The Next Step

"Stop pouting, Starr. You're an adult. Act like it."

"And you're not a fifty-year old so stop pretending to be my father."
Black sighs. "There's nothing wrong with maturity --"
"Sweetheart, you're mature enough for two lifetimes. Thank-fucking-God I'm able to
inject some fun into our relationship."
Black glances back over his shoulder in annoyance. The empath sticks out his
tongue in response. "Fun to you equals infantile behavior," Black mutters. But he's
careful to keep his voice low because Starr is sometimes sensitive.
Though God knows Starr isn't acting particularly sensitive. "I think this trip is a dumb
idea," he complains petulantly for what Black is sure is the fiftieth time in the last
hour. "It's a dumb trip and why does the poster boy for toothpaste have to go along
with you?"
Black sighs again as he shoves the last of his clothes into his duffel bag and cinches
it shut. A lot of clothes for such a short trip. It makes Black feel like he's lying when
he says he'll be back. "We've been over this ten times and the answer is still the
same: Lt. Sundhill and I have to report to the JC Units sponsors and reassure them
that their donations are well spent. I have to go."
"You've got to kiss their asses," Starr says with a snort, amused as ever by police
politics. "Let Sundhill go by himself. He's got ass-kissing down to an art form."
Black turns around and glares at the other man. Starr immediately pouts, thinking he
looks cute -- which he does -- but Black isn't about to tell him that. The empath's
head is big enough as it is.
"We're done with this," Black tells him, not unkindly. He can't be mad. He
understands that Starr is upset and a little jealous -- needlessly so -- but work is
work and Starr should know by now that Black would never try to get out of it. Even
if he has a horny lover trying to convince him otherwise. "I'm going, Starr. I'll be back
in four days. You'll survive without me."
Starr gives a huge, theatrical sigh -- the kind he does best -- and falls backwards
onto Black's bed. He's lying propped on his elbows with his long, lean legs dangling
over the side. "Sure I'll survive sweetheart. But it'll be painful. And what am I
supposed to do about satisfying my needs in the meantime?"
Black is prepared for this complaint. "What about porn? I know you're familiar with
it."
The empath gives him a dirty look. "For your information, Darkness, I haven't
watched a single vid since you fell into my bed."
Black is not prepared for that, however. He knows a lot of the empath's habits have
changed since he and Starr began sleeping together, but he hadn't thought they'd
changed that much. In all honesty, Black thought the most dramatic changes have
occurred only in himself.
"You know that isn't necessary," Black says because he feels obligated to give Starr
his freedom. It's part of the empath's nature; kind of like monkeys needing to scratch
beneath their arms. "If you've stopped watching them because you think it'll bother
me --"
"Idiot. I've stopped watching them because the real thing with you is better."
Black pauses. "Is it?" He's genuinely curious. Sex with Starr is amazing to him. But
he has no honest basis for comparison.
Darkening green eyes sweep his body and Black gets the distinct impression he's
just been mentally stripped. "Oh, yeah, sweetheart. It's better in more ways than you
realize."
And here, a touch of affection creeps onto Starr's face; something Black still takes
some getting used to. It always strikes Black how young and earnest Starr looks
when he drops the street punk act and allows the real man to come through. Without
the brash attitude which he normally adopts Starr is a surprisingly fragile person.
"You underestimate yourself," Starr murmurs, returning the thoughtful study.
This is one of those awkward times when Black can tell the empath is trying to read
him. Starr always 'listens' whenever Black becomes uncomfortable. Black knows
that Starr is simply trying to make things easier between them by getting inside
Black's head, but Black still has difficulty allowing people to see the real him. Even
his lover.
He clears his throat. "So. . ."
Starr's look of fondness becomes amused. Even without being able to sense him
empathically, Starr can read him better than anyone. The empath waves a hand
toward his crotch. "So since I won't be playing any vids, care to leave me with
something I can replay in my head during those long, lonely four days, Darkness?"
The sensual husk of the empath's voice sends a pleasant shiver across Black's skin.
He likes the sound of Starr's voice when the empath is aroused or trying to seduce
him. It's sexy and warm like a hand running lightly down his spine. It never make
Black feel dirty or threatened. It makes him feel good.
Unfortunately, he doesn't have time to fool around right now. Sundhill will be here to
pick him up in ten minutes. Letting the older lieutenant catch on that he and Starr
have been in the middle of fooling around sends a rush of heat through Black's
cheeks.
Yet when Black lets his eyes roam over the long, lean sprawl that is Starr -- lying on
Black's bed with the casualness of someone who's spent a lot of time there -- what
Sundhill might think of Black doesn't seem so important.
"You're hard," Black states, surprised. He can't look away from the thick bulge. His
ass muscles clench as he imagines that bulk pushing into him.
"Mmm, I'm always hard when you're around," Starr counters with a slow lick of his
lips. "Come here, Darkness."
Black glances uneasily at the shut bedroom door. "I don't have time for this."
"Come here and suck me," Starr orders in a voice as dark and rich as molasses.
Black trembles despite himself, his eyes falling once more to Starr's groin. "I can't --"
Green eyes watch his face steadily. "Come over here, Darkness, and get on your
knees."
"Starr --"
"Come. Here."
