The Game 47
Edited by Karen Leigh
A wave of protectiveness passed over Matthew and without analyzing it he wrapped his arms around Beau. For once, Matthew was actively trying not to think about what had happened. If he thought about it, he'd start to imagine the future -- a future with Beau in it. A future the likes of which he'd never even contemplated previously -- with a male partner. That Beau was an ... an android paled in comparison.
His assignment was to document DC counterculture and he found himself exploring alternative lifestyles instead. There was a joke in there somewhere. Matthew couldn't quite see it, but he was sure that it was on him.
Feeling out of sorts, he found himself muttering aloud what he'd intended to keep to himself. "Well, what do we do now?"
As long as Matthew was willing to hold him, Beau was more than content to rest atop him. It felt so right. They fit together perfectly, almost seamlessly. Eyes still closed, he heard Matthew's question and struggled to form a coherent answer.
"Well," he mused, "if you mean, right this minute, Ah suppose we should get up and get dressed. Mebbe try to locate that hound of ours." He paused, contemplating how much he liked the sound of that - "ours". He liked it a whole lot, actually.
Matthew's eyes flew open. Ours? Tallulah is ours? Well, maybe, yeah, okay. That would be okay, wouldn't it? Nothing too heavy, right? She's just a dog. Well, only a puppy, really. Kind of minor as responsibilities go. Far less than the baby that one of his more recent girlfriends had overnight decided that they should have.
He shuddered at the thought and felt Beau tense slightly. Without speaking, Matthew reassured him by holding on tighter.
"As for the long run... I don't rightly know, Matthew. Ah haven't ever felt quite like this before."
Make that two of us, pal.
"Made love with someone jest because Ah wanted to - and because they wanted me. They all jest wanted to know what it's like to screw an android. You're the first one that doesn't care what I am - you wanted me, 'cause I'm me."
Now, Matthew was angry. Not at Beau, but at the people he'd described -- the ones who'd used him to satisfy their curiosity. Matthew had always been mercurial, mood-wise, but this was getting ridiculous. There were too many conflicting emotions raging through him at the moment. He couldn't sort them out.
Catching his lower lip between his teeth, Beau raised his head and met Matthew's gaze questioningly. "I suppose we should jest stick together fer a while - see what happens. If that's okay." He smiled hesitantly down at Matthew. "Would it? Be okay, Ah mean?"
Stick together? He wants to stick together. Skittering away from the concept and the need in Beau's voice for a moment, Matthew smiled slightly, muttering, "We'll be stuck together literally, if you don't move soon. Too bad, though. Feels nice." Not quite believing that those words had come out of his mouth, Matthew just did what he usually did -- just kept talking.
"Warm, I mean. You know what I mean, don't you, Beau?"
The android's nod was solemn and the look in his eyes was incredibly vulnerable. Protectiveness surged through Matthew again and he gave in to an impulse that seemed like it was an inspiration. Kissing Beau lightly on the lips, Matthew murmured, "Yeah, it's okay, Beau. We'll see how this ... this ... whatever it is with us ... plays out. After we find Tallulah and I grab a shower to get these damn pine needles off of my back.."
Smiling, embarrassed a little, Matthew ventured, "You okay with that?"
Beau agreed with a relieved smile. Climbing to his feet, he started sorting through the clothing that had ended up in a tangle on the ground. He handed Matthew's garments over, and started dressing.
The silence was companionable and Matthew appreciated the unconscious grace of Beau's movements, even doing a simple thing such as dressing. Shaking himself, he tried to look elsewhere, but his eyes wouldn't obey -- they wanted to drink in the sight of his new lover and told his brain to take a flying leap in no uncertain terms.
His whistle was in the pocket of his trousers, and Beau pulled it out. "Cover your ears, Matthew," he warned, before lifting the whistle to his lips and giving three long blasts. "That's her signal to come to me," Beau explained to the other man.
A series of sharp barks reached Beau's ears, and he turned to Matthew. "She's somewhere over that way," he said, pointing to the west. "Whatever she's into must be pretty interestin', 'cause she usually comes runnin' back full tilt when I whistle for her."
Thoughts of what the rambunctious puppy might be into were unsettling, at best, so Matthew opted to ignore them and focus on his companion.
Once both men were fully clothed. Beau set off in the direction he'd indicated, Matthew at his side. "Once we find her, we'll head back to the main building and get cleaned up," he told Matthew somewhat apologetically. "Shouldn't be too much longer - Ah don't think she's too far away."
"No problem," Matthew muttered, running his fingers through his hair in an effort to assert order over what he suspected had become chaos.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
"Okay, listen," Cory began slowly, choosing his words with great care, "I can see that Methos makes you uncomfortable. As sensitive as you appear to be to other Immortals' presence, that's not too surprising. So... If you want to talk more, ask me any questions, I'm willing to answer you to the best of my ability. And, if we need to ask Methos anything, I'll be happy to do the asking. That way you can keep your distance, if that's what you need to do right now."
Putting it mildly. *Talking* to Methos wasn't quite the problem, though... Cory's suggestion wasn't exactly what Philip had been hoping for, but it suited the situation well enough for the time being, and he slowly nodded agreement. If Methos had to be involved -- as seemed inevitable, since this other Immortal apparently had no knowledge of much of what Philip was trying to describe --surely it would be better to have an intermediary. He would, hopefully, find out what he needed to know, while guaranteeing that he would have Cory around for a while. Which, while he wasn't quite in a condition to enjoy it the way he'd like just now, was something Philip was certainly in favor of. Best of all, it would allow him to keep clear of the effect Methos had on him. That *was* best, wasn't it...?
"And, there's always Anson - granted, he's not Immortal, but he knows Methos - the kind of man he is. They've become very close in short time since they met." Offering Philip a reassuring smile, Cory shrugged lightly. "Just don't think you're alone, or that you're losing it. We'll figure out a way to make you more comfortable with your Immortality. I'm sure of it."
