Remnants of the Earth
AEDOLIS => Haviah => The Citadel => Topic started by: Anonymous on February 12, 2011, 02:25:04 am
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Normally, Christian loved parties. He was a party person really, like to think of himself as a life of the party. But this party wasn't one of the fun, drunken ones where he could take barely legal girls home. This was one of the ones that forced him into a suit, which wasn't so bad, he looked killer in the suit, limited his alcohol intake and made him listen to boring speeches.
About some brave soldiers that had done something bravely heroic. He really wasn't paying much attention to it. The food would hopefully be good, but, really it never was. It wasn't bad, but it always seemed to end up this sad attempt at being gourmet and just isn't.
And he was stuck with Blaine. Christian had never spent much time with the blond, he was a weird one, from what he had heard. Reminded him of Gabe a little actually, the little he had spoken to him.
"Fuck. Do they ever stop with the speeches? They are not refilling my wine glass enough to listen to this shit."
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Blaine's main complaint, aside from having to be here in the first place, was that they wouldn't let him wear one of his hats. Their formal uniform had a hat with it but it was so blah. Blaine could have designed a better one. So he's opted to not wear one at all.
It wasn't even that he couldn't wear a hat here, it was more that there were photographers around and these pictures would end up in the magazines and he didn't want them saying he was being disrespectful by wearing a hat. It was also the reason he was seated poised and and displaying polite interest when what he really wanted to do was slouch over on the table and watch the clock. This was soooooo boring.
"They just don't really like you." Blaine caught the eye their server, tilted his head down and gave her his best come hither look, strawberry-blonde curls falling over one eye. She made her way over, but he sat back and let Christian do his own talking. Hey, he'd gotten her over here hadn't he? He didn't need any more wine.
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"Ouch. I'm hurt." Christian made a slight pouting face at Blaine's comment. Though the blond was cute enough to get the server over pretty quick. Blow to the ego, that. He ordered his wine from the girl, giving her a bright smile, she wasn't bad looking, though a little skinny for his tastes.
Once she had left, he leaned a little closer to Blaine, watching him now instead of the dull speech, "I don't see why she wouldn't. I'm pretty damn sexy in this uniform."
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Blaine caught sight of the the photographers from PILOT pointing the lens their way and he gave them a wink and tossed his hair for them. The trashier gossip mags were around here somewhere too, so you had to be careful. They would find the one second your face looked weird or contorted and paste it all over the Network with some scandalous caption.
"We're all wearing the same uniform." He sighed and craned his head up to scan the room. "Why couldn't they sit me next to Alaric?"
Not to say anything bad about Christian, but he'd sooner sit with a friend than with Pilot he barely knew and had never even had to work with before.
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"And yet, I look better in it. It's a curse, being this good looking." Man, Blaine was so damn girly. Christian was a little impressed at how much he was eating it up. Christian never really gave much thought to it. The photos happened as they happened and who cared anyway?
"Because you did something very naughty have have to be punished." Christian knew Alaric somewhat, as he was Gabe's best friend. Though he always found him annoying and dweeby. Kinnda like Gabe. He reached over, sliding a hand along Blaine's leg, "Besides, I can be way more fun than he is."
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Was that Gabe over there with Alaric? Lame, why did they get to sit with each other but Blaine couldn't sit with any of his friends. He was writing a stern letter to the event organizer.
He'd been ignoring Christian's complaining for the half hour they'd been stuck together, but a hand on his leg? Yeah, that was harder to ignore. Blaine slid smoothly out form under Christian's touch and scooted his chair a little further away.
"Great! You can be my substitute Alaric." Blaine pulled out a tiny folded triangle of paper from his pocket and place it in front of Christian. He made a goal our of his hands. "You gotta flick it and make it through. No telekinesis!"
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Yup. The rumors seemed true. Blaine was a total prude. Gabe and his little friends were like the sad little abstinent patrol. Sitting around and not getting laid. It was pathetic really. Though it made it fun to mess with them. He wondered if Blaine would freak out as wonderfully as Gabe did.
So far, no. But the scooting away was cute. It pleased Christian, made him want to keep making him uncomfortable just to watch him squirm. He studied the paper, though he had played this a lot when in class, "What do I get when I win?"
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"If you win," Blaine corrected, "you receive a small allocation of my respect and good will." He beamed at Christian. "But I'm really good. You won't win. And remember, no telekinesis. This is a game of honor."
Sitting with Christian wasn't so bad now. He had no shortage of games to keep them occupied. If this one didn't work out or Christian just sucked too hard at it to be any fun they could play twenty questions! Or I Spy.
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"Who says I have honor? Or that I want your respect or good will?" Christian raised an eyebrow, "You're a frigid little girly boy. No, I think I'll need a much better reward than that. Make me an interesting offer."
Though, it would be better than the boredom and trying to get drunk off the wine. Wine always gave him a headache.
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Where did that come from? Things had been going so pleasantly and all of a sudden he wanted to act like an ass? Blaine cupped a hand around his mouth and stage whispered at Christian. "Psst. You're being a terrible Alaric. Be more chipper and in general less you-like."
He cleared his throat and reformed the goal post. "How 'bout this? Your reward is that I don't turn around and ignore your merry ass for the rest of the evening." He raised a brow right back at Christian. "Though if you prefer that, I can accommodate. I have anagrams on my phone."
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"Why would I want to be Alaric? He's a loser. She's a loser? It's a loser? Whatever. Loser is the point here." Christian snorted, "That's a crap reward. Better than nothing I guess."
He settled the paper on the table, took aim and flicked it dead center between Blaine's fingers.
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Blaine rolled his eyes and snatched up his little paper triangle. Back into the pocket it went. "So you have no honor and you insult my friend. Why am I even talking to you?"
Damned if he could think of a reason. What the hell was Christian's problem anyway? He was the one who was sooooo bored, and what did Blaine get for trying to help him out? Pissy comments about himself and his friends. Blaine liked to people watch so he sat back and tuned in to the hundred little dramas playing out around them. Christian could go rot.
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It wasn't really Blaine's fault. He just happened to be one of Gabriel's friends. And that small part of Christian that had never fully grown up hated all of Gabe's friends. Resented them that his cousin hadn't wanted to hang out with young Christian, but then went and made friends with....losers.
"My my. Prickly aren't we. And it's not really insulting when it's true, is it? You have your little loser patrol and Alaric's an it."
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Yes. Yes he was prickly when people insulted his friends. Too bad for Christian, eh? Whenever some jerkoff started randomly insulting you for no reason, it was usually to get a rise out of you. He was sitting next to the equivalent of an online troll. It was sad, and a little weird too. Who responded to pleasant conversation like this?
They were in the process of introducing each of the soldiers in the squadron. Every time they said a name, everyone applauded. Blaine joined in for appearance's sake, though he hadn't been paying attention when they went over exactly why they we honoring these soldiers.
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Christian followed along with the clapping as the soldiers were introduced. Might as well make sure he was putting on the right little show for all the papers. Clap and smile and not really listen. This was nicer than the ones honoring fallen soldiers. Those were just depressing.
He drained his glass of wine again, still bored. The guy on his other side was way to into the conversation with the female Pilot next to him. And Blaine was ignoring him. Something that irritated him, but he wasn't totally sure how he wanted to handle that one.
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Once they'd gone through all the names and handed out all the medals, they took a break from talking and handed out the entrees. About time! Some real food made this a whole lot better. The music started up again too, a string quartet off to the left of the dais.
The rest of the dinner went by pretty fast. They didn't spend too long on the departing speeches. As everyone was leaving, Blaine got hung up talking to journalists and socialites. He couldn't help himself when he was getting media attention, and ended up staying long after most everyone else had left. There were only a few people still in the dining hall when he finally got away and started the trek back to his apartment. It was all the way on the other side of the Citadel and about ninety stories up.
About one third of the way there, he paused in a deserted hallway to lean back against the wall and rip open the top few buttons of his uniform. Much better, that. It had been buttoned all the way up to his throat all day.
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Christian had actually left a bit earlier, then realized he had left his hat behind. Stupid uniform was a pain to replace and expensive when docked. So he had to head back to grab it. It was where he had left it, sitting on the table in front of his seat.
The way back was rather boring, until he turned the corner and got an eyeful of Blaine ripping open his shirt. Christian raise one blond eyebrow, "Well, that's an attractive site."
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Blaine nearly jumped. He'd been lost in his own little world, trying to decide whether he wanted to go out or turn in for the evening. Times like these, he wished he had a better sensory range. If his telekinesis were worth shit he could have sensed Christian coming.
"Thought you took off," he said, thinking back. Yeah, Christian had gotten out of there at the first opportunity. Could be he was just near Christian's room or something?
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"I had." Christian grinned, lounging slightly, swinging the hat on his finger, "I forgot my hat. What were you doing back there? All alone."
Moving closer, Christian made sure he was close enough to have passed most people's personal space bubble, "Some bad man might find you rippin' your clothes off and get ideas."
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Blaine leaned in slightly, bringing them even closer. He held the distance for a few seconds, sniffing, then leaned back again. "You had the fish, didn't you? Breath's a little funky, mate."
He shuffled away a bit and got Christian out of his personal space bubble. He found a little tin of gum in a pocket and shook one out into Christian's palm. "You are so lucky you ran into me and not someone who would judge you for having smelly breath. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone how disgustingly you embarrassed yourself."
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Christian grinned, not really all that fazed by Blaine's comment. He moved close again, taking a piece of gum, "How nice that you care for me and my breath. Though I didn't have the fish. You'll have to get a bit closer and try again."
He slid his hand out, hooking a finger into one of Blaine's pocket's and tugged on him.
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"Yeah, y'know, it's kind of more for my benefit than yours..." Which was more true than ever considering Christian was all up in his face again. For some reason. Was this flirting? Or was this Christian trolling him again? He wasn't a hundred percent on how to tell the difference.
"As much as I'd love to stand here and guess what you ate by smelling your breath—which sounds just super by the way—I'm thinking of finding the hot spot tonight." Christian was so close to him, he had to turn his head to the side to see his cell. Looked like the popular place tonight was a dance club just outside the Citadel.
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Christian's other hand slid around behind Blaine, forcing the other Pilot flush against him, "Oh? Hot spot? Well, I know some good ones. And there are so many fun things we could do together."
Blaine wasn't really his type, a little to...Blaine, but he liked how uncomfortable he made the precog. It was so fun to mess with the prudes.
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Blaine got all squirmy. He really wanted to disengage from this but he didn't want to overreact and get shovey. So far, he reminded himself, Christian had just been persistent. Nothing more than that. And that didn't warrant a full on freak out. Yet. "Yeah, haha, so...this thing you're doing? Flirting or whatever? Or I don't know what you wanna call it, uh...are you for real? So I should, like, let you know that I'm really not into this? Ahehe...sex, I mean, which I guess is what you're talking about but if you're not then forget I said anything! But yeah, you're barking up the wrong asexual tree. Or...or something. Am I...making sense? I, I just don't do physical intimacy."
And he didn't. He wasn't flushed or aroused by the physical contact. Neither his breath or his heart rate had picked up. He was mostly just nervous at the subject, which was always awkward to bring up, especially with someone so forward. He didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.
"And the hot spot I meant was this one!" He held his phone up between their faces, probably blinding Christian with the screen. "See? Everyone's there tonight."
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"Asexual? Please." Christian didn't believe that for a minute. No one was just not interested in sex. Didn't work that way. They just repressed it way far down and it was so fun watching them squirm. Like that stupid little Lockwood.
The hand not around Blaine moved up to move the phone out of the way, "I don't see why we don't stay in. See if we can't find something you do like."
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This was uncomfortable, trying to have a conversation with someone when their face was inches away from yours. He wasn't sure how to turn his head and had to just lean back as far as he could to talk. Not that there was anything wrong with his breath. That's why he had gum in the first place, to keep himself in a state of minty freshness.
"Haven't you ever known someone who was just disinterested?" Christian could believe whatever he wanted. Plenty of people had pawed at Blaine before, disbelieving, only to find that what he said was exactly true. His body didn't respond to sexual stimulus. It had always been that way, and he didn't feel like he was missing much. He knew it was weird, but it was just the way he was.
"I can tell you exactly what I like! Some video games, but not the violent ones, playing with Commando, curling up with a good book, checkers, flickball—but you already knew that one—dancing, watching movies...lots of things I like!" He gave an experimental push against Christian, see if he was ready to leave off yet. "So, are we done with this or...?"
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Christian didn't budge from leaning close to Blaine. The closeness didn't bother him none, "Never. They just hadn't found what they liked yet." His eyes dropped to Blaine's lips, loving how flustered the blond was acting, "I bet I can find what gets you going. Maybe you need to dress up in woman's clothes. Or have a thing for shoes or pain or blood. There are so many possibilities I bet you have never explored."
