The journey itself, is freedom
by Ainzfern
26
For the second time in as many minutes, Kyle Li found himself venting a soft yet deeply disgusted sound of irritation from deep in his powerful chest. Indeed he was now standing at the door to Tahna Lam's office, but to all intents and purposes the space was empty. The lights were dimmed, the desk unmanned. Kyle shook his head once more, his anger at Quinn's useless information rising again. Clearly the imbecilic little fool had not even been competent enough to personally ensure Tahna was actually in his office before wasting Kyle's time in directing him here, choosing instead to just accept Laron Tak's word upon the matter.
He shifted his weight to leave, to return to the hall and berate Quinn to within an inch of his life over this outrage. Not even Laron could rightfully object to that. Not when Kyle had a legitimate point. But, as he turned, his eyes were caught by movement in the heavy drapes at the rear of the office behind Tahna's desk as a breeze slowly stirred the material. Frowning slightly, Kyle walked silently down the office seeing what he had missed before.
The glass side door that opened into the lovely garden courtyard behind the office stood open.
Ah... Kyle nodded, his equilibrium returning. Tahna clearly was here, but was apparently taking a moment in the evening air.
Reflecting on choices, possibly?
Kyle hoped so. It would be a perfect time for him to inject a measure of well-needed doubt creation into Tahna's decision making process.
Stepping up to the threshold, Kyle peered out of the shadowed doorway into the moonlit garden, his sharp eyes adjusting swiftly to the low light level.
He froze, initially in confusion, not entirely sure what he was seeing, closely followed by a deep sense of outrage as he stared at the broad shoulders and strong back of a quite familiar form. The man was facing away from the door, but Kyle could still clearly identify him.
That... that wretched federation minister, Chey Neeson, that oh-so-charming and polished so-called 'gentlemanly' statesman, had clearly overstepped all boundaries of common courtesy and propriety, shamelessly using his connections with the Syndicate high-rankers to get away with taking this appalling liberty.
He was here, as bold as brass, physically mauling someone in the far corner of Tahna's private gardens. Kyle shook his head, thinking it genuinely was a shame that Tahna wasn't here to see this. He would have enjoyed seeing the reaction.
Disgraceful. Obviously Neeson had found himself some willing little Pet, Kyle supposed, his full mouth twisting into a sneer of distaste. Really... were these ill-bred federation types so enslaved by their sordid sexual appetites that they could not even wait to leave a formal function before falling on some pitiful little piece of flesh?
Seemed such a shame, Kyle pondered silently. Neeson had always had such a good reputation.
Well, all of that would be put paid to once Kyle let this little episode become common knowledge. The Blondie smiled a tight little grin of satisfaction.
As he moved to step back into the office, he noted that the person in Chey's embrace had moved more into his line of sight. The deeply preoccupied pair's stance changed and Kyle saw that Neeson's apparent paramour... was entirely too tall, was far too broad across the shoulders, and was much too richly dressed to be any mere Pet.
And the hair was entirely the wrong color.
Stifling a deeply shocked gasp, Kyle realized what he was seeing.
Neeson was kissing an Elite.
And not just kissing him... his gentle hands framed the Elite's face, thumbs stroking slowly before drifting downwards. The fingertips grazed delicately down the pale skin of a graceful neck, stroked over silken moon-silvered blonde hair. The kiss was slow and deep, leisurely and luxurious, all soft tongues and gentle tastes. It contained such depths of silent communication as Kyle Li had never before seen. Certainly no Pet show, no matter how stunning the performers, had ever contained this much passion.
It was so unexpected, such a jolt to Kyle's perceptions, that he was stunned to find himself being affected by it. This single simple act, a mere kiss... never had he considered that such a thing could contain so many levels of meaning.
Chey Neeson was kissing his Elite as if it was the only thing in the universe that mattered... and it showed.
...And it was not just any Elite for that matter, Kyle's dazed mind silently noted. With a dull surge of recognition, albeit not anywhere near as surprised as he might have expected, the stunned Blondie identified Sir Tahna Lam himself as the recipient of the minister's most concentrated attentions.
Gently, sweetly, the kiss was broken, with Neeson pulling back a little to smile at the man in his arms.
Even from this distance, even through the shadowed moonlight, Kyle could read the depths of affection upon that handsome square jawed face.