The order makes Black's heartbeat spike. He imagines he can hear its rapid-fire
staccato through his skin. This is a bad idea. He's not a sex-crazed nympho who
needs sex constantly. There's no time for this. Yet even agreeing to all of that, Black
still drops his duffel bag and takes a tentative step towards the bed. One step breaks
the dam and all too soon he's standing between Starr's knees, feeling hot and hard
and knowing that what he's about to do is stupid, but not particularly caring.
"On your knees," Starr whispers. "You know what to do, sweetheart."
Black's knees fold easily, dropping him to the floor so that he has a perfect view of
Starr's cock outlined beneath the tight fabric of his silver vinyl pants. The empath is
already fully erect; the fat mushroom head of his cock presses urgently against the
placket of the zipper.
"Take it out," Starr says in a thick voice, but Black already has the zipper half down,
his hunger accelerating his movements.
Starr's cock bursts through the opened V of his pants. Black isn't surprised that the
other man isn't wearing any underwear. Rather, he's grateful for the lack of
impediment as he wraps his fingers around his lover's thick, naked flesh.
Starr's head falls back as Black squeezes his length. Black pumps the silken flesh
slowly, milking a drop of liquid from the tip. Watching his lover's face, Black bends
forward and touches his tongue to the opalescent drop and delicately laps it up.
"So fucking sexy," Starr whispers, his half-lidded eyes locked on Black's mouth. "If
we had the time, I'd throw you down on this bed and fuck you so hard you'd be
limping afterwards."
Black moans and closes his eyes as he seals his lips around the soft, warm head.
Slender fingers card through his hair. "What do you think of that, sweetheart? Would
you like the Golden Wonder to watch the way you walk and wonder if you've just had
your brains fucked out by your empath boyfriend?"
"Yeah," Black whispers, kissing his way down the tender underside of Starr's cock.
He flicks his tongue along the base, tasting the soft ash hair there. "I want him to
know."
Starr pushes his hips up, trying to encourage Black to suck him completely. "You
want him to know that I make you suck my cock whenever I want it? You want him
to know that you love it when I order you around?" A pale finger traces Black's lips
as he kisses along the other man's shaft. "You do whatever I say, don't you,
Darkness?"
Black groans his approval and reaches down to squeeze himself through his pants.
He always gets hot when Starr talks dirty to him. "Yes," he gasps, licking a stripe up
Starr's cock. "Whatever you say. Tell me what you want me to do."
Two long-fingered hands hold the sides of Black's head. "I want you to come as
you're sucking me, Darkness. Stroke that sexy cock of yours and make us come at
the same time."
"Yes," Black groans, tearing open his jeans and shoving his free hand down the
front. He swallows the head of Starr's cock while grabbing his own erection and
roughly stroking it.
"Do it hard," Starr pants, tossing his head back. The elegant arch of his throat
undulates as he speaks. "Do us both hard, Darkness."
Black obeys eagerly, sucking Starr down to the root until his nose is pressed against
the empath's musky, masculine groin. Black knows a thing or two about blowjobs
and uses that knowledge to his advantage as he squeezes his throat around the tip
of the empath's cock. He's thrilled when the blonde whimpers and thrusts up
erratically. Starr and he both like to play that Starr is in control of their lovemaking
but in truth the power is as much Black's as it is the empath's. Black can reduce
Starr to a pleading puddle of hormones as easily as Starr can do the same to him.
"Faster," Starr orders breathlessly while he pumps urgently down Black's throat.
"You don't have much time, Darkness. If Sundhill gets here while my cock's in your
mouth, he might hear us."
Starr laughs a little at that, which make Black begin to worry that his lover is
considering causing such a scene. Starr loves to shove their relationship in
Sundhill's face. Starr is still slightly insecure.
A scene between the two men is the last thing Black wants so he begins to hum,
causing his throat to vibrate around the hardness in his mouth. Starr gasps with
pleasure and holds Black's face down to his lap. Black tries lifting his head off, but
the empath's grip only tightens in his hair.
He loves it. He loves it when Starr becomes forceful like this because with Starr it
isn't about violence, it's about making Black give in to the pleasure he's feeling. Too
many times, Black tries to resist pleasure; a part of his subconscious equating that
vulnerability to pain. But Starr knows just how to push Black to accept what is
flowing through his body as something good. Black strokes himself faster, feeling his
cock fill his palm like a cylinder of warm metal. He rubs his thumb through the
dampness on the tip to torment himself and shudders as his need to climax reaches
its peak.
"I want you to come," Starr orders with sudden urgency; as if he knows how close
Black is. The empath sits up, holding Black's face to his groin. "Make a fucking mess
of your pants, Darkness. Come all over yourself like the slutty boytoy you are."
Black moans at the words. He sucks the flesh in his mouth as hard as he can as
orgasm rips through him. Heat spills over his fist and across his jeans. The
sensation makes him moan again and the vibration of that sound is the last
stimulation Starr needs. Groaning deeply, Starr hunches over Black's head and
shoots himself deep down his lover's throat.
Black swallows the heat greedily, loving the taste and smell that is Starr. Long after
the empath has emptied himself, Black continues to hold the softening shaft on his
tongue, enjoying the intimacy of the act. Cool hands stroke the side of his face.
"My Darkness," Starr whispers, smiling down at him.
Black reluctantly releases the soft flesh. "So I'm a boytoy am I?"
