Title: Pandora
Part Twenty-Seven, 1 of 2: Reactionary
Notes: This is the next part of a spin-off story of a series I posted on Literotica (titled Bonded, as Carizabeth) and the subject matter is m/m sci fi. I know this is a short post, but I had to get something up before Thanksgiving or feel like a total bum. The second half of this part is almost done and will be up shortly. Longer too, I’m thinkin’.
PS-Happy Thanksgiving! Wait…what will I do without turkey cooked in a dutch oven?
***
Garrett tended to take most things in stride following his lengthy stay in a rehabilitation clinic as a teenager. The part of him that responded with the strongest emotions, the part that was responsible for real outrage and unspeakable joy, that part had been dulled to calm his brain and level his mood. Garrett still enjoyed a good fight and recent events had shown that he could still be depressed when the tragic or the unexpected hit, but for the most part he considered himself remarkably even-keeled. So experiencing real shock and surprise wasn’t something that happened very often, and after the last few weeks he’d had he didn’t expect to experience any more unless something miraculous happened.
It didn’t end u being miraculous, but what Garrett found out was a hell of a surprise.
He was eating breakfast with Claudia when he got the news. Therese was cutting up fresh fruit at the counter, Claudia was sipping tea and watching with amused eyes as Garrett tried to feed Renee from a bottle.
“She’s squirmy,” he muttered, trying to get the nipple to her mouth but missing and hitting her cheek instead as she wiggled in the cradle of his arm.
“She’s hungry,” Claudia corrected with a grin. “She feeds from a bottle all the time, Gare, you can do this.”
“It’s not the feeding, it’s the holding and feeding simultaneously,” Garrett said, trying and missing Renee’s mouth again. She wailed and waved her arms. “You’ve either got to hold still for this, honey, or we’ve got to get some tie-downs.” Finally he got the nipple to her mouth and relaxed as Renee started to suck voraciously. “Damn, you are an eating machine, aren’t you?”
“Garrett,” Claudia chided him gently. “Come on, it can’t be that surprising. Don’t you feed Cody?”
“Cody is six. I can call up a meal for him and sit by and watch him eat it and yeah, he too is an eating machine but I don’t have to do the feeding. Except for cutting things up into bites, sometimes.”
“He sounds like a good kid.”
“He’s a great kid,” Garrett agreed. The last time he and Cody had had breakfast it had been just the two of them; Jonah had been on shift, flying shuttles inland. They’d eaten waffles delivered from the ship’s kitchen and tried to balance their forks together over the top of a bottle. Things had been strained between the adults but Cody was happily oblivious, and the ease that Garrett had interacting with him was a palpable relief. Cody was so easy. So happy.
“You miss him? You could call them,” Claudia offered.
“Not right now,” Garrett said. “Later.” Later.
“Are you sure? I bet it would do you good to see a friendly face.”
“It would,” Garrett said. Then, just to be an ass, he continued, “Like Isidore. Does he still work here? I haven’t heard any mention of him for a few months.”
When he looked up from Renee, Garrett was surprised to see Claudia’s complexion draining to a pallid white. “Oh…oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you…I thought you knew, but I shouldn’t have assumed that.”
“Tell me what?” Garrett’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. He wasn’t in love with Isidore, but he did like him. “Is he dead?”
“No…no, Gare, he…Isidore is a suspect.”
This time Garrett’s stomach dropped clean out of his body with shock. Isidore Cain was a suspect in a terrorist attack? Adorable, gentle, ridiculously appealing Isidore? Whom Garrett had recommended to Wyl as a mechanic? No fucking way. Apart from all the other reasons, Garrett’s ability to judge people could not possibly be that bad. “He’s a suspect? Claudia, Isidore is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. He is not the kind of person to smuggle explosives into the governor’s military base and blow up his fucking motor pool!”
“Language,” Therese said severely, and came over and took Renee and the bottle out of his arms. She left the kitchen and left Claudia shifting in her seat, not really meeting Garrett’s eyes.
“No, it’s not that he did the blowing-up himself, but he let the person in who did,” she continued. “The cameras showed that it was his cousin. Isidore let him into the compound because he said he was delivering parts for a custom bike that Isidore and Wyl were putting together in their spare time. But instead he had a bomb, concealed in the machinery so the surface scans at the gate didn’t see it, and he set it next to the generator. He was killed in the explosion.”
“I do remember that.” Claudia had left him a message detailing that part while Garrett was engaged in his mad dash back to Paradise. “But that doesn’t mean that Isidore had anything to do with his cousin’s insanity. I can’t believe it.”
“I know.” Well, huh. Garrett had been expecting a bit of a fight about that. “I mean, I know Isidore, Gare, and I don’t think he had any involvement other than letting his cousin inside. But his father’s half of the family has a lot of ties to the resistance, it was one of the things that bothered Jane about hiring him in the first place but Wyl talked her into it.
“Once Robbie made the connection, he put Isidore into a holding cell. I know that he’s talked to him several times, but Isidore hadn’t been released yet. Robbie wanted to hold him as an enemy combatant.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Garrett pushed to his feet, anger surging through him. “If Robbie questioned him, then he’s already gotten everything he possibly can out of him. Robbie’s interrogations could make a robot beg for its maker and Isidore isn’t a criminal, he wouldn’t try to lie. He wouldn’t want to. He should be let go. He should at least be given legal counsel.” Garrett paced back and forth for a moment, then whirled to look at Claudia again. “I need to speak to him.”
“The guards won’t let you in, Gare,” Claudia said with a sigh. “They’re under orders not to.”
“Then I need to talk to Robbie. He gets back in today, right?”
“Garrett…” Claudia sighed, stood up and came over to him, placing a hand on his arm. “It was chaos. Robbie had to take control and fast, and Wyl had been injured and he was put almost immediately into a Regen chamber, you know how much harder he experiences everything and he just couldn’t take it. They barely had a chance to speak before Wyl went under, and everything was just…it was very hard, Gare, and it’s still so hard for Robbie.”
“I get that, Claudia, but that isn’t an excuse for him being an idiot.”
“You have to be kind, Garrett.”
“I plan on being kind, honey.” Garrett squeezed her shoulder gently before turning and heading towards his room. With Robbie, though, kind could mean giving him a swift kick in the ass, literally. To get away with that, Garrett had to be prepared.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Visiting Lisabet
Hi guys!