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"Shoes! Haha, can you imagine. I mean I like shoes—who doesn't right? I have about a ton of them. You should see them all sometime. I mean not tonight 'cause I'm going out obviously but you and—who do you hang with anyway?—well you and whoever should come over and check out my place now that it's painted. Mostly painted. I did it myself!"
Okay, this was more than a little awkward now. And he was getting irritated, and pushed back harder from Christian. He didn't know what this was, but he didn't want to overreact and he especially didn't want to get his ass handed to him for picking a fight with a superior officer. Again. Something told him Christian would be all too happy to bust him for it if Blaine took a swing at him.
"As much as I love hugs, this is making it a little difficult to answer my texts y'know?" Right now everyone was messaging him, seeing if he was coming out tonight. He scrolled through them with his thumb, his other hand pressing against Christian's chest in an effort to get some distance between them. "You know how it is when you don't answer texts. Pretty soon you get texts asking why you're not answering, then they start calling you, and it turns into a whole big thing..."
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Christian's free hand grabbed the phone out of Blaine's hand and tossed it down the hallway, where it landed with a sharp clatter, skipping along the floor, "Answer them later. We're busy here." The hand stroked down the other Pilot's neck, "Maybe I'll come see your apartment alone. Just you and me and...some shoes."
This was adorable. So flustered and trying to not show it. He was gonna have fun with this. He would let him go soon. Come find him later to play again. But not juuuust yet.
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Blaine made a squawk sound when his phone got ripped from his hands. He lunged for it but missed and had no telekinesis worth using to catch it before it hit the tile floor with a sharp crack. Ooh, bad bad sound. It made him cringe.
"Dude, that was my freaking phone!" He tried to wrench out of Christian's arms, hard this time. He had to see if his phone was still functional! Maybe the case had saved it. This had gone from an annoying and mildly confusing encounter to some kind of candidate-esque bullying shit that he wasn't about to take. "What's your fucking problem?"
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Christian let him go that time, amused, "No problem. I just wanted to play with you." That was enough for tonight. Full on anger wouldn't be as fun. And he would have plenty of time to find him again later.
He stepped back and moved around Blaine, trailing his hand across his neck again, "I'll catch you later."
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Blaine swatted Christian's hand away and coated his voice in sarcasm. "Yeeeeah, can't wait."
He wandered over to his phone, praying it wouldn't be broken or the screen be shattered. It had landed screen down and he held his breath as he picked it up. "This better not be broken!" he called after Christian.
"Or you're paying for it," he muttered to himself, turning the phone over. The case had a chip in it but the phone was still in tact and working, thank the gods. He might have lost it at Christian after all if he'd broken his phone.
The whole encounter put him in such a bad mood, he didn't even end up going out that night. He turned his phone off and just went to sleep.
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About a week later, Blaine found himself in the infirmary with his shirt off and a nasty bruise starting to discolor half his torso. Half a building had collapsed some few blocks from the Citadel and he'd been close when it happened. He'd ended up with a chunk of concrete falling on him and only his meager telekinesis had kept it from being worse.
August was there, inspecting the injury, his fingers glowing green from the first knuckle to the tips as he trailed his hands over the bruise.
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Christian had been near the collapsing building as well, his leg torn open, shoulder dislocated and his torso was a mass of vicious bruises, not to mention a number of minor cuts and bruises all over. He lounged against the wall, watching Blaine with his pale purple eyes.
He absently flicked his tongue ring, pondering what to do next. The doctor would leave eventually, letting him have some alone time with his new game. He got so angry. It was cute. Made him want to tease him more.
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August drifted over to a tray with two syringes on it. The larger one he took to Christian.
"You'll just feel a slight pressure, Pilot White," he said, swabbing Christian's arm with alcohol and finding a vein. "Then acute pain."
It was a mild antibiotic. One of the benefits of being a healer was that he could sense an infection before it even began to show symptoms or make itself known to blood tests. This injection would kill the bacterial toxin before it became a problem.
He leaned down to inspect Christian's leg. "Hm. Hop up on the table, Pilot White. I feel the urge to do some sewing."
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Christian gritted his teeth, hissing in pain as the antibiotic worked its way through his system. Favoring his bad leg, Christian hauled himself up onto the table by his arms. It hurt like a bitch on his shoulder, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Plus, he had to show off a little in front of Blaine.
He managed to keep his face relatively calm, his smile somewhat shaky, "Do I get a sucker now?"
The wound was on his upper thigh. If it had been a little lower, he might have bleed out before anyone could have gotten to him. They had cleaned the dirt and rock out of it, the flesh raw and red and seeping blood.
"Will I get a sexy scar? Chicks dig scars."
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August produced another syringe, smaller this time. "No sucker, but you do get to spread your legs for me." So that he could get a good enough angle on the wound to close it.
"This is a local anesthetic." A swift-acting one that would lessen the sting when he applied the suture and keep half of Christian's thigh numb for a good few hours. He wouldn't be comfortable, but he would feel a great deal better than he did now.
"It'll scar well enough if we forgo the regrowth agent. Shall we? It's your leg." August pushed his glasses up on his nose and leaned down to snap the stitches into place with the suture gun, seven of them in quick succession to close the skin.
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Christian was about to make a very clever and witty comment to August when the gun hit his leg. The anesthetic hadn't fully kicked in yet and Christian hissed in pain again, eyes squeezed shut as the numbing slowly worked its way through.
"Damn doc. I always wanted you between my legs and then you go and shoot me. You can kiss my offer of making you breakfast goodbye."
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"Pilot White, if you are going to throw a fit every time I shoot you up, our relationship will never get to the next level." Too bad he was out of needles. It would have been such a perfect punctuation to that sentence. Hmm. Maybe he could whip out a sedative and call it an antibiotic.
Maybe he should stop having very readable thoughts about illegally sedating a Pilot for his own amusement.
Across the room from the both of them, Blaine was pinching the bridge of his nose. He couldn't believe what he was having to listen to here.
August finished with Christian by wrapping his leg in a bandage. He handed a cup of pills to each Pilot. 'You take these, and you take those. Stay here while we wait for your xrays to come back. I'll be a few minutes."
They weren't the only inured. August had a good few patients to see to yet.
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"Naughty doctor. Taking advantage of your position." Christian just grinned, not really going to do anything about those thoughts. He knew he should, but really, it was always good to keep the doctor happy.
He took the cup and tossed them back, dry swallowing them with a grimace. He hated taking pills, but had to be done. "Well, well. Alone at last. You gonna come kiss my ouchy better?"
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Blaine knew it was coming. He would have laid credit on it. And yep, he was right. As soon as August left, Christian started his bullshit. Except this time, Blaine wasn't having any of it. He was too tired and too burned out from the rescue work to put up any cheerful mask.
"Yeah. That'll happen." Blaine hopped off the table and went to the sink for water to down the pills with. The mirror was just depressing to look into. There was dust in his hair and on his face. He didn't have to be shirtless anymore though, and he'd managed to save his hat when a rescue crew had finally relieved him. He eased his shirt back on and grabbed his hat off the table.
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"It could." Christian smirked, carefully sliding off the table, favoring his leg, "But then again, I'm not sure I would want you to in this state. You could really use a shower."
So could Christian to be honest. He was a mess, his blue hair plastered down, dust everywhere, clothes half gone, but there was no point in dealing with that at the moment. Even as injured as Christian was, he still pressed up against Blaine, wrapping his arm around the other man's waist, "One little kiss and I'll let you go."
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Blaine sulked in a moody silence for awhile. He contemplated not saying anything at all, and he probably shouldn't have, but staying silent when someone pushed him had never been the easiest thing. He kept his head tilted down, the brim of his hat hiding Christian's face from his view, making eye contact impossible. Part of him hoped August would be back soon and that his presence would put a stop to this, but even that struck him as disgustingly weak.
It might have been worth it to give in to Christian's demand. What did Blaine care about kissing, anyway? It wasn't like it did anything for him. But he just couldn't make himself go along with a condition somebody else laid on him. "Why are you bothering me? I'm not interested in you, so give off already."
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"Because I think you are. You just don't want to admit it. Besides, if you don't unbend a little, it'll make it harder for me to figure out what gets you off." Ducking down, Christian closed his teeth over Blaine's ear, ignoring the taste of the dust, biting down.
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The sudden sharp needle of pain caught at Blaine's breath, and his self control snapped. He drove a closed fist downward, right into Christian's recently closed leg wound. He shoved him backward with his other hand and tried to leap back, out of reach.
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"Ah! Son of a-!" Christian collapsed, going down hard, his injured leg unable to support him. Hissing, he clutched his leg, laughing slightly, "Well that was an interesting reaction."
The game just got a lot more interesting.
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Blaine stepped back and took a shaky breath. An unmistakable flush colored his cheeks. He stared at Christian, stunned at his own outburst, before shaking himself out of it and averting his eyes. There was nothing for it but to wait and see if Christian would have him hauled off for striking a superior.
He hadn't even noticed August walking up just as Christian hit the floor. The doctor strode back into the room, handing Blaine a copy of his x-rays. "To the next exam room, Pilot Clé."
Blaine hesitated only a moment, glancing at Christian one more time then rushing out of the room with his head down and x-rays in hand.
"Excellent work. You've managed to break your stitches in a matter of minutes. Back on the exam table." August bent to help Christian up, mouth set in a firm line of disapproval. How long had he left them alone for? Three minutes? He didn't bother to hide or curb his irritation. On top of everything else right now, he had to deal with Pilots brawling in his infirmary. Outstanding.
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"It's not my fault. I just wanted you to stick me again." Christian took Augest's arm, hauling himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain, "It's your fault you know. Only ever pay attention to me when I get injured. You can't act surprised that I have to go to such lengths to get you to notice me."
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August had to, once again, help Christian up onto the exam table and prepare a local anesthetic and a suture gun. He didn't know what had happened and he didn't care. He only knew that Pilots should be able to control themselves in his infirmary.
"Well you're going to get your wish." He brandished the syringe before Christian and administered it again. Then came the suture gun, to replace the stitches that had broken. It had broken open and begun bleeding again as well, so he cleaned it up before applying a fresh bandage.
"Do I need to ensure you and Pilot Clé do not end up in the same exam room again? If the two of you cannot remain in the same room even when injured, that can be arranged."
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"No no. I just said something he didn't like. I can behave, Pilot's honor." Christian saluted and gave a cheeky grin, "I'll be an utter angel. Promise."
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It had been long enough that most of Christian's wounds had healed up mostly. His leg was still tender and he was off combat missions still, but he was mostly fit. He was headed back toward his room, but he had gone the log way to see if Gabe was home. He hadn't seen his cousin in a bit and wanted to hang out.
But the brat was out, so he had made his way out there for nothing. Damn day was turning into a total bust.
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Getting out of the sensory deprivation tank was an ordeal. Blaine first had to rouse himself from a deep meditation and climb out of the water. He had to peel himself out of the wet suit he wore while in the tank and get the sensors unhooked from his head. They monitored his brainwaves while he had a vision. He had to get himself dressed again and record every image and sound he'd perceived while in the trance state, then scour the visions for symbolism and meaning with Voodoo and a Pilot Royal. And he had to do all this with his eyes unfocusing, his limbs like noodles, and his head swimming.
When he finally got through with the process and could go back to his rooms, he shuffled out into the hallway with a dark visor shielding his eyes from the light. He made his way slowly with one hand on the wall, feeling as though he were half moving through a dream. Sensory deprivation—while relaxing for others, a way of treating stress—left him feeling as though he'd sent his brain through blender. Two things accelerated his precognition—adrenaline for immediate and quick visions, and sensory deprivation for longer visions of events further in the future.
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Christian turned the corner and spotted a dark figure down the hall. A closer look made him realize it was Blaine! What luck! Picking up his pace, he debated the best way to tease him today when he noticed how Blaine was walking.
The guy looked like he had been through hell. Probably in the tank, he had heard about it from Gabe.
Frowning, Christian reached a hand out, "Hey man. Are you alright?"
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Blaine cringed. All his senses were heightened, including his hearing, and Christian's voice speared right through him. "Shh," he breathed, and raised a finger to his lips before letting his hand fall back down. Even texture of the wall felt jagged on his palm, like he was supporting himself against shards of glass, but he preferred it to sprawling on the floor which is what he would inevitably do if he tried to walk without the wall's guidance.
"I just got out of the tank," he mumbled, just a little above a whisper. "Heh, everything gets intense." He shambled on, waving a hand at Christian. "Shoo."
He needed a bit of sleep. Not a lot, just a couple hours. It was like a reset button, got all his dials tuned back down to their default, normal setting.
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Christian immediately lowered his voice, "Hey. You want some help?" He might be a dick, but he wasn't heartless. Blaine looked like he was not doing well at all. Lightly touching his arm, Christian spoke again, voice still barely a whisper, "Let me help you back, okay?"