Starr grins. "I thought you'd like that. Sounds dirty and cute at the same time."
"I'm not cute," Black mutters, resting his cheek upon the empath's thigh.
"Mmm, at the moment you're a mess. Sure you wouldn't rather stay here with me?
We could take a long, hot bath together."
On cue, the front doorbell rings.
Black smiles regretfully and rises up to kiss Starr on the lips. "When I get back," he
promises. "We'll do whatever you want. Just wait for me."
Starr catches him by the back of the neck and whispers against his lips, "Looks like I
don't have any other choice, do I?" He pulls back far enough to look into Black's
eyes. "If he tries to put the moves on you, knee him in the balls."
"Sundhill knows I'm not interested."
"Funny, but that rarely seems to matter to him, does it?"
Black considers Starr's razor sharp smile and decides it's better not to answer that.
~~~~~
Logically, Black knows things could be a lot worse than they currently are. His
stomach is full of cardamom-crusted spring lamb and tender, lemon-sauteed
asparagus. In his hand he holds a glass of a ridiculously expensive port, and he can
feel himself on his way to a respectable buzz. Beautifully dressed men and women
have been vying for his attention all night, finding the leader of an elite police team
to be mysterious and dangerously seductive. He should be having a great time.
Yet he still hates every minute of it. He wishes he were back home in bed.
The event itself is something of a scandal. Because the JC Units don't technically
exist, the money by which they are funded is donated under the table. The rich and
influential of Juxtapose City are given this once-a-year opportunity to congratulate
themselves on taking a risky, illegal role in eradicating crime from the city that
actually produces results. Results meaning more bodies in the morgue and less in
the jails. Most of the questions Black has been fielding are about how many
criminals his team has killed and what his plans are for wiping more of them off the
streets. It's a bloodthirsty crowd beneath the diamonds and surgical smiles. Black
doesn't feel any safer with them than he does with the drug dealers and junkies he
normally deals with.
He wishes his team were here to help deflect some of the attention. Especially Starr.
The empath will never be allowed to attend something like this. These people want
results without having to know any of the dirty details. An empath is a dirty detail.
Starr would get a kick out of the hypocrisy.
Black misses him. Even more so because Black can tell he's getting drunk and
Sundhill hasn't left Black's side since dinner ended and is therefore becoming a
temptation. The older lieutenant is dressed identically to Black in crisp, flattering
dress blues. Sundhill has been attracting admirers all night and Black can certainly
understand why. The older man cuts a dashing figure with his full head of glossy,
golden hair and his brilliant blue eyes with matching brilliant white smile. Both have
been flashed often and with great effect; Black saw one older woman actually fan
herself after Sundhill smiled at her. And of course there is the lieutenant's body --
wide shouldered and cut the way only a vigorously fit man can be. Yes, Sundhill is
dangerous and Black can get himself into trouble if he doesn't watch out. But he is
going to watch out, because the lover he has waiting for him at home is a hundred
times more important to him than the attractive lieutenant beside him.
If only Sundhill understood that.
"Drunk yet?" the blonde lieutenant teases as he carelessly invades Black's personal
space. Sundhill's eyes are a vibrant blue, made all the more striking when
surrounded by their fan of thick, golden lashes. "You look miserable, Lieutenant. I
bet you're dying to ditch this place and yank off your monkey suit."
Black is extremely hot underneath his starched dress shirt and thick waistcoat, but
stripping off with Sundhill is the first step down a road Black knows better than to
tread. "I'm fine. I can endure another hour. After that, I don't think Capt. Dickerson
will mind if I return to my room. I think I've met everyone he wanted me to."
"I think I'll escape with you." Sundhill raises his single malt scotch to his lips and
takes a healthy swallow. He winks over the rim at an attractive older woman who's
dripping in jewels. "Getting involved with anyone from this crowd is asking for career
suicide if you pick the wrong man's wife." The piercing blue eyes settle on Black.
"Know what I mean?"
Black doesn't bother to reply. The thought of sleeping with any of the constituents
has never crossed his mind. Not willingly, anyway.
Sundhill scans the crowd. "An hour might be too long," he murmurs thoughtfully.
Those bright blue eyes fix on Black again and they're focused with determination.
"I'm going to get out of here right now. I suggest you come with me, otherwise you'll
be the only one left for the vultures to pick apart."
Black searches for Capt. Dickerson within the crowd and finds him deep in
discussion with the police commissioner. "What if he --"
Sundhill takes hold of Black's arm. "He won't miss us. We've done our bit and
everyone's getting too drunk to remember that we bailed early. Let's get out of this
hell hole."
Black considers resisting, but he's wanted to leave the party since before it began.
Sundhill's giving him permission to share the blame of an early exit. Black accepts.
Pausing to place his half-empty glass onto the tray of a passing waiter, Black follows
the other lieutenant through the crowd.
The hall outside the ballroom is blessedly cool compared to the congested heat
inside. Black sighs with relief as the sweat cools on his forehead.
"Thank God," he breathes as he joins Sundhill at the elevators. "I'm not very
comfortable at events like that."
"They have their moments," Sundhill tells him with a rakish grin that hints at stories
untold. "Usually after I've drunk so much I can't speak anyone's names without
slurring them."