I'm guest blogging on Lisabet Sarai's website today, and I would love for you to visit me there. Odds are I could even respond to comments on her blog, unlike mine (#@%$*&). I talk a little about Africa and irony and circular living, which I just made up. Other people may call it karma:)
Check it out here: http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2011/11/wow-thats-ironic.html
More Pandora will be up soon, promise. I'm finally bringing Robbie back into the mix, so that should be fun.
I'm guest blogging on Lisabet Sarai's website today, and I would love for you to visit me there. Odds are I could even respond to comments on her blog, unlike mine (#@%$*&). I talk a little about Africa and irony and circular living, which I just made up. Other people may call it karma:)
Check it out here: http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2011/11/wow-thats-ironic.html
More Pandora will be up soon, promise. I'm finally bringing Robbie back into the mix, so that should be fun.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
A Few Small Things...
Just so you know...
Cat and Karen, email me! Don't you want your contest schwag? Mmm, delicious schwag. So tasty.
For those who have asked, Pandora has about 5 parts left to go. Not entirely sure about that number, but it's somewhere in there. I hope it'll be done before the end of the year. After I can stomach reading the entire thing again and get it edited, I'll post it in much larger parts on Literotica.
And speaking of that...what the hell will I post on this blog next?
I have no idea which of the many ideas I've got that I'll go with. New genre? Another spinoff? Something different entirely? Less of a lengthy and agonizing WIP? I know there are people out there who would appreciate that. Whatever I end up going with, I have no plans to stop posting free stories, here or on Lit. That's how I got my start, after all, and it's where I try out the new things that interest me. Plus I'm full of love for my readers;)
Anyway, time for bed. Sweet dreams.
PS--someday, I will have a real website with my own domain, where I don't have to lose wrestling matches with blogger over answering comments on my own darn blog. I can already feel the air of "grown-up" waiting to descend upon me.
Cat and Karen, email me! Don't you want your contest schwag? Mmm, delicious schwag. So tasty.
For those who have asked, Pandora has about 5 parts left to go. Not entirely sure about that number, but it's somewhere in there. I hope it'll be done before the end of the year. After I can stomach reading the entire thing again and get it edited, I'll post it in much larger parts on Literotica.
And speaking of that...what the hell will I post on this blog next?
I have no idea which of the many ideas I've got that I'll go with. New genre? Another spinoff? Something different entirely? Less of a lengthy and agonizing WIP? I know there are people out there who would appreciate that. Whatever I end up going with, I have no plans to stop posting free stories, here or on Lit. That's how I got my start, after all, and it's where I try out the new things that interest me. Plus I'm full of love for my readers;)
Anyway, time for bed. Sweet dreams.
PS--someday, I will have a real website with my own domain, where I don't have to lose wrestling matches with blogger over answering comments on my own darn blog. I can already feel the air of "grown-up" waiting to descend upon me.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Pandora Post #26
Title: Pandora
Part Twenty-Six: An Insomniac’s R&R
Notes: This is the next part of a spin-off story of a series I posted on Literotica (titled Bonded, as Carizabeth) and the subject matter is m/m sci fi. And this chapter is R, semi-superfluous R all the way. Did this chapter really need to be? I say yes, and to hell with furthering the plot:)
***
It was some crazy combination of luck, overall good or bad Garrett couldn’t tell, when he found out that Robbie was in the city and wouldn’t be back until the next day. He left a note on Robbie’s door, a message on his com and instructions for his adjutant to let Robbie know the instant he was back that Garrett wanted to talk to him.
His main plan sidelined, Garrett considered going and visiting Wyl, but Wyl probably didn’t have a microphone in the side of his Regen chamber. Besides, the thought of even pretending to converse with Wyl when he couldn’t talk back was just…wrong, somehow. Wyl never wanted for words, and Garrett didn’t want to sit there and stew in silence about how close his friend had come to losing his life entirely. Garrett would have checked in on Claudia again, but Therese very firmly told him that both Claudia and Renee were sleeping, and wouldn’t he like to get some sleep himself?
“Claudia had the guest room readied for you,” Therese added, trying to look conciliatory and failing miserably while wearing fatigues and fingering the hilt of a long-bladed shedskin knife. It was the kind of specialty close-combat knife that left a thin layer of the blade itself behind in a wound when you stuck someone with it so the wound didn’t close, and it looked completely incongruous on a woman with a cup of china cup of bright pink tea in her other hand.
“Is there anyone around for you to use that thing on?” Garrett asked, gesturing towards the weapon.
“You never know,” Therese replied with all seriousness.
“Right…” Garrett decided that a retreat was called for and made his way back into the guest room. Miles and Claudia would have given it to him when he was living on Paradise before, but Garrett had always preferred sleeping on his ship. That wasn’t going to be an option for a while, though, and he took a few minutes to get the room, more of a suite really, the way he liked it. The walls became a kaleidoscope of color, the corners darkening to an indigo that spread out across the ceiling and floor. The bed was soft and incredibly inviting, and once Garrett lay down he found that it was impossible to even contemplate getting up. He stared up at the indigo ceiling, unmoving, for a long moment before exerting himself enough to reach over to the computer terminal next to the bed and switch it to voice activation.
“Yes, sir?”
“Project a star chart of the Castellus region of the Fringe on the ceiling.”
A moment later the star chart popped up, Pandora and a dozen other planets springing into view as they circled a red giant sun. Only two of the other planets were remotely hospitable to humans, and neither had been settled yet. Neither of them were Garrett’s concern.
“Zoom in.”
The chart obediently became larger.
“Zoom in.”
It bloomed larger still.
“Center on Pandora.”
The swirling blue planet came to life, the clouds moving across it as though it was a true picture of Pandora itself and not just a representation. Garrett stared for a long time at the picture before he whispered, “Zoom in.”
The planet loomed larger above the bed, taking up more than half of his ceiling. It was a holographic projection, and from this angle Garrett felt like he could almost reach out and brush his fingers through the trailing clouds. He almost tried it, just to imagine the coolness, but he stopped himself at the last second.
He shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t think about them. This dry desert planet was his world right now, fucking Paradise and the heap of trouble it had made for his family. That other world, a world of rain and cold and the most addictive comfort Garrett had ever known, was in his past, at least for now. He really, really shouldn’t think about them.
He shouldn’t because it was shameful. Every second he had slept on his way back to his family, his father and stepmother and brand new baby sister, Garrett had dreamed not of the people he was heading towards, but of the ones he was leaving behind. Jonah, tall, drawling, handsome when you first met him and captivating when you studied him, fearfully protective and welcoming all at once. And Cody, Jonah’s son, his beautiful damaged child. Born to die young. Bright eyes, bright hair, open heart…Cody had never been afraid to tell Garrett what he thought, even when it meant saying that he loved him. That was the last think Cody had said to Garrett before he left Pandora, that he loved him. The kid was braver than both his father or his father’s lover, that was for sure.