"Yes, I'm...well aware of how close they are, actually." Philip winced inwardly at the look Cory shot him. Bright, Paget, very bright... "But," he continued quickly, sincerely, "I appreciate your help. Really. I've had...a lot to take in, these last few days, and..." He regarded Cory, weighing the wisdom of saying anything more. Still, perhaps better now than later..."there's something else I should tell you about -- "
He broke off abruptly as Tallulah, who'd been contentedly nestled in the crook of his arm, began yapping and squirming. Escaping his lap, she bounded the few feet down to the ground and off towards the brush. In the direction, Philip now saw, of two more look-a-likes who were coming up a path towards them.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Falling into step next to Beau as they moved though the trees toward the sound of Tallulah's bark, Matthew ventured, "Um, Beau. Is she in trouble for not coming when you whistled for her? Is that a breach of protocol for a pup of her ... ah ... impeccable breeding?"
"Nah, not really," Beau answered. "She's too young to punish for somethin' that small. 'Sides, a good field dog is never obedience trained - we want 'em to be pretty independent-minded. They need to be thinkin' about where to find birds - not whether or not they're too far away from their handler. She'll catch on - jest needs a little more work. She's jest a baby."
The trees opened into a small clearing and two more who wore their face were conversing and keeping Tallulah occupied. Matthew thought the one sitting on the ground might be Cory, but he wasn't sure about the one sitting on the rock. Whoever he was, he looked ... scared.
"Looks like she's thrown us over, Beau. I didn't realize that all mammalian females were fickle."
Beau grinned. "Tallulah, you little hussy," he crooned with a distinct lack of anger in his voice. "Ah take mah eyes off of you for five minutes and yer off flirtin' with other men."
Five minutes? No way he could've done *that* to me in five minutes.
"Had to be longer than that, Beau," Matthew muttered softly, suddenly aware of the blush that was stealing across his face.
Tallulah, hearing Beau's voice, abandoned her perch on Philip's lap and bounded over to greet her owner. She seemed a little confused as to which man she should greet first, Matthew or Beau. Eagerly, she divided her attention between the two, jumping up to lick Beau's hand, then giving Matthew the same treatment. After circling the two several times at top speed, she ran back to Philip and Cory, giving each a quick swipe of her tongue.
Smiling at her antics, Cory looked over at Philip. "Philip, meet Matthew and Beau. Guys, this is Philip. He hasn't been here long either."
"Hey, Philip," Matthew offered with a nod in the new guy's direction.
Philip watched the overexcited puppy dashing about distributing affection to one after the other of them, her little tail going so fast it was a wonder she wasn't airborne, then looked at the new arrivals as Cory introduced them. Smile, Paget, he instructed himself firmly. You know how this goes. Just smile. Just relax. Just breathe.
After a few moments, the uptake in the swirl of energy he felt wasn't too bad; the noise level was not unbearable. The duplicate named Beau felt slightly muted, almost rhythmic, though otherwise little different from what he sensed in others. The Mac might be a machine with some human brain tissue in his construction, but what he radiated to Philip showed he was very much alive, very connected to Matthew... and he was grinning at Philip and Cory in a rather disconcertingly perceptive way.
Matthew was unmistakably a human clone, like himself. Or, like he had been, once. Humour, mild confusion, and the exhilarating hum Philip realized he would have recognized as the residue of an epic orgasm even without having overheard the lovers earlier, or seeing the man's recently-well-fucked demeanor... And, next to Tallulah, Matthew was probably the most normal being he'd met since he'd gotten to DC. Including himself.
No threat here, no danger to his precariously maintained balance. Philip's smile broadened, became genuine. "A pleasure."
Startled by the sound of Philip's voice, Matthew realized that he'd been staring at Beau. Sure his face was now fire engine red, he sought solace in the spoken word, hoping to talk until he sorted himself out -- however long that took.
"Indeed, albeit strange," Matthew mused, reaching down to pick up the flighty puppy. "Four nearly identical men and a dog. My editor wouldn't buy this even if I had a photographer with me."
Forcing his gaze to hold on Cory, he asked, "Do you know any more about what's going on this morning?
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
They wouldn't let him go! Godamn motherfuckers blocking his escape. What the fuck? The memories of past incarcerations crowded his brain and Anson felt trapped, enclosed, angry, terrified... His breathing grew heavier and he could feel an angry blush creeping up to color his face.
He had to get away. NOW.
Away from this horrible place. Away from Methos - needed to put some space between himself and the obvious attraction Methos felt towards Philip.
"Let me go!" he demanded of the Macs at the gate. "You have no right to hold me here - we're not prisoners, dammit."
When the Macs simply continued to block his escape, Anson saw red. "You bastards," he screamed. "Get the fuck out of my way."
He rushed forward only to be caught and restrained by one of the Macs. Too angry and panicky to see the futility of his actions, Anson wrestled desperately against the implacable hold on him.
He had to leave - had to get away from all of this... before Methos caught up with him.
As Methos arrived at the gate, he could see that Anson was fighting with everything that he had to escape. He gritted his teeth and made swiftly for the three Macs that had his young lover restrained, and dropped to his knees beside the heap of look-a-like bodies that lay on top of Anson. He could see Anson's face, snarling with fury as he strove impotently against the androids that had him pinned. He tried to think of something to say - something that would count. He couldn't think of anything.
"Anson," he whispered, and swallowed. "Anson, don't." He paused for another moment, watching the anger snap in Anson's eyes, and then he hung his head.
"Don't leave me, please don't."
Anson turned furious eyes on Methos. "This is *your* doing? Well, fuck you. You don't need me - you have Philip now. And, if he doesn't pan out... well, there are hundreds of me running around here. Take your pick, Methos," he sneered.