The elevator doors slide open and both men step inside. Sundhill pushes the button
for their floor since their rooms are next to each other's. As the doors close again,
Black finds himself watching the flashing numbers with painful self-consciousness. It
doesn't help that he can see Sundhill's reflection in the mirrored walls. The blonde
lieutenant is staring at him.
"So how is your team?"
Black tenses with dread. He knows where this is leading to. "They're on a new
regiment while I'm away. Sgt. Cole has them on an experimental conditioning
program incorporating weapons training. The Captain has expressed an interest in
how well it works out."
"Uh huh." Sundhill doesn't try to hide his disinterest. "And your empath? I've heard a
few rumors regarding him." The lieutenant grins and braces his arm against the wall
behind Black's head. "Any truth to them? I'm a sucker for gossip."
Black grimaces. "I prefer not to feed the mill, actually."
"Oh, come on, Lt. Black, we're friends. Your confidence is safe with me."
Black eyes the other man warily. "There's nothing to tell."
"Isn't there?"
Black stiffens as a finger brushes lightly across the nape of his neck. "I've heard
otherwise, but I'm hoping the rumors aren't true," Sundhill murmurs.
Black stares hard at the elevator doors, willing them to open. He knows he needs to
keep Sundhill as a friend. The older lieutenant is important to Black's career; Black
can't afford to make the man an enemy, which Starr has trouble understanding. As
casually as possible, Black takes a step forward, moving out of Sundhill's reach.
The casual brush-off might have worked if Sundhill were completely sober. But the
blonde lieutenant has apparently had more to drink than Black was aware of.
Sundhill moves with him, brushing up against Black's side. Surprised, Black looks up
to find the other man alarming close. Sundhill's lemony, spicy aftershave fills Black's
nostrils. To Black's unhappiness, he feels himself starting to get hard.
"Just tell me this," Sundhill says in a low voice, leaning closer so that his whiskey-
laden breath washes across Black's mouth. "Is it an open relationship? Are you
allowed to enjoy yourself when the opportunity presents itself?"
Black is too stunned by the other man's heavy-handed come-on to react as a palm
cups his ass and squeezes it. "You could stop by my room for an hour, if you like."
Sundhill crosses the final inches between them, his mouth diving for Black's.
"I love him," Black blurts out, stumbling backwards.
Sundhill's eyes widen. But they aren't as large as Black's as he realizes what he's
just said.
His face burns with horror. "I - I mean --"
Sundhill holds up a hand as he purposefully takes a step backwards. "You don't
need to explain. You're off-limits. I admit I'm surprised, though. I had no idea it was
that serious between you two."
Neither did I, Black thinks to himself, feeling a little sick at what he's just admitted.
Does he love Starr? God. It's too much to think about. And even if he does love the
empath, why must Sundhill have to be the first person he tells this to? Black rubs at
his eyes as a stress headache starts to form. He'd intended to call Starr tonight. But
how can he speak normally to the other man after this . . .
Black groans.
"I take it he doesn't know?" Sundhill asks with a quirk of his lips. He begins to laugh
heartily.
Black considers taking Starr's advice and kneeing Sundhill in the balls. He resists.
But only just.
~~~~~
Two days without Black is a long time if you stop to break it down. Calyx, with
nothing better to do, has broken it down:
Two days is forty-eight hours. At least twelve of those hours are normally spent
snuggling in bed. Of the remaining thirty-six hours, five of them are spent fucking
each day if Starr has his way. This means that in the two days since Black has been
gone Calyx has missed ten hours of actual sex, twelve hours of cuddling after sex,
and twenty-six hours of gazing at his boyfriend and fantasizing about sex with him.
That's a long time to go without.
To make things worse, it's now pushing Day Three and Black still hasn't called. Oh,
Calyx knows that his reserved lover isn't one to be mushy on the phone, but one
fucking call to reassure him that Black has arrived safely would be nice. As much fun
as it is to have a challenging lover, times like this make Calyx wish Black were more
like the rest of the world and acted like a proper boyfriend.
Starr isn't going to hold his breath hoping for it, though.
"Fuck this," he declares to no one in particular. None of his teammates bat an eye,
maybe suspecting that Calyx has been building up to such an outburst ever since
Black left. Jake, Bee and Haney all ignore him and continue to watch the hockey
game on TV.
Ignoring them ignoring him, he stands up and stomps upstairs to his bedroom. If
Black is going to be the cool, uncaring boyfriend, then Calyx sure as hell isn't going
to play the lonely, whipped boyfriend. Calyx doesn't do whipped for anyone.
He digs out his most slutty clubbing outfit -- something he'd buried in the back of his
closet after failing several times to transform Black into a clubber -- and gleefully
starts to pull it on. It's a total slut outfit; meant for picking up johns or bartering for
Bliss. Black hates it; therefore Calyx is going to wear it.
"I'm glad he's not here," Calyx announces defiantly. He yanks on the black mesh
shirt with a weave large enough to let his pink nipples to poke through -- his
Tweaking Shirt, he likes to call it. "Darkness has been cramping my style, anyway.
Too much time with him and I would have lost all sense of fun and fashion sense."
Both of which are Calyx's reason for living, after all: looking good while partying.
What more is there?
He jumps into a pair of black pvc pants so tight he needs baby powder to force his
legs into them, and drapes every silvery, glittery piece of metal and plastic he can
find in his closet around his hips to draw attention to his cock and ass. No sense in
being subtle when one's on a mission.