"You know what, Blondie?" Neeson was asking softly, his arms dropping to twine tightly around Tahna's waist, holding him close.
"Mmm?" Tahna's usual supercilious and lofty smile seemed to Kyle to be softer somehow, more sincere.
It was Tahna's expression more than anything else that indicated to the as yet undetected Elite audience that he should swiftly and silently remove himself. He knew this as surely as he understood the convoluted rules of propriety that had directed his life for so long. But for some reason that Kyle Li would admit even he probably couldn't articulate, he hesitated to leave. He kept still and silent, observing this most extraordinary interaction with an odd and unnamed little ache growing in his chest.
"I was just thinking," Neeson was continuing, his voice intimately affectionate, his hands now stroking down the sleek curve of Tahna's back. "Looking at you right now... all that pale hair and white skin, you really were made to be kissed under moonlight in quiet gardens."
Sir Tahna had arched an elegant brow, sliding his own long fingered hands up to Neeson's broad shoulders. "Is that so?"
"Oh yes. And with that in mind," Neeson replied genially, "I think I'll have to do it much more frequently, moving forward."
Tahna's laughter, low and silky, filled the courtyard for a moment. "One would wonder, Chey, how that could actually be achieved?"
Kyle found himself inexplicably heaving a soft sigh. Tahna's laugh... so relaxed, so easy.
He could not honestly say that he had ever laughed like that in his life.
Oblivious to the insights being exposed in the shadowed doorway only a few meters from where they stood, Neeson had drawn himself up, a clearly mock-haughty look upon his face. "What could you possibly mean by that, I ask you."
One of Tahna's hands rose a little more to sift elegant fingers through the thick hair at the nape of Neeson's neck. "What I mean, Mr. Neeson," he replied archly, "is that you have already acquired a regular habit of dispensing such ministrations upon my person in moonlit gardens, anyway."
"Have I?" Neeson's even white teeth gleamed in the shadows as the statesman obviously grinned hugely.
"Your parent's residence, for example," the Elite shook his pale hair back and fixed Neeson with a level stare. "Both front and back gardens."
"This is true."
"Then there was your garden on Elldaren Prime," Tahna's mouth pursed into a contemplative moue. "Only two nights ago."
In the shadows Kyle found that he was holding his breath as more and more of this unexpected intimacy was revealed. He watched as the minister leaned close to Sir Tahna again, his lips brushing the length of that smooth white neck. "Ah, but you must admit, love," Neeson murmured, "I had a good excuse there... we were making love at the time, so it seemed a very reasonable thing to do."
Tahna arched his head back, willingly baring his vulnerable throat, sighing in pleasure.
Kyle frowned, intently observing his Elite brother's reactions; absently lifting one hand to his own neck, resting the fingers delicately at the base of his throat. So peculiar, he mused, that he had always considered such activity, rightly, as well beneath an Elite. That somehow the process joined rather than distantly observed would appear and feel base and graceless. Tawdry.
But Sir Tahna did not seem to think so.
Quite obviously the Blondie was enjoying the contact and had, judging from the conversation, evidently enjoyed the sexual congress very much as well.
He looked more than content. To Kyle, Tahna Lam appeared almost luminous.
As did Neeson.
At the far side of the garden the lovers were still blissfully unaware of Kyle's presence, wrapped and enrapt in each other as they were.
"And now, of course," Sir Tahna was continuing huskily, "it appears even my own museum gardens are no longer sacred. One wonders where you will strike next."
Neeson's expression, when he finally looked up from grazing on the Blondie's collar bones, was decidedly wicked. "Well, I understand that Jupiter Tower has a very nice atrium..."
Tahna snorted dryly. "No moonlight, alas." He flexed like a cat under Neeson's hands. "Artificial lighting."
"Ah." The minister pulled back again and sighed. "Shame. And speaking of unfortunate situations, I guess we should be getting back to work. The handover announcements might have been made without issue—"
"As if anyone would dare to interrupt Iason Mink in full voice and charismatic flow," Tahna huffed.
"Or you, for that matter,"
"True," Tahna nodded, then heaved a little put-upon sigh. "In all honesty, Chey... I am now at the point where I cannot relocate to Elldaren Prime fast enough," he moved towards Neeson again, quite clearly seeking the man's embrace, of which the minister immediately obliged him with. "And, also upon reflection, I am wondering if we can even bring the schedule for our espousal ceremony forward."