Still straining against the hold the three Macs had on him, Anson growled in frustration. "Look, Methos, it's been fun. But we both knew it wouldn't last. I'm just not what you need - I'm a fucking thief. A murderer. A nutcase. Let me go so you can find someone worthy of you
"Oh, for goodness' sake." Methos felt his anger flare. "You want to cut and run at the first sign of any problems? You're a coward, aren't you? I didn't think you were, but perhaps I was wrong. I guess we all make mistakes, and being old doesn't teach wisdom after all. Won't McLeod be happy to hear that? I could ask you why you think I bothered with you, when I had Cory right there beside me for the past few hundred years. I could ask you how come you were the one that wanted to bring Philip in when we were making love. I could ask you all sorts of things, but I don't think that you'd have answers." He rose to his feet again, and stood looking down on Anson. How could he make the stupid kid see?
He bit his lip, and signed that the androids should permit Anson to stand, and then as the other rose to his feet, he drove into him, knocking him flying and winding him as he bore him backwards, beneath the curious stares of the androids.
"I love you, you dumb fuck. Get used to it," and Methos sought the soft lips, forcing them open to kiss him whether he wanted it or no.
Stubbornly, Anson opened to Methos kiss but refused to respond. After a beat, he wrenched his head to one side breaking the contact.
"Don't lie to me, Methos. I saw how you were looking at him. I'm just giving you a clear field. And *don't* call me dumb!"
Knowing it was a wasted effort; Anson nevertheless twisted in Methos' implacable grip. "Let me up, dammit. Let me GO." He struggled hopelessly, his breath coming in gasps. "Just... let me go."
There had been a time when he had been a king - no, not a king, a god. His word had been law, and if he'd wanted a lover that had been enough. He looked down at Anson, and felt his resolve strengthen. Damn the child. He would stop this crazy vacillation of his. He pressed down over Anson, laughing savagely. He could do this. He'd had practice!
He ground his hips into Anson, feeling his penis start to twitch as he did so. Memories flooded in - he was in another time and place. He recalled the sound of horses, and his brothers' raucous laughter, and laughed out loud.
"I'll tell you whether you live or die. I'll tell you when you can go. You belong to me, you hear me?"
Again, he covered Anson's lips, and this time he brought his hand down to throttle him, waiting for the moment when Anson went limp. Then his hands moved down and deliberately, he ripped the T-shirt that Anson was wearing, exposing the well muscled chest to his attentions.
"You belong to me," he repeated, and sank his teeth into a nipple
Gasping with frightened shock at this fierceness Methos was exhibiting, Anson panicked. Desperately he tried to break free of Methos' hold. He bucked his hips upwards and twisted to one side. When there was no response other that a bone-chilling bark of laughter, he gave up.
He'd been raped before. He knew the signs all too well. Best to just lie still and get it over with. Turning his head to one side, he bit his lower lip and squeezed his eyes tightly closed.
"Just, get on with it," he whispered. "Do it and get off of me."
Methos froze. What was wrong with him? It seemed as though whatever he did turned to shit. Collapsing onto Anson, he buried his face in the young man's neck, inhaling the scent of his short-term lover.
"Come on, Anson-love. Don't do this to me. You're mine. You can't just shake me off and walk away. I love you." He laid his palms against Anson's cheeks in a gesture that seemed somehow to be vulnerable, and turned Anson's face towards his. "Look me in the eyes, and tell me that you don't want me, and I'll go and never bother you again."
Dropping his head to kiss the soft lips once more, Methos waited for Anson's response.
Oh god! Dizzied by the sudden change in Methos, Anson lay silently for a second, gathering his scattered thoughts. He'd been so scared - so shocked by that awful aggressive side of his lover. Yet, now ...
Sighing, he tentatively raised his arms to close around Methos' back. "I just thought... I was afraid... I was only doing what I thought you wanted me to do, Methos. Do you..." he swallowed heavily and met pained hazel eyes.
"Do you really mean it? You love me? Want me to stay?"
Methos laughed again - a savage, hoarse bark that sounded feral even to himself. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, waiting for Anson to for god's sake get on with it and put him out of his misery.
"What the hell will it take to convince you, kid?" He shook his head in disbelief. "You are such a pain in the arse, and yes, I want you to stay. I really mean it. All of the above."
Unaware of the pleading expression in his eyes, Anson gazed at this man - this oh so confusing man. "You scare me, I'm afraid you'll suddenly realize what a loser I am. I don't think I could survive it if you dumped me -so... I ran. But, if you really mean it - if you really love me, then I'll stay."
Still with the dumping thing. Methos growled and smothered any further utterances Anson might have wished to produce, trying to score some kind of meltdown with a kiss that seemed to go on forever. When he finally raised his head to look again at Anson, he smirked.
"Just try and leave. See what I do to you. You are mine, got it?"
He suddenly shivered, acutely aware of the interested spectators and the incredible hard-on he was sporting. What the hell was he to do?
"Yours," Anson tested the word. He liked it. He liked it a whole lot, in fact. "I'm yours," he announced with satisfaction.
With a sultry smile, he arched up, pressing his hips against Methos. "I think ... " he paused to lick his lips, a thrill racing through him at the predatory way Methos watched the action. "I think you should show me now. Show me - prove to me that I'm yours."
Methos closed his eyes again, thankful for a moment that he hadn't fucked things up completely. He felt totally out of control - his body not his own. He wondered what would happen if they just lay here on the grass in the sun and fucked. As Anson writhed against him, he thought that now was a very good time to find out.
He began to kiss his way down over Anson's face - first the eyes, heavy lidded and long lashed, then the sinful, tip-tilted nose, before fastening onto the lips once more, prying them apart to delve between. He could feel his own pulse thumping with excitement, and his hands roamed, restless on the smooth, white skin that the torn T-Shirt revealed. Anson's hands had buried themselves in his hair, and the slight sting of his drag on it was a pleasing contrast to the silk of his tongue invading Methos' mouth.
