Title: Mutable: Chapter Eleven, Part One
***
Chapter
Eleven, Part One
Not everyone’s reaction to
planning the beginnings of their greatest revenge would have been to take a nap,
but Cas wasn’t everyone. He carried a phage, and that phage was starting to
make demands.
In most ways, the phage made Cas
better. It was nearly-impenetrable camouflage, it offered incredible options for
attack, it responded to commands and controls with precision and alacrity. It
was like having a really excellent partner who lived just beneath his skin. In a
few ways, though, the phage was a constant challenge.
The phage had needs, and when those
needs became pressing, it took care of itself first. It didn’t give a damn
about your plans or agenda, it didn’t care if you had someplace you absolutely
had to be, it just took its due. Whether that was making you sleep for three
days straight, eating a ridiculous amount of sugary food, or lying in a hot mud
bath for hours on end, you would pay or you would damage it beyond repair.
The way to forestall that sort of
desperate play by the phage was to take care of yourself while you did your
job, but Cas simply hadn’t had the time or ability to do that lately. If he
didn’t take some time now, though—if he didn’t let himself get a full twelve
hours of sleep, at a minimum—then the phage would stop supporting his shift. He
needed to let it go for longer than the nap he’d gotten earlier, back in Rone’s
tent. He needed to turn back into himself for a while and let the phage, and
his own cells, rest and recover.
He had the time now, but he was
also trapped in this ship, and undoubtedly being monitored by his husband.
Privacy wasn’t something he could reasonably expect—if it wasn’t Rone, then it
might be someone on the medical team. Either way, he couldn’t risk it, so he
needed to come up with a reason to hide his face.
Remembering his last mud bath
gave him an idea. “AI,” he said. “What personal hygiene products are available
for use?”
It listed about ten basic
products: soap, shampoo, exfoliants, antibacterials. Not quite what Cas was
looking for. “Can anything be more specifically synthesized?”
“We do not have that capacity on
board, Consort.”
Lovely. He’d have to make this on
his own, then. “Fine. I need the basic soap, a moisturizing lotion, and a bowl
of cooked oatmeal.”
“I will ensure you are supplied.”
“Thank you.” Joy of joys, it was
time for a facial.
It was a clumsy way to hide a
change in his appearance, but Cas had used it before. As long as he caked
whatever product he was going to wear on thick enough, it would hide the
imperfections in his mask. He and Beren were so close in appearance anyway, it
wouldn’t take much. It would give him the excuse he needed to rest the phage
and keep Rone entertained if he bothered to check on him. Speaking of which… “AI,
how long before my dinner appointment with Rone?”
“Fourteen standard hours.”
Perfect. “Please wake me in thirteen if I’m not already up.”
“I will do so.” The door chimed. “Your
requests have arrived.”
Even better.
It didn’t take long to mix up
something that would render him unrecognizable without harming his skin. Cas
went into the bathroom to apply the paste to his face, caking it on thick
enough that he’d have to let it dry some before lying down. Once he was sure
his coverage was good, he let the phage withdraw, not just relax the way he’d
done earlier. It retreated into itself, deep under the surface, and Cas
resisted the urge to gasp.
Fuck, that hurt. His muscles had
to remember how to take the weight of his own features. He stared at his ridiculous
reflection and willed himself not to cry—there was no phage right now to block
his tear ducts, but by god he wasn’t going to reapply all this shit because he
ruined it with a tear. He’d be fine. He just needed to lie down.
Cas’s whole body ached as he
eased himself onto the bed, the residual damage that the phage had been
compensating for catching up with him. Without it to help manage his reactions,
everything he felt seemed magnified. Cas settled his head back on his pillow
and sighed deeply. Whatever. He was disguised, he had an alarm set, he needed
to sleep. His body would follow suit fast enough.
Only…it wasn’t. He was getting
horny instead.
It fucking figured. First time in
a bed in what felt like ages, the first time letting the phage relax in even
longer, and instead of getting its own much-needed rest, his body decided “woohoo,
time to let loose!” Of course, it had
been something like…weeks…months
since he’d last come, but…
Cas glared down at his erection,
tenting the fabric of the loose pants he wore. It remained unfazed. “Fine,” he
snapped, getting under the top blanket before he shoved his pants down. If there
was an observer checking in on him now, they weren’t going to get a show. “AI,
take the lights down to five percent.”
“Yes, Consort.”
Undoubtedly the place was equipped
with night vision, but every little bit of cover helped. He would just take
care of this fast, and then—
“Ohhh.” It had been a long time since he’d let himself get
hard like this. Just the touch of his own hand made Cas tremble like he’d been punched
in the gut. “Fuck.” He started to bite his lip, then stopped, remembering the mask
covering his face. A mouthful of soap would only make things even more awkward
right now.
All right, fine, it was…kind of
nice. Cas closed his eyes and stroked himself, squeezing tight from tip to
root, no teasing or playing around. He wasn’t in it for something long and
languorous—he needed to get off and get to sleep. Up, down, up, down, fucking
up into his fist a little bit as he thought of nothing much at all, nothing
except—
--Rone’s broad shoulders
straining the fabric of his uniform, and that smiling mouth, and how good it
would be sliding down his cock and—
No. No indulging in using his husband as mental candy, he was using
the man enough already. Cas was going to seduce him, wanted to lock him in
tight before he started the next phase of his operation, but that didn’t mean
he had to be a little shit about it.
It’ll go better with you being attracted to him, the logical side
of his mind somehow found the blood flow to say. Might as well get used to coming with him on your mind.
Fine. Then this was going to be
over very quickly.
If Cas had his way—if he didn’t
have to pretend to be Beren, who would be shy and suggestible in bed, then he
would put his handsome husband on his back, spend about an hour opening him up
with his fingers and tongue and whatever they had on hand that would fit inside
of him, then fuck him so hard he couldn’t breathe. He’d bend Rone’s knees back
until they touched his ears and use the phage to keep himself hard, to delay
coming until he’d made Rone spill at least twice, then—and only then—let go.
There was nothing better than riding that edge, making your lover both
satisfied and desperate until finally—
“Mmmmmm…” He came as quietly as he could manage, only remembering at
the last second that when he didn’t have the phage, he couldn’t control whether
he actually ejaculated or not as he orgasmed. And this time, whoa, did he ever.
“Shit.” He’d made a mess of this
blanket. He should clean it up, but…damn, he was tired now. And there were two
more of them.
Cas shoved the messy blanket off
to the side of the bed, pulled another one up, settled back carefully enough
that his mask stayed in place, and finally let himself fall asleep the way his
body was screaming for.
He’d better damn well wake up
before Rone got in here and saw all this.
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