Fuck, Garrett didn’t want to think about them, but he couldn’t not think about them when he didn’t have control of his own mind, when he let himself sleep. It felt like a betrayal to his family here that he couldn’t give his all to them when they needed him. He could give his body and his will, but his mind and heart were hopelessly divided. Hopelessly. Hopeless. Kind of like how he felt right now.
Don’t say that, darlin’.
Garrett groaned and rolled over on the bed, resolutely shutting his eyes. “Don’t tell me what to think, jerk,” he muttered. “I want to wallow.”
Too bad. You’re tired, Garrett. Go to sleep.
“No. You’re always there when I sleep.”
Hate to break it to you like this, darlin’, but I’m always there anyway. Awake, asleep…love doesn’t let go. You can’t let it go either.
“I can get over you eventually,” Garrett insisted to himself, but the words were literally painful to force out of his mouth. “Fuck,” he hissed into the pillow. “Fuuuuck.”
Garrett knew that his Shoulder-Jonah, whether modeled after an angel or a devil, was right either way. He couldn’t just make himself stop thinking about them. It was too soon, he was too raw, and he was so tired right now, so incredibly tired…but now that he was in bed and thinking about Jonah he couldn’t stop, and surprisingly his libido didn’t seem to be nearly as tired as the rest of him. Garrett kept his face turned resolutely against the cool fabric of the pillow, but his hips pressed closer to the bed when he thought about the last time he and Jonah were together. Intimately together, at least.
Jonah was, and had always been, a top. His ex husband must have loved getting fucked because Jack had never even broached the subject with Jonah, if the man’s nervous reaction when Garrett first asked was anything to go by. Garrett had dropped it for the time being, happy just to be getting laid by Jonah as often as he was, which wasn’t nearly often enough with Cody around, but that was the way it had to be. After he lost his eyes Garrett took comfort in letting Jonah into him, in letting himself be touched and loved and cared for so intimately. He didn’t even think about asking for things to go the other way. Once he was whole again though, and once the tension started to rise as Jonah and Cody got ready to move, the idea came back to him. Garrett wanted to be the giver for once, not the taker. He wanted to make Jonah fall apart beneath him instead of falling for the other man. He wanted to fuck him.
Garrett hadn’t planned on bringing it up, though. Doing so would have smacked too much of resentful, last hurrah sex, of angry-ending sex, for him to broach it while things were so awkward between them. He didn’t want things to end, damn it, he didn’t want them to change at all, but Jonah and his son were moving on and moving out just like they’d always intended, and Garrett felt like all he could do was scramble to keep pace and try not to trip. So he left everything else the way it was as much as he could, despite wanting more. Funny enough, it was just when he was at his most accepting, just a few nights before Claudia called about the accident, that Jonah decided he wanted it.
In retrospect, Garrett should have known that something more was bothering his lover than this final aspect of his virginity. Garrett probably had known, subconsciously, but he hadn’t wanted to think about what Jonah was trying to tell him with subtext while they were lying naked in bed and all of a sudden Jonah was handing over the lube.
Garrett had raised one eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, delight edging his words.
“Been thinkin’ about it for a while,” Jonah replied. The lights were low but Garrett could feel the heat in his lover’s face, and the increasingly rapid beat of his heart. “I think I want it. With you.”
“Jonah…” Garrett straddled his lover’s hips and devoured his mouth, whispering in between kisses how good he was going to make it, how wonderful it would feel. He stroked over Jonah’s chest and arms and rubbed against the heat of his groin until all the nervous tension was gone, and only the needy tension, the kind that drew muscles so taut until they trembled for release, was left.
Garrett started with a finger. With other lovers he would have turned them onto their stomachs and lifted their hips, rimmed them until they were screaming for his cock, but Jonah needed different handling. You didn’t start with exotic with him, you didn’t leap for the new. The more they made love, the more Jonah wanted a connection to Garrett, until he almost never took him from behind unless Garrett specifically asked, because Jonah always wanted to see his face, wanted to kiss him and watch him and own every inch of him as they moved together. It was a desire that Garrett never got tired of, this feeling that if they had the time Jonah would be happy just being there with him, holding him and looking at him and delighting in the fact that they were together. It was a desire so frightening that Garrett had to try not to think about it, for fear that he’d start wanting it too.
One finger, one slippery finger moved in slow circles around Jonah’s hole, not penetrating, just stroking. Garrett stopped kissing him and just focused on his lover’s reactions, timing every movement of his hand to Jonah’s breathing and the minute quivers that rocked him. “Do you like this?” he asked. Garrett never had to ask to know, but he wanted to share that control with Jonah.
“I like it,” Jonah whispered, and Garrett eased his finger inside, pausing to savor the so-tight heat and watch thoughts flutter across Jonah’s face. They weren’t all comfortable ones. Garrett could have distracted his lover with a blowjob and stretched him on the sly, but for some reason he wanted them both to be completely present for this. He moved his finger gently, feeling the ring of muscle cling stubbornly, and he kissed Jonah’s cheek. “Relax, sweetheart.”
A few deep breaths later and Jonah did, prompting a grin from Garrett. He worked his single finger in and out, in, out, penetrating over and over until it was easy before adding a second one. Jonah’s hole clenched again, tugging him inside, and Garrett had to bite his lip and moan through his teeth at the feel of it. Slowly Jonah relaxed, slowly Garrett began to move and then he asked, “Do you like this?”
“I like it,” Jonah replied, a little breathless but more genuine now, almost eager for it. “Don’t stop.”
“I couldn’t stop,” Garrett told him honestly. He worked his two fingers with shallow thrusts, curling just enough to touch Jonah’s prostate and smiling when Jonah’s eyes went wide, and his breath stuttered in his chest.
“Holy shit,” Jonah muttered.
“Glad to hear it,” Garrett said. He added more lubricant and then a third finger, and this time Jonah didn’t wince, didn’t even hesitate as he began to move, tentatively, against Garrett’s hand. His eyes fluttered closed as Garrett stroked over and over that sweet spot inside of him, and once he started moaning Garrett’s patience was just about gone. He pulled his fingers out one at a time, watching as startlement flashed to regret and then understanding. Garrett slicked his cock, then asked, “How do you want it? It can be easier if you’re on your knees.”