As Methos continued to kiss Anson, he fumbled down for the button that fastened Anson's jeans and deftly popped it loose, lowered the zipper and permitted his hand to slide inside and find the slick erection that he had felt press against him a few moments before.
"Yes, Methos... YES. Touch me. I need you to..." Tightening his fingers in Methos soft hair, he pulled the other man down into a desperate kiss.
"Well, why the hell didn't you say so?" Methos mumbled into Anson's urgent mouth, and then allowed himself to be swept into kisses as sweet and desperate as ever he'd experienced. Triumph, and fear, and the certainty that he'd nearly lost Anson conspired to make him avid for a reaffirmation of their relationship. He felt as confused, as torn, and certainly as horny as the teenager he couldn't recall being, and way back in the recesses of his mind he told himself that he was rapidly approaching his second childhood.
But he needed more. Needed to feel that warm flesh against him. Releasing his hold on that soft hair, Anson reached down to tug at Methos' shirt. "Off," he demanded.
Leaving the irritating shirt to Methos, Anson moved his hands down and impatiently opened the fly of the jeans that covered the hardness he so wanted to feel. With jerky movements, he pushed the heavy material out of his way and closed his hand around the silken steel of Methos' erection.
Ripping the shirt to shreds was the matter of an instant, the sun warming his back felt as sensual as a caress, and then Anson squeezed his cock and something inside him snapped.
He forgot their location, breathing in Anson's heady scent as he licked and nipped at the kid's neck, his chest, his navel, and then...
Anson's cock, plump and rosy, and his. He opened his lips again to draw it into his mouth, roll it against his tongue and suck it, swallow it, love it.
His hands pushed down on the denim that still clung to Anson's waist, but he had all he needed - for now. This wasn't delicate or tentative. This was necessary. Methos sucked hard at his prize, groaning at the heady joy of it.
His momentary disappointment in losing hold of Methos' cock quickly forgotten, Anson groaned and fell back against the grass. His world narrowed until there was only that hot mouth surrounding him, pleasuring him. Loving him.
Restlessly, his hands roved over the parts of Methos he could reach. He stroked smooth shoulders, ruffled silky hair, hands constantly moving as if to reassure himself that yes, this was Methos. A man he loved and was loved by in turn. A feline smile of satisfaction curved his lips as his fingers moved to trace the line of Methos' lips, enclosing his erection with such care.
As Methos continued to play him like a fine instrument, Anson couldn't stay the sounds of pleasure and need that crowded his thickened throat. All thoughts of their audience fled, for with Methos there could be no shame.
Only pleasure. And the sheer beauty of what the man was doing to him.
Methos could feel that his efforts were making Anson crazy, and all he wanted to do was hear those heady little gasping sounds that Anson gave when he was close to coming. He redoubled his efforts, fingers scrabbling in an ineffectual attempt to get the jeans down so that he could go to work on the rest of Anson's body. He could hear Anson moaning softly, and swallowed against the head of the cock that was filling his mouth.
He felt twitching along the shaft as Anson suddenly cried out and arched his back, thrusting against him, and then the hot, acrid flood of the ejaculate that filled him, running down his chin as he tried to swallow it all.
He continued to suck as Anson bucked beneath him until at last he was still. Smiling up at Anson, he was about to speak, when suddenly he was soaked to the skin. The lawn sprinklers had suddenly started to work.
Laughing breathlessly, Methos collapsed onto Anson.
Dazed, Anson looked up at Methos. "Is it raining?" He asked, confused.
Methos merely continued to laugh. What the hell? Blinking, Anson looked around them and groaned when he realized that they'd gained a rather large audience. But... why... how was it that the audience was dry while he and Methos were getting soaked.
"Oh shit," he moaned. The lawn sprinklers. Blushing, he buried his face in Methos' shoulder. Could the situation be more embarrassing? Bad enough that he'd had a temper tantrum in front of several interested parties - but, sex on the lawn followed by an impromptu shower?
He'd never live it down.
Finally, the humor of the situation overcame his embarrassment and he began to chuckle. Pressing a quick kiss to Methos' neck, he reached down to rearrange his disheveled clothing.
"Maybe we could find somewhere a little more ah, private to continue this?" He suggested to his still laughing partner
His laughter was three parts relief, and only one small part mirth. He'd nearly lost Anson, and he felt weak at the thought that he had somehow muddled through. Looking up at Anson, through lashes wet from tears of laughter, he felt his heart lurch again.
"Gods, I love you, you silly child. Don't ever do that to me again. I won't be responsible for my behavior." He dragged himself up to his feet and extended a hand to pull Anson up, realizing rather belatedly that he was exposed, and that his rather impressive erection was displayed for everyone to see.
He blushed, painfully aware that it was a millennium since the last time he'd done so. Anson hovered beside him, protective as he attempted vainly to stuff himself back into his damp jeans, and finally gave up, pulling his loose sweater down over the offending organ and moving rather moistly with Anson towards the quiet and privacy of the room they had occupied overnight.
Inside, with the door closed, Methos turned to Anson.
"You do know that I love you, don't you? It doesn't matter who or what will come, I love you."
Standing quietly, Methos waited for Anson to ask whatever he needed.
Suddenly, startlingly, and most amazing of all - completely - Anson believed. He didn't know how he' come to find this person, this Methos. But, like warmth, spreading through his entire being, Methos' love sank into every lonely corner of his soul.
Slowly, a brilliant smile broke out on his face. Moving forward, he wrapped his arms around Methos. "I do," he whispered. I do know it, love. I'm sorry - I just didn't realize it until this moment." Sighing, he buried his face against Methos' shoulder. "I love you, too."