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"Yeeees." Blaine's voice came out extra whiny. Even in his half-delirious state he could hear it. He didn't really care either. He felt bad and wanted pity, so there. Christian's shoulder would make a better walking crutch than the wall, and the other Pilot had blessedly lowered his voice to a non-ear-bleedy volume.
He transferred himself from the wall to Christian and leaned on his shoulder. He usually had to do this part alone, staggering back to his room to collapse on the bed. Fortunately his self pity outweighed his pride—or it did in this situation. It was one of those times he was all too happy to accept sympathy and be glad for it.
"I just gotta lie down for a bit."
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"Come here." Christian had been to enough parties where he had to take fucked up friends home. He reached over, grabbing Blaine and with a small grunt, lifted him off his feet. The other Pilot was a bit heavy, but nothing he couldn't handle.
Still talking quietly, he glanced around the hall way, "Which one is yours?"
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"Whoa. Oh geez." It was best for him in the long run, not having to walk, but it sure didn't feel that way in the few seconds after Christian picked him him. The world spun like a top, and he lost track of where the ceiling and floor were for awhile. The hallway righted itself gradually, turning in slower and slower circles until he could finally tell which way was up again.
"The uh...890AN." His own clothes were scraping on his skin like sandpaper. He wanted them off, and wasn't that an ironic thought to be having with Christian here given their past encounters. Yeah, he would just keep that notion to himself. Christian was being pleasant for once and he didn't want to press his luck.
-
"Alright then." Christian headed down the hall, finding the door and sending a quick request to Raziel to open the door. He felt bad for the poor guy. He didn't really bother to ask where he wanted to go, Christian just decided to treat him like his drunk friends.
Heading into his bedroom, he set Blaine carefully down, "Hey. I'm gonna get your shoes off. You want help undressing?" He grinned, "Don't worry, I promise to behave. You look like shit and are utterly untempting."
-
The lights were off in his apartment, leaving the interior dim enough he could stop squinting behind his sunglasses. Much better than the fluorescent lights of the hallway. They seared right into him, even with the dark glasses on.
It took an effort not to flop down onto the bed right away, but doing so would have hurt like hell. He shook his head at Christian. "Nah, just the shirt." He really would have liked to come back at that with something witty, but he couldn't think of one darned thing to say. Nothing intelligent at least. Even a little bit of wit was beyond him.
Blaine tossed the visor aside so he could peer down at the buttons on his shirt. Even with the dim interior, every color bent outward and blurred with intensity. He fumbled at the first button, got it undone, then went on to the next.
-
Christian moved down to the foot of the bed, carefully removing Blaine's shoes. He had plenty of practice and soon they were settled next to the bed. He moved up to help Blaine with his shirt, brushing his hands away, "Hey, just relax, okay? I'll take care of it."
Once the buttons were done, he carefully lifted Blaine, moving him as little as he could, using his telekinesis to work as a third hand so he didn't jostle the other Pilot, "You need anything else? Water?"
-
Blaine made a cursory effort to keep at it with his buttons, but it was like he was moving in slow motion and Christian was done with it before he even realized it. He appreciated the help but like most Pilots, self-sufficiency was a long and deeply ingrained habit to him. He was used to doing all this himself.
As soon as he hit the bed he started really fading. He turned over onto his stomach and tried to give Christian an answer. "Mnnah." It was meant to be a negative. As in no, he didn't need anything. He needed to sleep. And that was his last coherent thought before he got his wish.
-
Christian shook his head, lighting brushing Blaine's hair back from his face. Poor guy. He liked messing with him, and would continue to do so later, but getting that messed up? That was just shit.
He headed out into Blaine's living room, making himself comfortable on his couch, flipping the TV on. Might as well hang around for a bit, see if he was still going to be all fucked up when he woke up. And he would probably want something to eat.
-
Blaine woke up about two hours later, stirring sluggishly. He hadn't moved from the position he'd fallen asleep in, draped on his bed crosswise on his stomach. He lay there and blinked awhile then hauled himself up slowly, feeling the grogginess of someone who has slept way too long.
He took stock of his senses. Vision was back to normal, and when he slid off the bed and pulled his shirt back on, the touch of the fabric didn't set his skin on fire. Hearing was fine too. Actually...he thought he could hear the TV going in the living room.
Blaine plopped a hat on his head before heading out, but he stopped short when he encountered Christian taking it easy on his couch. He looked around for a moment in confusion, but no this was his apartment. He'd sort of thought that he'd imagined Christian helping him out before.
"What are you doing here?"
-
Christian looked up when Blaine came out and lifted one blond eyebrow, "Uh...watching TV. I thought that was rather obvious. You hungry? I'm not a great cook, but I can make something half way decent."
Mostly it was greasy breakfast food for a hangover, but he had some other dishes he could manage. He actually liked cooking, just never had the time to really get great at it.
-
Yeah, that hadn't been exactly what he'd meant by that. He'd meant it in a what-are-you-doing-in-my-apartment kind of way, not a what-are-you-up-to way. Didn't feel right to go questioning Christian's presence after they guy had helped him out though.
"Uhh..." Blaine scratched his head. "Sure?" He was pretty starving actually. Food would be nice. He was just confused was all. Christian was confusing. He was being so nice and normal, two things Blaine would have thought him incapable of.
Whatever. Things were okay now. "I'll help."
-
"You don't have too." Christian swung off the couch, standing up and giving a long stretch. The couch had been pretty comfortable, though his back cracked a bit. He grinned at Blaine, heading into his kitchen, pulling the fridge open and seeing what was inside, "Well, what are you in the mood for. My specialty is a fry up, but I donno if you wanna tackle something greasy."
Maybe a strifry? Or some pasta or something.
-
"You don't even know your way around my kitchen." Blaine shook his head and joined Christian. He pulled out a skillet for him and set it on the stove. Letting someone help him back to his room was one thing—he'd barely been able to walk after all. Sitting back while someone cooked for him when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself was quite another.
"A fry up is fine. I'm fine now." He got the cooking oil down and passed it to Christian.
-
"If ya want. I wont say no." Christian shrugged, not really caring. Blaine could do what he wanted, "Think you could cube up some potatoes?" He pulled out the rest of what he wanted, a bottle of beer, some eggs, bacon and a new vegggies, "How do you feel about beer battered veggies, some bacon and how do you like your eggs cooked?"
-
"Sure." Blaine pulled out a few potatoes and washed them. Then he laid them out on the cutting board and started cutting them up. They were those red kind, so he left the skins on.
"Scrambled," he said over his shoulder.
-
"Really? You would." Christian started the bacon, frying it up in the pan, "Do you like your bacon crispy? And can you cut the veggies next? I'll batter them once the potatoes are going."
It didn't take long before there was quite a spread of fatty, fried breakfast foods. Spearing a fried tomato with his fork, Christian took a bite, "Dig in. I'm pretty damn impressive, right? Good looking and talented."
-
"What's that supposed to mean," he muttered. He didn't really expect an answer. After he cut the vegetables up he handed them over too and stood back to let Christian finish the rest. He actually kind of enjoyed himself. Why couldn't Christian be this decent all the time?
Blaine took a spoonful of eggs and veggies. He nodded. "You did good. Thanks."
-
"Welcome." Christian filled a plate full of the food, "I like greasy food when I'm hungover. So I got good at cooking it."
He ate another bite of the tomato, watching Blaine, "Being in that tank is pretty rough, huh? Damn thing is ruining my fun. No fun to try and get into your pants when you are all fucked up."
-
Blaine shrugged. He'd devoured most of the food on his plate already and was nearly finished. "Not when I'm in there. When I'm in there it's fine. It's like being in a trance, or dreaming. More like dreaming. You don't notice the passage of time, you're just in the dream. It's when I get out, that's the sucky part. Worse when I have a good session. I was in there for nine hours today."
Nine was long, even for him. He'd been on a roll. They only let him out when the visions dried up or started recycling. And like a dream, the details of them vanished quickly from his mind if he didn't get them recorded immediately.
-
"Ugh. Gross. I'm glad I'm not a precog." Christian made a face, his own plate still had some food, not having the same ravenous hunger Blaine had, "I don't know how you do that. No wonder you have such crazy sexual fetishes."
-
"That's not the only thing," Blaine added, gesturing with his fork. "I have to get in a wet suit to lay in that water y'know? It ain't exactly comfortable. And I can't pee in there either. Have you ever not peed for nine hours? I don't recommend it."
He'd eaten about twice as much Christian and could have eaten more but didn't really want to stuff himself. It was good, though! Christian wasn't a bad short order cook.
-
Christian wrinkled his nose, "That sucks. I can't believe you put up with that. I'm impressed. Maybe there is more to you than a pretty face and repressed sexuality."
He gestured with his fork, "There's more if you want. You could use some meat on you."
-
Blaine laughed a little. "Put up with it? There's not much of a choice in the matter. I'd rather not lie in a tank for nine hours but nobody exactly asked me. Everyone's got their jobs though. This is mine."
Blaine shook his head and laid Christian's plate and his own into the sink. Since Christian cooked, it was only fair that he washed up. "Thanks, that'll do for now. I keep the rest for later."
-
Christian set down his own plate, moving behind Blaine, wrapping one arm around his waist, pressing his hips against Blaine's, "You really should learn to let go a little."
-
Blaine pulled a sliding, twisting move to shimmy out of Christian's reach. He'd decided that the best and probably most successful way of avoiding all this was to literally avoid it. To just get away from Christian whenever he started up. "Oh gee goodness would you just look at the time. Gotta go, lots to do!"
It would have been more appropriate if there was a clock anywhere or if he wore a watch at all.
-
"You aren't wearing a watch." Christian moved with Blaine, keeping his arm wrapped around him, "Why are so you scared to experiment. I bet I can find what gets you going."
-
"You know, that is a good point. I sure don't. I have this like unbelievable sense of time though." Blaine kept backing up and shuffled them out of the kitchen then toward the door. It wasn't easy. He had to avoid all the paint cans on the floor.
"Like for instance I know that it's time to go clean out commando's cage. Gotta get that tray out and wipe off all the hamster poo. It's hamster poo time!"
He'd been casting about for the most unsexy thing he could think of. That seemed pretty on the mark.
-
As he wasn't really in the mood to mess with Blaine to much right then, so he let it go, "Alright. I'll let you have your sad, lonely night of cleaning hamster poop."
He gave Blaine a wave, heading out of his apartment, not realizing his cell phone was on Blaine's couch, having fallen out of his pants, "Get some rest. Glad you liked the dinner."
-
Yes! Victory! Maybe he was finally getting through to Christian? He really just had zero interest in sex, including all the supposed fetishes Christian mistakenly thought he had. Their interactions from now on should be better. And ha! The joke was on Christian. He'd cleaned up all the hamster poo yesterday, so all he had to do today was sit back and eat the rest of Christian's food.
It wasn't until afternoon of the next day that he found Christian's cell and decided to run it over to him. If he was anything like Blaine—which was a laughable thought really; they were nothing alike!—then he was absolutely lost without his phone. Blaine rang the buzzer on Christian's door and stood tapping his foot, waiting.
-
It had been a long night for Christian. He had been up all night going over some phone logs, line by line by line. He had only managed to get to sleep three hours ago when his doorbell rang. He was going to ignore it, but it might be important and he had lost his phone the other day.
Rolling out of bed, he staggered to the door, blue hair mussed, shirtless, his pajama pants lose around his hips. He slammed the button that opened his door, glaring at Blaine, "What?"
-
Oh boy. Bad time, it looked like. That was fine, though. He was just going to hand the phone over and leave. Mutely, Blaine raised Christian's phone into his view.
-
Christian blinked at the phone. So that's where it was. He grabbed the phone and tossed it over his shoulder, where it landed onto his easy chair. "You woke me up. How do you plan on making this up to me?"
-
Blaine winced, waiting for the crash of the phone upon the floor, but it never came. Geez, what was with Christian and tossing phones?
"Sorry...I brought you your phone back! That should be good enough I think."
-
"No." Christian grabbed Blaine's shirt, hauling him forward and into his apartment, "I've been up all night. I expect something much better."
-
Not this again. Even worse, Christian wasn't in nearly as good a mood as he was last time. Blaine wasn't even going to let this get started. It caught him by surprise when he was dragged through the doorway, but he turned and caught the door with his hand.
"Well then you must be exhausted. Why don't I let you sleep? Sleep is important! And you look like you could use more. Have pleasant dreams."
-
"No." Christian grabbed Blaine's arm, tugging him back. His other hand came up, grabbing Blaine's hair and kissing him roughly. He was too grumpy and too sleep deprived to really care much right then.