Kyle blinked, feeling honest astonishment bullet through him. Had he actually heard correctly?
Espoused? An Elite? To a federation citizen?
Was such a thing even conceivable?
Looking at Tahna, so clearly blissful in the embrace of Chey Neeson, Kyle Li had to admit it certainly seemed to be. The minister had drawn Tahna in close to his solid frame, one hand smoothing across his lean back in a soothing sweep, over and over.
"One thing at a time, love," he was murmuring. Words that Kyle suspected, taking into account the man's tone and manner, were very familiar ones. "Don't wind yourself up so much."
"But I do it so well," Tahna quipped with forced lightness before heaving another sigh, his own arms slipping up to encircle Neeson's sturdy back once more. "Allow me to propose a compromise, Mr. Neeson," he said softly, resting his cheek to his lover's.
"Mmm?"
"Allow us five more minutes right here," the Blondie's long fingers had unerringly made their way back into Neeson's hair again, once more sifting through the thick strands, "...and I promise that I shall be capable of retaining an equable enough mood to play the perfect host for the rest of the evening."
Neeson vented a rich chuckle and tightened his hold around Tahna's body, slowly swaying in the embrace. "Even to Raoul?" he asked lightly.
Tahna made a disdainful 'tch-ing' sound. He did not however, Kyle noticed, move away from his paramour or even cease stroking Neeson's hair in response to the impertinent question. "Yes," he muttered reluctantly. "Even for your precious Raoul."
Giving himself a sharp mental shake, Kyle carefully and silently stepped back into the darkened office. He made his way back to the lobby, pausing at the foot of the stairs that led up to the museum's grand function hall. Distantly, he could hear the sparkling sounds from within the hall... the tinkle of fine crystal, the buzz of bright chatter, laughter and soft music. And right now, he could think of nothing more uncomfortable to him than rejoining that party.
Not after what he'd just seen... and felt.
What he had observed tonight had flown in the face of some of his deepest held preconceptions. He frowned, shaking his head as he turned and strode to the main doors, barely acknowledging the polite security guard who opened it to allow him to leave. As he pulled out his cell phone and messaged his driver, the face of Laron's mate inexplicably flashed in front of his mind's eye.
Seeing Tahna Lam's interaction, his profoundly relaxed and congenial demeanor in Chey Neeson's company, had re-clarified Kyle's earlier observations about the young ex-Pet. With that had come some small measure of realization. Esra had looked energized and vivacious, had seemed smarter and more gregarious, because he had been allowed to be. He was free to be 'himself', in essence. To have his own preferences, to add depth and character to his personality through experiences he would never have had as a Pet.
Esra had grown... and it had made him different.
So, theoretically, could not the same thing have happened with his own Pets?
Venting a soft, oddly strangled sound from deep in his chest, Kyle strode towards the curb where his driver was pulling in to collect him. He forcibly pushed such thoughts out of his head, not wanting to spend any further time upon them. Pressing the fingers of one hand to his creased brow he shut his eyes and heaved a deep sigh, feeling the twinges of a burgeoning headache at the base of his skull.
Such conjecture was now pointless, anyway.
The bottom line was that no matter how much sense his rambling thoughts seemed to be making right now, what he had seen tonight was not the natural order of things, no matter how much effort Iason Mink might put into making it seem so.
Oh, he knew which way the greater unwashed civilian population and even the larger percentage of Elites were going. And, as a part of sheer survival, he would adapt. He would not risk his department or his personal and professional standing by fighting what was now clearly a lost moral cause.
He was not that stupid.
But, Kyle resolved as he curtly instructed his driver to take him to Eos Tower... they would not change him. He was an Elite. Singular and strong, unhindered by emotional burdens, not ever to be weakened by inappropriate attachments or distracted by baseless pleasures of the flesh.
And the peculiar and unfamiliar ache in his chest that had stayed with him even as he left the museum? Well, it wasn't anything that could not be eased by a clear understanding of one's status in society and one's associated responsibilities.
And, if he just kept telling himself that, a tiny treacherous voice whispered into the halls of his conscious mind, then eventually he might even come to believe it.
The journey itself... – chapter 25 << >> The journey itself... – chapter 27