He drew in an unsteady breath. That smile was like sunlight. Of their own accord, his arms rose up to encircle Anson, and his lips grazed the fine tendrils of hair that grew on the back of the graceful neck.
"Anson, we should talk about Philip. He's got some problems that we can help with. I don't want to do anything you don't like, but I want you to consider giving him a hand. He seemed to be in a lot of trouble."
He ran his hand down the length of Anson's back, and back up beneath the loose T-shirt his lover wore. He was aware of his own proud flesh butting against the coarse fibers of his sweater, mashed against Anson as the kid hugged him. Closing his eyes and cupping Anson's cheek, he raised the young man's face until he could press his lips against the soft, sweet mouth, then he lost himself in the honey of a kiss.
Anson sighed, melting against Methos' warmth as they kissed. He smiled dreamily when Methos pulled away, then blinked, trying to recall what the man had been talking about.
Oh. Philip. Of course.
Still more than a little shamed by his earlier outburst, Anson blushed and avoided Methos' sharp gaze. "Um, Philip... yeah. I'm ah, really sorry about that scene earlier, you know. I just- Well, I'm an idiot, okay? I thought you and he... " Jeez, he couldn't even SAY it! Too fucking embarrassing for words, the way he'd acted. "I just have - HAD - a hard time believing that you could actually want me. Love me."
Methos crushed Anson against him, burying his face against the smooth skin of Anson's throat. He felt at once relieved and perturbed. Anson seemed to have twined his fingers so deep in his heart that he wondered how it had happened. He certainly hadn't invited it. His hands rose of their own accord to cup the young man's face, and he stroked his thumbs over the rough skin of Anson's jaw, eyes hungry as he soaked up the beauty of this lover of his.
The beauty would fade soon enough, he knew that, and he would be free to walk away again, but right here, now, he wished that it weren't so. Tenderly, he kissed the expectant face that waited for his touch. Damn, he felt fragile today.
Somehow, sex had ceased to be a driving need, just for the moment, and it had become more important to reassure his lover that he was well loved. He thought the words, breathed them against the fine, soft mouth, willed them to his fingertips as he stroked through Anson's hair.
"I do; I want you; I love you." His kisses were vows as he moved his lips over Anson's face, kissing the mouth, the snub of a nose, the huge eyes with their thick fringes of lashes. There wasn't, right then, anything else that he'd rather be doing. His arousal was forgotten, it was all forgotten in this little corner of the compound. All there was, was Anson, and himself, and this love that enfolded them both, making it difficult to breathe.
Anson raised his head and smiled at Methos. "You said something about helping Philip? I think we have to try - he's almost as messed up as I am." Shaking his head at his own weak joke, Anson shrugged his apology.
"I understand now - about Philip. He's like you and he needs help - and I love you for being concerned about him." He gazed seriously into Methos' hazel eyes. "I won't go off half-cocked this time, I promise. You tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it - after all, you're the expert on Immortals."
"I may be an immortal, but the silly kid is afraid of me, and I doubt very much whether he'll get over it any time soon. That's a shame because I know that I could help him." Methos smiled down at Anson's face, and felt his belly flip at the melting expression in his love's eyes. He ran his fingers into the short, dark hair and lost himself again in the taste and smell of Anson. When their lips parted, he was shaking. Love was still new each time it hit, and this time his heart was full to bursting as he held his new love against him.
"I think that it would be good if you could maybe find him later and see if there's anything you can do to help him? Think you could, love?" Methos' hands ran down Anson's back to cup the strong buttocks and pull them in until Anson was pressed against him. "Please?"
"Mmm," Anson hummed, as he sensuously rubbed against Methos. "Of course I will - I'll talk to him. Maybe I can actually help, who knows? But first..."
With a mischievous grin, Anson reached down to cup Methos' groin. "I think we have some business to take care of here."
Methos gasped, a sharp inhale as Anson insinuated his fingers under his sweater and around his still throbbing dick. He shuddered as Anson pumped it lazily a couple of times, and let out a croak in some foreign tongue when Anson dropped to his knees to suck on it.
There was no tease, Anson drew him on efficiently, and chuckled, low in his throat when Methos couldn't hold on any longer, spurting ejaculate into the hot, sucking mouth as he cried out.
When he had finished, Methos found himself leaning back against the door, his fingers curled around Anson's head, and his jeans around his knees, and laughed.
"A fucking knee trembler! Do you have any idea how young you make me feel?" He pulled Anson to his feet and kissed him once again, the acrid taste of his own fluids on Anson's tongue as he delved into the sweet, juicy mouth. "Thank you, thank you."
For another moment or two, they kissed, and then Anson drew back, making Methos look inquiringly at him. When Anson whispered, "Philip," Methos nodded.
"Okay, love. I'll be in the infirmary if you need me for anything. Love you." He stood and watched Anson go, and then turned to make for the infirmary.
After a fruitless search of the building, Anson headed outside to look around the grounds. He had a pretty strong feeling that Philip had headed for the wooded area of the compound, seeking privacy. Walking into the tree line, he heard Tallulah barking off to his right and headed that way, in the hope that Beau or Matthew had seen Philip.
Not that he had any idea what he'd say to the guy. Beyond the apology for and explanation of his own earlier behavior. Somehow, it was of urgent importance that he make Philip understand that his problem had been HIS - that Philip had nothing to do with his childish display of temper. That last night had been wonderful and special. That he and Methos were there for Philip - in whatever way he needed them.
And maybe, just maybe, Philip would open up enough to give Anson at least a hint of what was tormenting him so badly. He recognized all to well the fear and pain he'd seen in Philip's expression several times now. The source might be different - but the feelings were the same ones Anson had wrestled with for most of his life.