Jonah laughed a little. “What do you think?”
“I think you want it just like this, you little attention slut” Garrett teased him. “So you can watch me make you go insane.”
“Might be nice too,” Jonah admitted, and then his grin went slack as Garrett eased his legs up and open and pressed in close against him. Close, but not penetrating him. Not yet. Garrett rubbed the head of his cock against Jonah’s crease, coming so close to slipping inside but not letting himself. God, he could come just like this, shoot all over Jonah’s ass and embarrass the hell out of himself, and it was so tempting because he knew it would feel so good. Being inside Jonah, though…that would feel incredible.
“C’mon, darlin’,” Jonah urged, rocking up against him. That was all the extra incentive he needed and Garrett pushed forward, slowly, past clinging muscles and into the pulsing reality that was being inside of Jonah. Fuck, he could feel Jonah’s heartbeat, feel it match the pulse point jumping in his neck. Garrett laid one of his hands against that pulse point, cupping Jonah’s face while supporting them with the other one, so he wouldn’t bend his lover in half.
“Garrett,” Jonah said, but it was all he managed before Garrett moved and his voice broke into pieces. A few thrusts and Jonah was reduced to mere syllables, simple sounds like “ah” and “mmm” and Garrett’s favorite, a wondrous, shocked kind of “ohh” that reassured Garrett with the pure pleasure it represented.
Garrett thrust deeper into Jonah’s heat, harder and faster as he realized just how close to the edge he was. Jonah would come the second Garrett touched him, he knew it, he just had to draw it out a little more, a little more…but he felt his own climax coming on fast. Leaning forward, he kissed Jonah’s swollen lips, then whispered, “Do you like this?”
“Love it,” Jonah groaned, “Fuck, I love it, Garrett, please, ohh…” He lost his words and Garrett lost his control. He slid his hand from Jonah’s face to his cock and stroked it once just before he thrust one last time and came, his orgasm streaming out of him and into his lover, pouring all of his hidden love and want and need with it. He barely noticed when Jonah came as well, gasping and saying his name. They hung there for a long, slow moment, both of them aching with the shared onslaught of pleasure, before Garrett finally came down and pulled out.
He curled up next to Jonah and buried his face in his lover’s neck, his throat suddenly stopped up with the intensity of too many unspoken words. So good and perfect and more and the leviathan, I love you, beat at Garrett’s vocal cords, trying to force their way past his stubborn tongue. He beat them all back, breathing slowly and deeply, soothing himself with the scent of his lover until he was back under control. Garrett cleared his throat.
“So. Do you think you’ll want that again?”
Jonah laughed weakly. “Only about as often as I’m layin’ down, darlin’.”
This bed smelled nothing like Jonah. It didn’t feel like their bed, it didn’t carry Jonah’s heat or imprint, and the room didn’t echo with his voice. But the memory of a bed that did, and everything they had done in it, sent Garrett’s reeling mind into a tailspin, and he came with a gasp and a shudder into the soft coldness beneath him. He would have moved, he might have screamed, but sly exhaustion finally won and before Garrett could do anything else, he was unconscious.
Part Twenty-Six: An Insomniac’s R&R
Notes: This is the next part of a spin-off story of a series I posted on Literotica (titled Bonded, as Carizabeth) and the subject matter is m/m sci fi. And this chapter is R, semi-superfluous R all the way. Did this chapter really need to be? I say yes, and to hell with furthering the plot:)
***
It was some crazy combination of luck, overall good or bad Garrett couldn’t tell, when he found out that Robbie was in the city and wouldn’t be back until the next day. He left a note on Robbie’s door, a message on his com and instructions for his adjutant to let Robbie know the instant he was back that Garrett wanted to talk to him.
His main plan sidelined, Garrett considered going and visiting Wyl, but Wyl probably didn’t have a microphone in the side of his Regen chamber. Besides, the thought of even pretending to converse with Wyl when he couldn’t talk back was just…wrong, somehow. Wyl never wanted for words, and Garrett didn’t want to sit there and stew in silence about how close his friend had come to losing his life entirely. Garrett would have checked in on Claudia again, but Therese very firmly told him that both Claudia and Renee were sleeping, and wouldn’t he like to get some sleep himself?
“Claudia had the guest room readied for you,” Therese added, trying to look conciliatory and failing miserably while wearing fatigues and fingering the hilt of a long-bladed shedskin knife. It was the kind of specialty close-combat knife that left a thin layer of the blade itself behind in a wound when you stuck someone with it so the wound didn’t close, and it looked completely incongruous on a woman with a cup of china cup of bright pink tea in her other hand.
“Is there anyone around for you to use that thing on?” Garrett asked, gesturing towards the weapon.
“You never know,” Therese replied with all seriousness.
“Right…” Garrett decided that a retreat was called for and made his way back into the guest room. Miles and Claudia would have given it to him when he was living on Paradise before, but Garrett had always preferred sleeping on his ship. That wasn’t going to be an option for a while, though, and he took a few minutes to get the room, more of a suite really, the way he liked it. The walls became a kaleidoscope of color, the corners darkening to an indigo that spread out across the ceiling and floor. The bed was soft and incredibly inviting, and once Garrett lay down he found that it was impossible to even contemplate getting up. He stared up at the indigo ceiling, unmoving, for a long moment before exerting himself enough to reach over to the computer terminal next to the bed and switch it to voice activation.
“Yes, sir?”
“Project a star chart of the Castellus region of the Fringe on the ceiling.”
A moment later the star chart popped up, Pandora and a dozen other planets springing into view as they circled a red giant sun. Only two of the other planets were remotely hospitable to humans, and neither had been settled yet. Neither of them were Garrett’s concern.
“Zoom in.”
The chart obediently became larger.
“Zoom in.”
It bloomed larger still.
“Center on Pandora.”
The swirling blue planet came to life, the clouds moving across it as though it was a true picture of Pandora itself and not just a representation. Garrett stared for a long time at the picture before he whispered, “Zoom in.”
The planet loomed larger above the bed, taking up more than half of his ceiling. It was a holographic projection, and from this angle Garrett felt like he could almost reach out and brush his fingers through the trailing clouds. He almost tried it, just to imagine the coolness, but he stopped himself at the last second.
He shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t think about them. This dry desert planet was his world right now, fucking Paradise and the heap of trouble it had made for his family. That other world, a world of rain and cold and the most addictive comfort Garrett had ever known, was in his past, at least for now. He really, really shouldn’t think about them.