-
Blaine's main thought as he drove a fist into Christian's stomach was how much it would suck to have to spend the next few days confined to the Lead Rooms for, once again, insubordination and striking a superior officer. But you know what? It was worth it. Words didn't work, so his last resort to get out of here was force.
-
Christian gave a loud uffing sound as the air was forced out of him. Snarling, he gave Blaine a dark look, "Well well. Assaulting your superior." He grabbed the other pilot's arm, twisting it behind him. With a few smooth movements, Blaine was bent over the couch arm, Christian's hips pressed hard against his, "Now you really owe me, little bitch."
-
How? How had it gone from bringing Christian his phone to this? Blaine's hesitation to fight any further against a superior held back any real struggle he might have made as he was bent forward and his arm twisted behind him. It hurt, the pain lancing up his arm and striking at his core with...with...
(pleasure)
Blaine gritted his teeth, his free hand clenched into a fist. Christian's words sent a tremor through his whole body and made his breath quicken. He couldn't speak at first, not until he could bring himself under control. He found an easy refuge in anger. "Get the fuck off me, White!"
-
"Not a chance. You hit me, that means you get punished." Christian growled, grinding his hips against Blaine's, "Fucking useless shit. What makes you think you get to hit me?"
His free hand grabbed Blaine's hair, shoving his face into the couch.
-
Blaine gasped, and again he couldn't speak, couldn't get control enough of himself to say the words he wanted to say. He turned his face into the couch to hide the flush of his skin and breathed deep. Think about something else, take yourself elsewhere. Don't be here.
"Fine," he said, turning his face back again so he could speak and be heard. "You made your point, so either send me to the Lead Rooms for it or get the hell off me." He was shaking, he knew, and there was no hiding that, nor his rapid heartbeat and quickening breath drawn through parted lips.
-
Well, this was an interesting development. If there was one thing he was good at noticing, it was arousal. Christian licked his lips, "Well, aren't we slutty." Christian smirked, grinding his hips into Blaine again, "Just admit you like this and I'll let you up."
Pain slut. He had wondered, it wasn't an uncommon fetish and among Pilots, sadomasochism was almost normal.
-
"No," he said immediately, even as his breath caught again at Christian's words. At the words he called him. At the hand forcing his head down and Christian's hips grinding against him. At the lack of control, the power Christian had over him in that moment...
Gods, no. Stop it. Fucking think of something else. Anything! Bring it under control and breath. Deep breaths. Yes, like that. He forced his breathing to be even and concentrated and trembled with the effort.
-
"Liar." Christian grinned, twisting Blaine's hair, turning his face so he couldn't hide it in the couch, "Dirty slut. You've got a hard on."
He released Blaine's arm, his hand moving around to Blaine's fly, "Maybe I'll just have to fuck you like this."
-
Blaine winced and whimpered at the same time as the sharp pain when Christian yanked his hair sent a fresh spear of pleasure right through him. Not being able to hide his face made it worse, so much worse.
No! Deny it, deny it, deny it! It had worked for so many years, it would work now. Repression, denial. How could Christian tear all that apart so easily, so quickly?
But suddenly his arm was free and he was in a near panic state. As soon as Christian let go he shoved himself up. He had to get out of here, get out of this. Had to get away.
-
Christian tightened his grip on Blaine's hair, slamming him back onto the couch, "Not. So. Fast. Whore. I'm not done with you."
He stroked Blaine through his pants, "Hard already? Such a dirty slut." His hands worked at Blane's pants, getting the button open and the fly down, "Tell me you like it and I'll let you up."
-
For a brief moment, before he could catch himself, his gasp turned into a moan. It was quick, and he clamped his teeth together to cut it off, enraged at himself and at Christian. It was...it was all too much, and talking himself out of it wasn't working. Anger was his last resort, all that was left to him.
He bit his lip hard to keep from making anymore noises he would regret as Christian stroked him. "I don't," he said through clenched teeth, "like it."
In a moment of weakness and desperation he closed his eyes and added, "Stop. Stop, let me up."
-
That moan sent a shiver through Christian. Seeing Blaine like this was beyond hot. The power he had here, the control. Watching Blaine fight it and losing.
"Lying to your superior. Naughty boy. You want this." His hand slipped into Blaine's pants, gripping the other man's cock and squeezing it roughly, "You want me to take you like this, worthless bitch. You know you aren't worth anything but a quick, rough fuck. Can't even get it up unless someone is dominating you, can you? You need to be reminded of your place."
-
It was slipping. He was losing it and reason was becoming blurry, unimportant, sensation overwhelming intellect. His hands unclenched from their fists and clawed at the couch cushions. He writhed, a reflexive motion, trying to get away from Christian's hand.
He wanted to curl up and disappear. He'd rather die. He'd rather be dead than see himself brought down to this state, this place where he worshiped his own degradation. Those words—Christian's words—they lingered and echoed about in his head. They didn't leave him, he couldn't silence them. He turned his face into the couch again and his voice came breathy, pleading. "Stop. Stop, stop. Stop talking."
-
"I don't think you really want me too." Christian's hand kept jerking Blaine off, rough, quick hard motions, grinding his own hips into Blaine, breathing heavy, "You love it. Tell me how much you love this, love me treating you like this."
-
Blaine forced his words out through heavy breaths, through the haze of arousal that had taken him over, sensations he hadn't felt—hadn't even dwelled or thought on—for years. Defiance gave his voice bite, even now. "I am not...ahh...I'm...not saying that!"
He tensed, bracing himself, then pushed upward against the hand holding his head down, against Christian's weight on him. In the same instant he swung the full force of his telekinesis, every meager scrap he was capable of, at Christian's chest. It was a desperation move. He didn't think there was a Pilot on the Citadel today—maybe in all of Aedolis—who couldn't crush him in telekinetic ability. But it was something. It was his only chance.
-
Christian wasn't fully expecting the move. He had been expecting Blaine to struggle, but not use his telekinetics. He staggered back, though he kept his hand gripping Blaine's hair, jerking the other Pilot with him.
He wasn't much better than Blaine was with his telekinesis, but it was something. He pushed back with his own abilities, "Whoa. Not so fucking fast bitch."
-
Blaine was yanked back by the hair, at once weakened by the fresh pain and suddenly hopeful for his chances. Christian still had him, but he was standing, he could fight. He'd never been the best at close combat, quite the opposite as situations like that triggered his precognition, but in that moment he knew only that he had to try.
He twisted, prepared to throw everything he had at Christian...then froze, going suddenly still as if stunned. The room blacked out for him and he was vaulted into a vision, saw himself sitting on the couch at his own apartment, holding his head in his hands. It lasted all of two seconds, then he went sailing back into the present again, left gasping for air and confused. He was there for the space of a heartbeat then flashed forward again, this time a day into the future, seeing the interior of Christian's apartment but from a different angle, watching as Christian threw his jacket on as though he were about to go out somewhere. He plummeted back into his body, the abrupt snap back to current reality leaving him disoriented and overwhelmed, reeling from sensations he hadn't contented with in years.
-
Whoa! What the fuck? Christian had never seen one of Blaine's visions and it took him a moment to work out what had happened. With a sigh, he dropped his hand. Well, that was a mood killer. But, well, he would just have to play with his new toy again.
Bitch was a little pain slut and Christian was very into that. He wanted to watch him come.
"You want to leave so bad, go. Just remember what go you so fucking hard. Slut."
-
In the midst of a rapid flash of visions, Blaine registered that Christian had released him and he staggered forward. He made his way to the door with difficulty, in one instant seeing the apartment around him, in the next seeing other places, other times. He somehow got his pants zipped back up and Christian's words followed him out.
It wasn't until he was two hallways and three floors up that the visions slowed noticeably. He sagged against the elevator wall, grateful to be alone in the lift, trying to take himself to a calming place to cease the flash forwards.
-
Christian mode an irritated sound in the back of his throat, raking his hand through his hair. That hadn't really gone the way he had planned. Though, Blaine had looked so...cute like that, fighting his passion, dick hard in Christian's hand.
Ha. Asexual my ass. He was going to have to play with him again soon. The hand that had gripped Blaine slid down Christian's pants, stroking his own erection. He would have to take care of this before he went back to bed.
And track down his new toy to play with again. He hadn't had this much fun in a while.
-
It took hours of mental contortions for Blaine to make himself forget about what had happened. He stayed in his apartment the rest of the day, making his convictions—that nothing out the ordinary had occurred, that he'd never gone to Christian's apartment—a reality to him. Once it was done, he did not think about it again. Not on any conscious level at least.
He managed to avoid Christian for nearly two weeks and began to grow comfortable in his routine again, the nagging tension in the back of his mind easing up. He had a night off and got out of the Citadel, going to a nearby dance club. He took up with some random girl and they lost themselves in the darkness and movement of the dance floor.
-
Christian was enjoying the club, a little buzzed already, a couple girls pressing against him. It had been a long week, more paper work than he could stand and he finally had an evening off. Plus, his new favorite toy had been avoiding him, successfully, for weeks now.
That irritated him.
Christian blinked, startled. No way. It couldn't be. Was he that lucky-yes. Yes he was.
"Hey, I'll be back later." Christian smiled at the girls, disengaging from them and heading across the floor, to the dark little corner Blaine was in. He slid up behind the other Pilot, gripping his hips and grinding against him, "Well well well. What have we here?"
-
People grabbing him on dark dance floors was nothing new and not even something he really minded. It was just what they did, and he didn't care. It wasn't the sudden hands on him that made his whole body go rigid, but the voice in his ear. Recognition hit him, and something in the back of his mind stirred, tried to dredge itself up.
Startled by it, he whipped his head around. He didn't have any words. He tried to think of something, but Christian's face so close and his hands on Blaine's hips had driven any intelligent thought right out of him. Dismay lurked just beneath the surface of his mind.
-
"Awww. You look so shocked to see me." Christian lowered his head, hips still swaying against Blaine's, his mouth pressed close to the other Pilot's ear, "I wonder, if that pretty girl knows what a filthy little whore you are."
-
Blaine stayed stunned as the reality and the sudden heat quivering through him warred against his compulsion to maintain the lie, the illusion he convinced himself of. He wanted to pull out of Christian's hands, tell him to stop saying those things, to stop calling him that, but to speak against it was to acknowledge it. To speak against it was to admit it was real.
He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes. He was far too hot suddenly, the base far too loud as it vibrated up through his legs. They swayed in a slow grind with the beat. He finally found his voice.
"Didn't think you came to this place," he said, casually trying to brush Christian's hands off him and put some distance between them.
-
Christian was having none of that. One had snaked around Blaine, tightening his hold on him, stroking over his cock through his pants, "Only sometimes. I wasn't expecting to find such a little whore here. Pretending he's normal. When all you want is for me to bend you over and take you hard. Make you scream."
-
Blaine relented, ceasing hiss struggling with quick glance around to make sure no one had noticed. He wanted to get away but above that he wanted to avoid cluing anyone in that there was anything going on here but two people dancing and talking quietly to each other. He had little choice but to submit until Christian decided to let him go, or else risk causing a scene.
"Stop calling me that," he hissed. It wasn't true and he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear any of this. Some of the things Christian said...they sent his imagination flying, formulating images he didn't care to visit. He had to talk himself out of this.
-
"But it's so true. You don't care when someone is gentle and sweet. No, a slut like you needs it hard, rough and violent." Christian's voice was a soft purr, sliding his hips against Blaine's, his hand still stroking him. Grinning, he squeezed Blaine roughly, "You are a fucked up."
-
Blaine pushed Christian's hand away from him and did his best to fend him off subtly, without a lot of big movements, but still he was wary of drawing attention to them. He shuffled away, or tried to, not really succeeding in anything except drawing them both further back, toward the far corner of the club. He couldn't see them over the sea of people, but there were photojournalists hovering around the entrance. This was a high caste club, frequented by a lot of celebrities and Pilots. If something happened, if he lost it and really went off on Christian, he didn't want a chance for any of them to see.
His resolve to maintain the pretense that the encounter in Christian's apartment had never happened was fading with every word Christian said and every fresh lance of pleasure they sent through him.
He's good at this. The thought came unbidden from some locked away part of himself. He cut it off quickly before it could go anywhere else. He cut everything off, turning his face away from Christian and leaning away as much as he could. With no play to make, he attempted to just...draw himself out of the game entirely.
-
What the fuck? Christian's violet eyes narrowed, angry. Blaine was hardly giving a reaction, just sort of, lightly trying to get away. He hadn't even realized they were moving farther into the shadows, too focused on Blaine.
Little brat think he could ignore him? Christian growled, low in his throat, "I ain't going anywhere. Pretending I'm not here wont change things. Slut. Broken, disgusting slut."
Christian's free hand left Blaine's hip and grabbed his hair, jerking his head back hard, exposing a long line of Blaine's throat, "You are nothing."
-
Broken.
It was true, he was broken. He wasn't whole. He was in pieces. Broken, disgusting pieces.