Like a cop at a sobriety check, Jake is waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Calyx
comes down, chain belts and bondage straps a-jangling. The sergeant takes in
Calyx's clothes with barely concealed disapproval. He frowns when he notices the
empath's liberal use of make-up and body glitter.
"Do us all a favor and don't do anything stupid," he warns as Calyx reaches the
bottom floor. "I don't want a reason to punch in your teeth, and that'll happen if you
hurt Black."
Calyx has come to appreciate the sergeant's protectiveness of Black even after
Black had openly chosen Calyx. It means that Jake's love for his lieutenant is a
genuine one, fueled by an honest desire to see Black happy. But at the moment,
with mayhem on his mind, Calyx can do without the lecture. Especially when a part
of him knows that Jake's concern is justified.
"We're not married and he can't be bothered to make a phone call." Calyx tosses his
hair over one shoulder and flutters a heavily made-up eye at the other man. "Looks
like both of those things mean I'm free to do what I want, Cole."
Jake frowns. "You know how Black is."
"As a matter of fact I do, sweetheart. And what I know is that Darkness didn't let
anyone into his life before I met him, and he sure as hell isn't changing patterns now.
So why should I change for him, hmm? Life goes on without our fearless leader and
I'm going to prove it."
Calyx strides to the front door. As his fingers curls around the handle, Jake says,
"He's just scared."
Calyx smiles ruefully before opening the door. "Show me someone who isn't. This
isn't about being scared, Cole. It's about being brave."
And if Black can't understand that, it's going to be his loss, not Calyx's.
~~~~~
Black stares at his PRU where it lays on his bed. He should call Starr. He should
have called him a long time ago, in fact. The hour is late and the empath might
already be asleep.
But Black knows Starr is awake. He can feel it.
The weird thing is, Black isn't quite certain why he's hesitating. He wants to call the
other man. He misses the sound of Starr's voice and the campy way he talks. Even
on the worst of days, Starr can find a way to make Black see the ridiculousness of
caring too much about situations he can't control. Starr is his stress outlet and Black
freely admits, at least to himself, that he depends upon the empath to keep himself
from burning out.
But does Black love him?
The question doesn't make him as anxious as it would have earlier in his life. A lot
has changed since Starr joined the team. Black himself has undergone the most
transformation. Opening up to other people isn't as difficult for him. He enjoys
receiving comfort from Starr and giving it in return.
This last is the biggest change for Black. He isn't afraid to care for Starr because the
empath has finally convinced Black that Starr won't hurt him for it. Maybe that isn't
the exact definition of love, but for Black, it's a huge thing. Being able to trust Starr is
what Black wants love to feel like.
So maybe . . . he does love Calyx Starr.
He smiles tentatively as the words run though his head. He loves Calyx Starr. A
tension he hadn't been aware of carrying suddenly melts away. Now that it's gone,
he realizes he's been carrying it for all of his life.
He loves Calyx Starr.
Black fervently wishes he hadn't lost his composure with Sundhill. If it's true that he
does indeed love Starr, Black would have wanted the empath to be the first to know.
It's what bothers Black the most about this epiphany -- not the falling in love part, but
the declaration which should have been for his lover's ears only. Black can't help
feeling as though he's betrayed Starr by speaking of his feelings to someone else.
But now that it's done, how can he make amends?
He sits down on the bed and picks up the PRU. His stomach burns a little, as if he
has heartburn. His heart is thudding painfully against his ribcage.
"I love you," he whispers, testing out the weight of the words on his tongue.
He feels embarrassed for some reason. Do men tell other men that they love each
other? Or is that something only women do? Black's face twists up with indecision.
Maybe Starr won't want to hear it. Maybe the empath will be angry that Black has
told Sundhill before telling him. Or maybe Starr is happy with their relationship the
way it is. The empath has never mentioned love with Black. Then again, that might
be because Starr is afraid of scaring Black away, which in all honesty might have
happened if Starr had sprung the 'L' word first. For some reason, having the decision
be his own, not prompted by a declaration from Starr, makes it easier for Black to
accept.
"I love you," he says more firmly. "I love you . . . Starr."
He sounds like an idiot.
"Just do it," he tells himself, beginning to become disgusted with his nervousness.
Sweating, he dials Starr's number. He holds up his hand; watches his fingers
tremble.
"I love you," Black says. It's starting to sound a little better.
He waits for Starr to answer.
~~~~~
There are lots of pretty people at Indigo Cellars. Pretty girls. Pretty boys. Calyx is
confident that he's one of the prettiest. Accordingly, he's seeking someone who's
worthy of him.
He hasn't had to buy a single drink for himself, though he's had several. Calyx
expects it when he goes out. Doesn't think twice about it. Oftentimes, admirers buy
him more than drinks. He doesn't usually turn down those gifts, either.
Tonight, he's got a sheet of Bliss tabs burning a hole in the wallet strapped around
his upper arm. He wants to take them. He badly wants to take them. He tells himself
the only reason he hasn't yet is that he's waiting for the perfect companion to come
along, not because Black would be disappointed with him for taking the drug.