He shouldn’t because it was shameful. Every second he had slept on his way back to his family, his father and stepmother and brand new baby sister, Garrett had dreamed not of the people he was heading towards, but of the ones he was leaving behind. Jonah, tall, drawling, handsome when you first met him and captivating when you studied him, fearfully protective and welcoming all at once. And Cody, Jonah’s son, his beautiful damaged child. Born to die young. Bright eyes, bright hair, open heart…Cody had never been afraid to tell Garrett what he thought, even when it meant saying that he loved him. That was the last think Cody had said to Garrett before he left Pandora, that he loved him. The kid was braver than both his father or his father’s lover, that was for sure.
Fuck, Garrett didn’t want to think about them, but he couldn’t not think about them when he didn’t have control of his own mind, when he let himself sleep. It felt like a betrayal to his family here that he couldn’t give his all to them when they needed him. He could give his body and his will, but his mind and heart were hopelessly divided. Hopelessly. Hopeless. Kind of like how he felt right now.
Don’t say that, darlin’.
Garrett groaned and rolled over on the bed, resolutely shutting his eyes. “Don’t tell me what to think, jerk,” he muttered. “I want to wallow.”
Too bad. You’re tired, Garrett. Go to sleep.
“No. You’re always there when I sleep.”
Hate to break it to you like this, darlin’, but I’m always there anyway. Awake, asleep…love doesn’t let go. You can’t let it go either.
“I can get over you eventually,” Garrett insisted to himself, but the words were literally painful to force out of his mouth. “Fuck,” he hissed into the pillow. “Fuuuuck.”
Garrett knew that his Shoulder-Jonah, whether modeled after an angel or a devil, was right either way. He couldn’t just make himself stop thinking about them. It was too soon, he was too raw, and he was so tired right now, so incredibly tired…but now that he was in bed and thinking about Jonah he couldn’t stop, and surprisingly his libido didn’t seem to be nearly as tired as the rest of him. Garrett kept his face turned resolutely against the cool fabric of the pillow, but his hips pressed closer to the bed when he thought about the last time he and Jonah were together. Intimately together, at least.
Jonah was, and had always been, a top. His ex husband must have loved getting fucked because Jack had never even broached the subject with Jonah, if the man’s nervous reaction when Garrett first asked was anything to go by. Garrett had dropped it for the time being, happy just to be getting laid by Jonah as often as he was, which wasn’t nearly often enough with Cody around, but that was the way it had to be. After he lost his eyes Garrett took comfort in letting Jonah into him, in letting himself be touched and loved and cared for so intimately. He didn’t even think about asking for things to go the other way. Once he was whole again though, and once the tension started to rise as Jonah and Cody got ready to move, the idea came back to him. Garrett wanted to be the giver for once, not the taker. He wanted to make Jonah fall apart beneath him instead of falling for the other man. He wanted to fuck him.
Garrett hadn’t planned on bringing it up, though. Doing so would have smacked too much of resentful, last hurrah sex, of angry-ending sex, for him to broach it while things were so awkward between them. He didn’t want things to end, damn it, he didn’t want them to change at all, but Jonah and his son were moving on and moving out just like they’d always intended, and Garrett felt like all he could do was scramble to keep pace and try not to trip. So he left everything else the way it was as much as he could, despite wanting more. Funny enough, it was just when he was at his most accepting, just a few nights before Claudia called about the accident, that Jonah decided he wanted it.
In retrospect, Garrett should have known that something more was bothering his lover than this final aspect of his virginity. Garrett probably had known, subconsciously, but he hadn’t wanted to think about what Jonah was trying to tell him with subtext while they were lying naked in bed and all of a sudden Jonah was handing over the lube.
Garrett had raised one eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, delight edging his words.
“Been thinkin’ about it for a while,” Jonah replied. The lights were low but Garrett could feel the heat in his lover’s face, and the increasingly rapid beat of his heart. “I think I want it. With you.”
“Jonah…” Garrett straddled his lover’s hips and devoured his mouth, whispering in between kisses how good he was going to make it, how wonderful it would feel. He stroked over Jonah’s chest and arms and rubbed against the heat of his groin until all the nervous tension was gone, and only the needy tension, the kind that drew muscles so taut until they trembled for release, was left.
Garrett started with a finger. With other lovers he would have turned them onto their stomachs and lifted their hips, rimmed them until they were screaming for his cock, but Jonah needed different handling. You didn’t start with exotic with him, you didn’t leap for the new. The more they made love, the more Jonah wanted a connection to Garrett, until he almost never took him from behind unless Garrett specifically asked, because Jonah always wanted to see his face, wanted to kiss him and watch him and own every inch of him as they moved together. It was a desire that Garrett never got tired of, this feeling that if they had the time Jonah would be happy just being there with him, holding him and looking at him and delighting in the fact that they were together. It was a desire so frightening that Garrett had to try not to think about it, for fear that he’d start wanting it too.
One finger, one slippery finger moved in slow circles around Jonah’s hole, not penetrating, just stroking. Garrett stopped kissing him and just focused on his lover’s reactions, timing every movement of his hand to Jonah’s breathing and the minute quivers that rocked him. “Do you like this?” he asked. Garrett never had to ask to know, but he wanted to share that control with Jonah.
“I like it,” Jonah whispered, and Garrett eased his finger inside, pausing to savor the so-tight heat and watch thoughts flutter across Jonah’s face. They weren’t all comfortable ones. Garrett could have distracted his lover with a blowjob and stretched him on the sly, but for some reason he wanted them both to be completely present for this. He moved his finger gently, feeling the ring of muscle cling stubbornly, and he kissed Jonah’s cheek. “Relax, sweetheart.”
A few deep breaths later and Jonah did, prompting a grin from Garrett. He worked his single finger in and out, in, out, penetrating over and over until it was easy before adding a second one. Jonah’s hole clenched again, tugging him inside, and Garrett had to bite his lip and moan through his teeth at the feel of it. Slowly Jonah relaxed, slowly Garrett began to move and then he asked, “Do you like this?”
“I like it,” Jonah replied, a little breathless but more genuine now, almost eager for it. “Don’t stop.”
“I couldn’t stop,” Garrett told him honestly. He worked his two fingers with shallow thrusts, curling just enough to touch Jonah’s prostate and smiling when Jonah’s eyes went wide, and his breath stuttered in his chest.
“Holy shit,” Jonah muttered.