Broken, disgusting. Broken, disgusting.
He dwelled in the words. He couldn't leave them. They just kept on and on. He wasn't aware of Christian anymore, or the club, or the music. He was in a different darkness, surrounded by men who loomed tall in the lens of memory. Men who were now his subordinates. Men he had to work with. He had to look at them every day and know what they held in their heads. They did it. They said the words. They were all around him.
He started hyperventilating, getting dizzy, couldn't breathe. He pitched forward and caught himself on something. They'd reached the far back wall of the club. He sank down to one knee and pressed his forehead against the cool paneling.
-
Whoa!
That was not what he was expecting. Christian could see something had gone very wrong. He followed Blaine to the back of the club, moving quickly forward to catch him when went down, "Hey, you okay? Blaine?"
He had not meant to take things that far, "Hey, come on. Let's get out of here." Slipping Blaine's arm over his shoulder, Christian supported his weight, "Let's go out the back."
Raziel, get a cab to the back of the club please.
You sound urgent. It's on it's way.
Moving though the crowd, Christian helped Blaine toward the back door.
-
Blaine got himself turned around and latched onto Christian. He tried to bring himself down, but the crowd and the base throbbing up through the floor kept shaking off his concentration. He had to get his breathing under control or he'd pass out. He was still hyperventilating as he staggered for the back door as fast as he was able. His head started getting light, vision clouding.
He burst out the back door and stopped Christian there. The cool air was a help. He planted his hands on his knees and hung his head down, breath coming slower, longer. He even managed to get a few words out between gasps. "Wait...wait just a minute."
-
"Yeah. Sure. Deep breathes." Christian awkwardly rubbed Blaine's back, "Relax, okay. I went too far and I'm sorry. A cabs on the way." He glanced around, scanning the area with his mind. The reporters were all up at the front. Which was good for now.
He had meant to fuck with Blaine, but, this was a little farther than he was comfortable with.
-
Blaine put his back to the wall. He was doing okay now, firmly rooted in the present again. Down the block, a cab turned their way and began to descend.
He sighed, not entirely sure if he wanted to do this. He could keep his mouth shut. He'd done it for years, nearly a decade. But like most secrets, once one little thread of it managed to get out the rest of it inevitably wanted to unravel. He sighed out a weary breath and shook his head.
"That wasn't it. Really." And now he was reassuring Christian. Why? It just...wouldn't have been right—or fair—to let Christian go on thinking this was anything to do with him. These were the jagged edges left over from years and years ago, from before he was even a candidate. Christian had just happened upon an exact combination of words that sent him spiraling back into memories he was usually able to keep at a distance.
-
The cab pulled up and Christian tugged the door open, helping Blaine inside. He glanced behind him at the club. He could just go back in, but, well, at that moment, he didn't really want too. He slid into the cab next to the other Pilot.
He wasn't sure if he should rub his back again or say something or what. Comforting people wasn't something Christian was really used too. So he glanced up at the driver, scanning his chip, "Citadel. Fast. And give us some privacy."
The driver nodded and a screen slid up, sound proof, though still clear.
"You okay? Do you need anything?" Shit. He felt like an idiot. He had been fucking with Blaine for weeks, but, well, he really hadn't meant to...cause that.
-
Blaine slouched down into the seat, staring at the ceiling of the cab. What a waste of a evening. This whole thing with Christian was making his life way too interesting. Things had been so easy and, well, smooth before all this. All surface-level, shallow and without depth or the heft of reality but non-demanding. He'd never had to ask this kind of introspection of himself before, had in fact actively avoided it.
"No," he said. "I mean...no, I don't need anything. What is with you? You're going to drive me crazy. Sometimes you're nice, then other times..." He didn't know what to expect from Christian anymore, and it was only adding to the anxiety. Like that time in his own apartment. It had been nearly pleasant, but then the very next day, at Christian's place...
Even approaching that thought made him flush. He broke it off, not really prepared to visit that again just yet.
-
Christian blinked at the question, then gave a short, barking laugh before he looked out the window, rubbing the back of his neck, "What can I say? I'm a mystery wrapped in an enigma." He shifted, uncomfortable. He didn't really like talking about his own issues anymore than Blaine did.
But it felt...weird, seeing the other Pilot so emotionally vulnerable and brush his own off, "Program fucks us up in our own special ways I guess." He gave a short laugh, watching Blaine in the reflection, "'sides, you like it when I'm 'other times'."
-
What a bullshit answer. Blaine wished he had the courage to press it. Really wished it because he couldn't make sense of this and it was making it harder on him, not knowing what Christian was after. He had thought he knew, after their first couple encounters, but here and now he just couldn't tell.
He caught Christian's eyes in the reflection of the window...and couldn't hold them, not when Christian stated plainly what they both knew, what Blaine could not bring himself to say even in his own mind. He looked down and shook his head, denying it even now, denying even to acknowledge the subject. "We're almost there."
-
It was a very bullshit answer and Christian was glad Blaine didn't push it. He was aware of his problems, but he avoiding thinking about them, didn't want to have to admit to them. He was happy in his denial of the issues.
Smirking, he was more than happy to move onto the safer subject of Blaine's enjoyment of humiliation. He turned to face Blaine, sliding a hand along his thigh, "Yeah. We are. Why don't you come back to my place and we can see just how much you like being dominated."
-
"That's...that's exactly what I was talking about! You're doing it again!" He'd gone from crude to nice and back again within the space of minutes. It was like they couldn't have a normal conversation, ever. Not without Christian going down this road. Blaine was finally able to meet his eyes, wondering if he wasn't the only one with some major issues here. Why did Christian have to turn everything to this subject with the same consistency with which Blaine tried to avoid it?
He just couldn't believe Christian was saying these things and doing this with the cab driver like two feet away. If anything would have killed the mood he would have thought that would be it. But then, some people didn't even care about that.
-
"Sorry. And here I thought my unpredictability was part of my charm." Christian kept a smile on his face though he was irritated Blaine was bringing the conversation back around to him, "You are avoiding the subject."
And he hadn't said no. That Christian took as a good sign. If Blaine wouldn't come to him place, he would just follow him. See if he couldn't at least get one of them off before Blaine had a moment. Precog visions were a totally boner killer.
-
Yeah, no. He wasn't letting that one slide. Christian had set himself way too good for Blaine not to comment on it.
"So are you," he said, staring Christian down and for once resisting the reflex to pull away or brush Christian's hand away. It was damn difficult, and he had to clutch the edge of the seat to keep himself in place, but it was a similar situation to the club—he didn't want to start something with the cab driver right there.
In the far, far corners of his mind, hardly even apparent to his conscious thought, was honest doubt about his reasons for challenging Christian even in this small way.
-
"I am not. We're talking about you and how much you want me to bend you over and take you hard." Damn it. Blaine needed to shut up about him. He didn't really want to go there. But the Citadel was getting closer, that was good at least.
He gripped Blaine's thigh harder, leaning closer to whisper in Blaine's ear, "And I can hurt you so good."
-
The promise in those words sent a shudder rushing through Blaine's body. They were in a freakin' cab. You shouldn't talk about things like this when a stranger—hell, when anybody—was anywhere near you. That Christian has actually asked this time somehow made it so much more difficult to dismiss or ignore. Blaine didn't know if it was the cab driver's presence or some lingering worry of his anxiety attack, but Christian was being unusually patient. When he was over-aggressive it made it easier to fight it, say he didn't want it—the fear response got the words out for him. But this...this plain and open invitation...it lured him into thinking about it, considering it...
Blaine snapped himself out of it. No. He was not letting Christian off just like that. "Can you talk about anything else," he snapped. "Is this really all you've got?"
-
"Oh, I can talk about plenty. I have a wide variety of interests and hobbies. But, see, I don't think you really want to hear about that." Christian glanced over at the cab driver, who was staring straight ahead, not wanting to risk spying on anyone headed to the Citadel.
"No, I think," Christian's hand tightened, blunt nails digging into Blaine's thigh harder, "you want to hear about what I can do to you. You want to hear about how I'll make you beg for me to fuck you and how good it will hurt you when I do."
-
They joined the line of cabs waiting to dock at the Citadel's entrance and hung there in the air, facing the depressing red glow of brake lights from the dozen or so other cabs ahead of them. This was taking so long. He had to get out of this cab. He had nowhere to go in here and no way to block out what Christian was saying. He had to just listen to it.
"You just got done apologizing for this!" His imagination wanted so badly to run with the images Christian was putting into his head. He'd edged all the way over against the door in an effort to put distance between them and had nowhere else to go now.
-
"I know. Ask me to stop and I will." Blaine seemed to have let the questions drop at least enough that Christian no longer felt so threatened. Fucking taxi was taking its time. He wanted to be able to get some space, get some air.
The cab inched closer, almost there but not quite. The game of cat and mouse was both amusing and becoming slightly...uncomfor tably intimate as things kept drawing Christian closer to Blaine, giving him glimpses into the other man.
-
"Stop, then. We're in a cab." No, no. Why was he saying that? The location was irrelevant. This was not okay anywhere. It hadn't been okay in the hallway, not in his apartment, and sure as all hell not in Christian's apartment. He needed to stop it with this assumption that this would go on elsewhere. It wouldn't. He'd make sure of that.
He also didn't quite trust Christian's word. He didn't trust it at all, actually. It couldn't be that easy, unless Christian was still feeling guilty about the club. It just couldn't be as simple as asking, could it?
Not that Blaine had asked...he'd told him to stop.
-
"Mmmm. So it's okay when we aren't in the cab?" Christian grinned, moving back to lean against the door. He was feel less skittish now, less ready to bolt. This was much, much more comfortable.
He glanced out the window and relaxed a little, the cab pulling up. He made sure to add a tip as he scanned his hand for the cab driver, sliding out of the cab.
Bending over, he peered at Blaine, "You coming?"
-
"That's not what I meant," he muttered. A lot of the tension drained out of him when Christian moved away. He'd somehow navigated to a safe place for the moment. He just wished they could stay like this, not go off into dangerous waters again. Things had gotten too real tonight.
He hesitated in the cab. A weariness had settled in him, bone-deep, the kind that descended on you from emotional exertion. He just didn't really want to move.
You have to. Get up. Get up, now.
"Yeah, I'm coming." He shut the cab door behind him and shuffled on without a word.
-
Wrapping an arm around the other Pilot, Christian grinned, "Cheer up pretty boy. Don't look so serious." It was no fun if his prey gave in like this. He wanted that spark back, that fight.
This just made him feel like some rapist.
-
He really wanted to just yell at Christian and shove him away, but they were out in public now and Blaine didn't do that kind of thing. No, he was perky and smiley and didn't let things get to him. People could see them again. He had to be all buddy buddy with Christian until they got into the restricted halls of the Citadel. Fewer people, less reason to hold back.
"What world do you live in? You expect me to be happy about all this?"
-
"All what? I already apologized and I am being a gentleman and walking you home." Christian flashed him another smile and nuzzled Blaine's hair, "I promise I'll do nothing more than walk you to your door. Unless you ask me to come inside." Christian gave Blaine a pointed look when he said the last line, wiggling his eyebrows.
Slipping his hand behind his back, Christian crossed his fingers. Didn't count when your fingers were crossed.
-
"How long is that going to last?" His panic attack in the club might have bought him a night's respite from Christian...but he wouldn't lay any bets on it. He wouldn't dare to try and predict anything Christian might do.
"I'm going home, and I'm going to sleep," he said, pointedly ignoring the comment and the eyebrow wiggle as they passed underneath the archway and into the Citadel proper. He was physically and mentally drained and wasn't going to have the energy to try and navigate his way around Christian with any kind of tact.
-
"Oh, I donno. Haven't decided yet." Christian grinned, hand sliding up into Blaine's hair and lightly pulling on it, "Sleep? But there are way more fun things we can do together in bed."
-
And here they were again, right back where Blaine didn't want to be. Right back where he'd hoped they wouldn't go again, at least tonight. He wasn't going to lie to himself, not about this. This wouldn't stop until he did something drastic or managed to be boring enough that Christian would lose interest.
They had to catch an elevator to reach Blaine's floor. Just his luck, they ended up in it alone. He couldn't think of anything to say. He had no words. Everything he tried just seemed to make it worse or encourage Christian even further, so he folded his arms and turned aside as best he could, turning his head away, closing his eyes and trying his best not to let Christian lead his imagination down paths he didn't want it going.
-
Well, that was no fun. Christian made an annoyed face, watching Blaine, debating how he wanted to handle this. He could be nice, and let Blaine be tonight. Or he could have a little bit of fun. And it wasn't fair that Blaine thought he could ignore him.
So Christian's hand came up, gripping Blaine's hair and forcing it back so he could plant a rough kiss on him, grinding him up against the wall of the elevator.