There had to be something he could do to help. Even if not - just offering acceptance and reassurance might ease Philip's pain.
He hoped.
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Dana Scully stepped out of the shower in the bathroom where she had retreated with giggles as Tallulah had broken up the seduction of Matthew. It was a shame; she would rather have watched. But the noise outside in the corridors had grown and she was getting nervous. Then, she heard the chirping of her cellphone. Cursing, she wrapped a towel around her naked, wet body and ran to get it but it rang off. Checking last number, she saw it was Mulder's. Things were heating up. It was going to be another jungle of a day, she sighed.
Dressing quickly, she realized that Matthew and Beau must have taken the dog outside.
Stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her, she purposefully strode towards the infirmary. She had a hunch that her presence was undoubtedly required there. Nabbing a passing Mac 27 on her way, she requested an update on what was going on. She got an excited babbling account about One throwing himself heroically but unnecessarily into harm's way, about congregations of sleeping Mac 27s and Pendrell (she quickly stifled the mixed reaction she had to that name.) Brian had had a crush on her for as long as she could remember) and various reconnaissance missions to Innobotics to deal with Wraith, the released, rogue Mac 27/clone.
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As Baines headed to the infirmary with Sasha, Alexei hurried up to them. "One has left the compound alone and is headed to Innobotics. He is behaving strangely."
Baines halted in his tracks and said, "Okay, Alexei call the Mac's you've chosen for the training crew and have them meet us in the weapons room with any of the people that are available right now. Have them set up the camera for videotaping and I will put the intro speech on film and let the others get the training started while we are gone. Sasha come with me.
Alexei off quickly and Leigh popped into the dining room to grab a sandwich and a coffee and announced to the room at large that anyone interested in training should go to the weapons room immediately.
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Sighing, Scully made her way to the infirmary and took in the presence of people discussing chips.
"Excuse me," she said. "It might be helpful for you to know that the chips I have in my neck, and my nasal passage, if removed, will cause the development of cancer. It will indeed prove much less complicated if you nullify them and remove them later, if you can. It depends on the kind of chip you have. People like Mulder, myself, and probably Krycek, will have complications because some of the chips can be removed and others can't."
Jess blinked, her blood running cold. Bad enough that she had been violated, but knowing that she'd have to keep them inside of her made her physically ill.
Scully licked her lips, and took a breath. "I can, however, perform the necessary surgery should anyone need their chips removed and can have it done safely without side effects."
Jess was about to volunteer to be the first when she felt Leigh's mind reach out to hers.
On his way back to the weapons room Baines contacted Jess, ~Hey, I'm going to be delayed for fifteen minutes or so. One has left the compound for Innobotics alone. So things have just speeded up considerably. Tell Rodney to deactivate the chips in Michael and Roy and make your own preparations. Make sure someone is available to deactivate mine when I come through. Once I have gotten the group here organized I will be free to do whatever else is necessary.~
~One did *what*?!?~ Baines winced at the intensity of the surprise and anger coming through their mental link. Fortunately, Jess calmed down and started planning. ~Okay, Leigh, I need to gather some supplies before I leave anyway.~
"Guys, we've got a new problem. Apparently One has taken it on himself to go to Innobotics without us." Sighing she returned her attention to Baines. ~Have Sasha meet me at the garage if he wants to go along .~
"Sorry, boys, but you're on your own. See that Leigh gets that chip out of his neck. I'll worry about mine later."
Roy grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. "Where do you think you're going?"
She gave a half grin to him and Michael. "One's started the party without me. He's trying to create a diversion for me to slip underground. Would have been nice if I was actually there."
"What about your chip?"
"No time," Jess shook her head. "I'll just have to trust that Johnny knew what he was doing. Apologize to him for me for leaving, okay? And Michael, keep an eye on this guy for me? I have a bad feeling that things are going to get a lot worse before they get better." She gave Michael a quick hug and surprised the hell out of herself and Roy by kissing him lightly on the cheek. Blushing, she ran out of the infirmary before anyone could say anything.
Stopping by the armory, she grabbed what she thought would be needed - a few weapons, some flashlights, what looked like an old leather dog harness, and several chocolate bars. She then dashed for the garage, making it there a few seconds after Sasha. "Leigh is headed for the infirmary to deactivate and remove his chip. Is yours disabled."
"No Sasha." She handed him part of what she had gathered. "I'll explain later."
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Methos remained leaning against the wall after Anson had brushed his teeth and gone, merely giving him a fierce peck as he left the room. He was aware that he had a foolish grin on his face, and that the young man who had just left him had become precious to him very rapidly. He hadn't been in love for many years until Alexa had come along, and when she had died, he'd thought that his heart had died too - at least for the next couple of hundred years.
To be blindsided and dragged into another relationship was astonishing to him, and the young man who'd done the dragging was even more of a surprise. Methos had rarely needed a man in his life. He was a protector, despite his normal surliness when help was requested of him, and Anson seemed at first glance to be the last person to whom he could offer protection. Methos had been amazed when the beautiful young man had suddenly revealed his very real insecurity. It had been enough to hook him, and now he was experiencing a severe case of raging, 5,000 year old hormones. He felt great.
However, he was perplexed. Philip and Anson both had chips in the back of their necks, and Methos wanted to know why.
He showered and dressed, taking himself off to the Infirmary. Surely the answer would be there, if anywhere. His arrival coincided with Scully and Doggett in some strange altercation with the man named Skinner that had been unconscious the previous night. He smiled his hello, and waited for a lull in the conversation...
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Hobbes had slipped out when no one was looking. He knew Alex wanted to get to Wraith, feeling he was the most dangerous. But Hobbes felt if he got to him first... it might go a little more smoothly. He also needed Wraith's help in finding Pinocchio... he may know where to start looking or get information on where to start.
