against the skin of Iason's shoulder. There it was. That single note, that genuine timbre that told Riki louder than words that, if he wanted Iason to pull it back, the Elite would without question.
His heart swelled almost painfully as he sighed happily, pressing his face into with smooth white curve of Iason's neck. "Iason?"
"Yes?" Iason's own voice shook with the effort of holding back.
"Do it to me," Riki pressed a kiss to the side of his Companion's hot face as he whispered those now ancient words; the warmth of his voice, the affection there, changing the meaning of them forever. "Do it to me, Iason."
And with a low moan of relief and gratitude, Iason did.
In the middle of the vast bed in the master bedroom of his and Laron's apartment Esra rolled over and came to wakefulness with a soft sigh. He frowned almost immediately, rising up onto one elbow, aware that at some point over the past hour or so, his bed partner had left him.
Moving quietly, Esra scooted out of bed, pulling his robe on as he padded on silent feet out into the main room. A pale glow caught his attention and he turned towards Laron's office space, crossing the floor to the open doorway. Peering through, he noted his mate, his beautiful face illuminated by the ghostly light of the monitor, staring intently at the display on screen, occasionally making a note on the pad beside the computer terminal or tapping in a new instruction.
"Laron?" he murmured softly.
Immediately, Laron looked up, his expression fleetingly guarded before he relaxed and smiled, tapping the terminal keyboard with one elegant hand even as he beckoned Esra closer with the other. "Esra," he greeted the young ex-Pet softly in his deep silken voice. "You startled me."
"I'm sorry," moving to stand beside him, Esra glanced at the monitor. Whatever Laron had been looking at before, the display now only showed the Syndicate's remote login screen. "I woke up and you weren't there. I wondered if everything was okay."
Laron slid his hands around Esra's lean waist, letting them drift down to rest on his hips, holding him loosely in a gentle grasp. "Everything is perfectly fine, Esra," he assured the younger man gently. "I was simply restless and, as I didn't want to wake you, I thought it better to just come out here for while," his expression grew a touch rueful. "Alas..." he added with a wry grin up at Esra, "it didn't appear to work all that well, did it?"
"It's okay." Esra glanced at the screen again. "Were you working?"
Laron lifted one broad shoulder. "Just browsing the Syndicate site."
"Ah," Esra nodded with sagely, even as a tiny smile curved his full mouth. "Seeking opportunities?"
"My favorite catch-cry, as you know." Laron chuckled warmly.
"I don't know why you worry so much," Esra eased his hands into Laron's wealth of dark hair, combing his fingers through the thick strands, the weight, the satin smoothness of it thrilling to his senses. "You'll be successful, Laron. I know you will be. No one who works as hard as you do could ever fail. One day, you'll be the head of your own department."
Laron closed his eyes, sighing blissfully as his Companion's strong fingers massaged his scalp with slow circular motions. "You have such faith in me, Esra," he said softly.
"I know," Esra bent down and kissed Laron's brow gently. "It's still true, though."
Laron's large eyes opened once more. He reached up and grasped Esra's hands, stilling them, pulling them down in front of him to hold them firmly in his own. His expression grew very serious, even grave, and Esra found he was holding his breath for some reason, wondering at the intensity there, where it has suddenly come, what it could mean.
"You will be with me when that time comes, Esra," Laron said fervently. "You will be right beside me, come what may."
"Of course I will," Esra stared at him, trying to show in that gaze the depth of the love he felt for his mate. "Nothing will take me from you. I'm safe now. I'm yours."
"Yes," Laron released his hands, reaching instead for the belt of Esra's soft robe. He undid the tie and eased the robe open, exposing Esra's sleekly muscled and perfectly proportioned naked body to his eyes. "Yes, you are. And I am as much yours, dear-heart. I am as much yours." He leaned forward, pressing a slow soft kiss to Esra's flat stomach, his hands once more settling on the young man's lean hips.
Esra gasped, his eyes growing heavy. Arousal instantly warmed his thighs and groin, tightening his lower belly with strong feelings of sexual tension and making him ache with a low sullen beat, hot and heavy between his legs. Part of it, he knew on some instinctive level, was his physiological nature, the fact that his body was genetically designed to response to physical affection. But part of it was also just because it was Laron touching him. The pleasure, the wanting, he experienced under Laron's hands was so much deeper, sharper and more lovely to him than it had ever felt when he was performing.
It was like the difference between honey and sugar. One was luscious and golden and wonderful. The other was simply sweet.
"It's been a few days, hasn't it?" Laron asked, pulling back once more to look up into Esra's hazy dark eyes.
Swallowing through an oddly dry throat, Esra nodded.
"Hmm," Laron ghosted his fingertips across the soft skin of Esra's midriff. "Well let's rectify that now, shall we?"
With gentle pressure from his fingertips, Laron urged Esra down onto his lap, adjusting his position until the slighter man was settled comfortably, his back braced against Laron's powerful chest and his head resting against a broad shoulder. And, in the soft light thrown by the terminal upon the desk, Laron held him close and began to touch him, gently stroking him towards climax. Esra closed his eyes and relaxed into it, sighing his pleasure, listening to Laron's deep voice in his ear, telling him how beautiful he was, how perfect he was, how much he was loved.
But even in the midst of it all there was a tiny place of sorrow in Esra still, because he wished that Laron, just once, would let Esra give this kind of pleasure back to him.
And then there was no more space for thought, just the heat and sweet white pleasure/pain of coming, the low ache that wound tighter and tighter until it reached that delicate breaking point, releasing Esra's tension with the exquisite flashpoint of orgasm. He arched and cried out, only dimly aware of Laron tightening his hold around his surging body even as the Elite continued to milk his pulsing cock, tempering his touches and skillfully easing Esra through his climax, working the last tiny sweet spasms of pleasure out of him before stilling his movements and just cupping Esra's softening member gently in his hand.
"So lovely," Laron's deep soft voice, ever so slightly breathless, broke through the post orgasmic buzzing in Esra head. "It is such a beautiful thing to see... you, in your pleasure."
Esra smiled, sated and sleepy, feeling a generally good sense of well-being flowing through him. He always did when Laron took care of him like this. Twisting around, he slid his arms about Laron shoulders and hugged him hard. He felt Laron's hands cup his head, pulling him near, and then that lush mouth was covering his, kissing him deeply, slowly, drinking from him, demanding and generous all at once.
"Esra?" Laron pulled back again, smiling gently down at him as he touched his soft brown hair with his fingertips.
Esra stifled a yawn. "Yes?"
"Come back to bed with me," Laron's expression became very tender. "Let me hold you until morning."
Esra smiled and nodded, even as Laron carefully gathered him closer, lifting him easily as he made his way back through their apartment towards the bedroom.
And even as Laron gently placed him back in bed before swiftly dropping his own robe and sliding under the covers to spoon up around him, Esra knew that he had rather neatly been distracted by his clever and sensual Companion. Whether that had been with intent, he did not know, but he had to admit its effectiveness.
Because, right now, Esra smiled gently as he felt Laron's arms tighten around him, he was far to contented to worry about anything.
The journey itself... – chapter 7 << >> The journey itself... – chapter 9