-
For an instant he lost it. He opened his mouth before he could stop himself, before he even realized what he was doing. It overpowered his self-control, the inherent violence in the act and the disregard for what he wanted or what he felt. He hated it, he craved it, had gone for years without indulging in it and now that Christian had dredged up the truth it grew harder and harder to fight it with every encounter.
It lasted only a second, that weakness. He got his arms between them and shoved and he bit down on Christian's lip. Not as hard as he could have, not as hard as he should have. From the beginning he hadn't fought back to the extremes of his abilities, and the excuse, that it was solely because Christian was his superior, was wearing thin even to him.
-
Christian pulled back when he felt the teeth, grinning and licking his lip. He had felt it, felt Blaine give into it and it had been good. He didn't back away from the blond, his hips still firmly trapping Blaine to the wall, "Well well. You're slutty little nature is coming out to play. Can't wait for me to take you hard and fast."
He lowered his head again, voice rough, "I'll make it hurt. Make you forget about anything else but the feeling of my cock inside you. Make you beg for it, plead with me to rip you apart."
-
A digital display above the doors showed the floor number as they ascended. Every new floor seemed to take forever. He had to get out of this elevator. It was too hot in here and he had nowhere to go, and being trapped alone with Christian in a confined space only made this more difficult.
He caught sight of the camera in the corner, pointed down at them. "That's never going to happen. Get off me, people can see us."
Worse even than Christian's taunting was the possibility that someone—anyone—else would find out about this. He wasn't interested in sex and he didn't fool around with other Pilots. Everyone knew this. He'd made sure everyone knew.
-
Christian turned to look at the camera, then made a low, annoyed growl. Reaching one hand up, he exploded the device with a burst of fire, "There. Now we're all alone."
He kept his body pressed up against Blaine, "If you don't want to wait until we get up to your room, we can just stop the elevator and I can take you right here. You can even watch that pretty face of yours in the mirror while I take you. Little slut like you would like that, wouldn't you?"
-
Blaine flinched, and stared at the remains of the smoldering camera. "Wha—that's—you're missing the point completely!"
The implications of what Christian had just done hit him then, and the stark reality that they were alone and had just destroyed surveillance equipment outweighed all of Christian's instigation. He just didn't get it. He didn't realize just how much the auditors were on Blaine's ass constantly, and now this?
"Are you crazy? Do you have any idea how much they watch me for shit just like that? Get off me!" He gave Christian a shove. Maybe he could get away with destroying a surveillance camera with some other Pilot, some trusted Pilot, but not when he was alone in an elevator with a terrorist's son.
Because no matter how many years Blaine served, and no matter how impeccable his loyalty might be, that would ever be at the forefront of their minds. He would always be that, before he was a Pilot.
He tried reaching out for Voodoo, to contact them before they contacted him, but the dragon was out of reach. Blaine sank his face into his hand. "Ah, and now they'll ask you why you did that and you'll have to tell them. You'll have to fucking tell them!"
-
"Oh calm down." Christian rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall, "What are you so freaked out about? I'm drunk and exploded a camera. So what?"
The guy was seriously freaking out and Christian dropped his head back against the wall, "Just tell the truth. I came on to you and you didn't like it. I got made and blew up the camera. Stop flipping your shit, okay?"
-
"Right. Right." Blaine rubbed his eyes and scrubbed a hand through his hair. That would explain it, right? To a satisfactory extent? No, of course it wouldn't. Maybe eventually, but they would still ask him about it.
"I can't believe you did that. Were you thinking at all?"
-
"No. Not really." Christian grinned and shrugged, "What's the big deal? It's my fault and I do out rank you, so this will be one me. Who cares?"
-
Blaine didn't have an answer for that. It was irresponsible and unthinking, like everything else the man did. The elevator seemed to take forever to rise up those last two floors, like it hung suspended in a time bubble.
The second it dinged and the doors opened, Blaine retreated from the elevator.
-
Christian rolled his eyes, following after Blaine. The man was so tense, "You really need to lighten up. What's the big deal? No one will know."
-
That sounded like a reassurance, yet he didn't for a second believe it was spoken with any real intent or honesty. They may not find out the truth of this, of the few moments on the elevator, but what about after that? What about later, when it might suit Christian to hold the secret against him?
"This isn't your floor."
-
"No, it's yours. I told you I was going to escort you home." Christian grinned, "Seriously, relax. I wont tell. Promise. It wont do me any good for people to know." He kept close to the blond, wrapping one arm around him, "And a gentleman always keeps his word."
-
"Right." What could he do but take Christian at his word? He still didn't believe him, but it was out of his hands. Christian would tell them or not, on his decision. They would find out or not and Blaine had little he could do about it.
He glanced sidewise at the hand upon him. One of these days Christian would get bored with him and find someone else to amuse himself with. He just had to try and avoid him until then.
-
"Now now. Don't be so grumpy." Christian leaned closer, molding himself to Blaine's side, "We're just gonna have a nice little walk back to your apartment. Gotta make sure ya get home safe and all tucked into bed."
He could see Blaine's door and grinned. He was enjoying his little game of cat and mouse with Blaine. Maybe he could get into his pants a little bit more tonight.
-
Blaine gritted his teeth. He'd spotted his door, too, and was anticipating another battle in front of it. Christian wanted in. Blaine wanted him staying out.
Trying to force Christian away wouldn't work...for a lot of reasons. Not least of which because instigating a physical fight would only turn against him in the worst way. He could not win that. If he was going to keep Christian away tonight he would just have to find a way to talk him out of it.
-
Blaine's silence bugged Christian. He much preferred it when the blond snapped back. That fire in his eyes was so appealing. Pausing outside Blaine's door, Christian moved to stand in front of him, hands moving to grip his hips, "So, do I get a goodnight kiss?"
-
Blaine yielded to the touch, if only for lack of other option. What could he do, pick a fight here in the hallway?
He glanced both ways and saw they were alone. No one down either end of the corridor. "If I say yes will you leave it at that?"
One kiss for the chance get out of this. He could live with that.
-
"Of course." Not a chance. But Christian wasn't going to admit that. He slid one hand up, cupping Blaine's head. Lowering his head, he kissed Blaine. At first it was light, chaste. This his hand tightened against Blaine's hair, jerking his head back, biting at his lips, the kiss turning heavy and rough.
-
He was prepared for it this time, and so was able to quell the rising panic when Christian kissed him like that. He endured it. Not just the kiss itself but the shuddering heat it sent through him and way it made him want to promise Christian anything—anything—if he would just continue to do this to him. This and worse.
His composure broke before the kiss did, and he began to resist against the hand holding his head and tried to break away.
-
Christian felt lost in that kiss. Something about Blaine really tugged at the primal side of him, made him want to watch him squirm and scream, body begging for more even as he said no. The fighting just made him tighten his grip, still kissing him painfully hard.
-
He'd thought...he didn't know what he'd thought. Maybe that Christian would take the signal that he was done, that he didn't want anymore, and just release him. He pressed against Christian's chest and felt the intensity of the response. It made him feverish, this...disregard for what he wanted. That Christian would do as he wished and let him go or not as he pleased.
Blaine—at last, after weeks of this—crashed through resistance and into submission. His resolve evaporated and his body pressed flush against Christian's. His fingers dug into Christian's shoulders.
-
That surprised Christian. To feel Blaine pressing against him, wanting more. Crowding against him, he shoved him roughly against the wall, growling low in his throat, lips moving down his neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin there.
-
Hitting the wall knocked the air out of him...and some of the sense back into him. For a few seconds there he'd forgotten where he was—in the hallway, in public. He'd been aware of nothing but Christian in those moments.
He was in one hell of an awkward position, pinned between Christian and the wall. He yanked on Christian's hair to try and get him off him. If this went much further he feared his own reaction, feared the next time that he gave in it wouldn't be for one fleeting, heated instant but for much longer.
-
That fight was back, that resistance. Ignoring it, Christian ground his hips against Blaine's, mouth moving back over the other man's, teeth pulling at his lips.
-
One kiss. This was supposed to have been one kiss, and it had gotten too far already. Blaine turned his face away, a glare in his eyes, and clasped his hands to his chest to keep their bodies apart.
-
"Aw, don't be like that baby. You know you want it. Why not invite me inside?" Christian pulled away a little, though his hips still pinned Blaine to the wall, "Let me tie you up and fuck you hard."
It was getting harder and harder to back away. He just wanted to be inside Blaine, watch his face while he fucked him.
-
He didn't have words at first. Some of the things Christian said, they put images in his mind he couldn't get away from. He shook his head, imagining exactly what Christian had said and all that went with it. The bondage, the helplessness, the feel of Christian in him.
"No, I don't." If there was a point to the denial anymore, he didn't know what it was. They both knew. But he'd been saying it for so long, and would continue saying it. The words themselves were a kind of shield against the temptation to give in.
"One kiss." He was panting, his heart rate flying. "You got it, now we're done."
-
"Oh baby. We are far from done." Christian gave Blaine a slow grin that promised a lot of things, eyes sliding a long his frame, "I'm gonna have you. Hard and often. I'm gonna fuck you until you're bleeding."
He stepped away, cupping Blaine's chin, "But tonight, I'll leave you with that one kiss. When you touch yourself, imagine me fucking you raw."
-
He didn't need to say anything. The flush that rose on his face said more than he wanted as it was. He stared Christian down. He wasn't opening that door until Christian left. "Just go."
-
Christian just kept grinning at Blaine, watching him for a long moment before he slowly pulled away, letting his hand drop, "Don't worry, I'll come visit you soon."
With that he turned and headed back to his room. He was going to have to make some calls, make a booty call. That visit with Blaine had left him rock hard. He didn't get far when his phone suddenly went off, the special tone that said it was an official message.
Pausing, he flipped his phone open and read the message. And his grin got even bigger. Looks like he was going into space. With his favorite blond.
-
Blaine had his hand on the door when his phone chimed at the same time as Christian's. What now? His heart sank as he read the message. The space station post. He'd volunteered for it and totally forgot.
His head came up slowly to stare at Christian. Who'd gotten the same message. They were both going. They were going to be stuck on a space station together. For months.
-
"Well, well, well. Looks like you'll be getting to see a lot of me." Christian turned and waved his phone, "I'm guessing you got that same message, huh?"
He blew Blaine a kiss, "Not too many places to hide on a station."
-
No. Not many. He wouldn't be able to get away from him, not ever.
The message required them both to report for prep work at 0500. Blaine retreated into his apartment only to emerge the next morning bleary-eyed and weighed down by exhaustion.
The prep took place in the very hangar bay in which they would be boarding their shuttle. It loomed in its rigging in one half of the hangar. In the other half, Blaine went through the lines to collect his gear and finally ended up seated in a waiting area for one of the counselors to call him for evaluation. He had his head propped up on his fist and was nearly falling asleep in the chair. They had to meet with every Pilot going and give the mental health clear.
He was sort of hoping he didn't pass.
-
Christian was bright eyed and bushy tailed. He had slept like a baby and was looking forward to the trip. He hadn't actually been up to the station yet, not on his own. Just once a few years ago in a training mission, then he just had never gotten called back up.
He didn't mind, normally the idea sounded awful to him, but Blaine made it fun.
Flopping down onto the seat next to him, Christian stretched his legs out and put his arms over the backs of the chairs on either side, "Well hello beautiful. Ready for me to pop your cherry yet?"
-
He didn't have to open his eyes or get a taste of the ambient thoughts around him to know who had taken a seat next to him. Christian only confirmed it by opening his mouth.
Eyes still closed, Blaine muttered, "You're about ten years too late for that, dumbass. Can't you turn it off for one day?"
Exhaustion did amazing things to one's attitude. He cared fuck all about the world just then, Christian included.
-
"Really? And here I thought you were an ice queen. Who did you give it up too?" Christian mostly wanted to know so he could go kick their ass. Blaine was his toy and he hated sharing.
-
"Can't you talk about anything else?" He hoped they called his name soon. Maybe he could just act crazy to get out of this.
-
"With you? Why bother? This is much more fun." Christian reached over, sliding a hand into Blaine's hair, "Besides, I like you best all angry and offbalance. Makes me wanna fuck you."
-
"Mmhmm. Watch the hat." He'd worn one today mostly to hide his tired eyes. "Why keep bothering me about it? Can't get anyone else?"
This right here? This was the reason he tried to make sure he got enough sleep. Because he made for bitchy company otherwise. He said things he wouldn't normally and didn't care about it either.
-
Christian's hand slid down to tease the skin of Blaine's neck, "Oh, I can get plenty. People line up to suck a Noble's dick, Pilots included. I just happen to like you."
-
"You have a shitty way of showing it if that's true."
-
"What can I say? I'm a Pilot." Christian flashed him another grin, "We're all messed up. I bet fucking me would make it aaaaaall better."