“Glad to hear it,” Garrett said. He added more lubricant and then a third finger, and this time Jonah didn’t wince, didn’t even hesitate as he began to move, tentatively, against Garrett’s hand. His eyes fluttered closed as Garrett stroked over and over that sweet spot inside of him, and once he started moaning Garrett’s patience was just about gone. He pulled his fingers out one at a time, watching as startlement flashed to regret and then understanding. Garrett slicked his cock, then asked, “How do you want it? It can be easier if you’re on your knees.”
Jonah laughed a little. “What do you think?”
“I think you want it just like this, you little attention slut” Garrett teased him. “So you can watch me make you go insane.”
“Might be nice too,” Jonah admitted, and then his grin went slack as Garrett eased his legs up and open and pressed in close against him. Close, but not penetrating him. Not yet. Garrett rubbed the head of his cock against Jonah’s crease, coming so close to slipping inside but not letting himself. God, he could come just like this, shoot all over Jonah’s ass and embarrass the hell out of himself, and it was so tempting because he knew it would feel so good. Being inside Jonah, though…that would feel incredible.
“C’mon, darlin’,” Jonah urged, rocking up against him. That was all the extra incentive he needed and Garrett pushed forward, slowly, past clinging muscles and into the pulsing reality that was being inside of Jonah. Fuck, he could feel Jonah’s heartbeat, feel it match the pulse point jumping in his neck. Garrett laid one of his hands against that pulse point, cupping Jonah’s face while supporting them with the other one, so he wouldn’t bend his lover in half.
“Garrett,” Jonah said, but it was all he managed before Garrett moved and his voice broke into pieces. A few thrusts and Jonah was reduced to mere syllables, simple sounds like “ah” and “mmm” and Garrett’s favorite, a wondrous, shocked kind of “ohh” that reassured Garrett with the pure pleasure it represented.
Garrett thrust deeper into Jonah’s heat, harder and faster as he realized just how close to the edge he was. Jonah would come the second Garrett touched him, he knew it, he just had to draw it out a little more, a little more…but he felt his own climax coming on fast. Leaning forward, he kissed Jonah’s swollen lips, then whispered, “Do you like this?”
“Love it,” Jonah groaned, “Fuck, I love it, Garrett, please, ohh…” He lost his words and Garrett lost his control. He slid his hand from Jonah’s face to his cock and stroked it once just before he thrust one last time and came, his orgasm streaming out of him and into his lover, pouring all of his hidden love and want and need with it. He barely noticed when Jonah came as well, gasping and saying his name. They hung there for a long, slow moment, both of them aching with the shared onslaught of pleasure, before Garrett finally came down and pulled out.
He curled up next to Jonah and buried his face in his lover’s neck, his throat suddenly stopped up with the intensity of too many unspoken words. So good and perfect and more and the leviathan, I love you, beat at Garrett’s vocal cords, trying to force their way past his stubborn tongue. He beat them all back, breathing slowly and deeply, soothing himself with the scent of his lover until he was back under control. Garrett cleared his throat.
“So. Do you think you’ll want that again?”
Jonah laughed weakly. “Only about as often as I’m layin’ down, darlin’.”
This bed smelled nothing like Jonah. It didn’t feel like their bed, it didn’t carry Jonah’s heat or imprint, and the room didn’t echo with his voice. But the memory of a bed that did, and everything they had done in it, sent Garrett’s reeling mind into a tailspin, and he came with a gasp and a shudder into the soft coldness beneath him. He would have moved, he might have screamed, but sly exhaustion finally won and before Garrett could do anything else, he was unconscious.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Contest Results (and a word on Pandora)
8 am Colorado time is here. Contest over! And did you guys ever know how to work it! Five commenters means five winners. Tiffany, Jana, Irina, Cat and Karen, you guys are the best. Thanks for playing, thanks for commenting, now I need you to email me your pick. Any one of my ebooks, a paperback book (either Wild Passions, Myths and Magic or Making Contact) or beta rights. carizabeth@hotmail.com, ladies. I can't wait to hear from you.
And for the people who read my blog for the writing (I know you're out there), the next post I make will be the next piece of Pandora. (Thanks for all the lovely words about that, by the way. I'm glad so many people like it.) We'e nearing the end. I can smell the finish line:)
Thanks to all of you who visit. You make me smile. More importantly, you make me write.
And for the people who read my blog for the writing (I know you're out there), the next post I make will be the next piece of Pandora. (Thanks for all the lovely words about that, by the way. I'm glad so many people like it.) We'e nearing the end. I can smell the finish line:)
Thanks to all of you who visit. You make me smile. More importantly, you make me write.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Release Day Contest
Ha, I didn't forget! Today is the release of A Blinded Mind from Dreamspinner Press, yay!
So cool...it's the longest thing I've ever published, not including Literotica stuff.
Below is a link to my new release page on Dreampsinner.
So many choices! What can I say, I'm a giver and this is my first contest ever, so I just want to see who's out there. Happy Tuesday, guys.
And btw, it's snowing again. Way to kick a drought, Colorado. I've moved up in the world though, I now have a fleecy jacket. Still no gloves and hat, but they're on my To Do list..
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
A Blinded Mind snippet
From Chapter Six. It's a fun chapter, what can I say. The book comes out tomorrow, woot!
And by the way, ps, before I go...thanks a lot to the people who follow the blog, and those of you who've commented recently, be it on the snow (which is almost all gone now, I love Colorado) or the stories. I still can't quite reply via comment yet, but I really appreciate your support and your friendship.
***
It was the work of years for Jonathan to develop the patience he has now. The last time he was in PsyCo’s clutches, he spent so much of it furious, lashing out and being punished in return, that now sometimes he almost manages to forget where he is without that fury to support him. Now he’s so patient he might be a Zen monk, or a hunter stalking his prey. Hunter. Jonathan learned to hunt all sorts of game when he was alone, and becoming patient was the least painful part of that learning curve. Now it serves him well, and surprises his handlers, especially Cagney. Surprise is good. Jonathan wants to keep Cagney off balance. Maybe that way he can wring a little more information from him in the moments when his guard is down. It’s been three days, and Jonathan still doesn’t know anything concrete about Sam.
His patience frustrates the hell out of Patience. As a boy, he could only ignore her for so long before her words broke through his shield and he snapped back, spit acid on acid and settled in to a long, terrible fight. Now his patience is immense, and his personal control much better. Patience is forever pushing, prying, working for that rise, but he only gives in when he senses she’ll turn on Tai next.