Calyx is reclining in one of the reserved booths. He hasn't paid for the right to sit
here, but the man who has paid has graciously invited Calyx to sit with him. The
man's not bad looking. Calyx has kissed him a few times, though he's followed each
lip lock with a swish of champagne to rinse out his mouth. The man tastes stale, not
minty or lemony as Black often does.
Not that Calyx is making comparisons to Black. Perish the thought.
The music is too loud for conversation, which is just the way Calyx likes it. He can't
hear anything the man with the booth says to him and so Calyx can get away with
nodding and occasionally rubbing his stomach which the man watches with greedy
interest. Calyx could probably milk this guy of quite a bit of money. Some drugs, too.
But he's not sure it's worth the effort. Working the man seems so tedious. Calyx
can't believe he used to do this nearly every night when he was on the streets.
Enter the pretty boy.
Calyx licks the rim of his champagne flute as he watches the dark-haired young man
saunter off the dance floor and enter the VIP lounge. Black leather and a collar invite
interesting fantasies. Calyx conjures up a few of them as his eyes lock on the
newcomer. Pretty Boy has dark hair and dark eyes. He's a little pale -- the club
lighting painting him fluorescent blue -- but Calyx can look beyond that. Pretty Boy
has a nice full mouth.
Calyx crosses his legs slowly, pushing his hips up so his groin becomes the focal
point. A half smile curls his lips and he casually flings his hair back over his
shoulders. He knows exactly what kind of picture he's painting and isn't surprised
when Pretty Boy licks his lips. Calyx smirks as the other man approaches the booth.
That's it. Come to Daddy . . .
Up close, Calyx sees that the full mouth is actually a little narrow. The dark eyes are
pure black. They're little things that don't detract from the man's beauty at all, but for
some reason Calyx is annoyed by them. The skin's too pale. He's not tall enough.
The chest is too thin . . .
"Fuck you, Darkness," Calyx snarls as he realizes what's happening.
Pretty Boy hears him and detours to the side as if he were heading there all along.
Calyx glares at his profile. Pretty Boy's a bitch.
Calyx feels his PRU buzz. He wasn't going to bring it, telling himself he isn't waiting
for Black to call. Calyx Starr doesn't wait for people to call. Hell, no.
But now that his PRU is ringing, Calyx's heart starts beating frantically. It's the
excitement of the club, that's all. That's why he's turning it on so quickly.
The perfect face fills the screen. Calyx unconsciously sighs as he stares at Black.
Pretty Boy is Ugly Boy compared to Calyx's chocolate-haired lover.
"Hi," Black says.
It's pure Black.
Calyx loves it, but he can't give in too easily. This call is nearly three days overdue.
"Hi, to you, too," Calyx says coolly. "Finally got bored enough to call, did you?"
Black has the grace to wince. "I'm sorry. I've been busy with meetings. The Captain
has been making us attend these dinners --" Black breaks off, glancing off to the
side. "I was going to call earlier, but I didn't get the chance."
"Hmm," Calyx murmurs, pretending to be unimpressed when all he wants to do is
have phone sex with Black. "Nice to know you're thinking of me."
"I am. I have been." Black clears his throat while running a hand through his hair.
Calyx narrows his eyes as he watches him.
"So how is the Golden Wonder?" he presses, bringing the screen closer to his face
so he can better read Black's expression. "Has he tried to jump you yet?"
There it is. The telltale flinch. Calyx grinds his teeth. He's going to kill Sundhill the
next time they meet.
"What did he do?" Calyx inquires in a steely voice. "Grope you in the middle of a
lecture? Try to goose you while you're walking down the halls?"
Black looks pained. "Nothing happened."
"Bullshit." Calyx bums a cigarette off the skanky girl next to him and takes a furious
puff. "Tell me what he did."
"I can take care of myself," Black retorts, annoyance creeping into his voice. But it's
annoyance tinged with something else that Calyx can't quite pinpoint. It worries him
what it could be.
Calyx takes another drag to calm himself. He doesn't want to fight with Black. He's
thrilled the man even called.
In a more controlled voice he asks again, "Tell me what he did. I want to know."
Black sighs, conceding defeat. "He tried to kiss me. I didn't let him."
Inwardly gloating at the image of the Golden Wonder being shot down, Calyx smirks.
"What'd you do to stop him? Did you knee him in the balls like I suggested?"
He expects Black to laugh, or on the flip side of that argue that violence hadn't been
necessary. Instead, Black looks away. And it's then that Calyx understands the
signals Black has been unwittingly sending.
It's guilt.
For a long moment, Calyx can't breathe. Black says something to him, but the words
blend into the club music and become a mishmash of indistinguishable sound. Calyx
has been around the block more than a few times. He's prided himself that he's
never been one to delude himself. There's only reason for Black to feel guilty about
Sundhill hitting on him.
It's the one reason Calyx can't take.
But even with his blood boiling and his free hand balled into a fist, Calyx can't bring
himself to confront Black. He didn't know this about himself until now, but apparently
at the heart of him, he's a coward. He doesn't want Black to admit what Calyx
already knows. It hurts enough as it is. To hear Black vocalize it . . . That just might
kill him.
"-- Starr. Starr, what's wrong?"
Calyx looks back to the screen. Black doesn't look guilty; he looks worried. This
time, though, Calyx can't reassure him.
"Just once," he says calmly, reaching for the Bliss tabs in his wallet, "you could have
called me by my fucking first name."