-
I might have to find out, he thought. It wasn't his intention, but depended on whether Christian would back off. He doubted his own ability to resist if Christian didn't get bored soon.
"And how are you messed up?"
-
"Oh, name it baby. See, I gotta use sex as my only ability to communicate. It's tragic really." Christian grinned again, not really fully aware of how true that statement was.
-
"How introspective." He still hadn't opened his eyes, but the sounds of the prep staff surrounded him. The ship crew busied themselves with the vessel itself, while the half dozen or so Pilots who had been chosen for the open spots went through a number of evaluations, both physical and mental.
-
Christian leaned over and kissed the back of Blaine's neck.
-
It was a measure of how tired he was—and not just from lack of sleep—that his only reaction was to sigh. And Christian could take that however he pleased.
-
Christian chose to take that as a yes and bit down on Blaine's neck, growling softly.
-
That got Blaine's eyes open. He jerked away, as fast as his dulled reflexes would allow. "Would you stop that? We're in public, here."
-
"So? I don't care." Christian smirked, pulling back, not caring at the weird looks they were drawing.
-
"I do. I don't want anyone to know." His mental voice was sour.
-
"So does that mean we have something you don't want people to know about?" That, Christian approved of, "If you wanna spread your legs, I swear I wont tell a soul."
-
Blaine rubbed his eyes. "I'm not talking about this now."
He didn't know if Christian's words had been a threat or a promise, if he'd been offering his discretion freely or demanding something for it.
-
"Then what do you wanna talk about?" Christian settled back in his seat, waiting.
-
Blaine settled back down again. That had been way too easy. Christian had to be intending something.
"I don't know. Did you know that kid Paris is doing our evaluations?"
-
"What? He's a candidate." Christian was a little surprised at that. Well, at least they would be easy. "And you can't bitch that I just wanna talk about sex if there is nothing else you wanna talk about."
-
"He's stage five." Still technically a candidate, but stage five was all about beginning life as a Pilot, so they started them doing the work that would turn into their career.
"I am talking about something else. I'm talking about the candidate."
-
"Yeah yeah. Still, whatever. That'll be a little weird." Made it easier though. In out, wam bam thank you ma'am. Christian was not going to sit around chatting about feelings~ and shit to anyone.
"He's a creepy little shit, few times I've seen him."
-
Blaine slumped in his seat, scowled. "We weren't allowed in the same room together before today."
-
"What? Wh-Oooooh right. Well, you do like to do all that subversive talk. They don't really like anti-government speeches around the youngin'." Christian shrugged, "Now you can finally meet. Does it thrill you?"
-
"Highlight of my whole day." His eyes closed again.
-
"Oh, I can fix that." Christian grinned, hand coming back to play with Blaine's hair, "I can drag you across my lap and spank the shit out of you. With all these people to see."
-
"Don't even joke about that."
-
"I never joke about sex." Christian leaned closer, "What? You want me to spank you in private then? I don't mind."
-
"Hah! There you go! We were talking about something else and you changed the subject again!"
-
"I got bored. Candidates aren't that thrilling." Christian didn't pay much attention to them unless they were Rachel or hot.
"Pick an interesting subject and I'll talk about it."
-
"Why do I have to pick a subject, why can't a subject just assert itself of its own volition?!"
-
"Well, it can. Man, you are a prissy bitch in the morning, ain't ya. Want a coffee or something? I hear caffeine helps with PMS."
-
"Yes, goddamnit." Blaine crossed his arms and sunk down further into the chair. If this thing with Christian didn't end, if it kept barreling on like the unstoppable train wreck it was, he intended to be the most high maintenance bitch Christian had ever encountered.
-
Christian shrugged and stood up fluidly, heading over to the machine in the far corner. Grabbing two cups, he made one with milk and sugar and the other dark before heading back, "Here. Take your pick."
-
Blaine looked into the cups and grabbed the lighter one, nearly sloshing it over the edge of the cup.
-
"Whoa babe. Coffee will still be there. Take it easy." Christian sat back down, sipping his dark coffee, "What's wrong? I haven't even been that bad."
-
There was a tiny, miniscule, insignificant part of him that like when Christian called him that. And he absolutely hated that part.
"Bad enough," he muttered.
-
"What's life without a little fun. Besides, you like it." Christian grinned again, "And I can be nice when I want to be. But you just never want to pay any attention to me unless I tease you. Hurts my feelings."
-
"I give plenty of attention to people who don't treat me like that. Do you know how many friends I have on Facespace? I talk to all of them."
-
"...dude. That's just sad. Did you just try and insist your friends on Facespace count?" Christian laughed, shaking his head, "Sides, I like how pretty you look all feisty."
-
"They do count. They are all people I know face to face and they don't treat me like shit the way you do."
-
"Hey? What? Who just brought you coffee? What an ungrateful jerk you are. No wonder all your friends gotta be online."
-
Blaine glared up at Christian, who may not fully appreciate just how close he was to having hot coffee thrown in his face. "I can't believe you're—"
"Pilot White?"
Paris stood in the doorway to the office, clipboard in hand. It was Christian's turn.
-
"That's me." Christian stood and stretched, grinning at Blaine, "See you later suger."
He strolled into the office with Paris, taking a seat while they went through the form, all standard, boring questions.
-
Paris finished the list of standard questions, but before he cleared White for service on this ship, he had a few inquiries of his own to make.
Smiling, staring in Christian's direction while he tasted the emotion coming off the other Pilot, he said in his calm, unhurried way, "What is the nature of your relationship with Pilot Clé?"
-
"What? Of, we're friends." Christian gave a small shrug, wishing he could finish up this stupid meeting already.
-
Paris fell into silence for a few moments. The emotion he'd felt off of the two of them—especially Clé—while they were waiting concerned him. A lot of anger, a lot of confusion.
"There are difficulties between you," he said finally.
-
"Oh, sure. But I mean, who doesn't fight with friends? We're just the playful types, that's all." Christian was starting to feel a little annoyed now. Talking about his emotions was not his favorite topic.
-
"What did you fight about?" The intensity of Pilot Clé's anger and ambivalence concerned him.
-
"Oh just this and that. I teased him a little about how all his friends were online."
-
"I see." The polite smile never left Paris's face. "When was this? The teasing."
-
"Oh, just a few minutes ago. Why? What are you talking about? We get along fine, promise. Just sign the paper already."
-
"A few minutes ago." Paris's expression never wavered. He still stared, not out of a lack of etiquette to be sure, but because the reading of emotions had a way of overwhelming his other senses. He was staring in Christian's direction, but not truly seeing him.
"And what did you fight about last night?" Pilot Clé's emotions had spiked as soon as Christian had joined him in the waiting area.
-
"We didn't fight last night. Just got a little drunk and frisky and things got a little carried away. Blaine's just feeling embarrassed about it. Look, we're fine. I'm sane, he's a little uptight but fine. Just sign the stupid sheet already."
The kid was freaky, the questions prying and he just wanted to get the fuck out of there already.
-
A few more moments of silence, and Paris took up the clipboard once again.
"Thank you, Pilot White." He rose and opened the door for Christian. "If you would wait in the seating area a while longer?"
Christian may have noticed he had not signed his approval for space service.
-
"Whoa, wait." Christian stood, though he wasn't going anywhere, "You haven't signed my form yet."
-
"No, sir. I haven't."
Paris put White's form at the bottom of the stack, leaving Blaine's on top. "Pilot Clé?"
-
Christian's eyes narrowed, "Well, are you going too?"
This creepy shit was getting on his nerves. Maybe he would just have to see if Raley wanted to play some games with him.
-
"Perhaps, after I've spoken with Pilot Clé."
Blaine slipped between them and waited with his arms folded for Christian to leave so he could get this over with.
-
Christian gave Paris a dark look, then headed out into the hall to flop back into the chair. If Paris didn't sign the form, he was sending Raley at the kid.
-
Paris closed them off in the office for a short time, only ten minutes or so. He already knew most of what he needed to ask Clé, and the results didn't surprise him. White, he decided, would be going. That he had already decided. Clé may yet stay grounded.
The door opened once more. "Would you join us, Pilot White?"
-
Christian strode back in, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He leaned against the arm rests of Blaine's chair, "Well, what's the verdict? We get ta go up together baby?"
-
Paris's eyes shifted from White to Clé, catching the spike of emotion there. He didn't want to judge this poorly. The problem was not so intense as to disqualify either of them automatically.
"Pilot White, do you feel your...friendship difficulties with Pilot Clé will interfere with your responsibilities on the mission? Or his?"
-
"What difficulties? We just bond in different ways, isn't that right baby?" Reaching over, her wrapped his arm around Blaine, "I don't have any problem working with Blaine here. I can do my duties just fine."
-
"Thank you, Pilot White."
Paris scrawled his neat signature and slid Christian's form across the desk. "Pilot Clé."
Blaine's eyes slid up to meet Paris's. He knew what was coming, and still had no idea how he was going to answer.
"Pilot Clé, can you conduct your duties being on the same ship with Pilot White for three months?"
I can get out of this, Blaine thought. Here was his chance. All he had to do was say no. He wouldn't have to deal with Christian for three months and no one would have to know why. All he had to do was say no.
-
Christian held his breath. If Blaine said no, he was shit out of luck for 3 months. He wouldn't get to mess with Blaine until he got back, no getting him all to himself. So he just watched the blond and waited.
-
"Yes."
Blaine got a sinking feeling as Paris scratched his signature upon the approval form. What did I just do to myself?
Paris, for his part, only hoped that Clé had made an accurate assessment of himself. This was a judgement of himself as well, a judgement of his capabilities as a counselor.
Blaine took the sheet of paper in silence and ducked out of the room as quickly as he could.
-
Christian snagged his paper and quickly jogged after Blaine, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and grinned, "Well well lover. Looks like we get a nice long vacation together."
-
"Shut up." Blaine's face was burning. Without stopping he slammed the paper down on the administrator's desk and continued on. He didn't even know what he'd just done. He'd condemned himself to three months stuck on a ship with Christian and for what? It had to be the most misguided, reckless impulse he'd ever given in to.
-
Christian handed over his paper much more calmly, arm still around Blaine, "Aw now, don't be that way. You know you can't wait to be my little bitch. Maybe I'll have you lick my feet like the dog you are our first night up there. What do you say?"
-
Blaine groaned and pulled his hat down further to hide his flush. This was already coming back to bite him. "Shut up. Don't get on this elevator with me."
Getting himself alone in a small closed space with Christian would be a bad idea just then. Bastard was probably feeling smug that Blaine had decided to go up on that space ship, probably thinking it would make it easier to get to him when he couldn't lose himself in Haviah. Maybe it would change things. Maybe Blaine wanted it to. He didn't even know anymore.
-
"What? Worried I'll take advantage of you?" Like Christian was going to pass up this chance, "Besides, don't want you gettin' all lonely by yourself. And I for one, had a lovely time last time I got you all alone."
-
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Blaine held them open, but didn't enter just yet. He wasn't taking any chances this time. "Go stand over there. You're not getting in this elevator with me."
-
"Yes I am. Don't be so rude." Christian still hadn't let Blaine go and he leaned down, nuzzling Blaine's cheek, "You know I like spending time with you baby."
-
Baby. Blaine shivered. That word was condescending and affectionate all at once.
He just couldn't take the thought of being trapped in such a small, confined space. Nowhere to go, closed up on all sides. He ducked out of Christian's arm and flung open the side door leading to the stairwell instead.
-
Christian was just fine with the stairs! He strolled after Blaine, letting the door click closed behind him before he spoke, "You know babe, you keep giving me mixed signals. You say you don't want me in the elevator with you, then you go to the nice, private space, just beggin' me to fuck you."
-
The stairwell was deserted as always, and cavernous enough that Christian's voice echoed. Thank the gods that Christian was behind him and couldn't see the flush in his face anymore. It hadn't gone away since he'd left Paris's office.
"That's not what I'm doing."
-
Christian moved up behind him, one hand grabbing Blaine's hair, the other reaching around to stroke over his groin, "Oh? It sure seems that way to me. You want my cock so bad I can smell it."
-
They hadn't even reached the stairs yet when Blaine found himself with his back to Christian's chest. Not a good position to be in if he wanted to get out of here and huddle alone in his room until it was time to board tomorrow.
His hand fended off Christian's and grabbed his wrist. "Say whatever you want. I just want to go home."
-
"I don't think I believe that baby." Christian jerked Blaine's head back, his mouth finding Blaine's throat as he worked his other hand across Blaine's crotch.
-
The hand in Blaine's hair jerked and he gasped. He was thinking of that little window in the door leading to the stairwell, and the crowded room beyond. It was just enough to put the edge of panic in him as he grabbed Christian's wrist again and pulled his hand away.
"I don't care if you believe it," he said. He shuddered at Christian's mouth on him. How was he going to take three months of this?