Patience is one thing, but boredom is another. Jonathan has patience, but he doesn’t care for boredom, so to help keep himself amused he conjures up old friends and companions in his mind, like he did before Sam came into his life in London. They have conversations, not out loud here because he doesn’t need anyone thinking he’s crazy, but internal conversations. It fills the silences and drowns out the noise nicely.
Before, Caroline had always been his favorite person to call up. He hadn’t seen her since she was nine, but she’d already had the acerbic wit of a much older person, and she was smart, brilliant in her own way. When he pictured her, he usually saw her in a red dress of crushed velvet with a wide lace collar, black patent shoes, with her hair tied back and a grumpy frown that indicated that she didn’t care for any of their mother’s fashion choices and wouldn’t put up with this shit a second time. They had the same color hair, the same eyes. Jonathan and Caroline might have been twins for all their similarities. It was strangely like looking in a mirror when he envisioned her.
Neither of his parents ever got conjured up, nor did Sarah. When Jonathan was living in the basement of Madame Tussaud’s in London, sometimes he’d take his inspiration from the shattered remains of wax figures and speak with famous people long past. For intelligent conversation he chose Rousseau or Franklin. For a laugh he would occasionally animate the remains of simpering socialites whose names he’d forgotten, or never known at all. None of the wax models were whole after the war and the looting, but he’d collected the best pieces and stowed them down in his bunker. He can only imagine what Sam thought when he woke up that first time, surrounded by severed limbs and death masks.
Sam… that’s who he’d really like to talk to right now. Not Caroline, not any other long-dead apparition, but Sam. In the flesh, by preference, but a virtual companion would be better than nothing. Lunch has just ended, so Jonathan has approximately three thousand five hundred heartbeats before Cagney shows up, if the pattern holds for today. He can’t imagine why it wouldn’t. The denizens of PsyCo live by patterns. About an hour… plenty of time to put together a Sam.
Jonathan constructs the physical first: the heavy, hard body, the smooth skin and the lips and that smile and everything else he loved—no, loves about Sam. His expressive eyes, the way they say so much without him having to make a sound. Not that it isn’t good when Sam makes a sound, because his voice is wonderful. It’s deep, which is to be expected given his size, but he has a surprisingly casual, yet still polite way of speaking.
Jonathan and Sam spent hours every day for over a month talking, and Jonathan thinks he knows him pretty well. He thinks he can conjure up an accurate facial expression even if words fail him, and after a few more minutes of preparation, he feels pretty good about the Sam he’s got. The hardest thing is deciding what to dress him in. Jonathan doesn’t need to be popping a boner in his cell right now. He finally decides on loose sweats.
“Seriously?” Sam asks, peeling the bottom of the sweatshirt away from his waist. “You think I need XXXL-sized clothing?”
“No, I think I need you in XXXL-sized clothing,” Jonathan replies, a smile splitting his face as he watches Sam toying with the fabric. “Too tempting otherwise.”
“Ah yes.” Sam nods. “My notorious temptingness. I’m a modern-day siren, that’s me.”
“There’s a similar legend about a spot not too far from where I am now, actually,” Jonathan says. “Except in this case the girls luring men to their deaths were called the Lorelei, or Rhine Maidens.”
“Lorelei, huh? That tears it, man, next Halloween I’m dressing up as a water-logged hooker and prancing around playing Beyoncé.”
“Who’s Beyoncé?” Inherently Jonathan knows, otherwise he wouldn’t have made his illusory Sam mention her, but he likes Sam’s take on Americana.
“An incredibly fine singer from before the war. Woman was built like a brick shithouse.”
“That’s a rather disgusting description, you know. I’ve no idea how it could ever be construed to mean something sexually appealing.”
“I’m not a linguist.” Sam shrugs, sitting down next to Jonathan on his bunk. “I don’t know how these things get started. I just know how to use them. The older sayings have less bite sometimes, you know.”
“Yeah.” Most of the post-war slang revolves around food, shelter, and depression.
“You been okay, Jonnie?”
Jonathan hesitates before replying. “It’s not being here in and of itself that’s so bad, honestly. I mean, I don’t like it, and I’d really rather not be here, and if I didn’t have you to worry about I’d probably be going out of my skin, but as it is, I’m too worried about you to think about how bad I have it.”
Sam shakes his head. “I’m sorry I’m worrying you.”
“Well, it’s hardly your fault, is it?”
“You should have just left me there.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“They would have taken me with them.”
“I don’t know that they took you with us now,” Jonathan snaps. “Look, exactly what mood are you going for here, mate? Because me being pissy isn’t conducive to my health in a fucking psych prison.”
Sam gives him a long stare, and Jonathan drops his eyes after a moment. “I know. You wouldn’t be bringing it up if I didn’t think it was important. I’m just….” He shuts his eyes and swallows. “Just worried about you.”
“I’m sure I’m freaking out about you too, if that helps any. I’m looking for you, Jonnie. I’m going to find you.”
“How can you possibly say that?” Jonathan argues. “How can you do that? You’re critically injured, fighting for your life. You’re being dosed with more drugs right now than I am, probably, and for all I know when you recover, you won’t even remember me. I’m sure they’d prefer it that way.”
“How are they gonna make me forget?” Sam asks.
“Well, not the typical way, obviously, but there are drugs… perhaps hypnosis… I don’t really know. I just know that the odds aren’t good that I’m going to get my happily ever after with you, Sam.”
Sam’s eyes soften a little. “You wanted a happily ever after with me? You didn’t really just want me to stay because I was the only choice?”
“Well, no.”
“Huh. Wish I’d known that earlier.”
“Yes, well, if wishes were horses then beggars would ride.”
“Wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first,” Sam agrees.
“Eww. I prefer the British version of the proverb.”
“So do I. I was just trying to get a rise out of you,” Sam says with a grin. Jonathan smiles back, feeling a little bit better despite himself.
And by the way, ps, before I go...thanks a lot to the people who follow the blog, and those of you who've commented recently, be it on the snow (which is almost all gone now, I love Colorado) or the stories. I still can't quite reply via comment yet, but I really appreciate your support and your friendship.
***
It was the work of years for Jonathan to develop the patience he has now. The last time he was in PsyCo’s clutches, he spent so much of it furious, lashing out and being punished in return, that now sometimes he almost manages to forget where he is without that fury to support him. Now he’s so patient he might be a Zen monk, or a hunter stalking his prey. Hunter. Jonathan learned to hunt all sorts of game when he was alone, and becoming patient was the least painful part of that learning curve. Now it serves him well, and surprises his handlers, especially Cagney. Surprise is good. Jonathan wants to keep Cagney off balance. Maybe that way he can wring a little more information from him in the moments when his guard is down. It’s been three days, and Jonathan still doesn’t know anything concrete about Sam.