--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--
Wraith had been summoned. Marita was on the same assignment as him. There had been no reason for any of the guards to attempt to stop them or even question their presence at Innobotics. The way to Dr. Sawyer's office was wide open.
The doctor barely looked up from the equipment on one of the counters, which made it simple to lock the door behind them. Her tone was flat, with only a hint of impatient. "Something urgent has arisen. We need to back-up your memory. Get on the table Wraith."
"No." A few steps took him across the room. Dr. Sawyer was caught and forced into a chair. "Why was I called to the lab? What has happened?"
A look of total disbelief marked the doctor's expression. "That's none of your concern. Release me at once. This kind of behaviour is unacceptable."
"Marita. Find me some tape or something to bind the doctor in place," Wraith requested before turning back to his captive. "How many Mac 27s are still within the compound?"
A glare was the only response.
Marita handed Wraith a roll of surgical tape. It was the work of seconds to bind Dr. Sawyer's wrists to the arms of her chair.
"We require your computer system doctor. Sit quietly and cause no trouble and you won't be hurt."
Marita stepped forward. "Tell us the password, and the password to the whole system of Innobotics. Please."
Dr. Sawyer shook her head rapidly, eyes wide as Marita pulled a switchblade knife and waved it in front of her. She thought for a moment. "No, I've got a better idea. Wraith, can you get me some of the electric leads from the machine there, the one they use to wipe your memory?"
Dr. Sawyer gasped. "No, Wraith, don't listen to her. It's me, Dr. Sawyer. Have I ever hurt you, Wraith? Marita, you've only just met. But I've always been with you..."
Marita knew that the electricity wouldn't wipe Sawyer's memory, but she reckoned it would hurt something fierce.
As Wraith brought the electrodes over from the machine, Marita filled a bucket with water, placing it next to Dr. Sawyer's feet.
Dr. Sawyer blanched.
"No, please," she said.
Marita began attaching electrodes to the doctor. "Then tell us what we need to know."
"NEVER," hissed the doctor, as she leaned her head and bit into the soft flesh of Marita's wrist, hard.
Marita, who had carelessly let her wrist within biting distance in wiring the doctor, gave a cry of surprise and looked at the doctor.
"Wrong answer."
Blood, Dr. Sawyer had raised blood on his Goddess' perfect skin. Wraith closed the distance between himself and bound woman. Her head was caught and with one quick movement... turned impossibly. The snap of bone was loud in the silence of the medical bay as was the rip of her pristine white lab-coat.
Marita stepped back, gasping. "Loren... Loren. Were you always so cruel?" She looked at him, a twist of smile on her lips.
Wraith swung around and caught at Marita's damaged limb. "Beloved..."
Marita leaned into his touch, running her other hand along his jaw. "My only one," she whispered.
The swath of fabric he'd torn from Dr. Sawyer's jacket was pressed into use. "Precious, wondrous angel. You can't be endangered. There was nothing the doctor could tell us that would be worth you taking any harm at her hands. I have Mr. Hargreaves password. We'll use it to get into the mainframe and work from there."
She turned around, delighted. "You have it? You might have told me before and saved us some trouble. You joker, you." She pulled him close, and kissed his lips hungrily. "God, I love you. God, how I've missed you, Loren, she murmured breathlessly.
A kiss was dropped onto her palm, then another to her forehead. "You need guards."
"You've always protected me just fine," she said, pulling him close. Then, noticing he was trying to show her something, she let him go and followed him.
Three steps took him to the keyboard but he shoved it aside in favour of exposing a direct port. A cable off a nearby trolley was grabbed. One end went into the station, the other plugged straight into Wraith's head.
Marita winced. "That looks painful. Is there another way to do this?" But Wraith smiled, and told her it didn't hurt. She walked to stand beside him, then pulled him into a chair, and took the one beside him.
"You know, I'm almost jealous. You can hook right in there... and touch wherever you want, can't you?" She was looking over his shoulder, whispering directly into his ear.
"First we'll get some protection on the door of this lab... then I'll have everything we need brought to us."
"How long will it take?" she asked huskily, licking his ear. "Not too long, I hope?"
Finding his voice took a moment. "It's fast this way. Quite fast." Wraith's eyes closed as he cut through a firewall inside his head, or was it inside the computer. It was easy to get lost using this method of access. His mind wanted to build rooms with walls and floors where nothing of the sort existed.
Dr. Sawyer used to put a monitor on him to make sure he didn't get lost when he'd done this in the past. It was a mistake to attempt this without anything in the real world to ground him. His eyes had to be forced open. Marita's face made a perfect focus point.
She took his hand and tugged lightly. She put on a flirty pout, and stood up, walking backwards to the long table next to the desk coyly. When she reached it, she shoved the schematic drawings aside, and used her arms to lever herself backwards onto it.
Marita had either lucked into the solution or she knew instinctively that Wraith had to grasp at something corporeal. Rich fabric under his fingertips and the faint scent of perfume caught his attention.
"Lady." He flinched as an internal barrier strained and broke. More resources opened to him and Wraith shot out commands.
She pulled Loren in between her legs, feeling her skirt moving up her legs over her pantyhose. Wrapping her legs around his, she gazed up at him.
"Which do you prefer... Loren, or Wraith?"
Verbal communication. He had to swallow and remember how to speak. "Loren from you. Only from you. Loren barely exists any more. Only with you."
She leaned back from the waist; her legs still wrapped around his, and ripped open her blouse exposing her breasts in the lacy white bra she wore. She moaned.
It was a mercy the cord he'd chosen would reach or Wraith would have torn it out just to close the distance between himself and Marita. Higher brain functions dealt with the computer system, only instinct was left. Wraith seized the vision before him, dragging Marita against himself. Warm skin and a racing pulse under his mouth fascinated him. He had to open his mouth, taste it. His teeth bared.