-
Christian just made a noncommittal sound, teeth scraping over Blaine's neck, grinding his hips against Blaine's.
-
It had been the door behind them that worried Blaine, but it was from above that his worst fear came. A door opened somewhere up there, two, maybe three stories. Blaine's eyes flew open. The door swung shut with an echoing slam and footsteps clapped down the stairs toward them.
-
Christian jumped back, letting Blaine go like he was on fire. He didn't want anyone else knowing this little secret just yet. Or ever really. He liked that he was the one that knew.
Bart had been tired of waiting for the damn elevator and it was only a few stories down so he had taken the stairs. As he headed down, he was surprised to see a flushed and uncomfortable looking Blaine with Gabriel's cousin, who's name he couldn't quite recall.
He smiled at Blaine and waved, ignoring the scowling blue haired kid, "Hey kid. What's up? Yer up real early, huh? I was just droppin' off some paperwork then was gonna hit breakfast. Wanna join me or are you busy?"
-
Blaine had enough time to take a few deep breaths and compose himself—or try to—before Bart rounded the corner on the landing above. It could have been worse. He could think of a half dozen people or so he'd hate to see approaching him just then. Bart wasn't so bad. His mentor inspired a calm in him.
"Yeah...evals for space duty. I'm going up with Christian." Blaine inclined his head toward the other Pilot.
Leaving here with Bart was way preferable to dealing with Christian and all that he made Blaine feel just then. He needed to think. "Sure. All I have to do is pack, and I've got all day to do that."
-
Christian's eyes narrowed, body tensing slightly. It pissed him off that Bart just showed up and stole his new toy. Blaine's attention was supposed to stay on him, but there wasn't much he could do with Hamilton. The man outranked him and could wipe the floor with him.
"I'll see you later than Blaine." Christian gave a little wave, turned and started jogging up the stairs, burning off some of his annoyed energy.
Bart gave Blaine an odd look, noticing some of the awkward vibes in the room finally, "Everything alright kid?"
-
Blaine didn't return the farewell to Christian. He picked his hat up from where it had fallen on the floor. He was a little shaky, a little unnerved. Thus far, the rest of the world hadn't intruded upon these tense times with Christian. Or was it the other way around? Either way, it was the first time anyone had come close to catching them at it, and it had unpleasant waves of nausea rolling over him. "Yeah. Let's go."
-
The station trip had been mostly quiet. For the first week, Christian enjoyed watching Blaine squirm. He was polite and distant, leaving Blaine alone for the most part. It was more fun when Blaine didn't see it coming.
Lounging against the wall, arms crossed, he waited for Blaine to get back to their room. Things were set and ready and he was fucking the shit out of that blond.
-
So far, Blaine's time on the ship with Christian had been...confusing. The other Pilot was polite, respectful, distant...everythin g Blaine had expected him not to be. After a week of it, he was less on edge than he had been before. It had finally happened. Christian had gotten bored with him and found something else to amuse himself with.
They didn't really get any off days on the ship. They were always working, bring the only two Pilots there. Today had been an easier kind of day, not a lot to do, not a lot of stress. Blaine returned to their room and for once didn't fall right into bed and fall asleep. He could maybe stay up a bit, find some entertainment.
-
Christian clicked the door locked, heading over to the edge of Blaine's bed, arms crossed and smirking down at Blaine, "Well, looks like we have some time to hang out, Baby. Spend some time together. Bond a little."
-
Blaine sighed. Shit.
He'd been expecting this moment ever since they'd boarded the ship and he'd discovered Christian had arranged for them to share a room. He'd been hopeful it wouldn't come, but still expected it, less so as the week went on and this was his punishment for optimism he supposed.
"Yeah?" It was all he could think to say to that.
-
Christian crowded Blaine toward the bed, grinning as he reached up and grabbed Blaine's hair, "Yeah. I plan of fucking the shit out of you."
-
Christian had said as much before, but always regarding some indefinable point in the future, and Blaine could take refuge in the moment, in knowing it wouldn't happen right now. Panic rose forth, and with it a scattering of visions. He blinked rapidly, seeing Christian before him and images of the future flickering and superimposed on one another.
-
Christian leaned down, kissing Blaine roughly, teeth pulling at his lips. He knew that the precog got flashes when his adrenaline was up, but he was going to power through this. He was fucking Blaine tonight.
-
The visions projected images rapid-fire. Blaine got lost between future and present. Pain came from somewhere, staccato, there sometimes and sometimes not. Christian was there then gone again. He gasped for breath in the spaces between visions, and his whole body was stiff, non-responsive and pliable.
-
And Christian just waited, watching Blaine with his bright violet eyes. He hated those fucking visions so much, but they would eventually have to pass.
-
The visions slowed, gradually, as Christian stopped, but Blaine couldn't breath. He sucked in shallow mouthfuls of air, clutching at Christian's shoulders, shaky in the wake of descending panic. The world was glassy, unreal. He wasn't aware of fear or embarrassment anymore. The lack of oxygen and vertigo threatening to topple him overwhelmed all other thought for the moment.
-
Christian was happy to help with that. He pushed Blaine back onto the bed, kissing him again, pulling at his hair.
-
He couldn't feel his hands anymore. Being horizontal helped, but not enough, and dimly Blaine was aware of the sickening, floating feeling that flooded your head just before passing out. He could see little in those last moments, blackness edging out his vision in large blotches.
-
Christian scowled slightly, annoyed at how unresponsive Blaine was. This ruined it for him. It wasn't the sex that got him off, it was watching Blaine squirm and crave it while still trying to fight him. Him just lying there was...boring.
-
He blacked out for a few seconds only. When he came back up, his breathing was more level, but his hands still shook when he lifted them. Christian's weight on him was nearly suffocating. "Off," he breathed, hoarse and quite. "Off, off."
-
Christian hadn't really waited long, already cuffing Blaine to the bed. He had set up the bed days ago and he wasn't wasting this opportunity, "Not a chance baby. I'm gonna fuck you raw tonight, I told you."
-
Blaine swallowed hard and fought back another wave of panic. It was easier this time, laying down like this, and especially easier with the shock of it out of the way. Didn't mean he wasn't gonna try and get out of it. He was most anxious, he realized, of the panic itself, of the possibility that he wouldn't be able to get through this.
"No," he said, testing the cuffs. "Not now, not tonight!"
-
"Oh yes." Christian slid down, grabbing a leg and cuffing that open as well, "I'm going to take you fast and hard, over and over until you scream for me to fuck you."
He slid his hand along Blaine's stomach, "I'm going to hurt you so hard."
-
Blaine's breathing sped up, and not at all in the same way it had before. It threatened to overwhelm him just the same, and he bit his lip and looked at the ceiling and put all his focus into the air flowing in and out of his lungs. He shook his head over and over in wordless denial.
-
Cuffing Blaine's other foot, Christian slid his hands up Blaine's chest, lifting his shirt. Lowering his head, he scraped his teeth over Blaine's skin, biting down hard enough to break the skin.
-
Blaine flinched and pulled at the cuffs reflexively. Droplets of blood rose where Christian's teeth cut his skin. He closed his eyes and tried to go somewhere else for a few seconds. If Christian went too fast he was afraid he'd lose it again, but he didn't know how to tell him to slow down and make him listen.
-
Christian licked along the bite, hands and mouth working along Blaine's skin. He loved the sharp taste of his blood, the helplessness of him, "Hmmm. You seem to have given up trying to resist slut. You finally realized you want my dick so bad it hurts?"
-
"No," Blaine said, eyes fluttering open again. It was a tenuous balance, like walking a tightrope. He had these moments when he thought he might fall, gasping and blind, into panic again, but then he regained his stability.
He didn't know what he was saying no to. No, he hadn't given up resisting? No, he didn't want Christian? Or was it just more all-encompassing denial, a refusal to accept any of this, a refusal to really think about it.
-
Christian sat up, then smacked Blaine across the face, "What the fuck was that slut? You don't want me to fuck you?" Grabbing Blaine's hair, he jerked his head back, voice a low snarl, "Tell me how much you fucking want me to take you right now. To tear your clothes off and slam into you over and over."
-
The blow was a jolt, one that helped in a way. It got some real adrenaline flowing, anger remedying fear. He was more present now, and acutely aware of every rapturous hurt. It set him off, at last, with no panic to block the pleasure. "No," he said again, forcefully, through clenched teeth.
-
That was the look he wanted. That fight and struggle that Christian wanted to break. He leaned down, kissing Blaine hard, one hand twisting Blaine's nipple roughly.
-
Blaine heaved against the bonds and raced for some way to get out of this. Telekinesis, telepathy...there had to be a way. He bit back a whimper—barely—as Christian went for his nipple and twisted it into a bright sensation of pain.
-
Christian let out a low laugh, "Yeah. You like that. Fucking pain slut. You want me to hurt you, make you bleed." He twisted Blaine's nipple again, grinding his hips against him.
-
Blaine heaved against the cuffs, but they weren't some brittle toys he could snap. He was really trapped here. Even thinking that sent new pleasure spearing right to his center. "Stop calling me that," he growled in Christian's face.
-
"What's wrong baby? Don't like hearing what a fucking little pain slut you are?" Christian's nails raked down Blaine's chest, his hands moving to undo the button of Blaine's pants, "You are a dirty little whore that gets rock hard every time I call you that."
-
"No. Shut up." It could not have been more of a lie. It has always been a lie, every time he denied it, but here and now it was an obvious untruth. He'd already begun to grow hard, and Christian had barely started. The cuffs alone, and the control Christian had over him would have been enough, but the occasional, almost casual infliction of physical pain drove him even more swiftly into arousal.
-
"That's not what your body is telling me." Christian smirked, hand sliding into Blaine's pants as he began to roughly rub his hand over Blaine's cock, "Getting so hard off of me hurting you? What a dirty little slut."
-
"Do you hear what I'm telling you, White?" He wasn't hearing this...this bullshit about what his body was saying. He could hear his own body just fine, thank you.
He just wasn't sure if he wanted to go here, breach this wall. It had been in place for years, near a decade really. What he was sure about—what made him quail with its certainty—was that the decision was no longer up to him. He wasn't calling for help. That was out. And he wasn't getting away from this, not this time, not unless one of Christian's whims released him. And that left him with...what? Acceptance, but even that he wasn't taking without a fight.
-
"I don't give a shit what you're saying slut." Christian kept working his hand, grinning down at Blaine. He lowered his head, capturing the blond's lips in a bruising kiss, teeth pulling at his lower lip, "Because I know how desperate you are to get fucked hard. Does it make you harder knowing I'm going to do it no matter what you say?"
-
It did, and the effect was obvious. He even kissed Christian back, angry and confused though he was. The anger was for Christian, the confusion for himself, because he still didn't know what he really wanted.
"Just do whatever it is you're going to do and let me go." He rattled at the cuffs on his wrists.
-
"I plan on it, slut. And that gets you so hard." Christian stroked Blaine a few more times before he pulled away and grabbed a bottle of lube from the side table. Enough playing around, he could take his time and really make Blaine beg latter.
Tugging Blaine's pants down, Christian kissed him again before lubing up his fingers and working Blaine's ass. He wanted it to hurt Blaine, but going in totally raw would be way too much for both of them.
-
((Thread dropped do to lack of a reply))
-
Afterward, he left as soon as Christian allowed it. Somehow pulled himself together, somehow projected a convincing normalcy—one that convinced everyone but himself. He felt everyone he passed in the hallways could read on his face what had just happened, but of course no one did. No one thought anything of him really, beyond noticing his presence.
He wandered for a time before realizing he was looking for a place he could be utterly alone. Then he found a warehouse and put himself in the corner of it and tried to sort out what just happened. How he felt about it. Now the initial rush of emotion was out of him, he felt only confusion, and a fiery compulsion to understand, to question and examine every second of...watever that had been.
Panic, at the beginning. Then an agony of embarrassment. And now...what? The worst had happened, the absolute worst thing he could think of, and here he was still alive and functional after it. Not broken, just lost. Where did that leave him? Where did that leave Christian?
When he finally crept from that warehouse, Blaine adopted a game of hide and seek over the next few days. His goal? To avoid Christian. Impossible for any prolonged time on a space ship, but since when did any of this bend to rationality of reason? It wasn't even fear that had him peeking around corners and finding creative places to sleep. It was just...what the hell did he say to him?
-
Christian let Blaine avoid him for a few days, gave him his space. It gave him a little time to think, to decide what he wanted to do with the blond. It was fun messing with him, and the sex had been amazing. But he had gotten his prize and on some level, he felt guilty.
Eventually, he got bored and the only way to figure out if he wanted to keep up the game was to...keep up the game. So he caught the other man in the kitchen, coming up behind him and wrapping his arm around him, "What's up lover boy. Why so cold?"