He hangs up on Black and turns off the PRU. The Bliss tabs look like candy as he
peels them off the paper. They disintegrate beneath his tongue quickly. The way all
good things do.
~~~~~
He's asked Jake to keep an eye on him, but that doesn't guarantee anything. Starr
has spent most his life on the streets. If there's something he wants to do, Jake's
prohibitive presence won't slow him down. Black knows this and it's kept him
balanced on the edge of a migraine the entire flight home. All he can do is hope that
he's not too late.
No one appears to be in the Clubhouse when he lets himself in the front door, but in
an unexplainable way, Black knows that Starr is here. The empath has an uncanny
presence about him that invades whatever space he occupies. Black takes the stairs
two at a time to get to Starr's room faster.
Black has often wondered when Starr would broach the subject of them occupying
the same room. It doesn't seem like an important matter since their rooms are mere
feet apart already. But in many ways it does mean something for them to both agree
that they spend enough time in each other's company that they may as well share
one room. It's consolidation. It's admitting that they're a couple.
Black now wishes Starr had asked. Or that Black had brought it up. It might make
this all a little easier if they were already at the point of thinking of them as 'we'
instead of 'you and I'.
Black has been thinking that way for the last six hours.
He goes to Starr's bedroom door and he doesn't knock, just turns the handle and
shoves it open with a bang. Black has made a decision on the flight home. It's a
decision to stop hiding what he feels and to stop censoring what he says. Starr is an
empath. He responds to emotion. Black is going to give him that.
His pale-haired lover is lying on his stomach on his bed. There's a ring of smoke
hovering around the ceiling. Smoking isn't allowed in the house, but Black doesn't
care that Starr's violated the rule. When the empath raises his head from the pillow,
the other man's vibrant green eyes are streaked with red and the skin around them
is puffy.
"You've been crying," Black says, feeling kicked in the gut.
Starr's mouth twists into a shaky smile. "I'm still crying. What's it to you?" He sniffs
and drags the back of his hand across his nose. "Why are you back so soon? Why
aren't you with your new boyfriend?"
He sounds like a little kid who's thrown a temper tantrum, but Black doesn't smile.
He's scared sick. He's got so much to lose . . .
"My boyfriend is here," he says. "I came back to be with him."
"Right," Starr says scornfully, sitting up and turning around. "What happened? Did
Sundhill change his mind and dump you?"
Black steps up to the bed and searches Starr's face. "I made a mistake with
Sundhill."
Starr's face goes white. Moisture wells in his eyes but he looks determined not to let
any tears fall while Black is watching him.
"If you've come to confess, you've come to the wrong person, sweetheart. I can't
even remember when the word virginal appli --."
"I told him that I love you."
Starr freezes.
Black is afraid to move as he waits out the other man's reaction. A minute passes.
Then another. Starr just sits there and stares at him.
Taking it as a good sign that the empath doesn't look angry, just stunned, Black
forges on nervously. "I hadn't meant to tell him, but it just came out and once it did I
realized that it's true." He takes a deep breath and looks deep into Starr's eyes. "I
love you, Calyx. If you don't believe me, you can feel it for yourself."
And Black does what he never does: he drops his mental barriers and allows his
secrets to pour free. Starr makes a startled sound and Black tries not to panic. He
feels so vulnerable doing this. He doesn't like opening himself this way but he knows
he has to if he wants to keep Starr. So Black concentrates on how he feels when he
imagines spending the rest of his life with the empath. He imagines growing old with
Starr forever by his side. And as Starr gasps and covers his mouth with one hand,
Black thinks back to the moment when he'd verbalized to Sundhill how he felt.
"That's why you looked so guilty," Starr whispers, lowering his hand. "I thought it
meant -- I thought it meant that you'd cheated on me."
"I wouldn't," Black tells him. "I couldn't."
He cautiously takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "Are you upset that I told him
first? I honestly didn't mean to. I wanted the words to be for you." He picks nervously
at the sheets. "Maybe that sounds corny. This all feels very awkward. I don't want it
to sound like a romance novel." He raises his eyes. "But what I feel for you -- that's
real. It isn't made up."
Starr gets up on his knees and crawls towards Black. "I know it's real. You can't lie
about something like this. Not when I've felt it all. My god, Darkness. My god, I can't
believe you love me." He rears up and tackles Black, seizing the younger man's
mouth in a desperate kiss. "I've loved you for fucking ever," he chokes out between
frantic, sloppy kisses. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, you idiot. I'll fucking
kill you."
"I'm sorry," Black tries to say, but it gets swallowed up in Starr's mouth and it isn't
necessary, anyway.
"Don't apologize," Starr whispers, confirming it. "Just let me make love to you. Let
me fuck you."
Black groans with rising lust as Starr pulls his shirt off over his head and pushes him
backwards until he's lying stretched beneath the empath. Starr's hands are
everywhere: tearing open buttons and ripping at cloth. Black returns the favor,
yanking off Starr's shirt and pants with a roughness that probably hurts but neither of
them notices. It's all about baring as much hot naked skin as quickly as possible,
and by the time Starr fishes out a dented tube of lube from beneath the mattress
they're both panting like wild animals and covered with a slick layer of sweat.