"We'll make them beg, baby. They'll fall at our feet."
Orders flew, shortcuts and access points to files shifted. The few remaining androids in Innobotics storage awakened to their version of life. Mr. Hargreaves' password was only the beginning. Now he was inside the system everything was accessible.
She arched her back and neck towards him. "I need you... ever... the only one, ever."
Wraith's hands caught at filmy fabric, tearing it away as easily as firewalls fell inside his mind. He tasted delicate skin. His face was pressed into it. Wraith inhaled deeply. Soft curves gave way under his hands. His knees bent. The scent of his lover was stronger lower.
A DOD connection tickled at the edge of his awareness. Wraith would follow it momentarily. Innobotics had to be completely changed over first. Security alarms were purposefully tripped to put the compound on alert against an outside threat. Gates locked down, now controlled by Marita's security codes.
A faint whisper of pain suggested Wraith's hair was being pulled. He opened his mouth once more and Marita's flavor hit his tongue full force when he licked at the flesh before him.
Through a narrow crack between the door and the frame that surrounded it was simple to see the pale-haired woman and her lover coupling on one of the tables in Dr. Sawyer's office. Mouths pressed into odd places before dragging elsewhere. Clothing was pulled apart without being completely removed. The lady was either enjoying herself or in serious pain. Her head was thrown back and loud moans filled the room. It went on for a long time, not that the hidden witness was well acquainted with how long this sort of thing usually took.
It finally ended with the two of them slumping together, breathing heavily. The woman petted her companion's hair, whispering softly.
The man pulled reluctantly away, tucking clothing back into place and untangling the cable that tethered him to the doctor's computer. For the first time since the covert spying began his face was clearly revealed. With a faint gasp of panic, the door was pulled closed.
Wraith's head swiveled toward the odd click and he snatched the linkage out of his input port. Everything was set in motion. Guards were filling the corridors and all the compound's security protocols had been shifted to his and Marita's control. Several stored units had been activated, programmed to his cause and were on their way here to take up the job of protecting his lady. That sound however suggested that there was a factor in the laboratory that he hadn't taken into account.
The lock on the door to Dr. Sawyer's special projects area gave way to the code he pressed into the keypad without a hitch. With Marita carefully shielded away from the unknown, Wraith entered a part of the laboratory that had been forbidden to him in the past.
A gun he had confiscated earlier was raised in warning. "Step out where I can see you or I will assume you are hostile and destroy you." The command was loudly spoken.
The form that emerged from cover behind a bit of bulky equipment was both a complete surprise and no surprise at all in different ways. Wraith was accustomed to looking at one version or another of that face in mirrors, on other operatives and on the Mac27s. To see such a juvenile, underdeveloped copy was unique however. Without the broader shoulders and patina of age this particular clone was startling to behold. It couldn't have been aged to more than eighteen or twenty.
Wraith would have to go back into the doctor's files. He had no information on this project. It must have been recorded elsewhere. "What is your designation, clone?"
The young man was balanced warily, as if about to bolt but there was no place for him to go. "You killed Dr. Sawyer then you hacked her computer. I saw you plugged in like a Mac... but Mac's aren't supposed to be able to kill people. What are you?"
Marita stepped forward, speaking clearly as she took in the boy's thin, undernourished body and wild, darting eyes. "We're no threat to you, at the moment," she said.
She knew that some clones had been created to be older, or younger, and had even taken part in some of those experiments. In the bad old days, when she'd been a good Consortium soldier.
But, as she saw the young ones employed as sex toys, and forced to do things, see things that degraded them - put to stress tests and exposed to the Oil, all in hopes of creating a resistant race of clones, she became sickened, and disgusted. Disgusted with the Project, but more so with herself.
She walked towards the thin form slowly, looking at Wraith. "This one is young. He's probably terrified, and hungry. No doubt he's been abused, too. We need to help him. To make up for past sins...He can help us, as well," she added.
"This one is a variable. It is not safe. I should confine or destroy it," Wraith stated. Marita's appalled expression and the look of honest fright on the young man sent a twinge through Wraith. "...but I won't, not if you don't want me to, Marita." The allowance was added on quickly.
It's not like the kid looked dangerous, but then again, looks could so easily be deceiving.
As she saw the youth's eyes widening in fear, she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "My name is Marita Covarrubias. This is my partner, Loren. And also Wraith."
She'd explain that one later.
"Come, you must be hungry. Do you want to go to the cafeteria for something to eat? I'm a bit hungry, myself." She looked at Loren hopefully.
"Or, is there more you have to do here? He and I can certainly find our own way to the cafeteria. Should I bring you back a chocolate bar?"
"You can't go yet. Give me five minutes. I ordered a Mac27 that was in storage up here. I need time to strip away some programming and reconfigure him. You have to be protected Marita."
The young man stared at Wraith in absolute horror, shrinking away.
"It's required." Odd that he felt a need to justify an action he would have done... had done without a second thought in the past. "I wouldn't be able to trust the unit without cleaning it out first." Annoyed, Wraith turned on his heel and stalked back out to the main lab.
She turned back to the youth, hugging him lightly to her side. "What's your name? How old are you? And what was your, ah, position? What had you been doing?"
"Dr. Sawyer called me Phoenix. The others allowed it." He stared at the door Wraith had disappeared through. "I am.." His sentence halted suddenly. "I was her project. I'm classified." Wide eyes turned back to Marita. "That's Wraith? He's not following orders. He's not supposed to be doing these things. He shouldn't have killed Dr. Sawyer. This is all wrong. He needs to be repaired, you know. The doctor said so. There were flaws in his last upload." Her face was studied, Phoenix's head tilting to one side. "Marita Covarrubias. I've seen your file too." Soft lips pushed into a frown. "I am not supposed to have contact with you either. This is all very wrong. You're going to be severely punished for this."
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