His patience frustrates the hell out of Patience. As a boy, he could only ignore her for so long before her words broke through his shield and he snapped back, spit acid on acid and settled in to a long, terrible fight. Now his patience is immense, and his personal control much better. Patience is forever pushing, prying, working for that rise, but he only gives in when he senses she’ll turn on Tai next.
Patience is one thing, but boredom is another. Jonathan has patience, but he doesn’t care for boredom, so to help keep himself amused he conjures up old friends and companions in his mind, like he did before Sam came into his life in London. They have conversations, not out loud here because he doesn’t need anyone thinking he’s crazy, but internal conversations. It fills the silences and drowns out the noise nicely.
Before, Caroline had always been his favorite person to call up. He hadn’t seen her since she was nine, but she’d already had the acerbic wit of a much older person, and she was smart, brilliant in her own way. When he pictured her, he usually saw her in a red dress of crushed velvet with a wide lace collar, black patent shoes, with her hair tied back and a grumpy frown that indicated that she didn’t care for any of their mother’s fashion choices and wouldn’t put up with this shit a second time. They had the same color hair, the same eyes. Jonathan and Caroline might have been twins for all their similarities. It was strangely like looking in a mirror when he envisioned her.
Neither of his parents ever got conjured up, nor did Sarah. When Jonathan was living in the basement of Madame Tussaud’s in London, sometimes he’d take his inspiration from the shattered remains of wax figures and speak with famous people long past. For intelligent conversation he chose Rousseau or Franklin. For a laugh he would occasionally animate the remains of simpering socialites whose names he’d forgotten, or never known at all. None of the wax models were whole after the war and the looting, but he’d collected the best pieces and stowed them down in his bunker. He can only imagine what Sam thought when he woke up that first time, surrounded by severed limbs and death masks.
Sam… that’s who he’d really like to talk to right now. Not Caroline, not any other long-dead apparition, but Sam. In the flesh, by preference, but a virtual companion would be better than nothing. Lunch has just ended, so Jonathan has approximately three thousand five hundred heartbeats before Cagney shows up, if the pattern holds for today. He can’t imagine why it wouldn’t. The denizens of PsyCo live by patterns. About an hour… plenty of time to put together a Sam.
Jonathan constructs the physical first: the heavy, hard body, the smooth skin and the lips and that smile and everything else he loved—no, loves about Sam. His expressive eyes, the way they say so much without him having to make a sound. Not that it isn’t good when Sam makes a sound, because his voice is wonderful. It’s deep, which is to be expected given his size, but he has a surprisingly casual, yet still polite way of speaking.
Jonathan and Sam spent hours every day for over a month talking, and Jonathan thinks he knows him pretty well. He thinks he can conjure up an accurate facial expression even if words fail him, and after a few more minutes of preparation, he feels pretty good about the Sam he’s got. The hardest thing is deciding what to dress him in. Jonathan doesn’t need to be popping a boner in his cell right now. He finally decides on loose sweats.
“Seriously?” Sam asks, peeling the bottom of the sweatshirt away from his waist. “You think I need XXXL-sized clothing?”
“No, I think I need you in XXXL-sized clothing,” Jonathan replies, a smile splitting his face as he watches Sam toying with the fabric. “Too tempting otherwise.”
“Ah yes.” Sam nods. “My notorious temptingness. I’m a modern-day siren, that’s me.”
“There’s a similar legend about a spot not too far from where I am now, actually,” Jonathan says. “Except in this case the girls luring men to their deaths were called the Lorelei, or Rhine Maidens.”
“Lorelei, huh? That tears it, man, next Halloween I’m dressing up as a water-logged hooker and prancing around playing Beyoncé.”
“Who’s Beyoncé?” Inherently Jonathan knows, otherwise he wouldn’t have made his illusory Sam mention her, but he likes Sam’s take on Americana.
“An incredibly fine singer from before the war. Woman was built like a brick shithouse.”
“That’s a rather disgusting description, you know. I’ve no idea how it could ever be construed to mean something sexually appealing.”
“I’m not a linguist.” Sam shrugs, sitting down next to Jonathan on his bunk. “I don’t know how these things get started. I just know how to use them. The older sayings have less bite sometimes, you know.”
“Yeah.” Most of the post-war slang revolves around food, shelter, and depression.
“You been okay, Jonnie?”
Jonathan hesitates before replying. “It’s not being here in and of itself that’s so bad, honestly. I mean, I don’t like it, and I’d really rather not be here, and if I didn’t have you to worry about I’d probably be going out of my skin, but as it is, I’m too worried about you to think about how bad I have it.”
Sam shakes his head. “I’m sorry I’m worrying you.”
“Well, it’s hardly your fault, is it?”
“You should have just left me there.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“They would have taken me with them.”
“I don’t know that they took you with us now,” Jonathan snaps. “Look, exactly what mood are you going for here, mate? Because me being pissy isn’t conducive to my health in a fucking psych prison.”
Sam gives him a long stare, and Jonathan drops his eyes after a moment. “I know. You wouldn’t be bringing it up if I didn’t think it was important. I’m just….” He shuts his eyes and swallows. “Just worried about you.”
“I’m sure I’m freaking out about you too, if that helps any. I’m looking for you, Jonnie. I’m going to find you.”
“How can you possibly say that?” Jonathan argues. “How can you do that? You’re critically injured, fighting for your life. You’re being dosed with more drugs right now than I am, probably, and for all I know when you recover, you won’t even remember me. I’m sure they’d prefer it that way.”
“How are they gonna make me forget?” Sam asks.
“Well, not the typical way, obviously, but there are drugs… perhaps hypnosis… I don’t really know. I just know that the odds aren’t good that I’m going to get my happily ever after with you, Sam.”
Sam’s eyes soften a little. “You wanted a happily ever after with me? You didn’t really just want me to stay because I was the only choice?”
“Well, no.”
“Huh. Wish I’d known that earlier.”
“Yes, well, if wishes were horses then beggars would ride.”
“Wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first,” Sam agrees.
“Eww. I prefer the British version of the proverb.”
“So do I. I was just trying to get a rise out of you,” Sam says with a grin. Jonathan smiles back, feeling a little bit better despite himself.
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