"Turn over," Starr breathes against Black's mouth. Once Black flips onto his
stomach, his hands are guided to the footboard. "Hold on, sweetheart."
Black grips the railing and drops his forehead to the sheets as Starr's slippery body
settles atop his back, smothering him with heat and a thundering heartbeat. When
sharp teeth drag along the back of his neck, Black shivers and grips the rail tighter.
"Let me feel you as I'm fucking you," Starr whispers into his ear. "I want to know how
it feels for you, Darkness. I want to know how it feels to have me love you"
"I told you," Black replies, "anything you want." He means it. For Starr, he'll do
anything.
A knee forces his legs open. Air rushes over his exposed flesh as Starr grabs his
cheeks and pulls them apart. Black bites his lip and wriggles as a lube-slicked finger
touches him at his most private place; the place that Starr alone has been granted
access. Starr pushes and the finger breeches him. Black moans his approval as he's
carefully invaded.
"Oh, god, yes," Starr pants against the back of Black's head. "You feel so good
inside . . ."
Whether Starr is referring to Black's body or to his mind, it doesn't matter. Black is
giving him both.
"Feel this," he pants out.
He shares his anticipation as Starr settles between his legs. He lets the empath feel
the spark of pain at the initial penetration. And when Starr is gripping his hips and
slowly driving his cock into the tight ring of Black's ass, both men gasp at how
deeply Black takes his lover into his body.
"Oh . . . my . . . god," Starr moans as he begins to thrust slowly in and out of Black.
"Darkness, you're so good . . . so good. Oh, fuck. I never want to stop."
"Don't stop," Black pants back, trembling with uncontrollable lust. "Stay inside me
forever . . . Nnnh, Starr. Keep going. Fuck me harder."
Starr's hands skim up the sides of Black's ribs, fingers sliding through the sweat
that's collecting on their bodies. He palms the firm balls of Black's shoulders and
follows the swell of bicep and forearm muscles until his hands are lying on top of
Black's, helping him to grip the railing.
"So good," Starr purrs, curling his tongue around Black's ear. "You and I are so good
together . . ."
Black closes his eyes and concentrates on the steady, forceful thrusts against his
ass and on the heat he can feel plunging in and out of him. They've had great sex
before. Sex with Starr is rarely ever mediocre. But something about this time feels
so much better. Every drive into his body feels like Starr is trying to burrow inside
him. Every withdrawal seems more like a promise of pleasure to come rather than a
retreat.
When Starr begins to kiss the side of his face, Black eagerly turns his head and
catches the empath's soft lips with his own, craving the intimacy. Black loves the
way Starr moans into his mouth and the way the empath's fingers flex around his in
their shared grip on the footboard. Black isn't an empath, but he thinks he knows
exactly what Starr is feeling.
It's what he'd always hoped love would feel like.
They move in tandem for long minutes, neither man wanting to rush the end of their
mutual pleasure. But Starr is an excellent lover and the pleasure and tension begin
to climb to their unavoidable peak. Black's cock, hard and weeping beneath him, is
so sensitive and swollen that he has to fight not to come each time Starr's thrusts
drive him into the mattress. Black's entire body is wire taut. The sexual tension Starr
is so expertly building is gradually driving Black mad. He's moaning continuously
and covered with so much sweat it runs into his eyes and down the trough of his
spine.
But because he's sharing everything he feels with Starr, the sensual torture can't last
long. Starr begins to fuck him harder and faster. Black feels the other man digging
his toes into the mattress to gain more purchase.
"Keep fucking me," Black demands, rocking in rhythm with his lover. "I want you to
feel me as I come."
"Oh, Christ, Darkness." Damp tendrils of hair loop across Black's shoulders as Starr
briefly lowers his head to kiss the top of Black's spine. "I can't last. I'm sorry. This is
too good."
"Feel me," Black urges, giving in to the intense pressure churning in his groin. "Ah,
god. Feel how much I love you," he groans.
His orgasm rears up from deep within him, hitting him so intensely that he cries out
helplessly from the force of it. His cock jerks and spurts for what seems forever,
drenching the sheets beneath him and leaving him weak and pleasantly exhausted.
Right on his heels, riding the tail of the sensations, Starr shudders violently and
rams himself one final time into Black's convulsing body. Starr's shout of pleasure is
beautiful to Black. He squeezes his fingers tight around Starr's in encouragement as
the empath empties himself completely.
With Starr collapsed atop his back, Black can feel it when the other man whispers a
silent thanks against his shoulder blade.
"Why are you thanking me?" he asks softly as Starr slides off him to curl against
Black's side.
Starr cups his cheek. "Because you opened yourself for me. I felt how difficult it was
for you."
"No more difficult than having to put up with me on a daily basis," Black returns. "I
know I'm not easy."
Starr smirks, deviltry returning to his eyes. "Oh, you're easy enough, Darkness. With
the proper persuasion, I can talk you into anything."
Black only smiles. "Yes, you can. I used to think that was a bad thing. Now, I'm not
so sure."
"Did I talk you into falling in love with me?" Starr asks. There's a touch of uncertainty
in his clear green eyes.
Black finds the other man's hand and gently squeezes it. "Actually, I think I did that
all on my own."
Starr's face softens. "I'm so happy you did, Darkness. We're good for each other."
Black returns the smile. "I guess we are."

The End