In no world would Alexei ever wish for that.
“Lyosha,” Alexei stubbornly countered.
Sean blinked at him rapidly, breathing a little ragged around the edges. “After everything I did—”
Alexei couldn’t stop the angry sound that escaped his mouth. “You did nothing. Not you who—”
“I didn’t get us out in time!” Sean spit out, hands shaking as he ducked his head in shame. “I couldn’t make him stop.”
Alexei swore, the Russian words a jumbled mess coming out of his mouth. He reached for Sean, but Sean jerked away, stumbling backward and nearly falling over. Alexei snarled wordlessly in frustrated pain, dragging his hands through his hair and yanking on it hard before turning his back on Sean.
The only sound in his ears for a good half minute was his own harsh breathing. Alexei was suddenly so tired, which was ridiculous, because he’d done nothing but lounge on the couch all day, catching up on shows while his family kept him company. Alexei swallowed, absently wondering if Kyle had brought back the bottle of vodka from Jamie’s place like he said he would the other day.
“I’m sorry,” Sean whispered into the strained silence.
“Not your fault, Senya,” Alexei said gruffly. “Never your fault. Say to you always.”
He turned around and approached Sean again. Alexei stopped where he was when he saw Sean tense up, but he didn’t stop trying to get through to him. Reaching out, Alexei grasped Sean’s hand in his, keeping hold of him even when he tried to pull away. He could feel Sean’s pulse in his wrist, beating fast against his fingertips. He lifted Sean’s hand to his face, pressing it flat against his cheek. He used his other hand to catch Sean by the chin and gently tilt his head up, finally catching his eye.
“Touch not hurt me, kotyonok. Could never hurt.”
Sean’s expression crumpled, and Alexei didn’t hesitate to pull Sean into his arms and hold him tight. Alexei tucked Sean’s head beneath his chin and closed his eyes, breathing in sharply through his nose as he felt Sean’s entire body shudder in his arms. He rubbed his nose against Sean’s hair, jaw working as he tried to hold back his own tears, but failed miserably. He could feel them slide down his cheeks and drip into Sean’s hair, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. That would require moving his arms, which wasn’t happening right now.
Alexei refused to let Sean go, holding him close as Sean cried soundlessly for several minutes before the burst of emotion tapered off. His hands dug into Alexei’s back with tight fingers, the pressure more comforting than painful.
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” Sean mumbled against his shoulder.
There were layers to those words that Alexei was too tired to peel away. So he settled for the only thing that mattered to them right now—the truth. “Always want you, Senya.”
Sean rubbed his nose against Alexei’s chest before sighing. “I don’t think…watching is going to take some time. For me to get back into.”
Alexei choked back the anger, quiet and mournful though it was, as he realized that was yet another thing Cillian had taken from them aside from the safety and security they’d both felt before Sean’s apartment was blown up. Alexei had always gotten joy out of watching his lovers in bed, and it had taken a while to help Sean get comfortable with it as well. His relief at knowing Sean needed time was telling in its own way.
“We start slow,” Alexei murmured. “Take time, da? Work up to mirror.”
The smile that curved Alexei’s mouth was a far cry from the one he usually wore in moments like this. He hid it against Sean’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, then another. He kissed his way slowly down the side of Sean’s face, lips sliding over salty tear tracks. Sean lifted his head away from Alexei’s body, blinking up at him with lashes clumped together from crying, face and eyes red from it. Alexei kissed the remnants of his tears away, finding his way to Sean’s mouth.
Alexei brushed his lips gently over Sean’s, stealing his breath. “Say for me. Pozhaluysta.”
Sean hesitated, and Alexei let him, but he didn’t have to wait forever. “We’ll be okay, Lyosha.”
The relief he felt at hearing his name like that on Sean’s lips—his body might be healed, but that went a long, long way toward patching over the cracks in his psyche. Alexei closed the miniscule distance between them to kiss Sean as gently as he could. Sean parted his lips, drawing Alexei in.
The taste of Sean washed away the memory of blood that lingered even while he was awake. Alexei groaned, dragging his hands down Sean’s back to span the length of his waist and press him close. Sean didn’t fight him, not this time, stroking one hand over Alexei’s cheek again to cradle his jaw.
They kissed and kissed and kissed, and it was like breathing even when there was no air left in their lungs.
“Lyosha,” Sean mumbled against his mouth, barely pulling away to speak the words. “I was—”
“What?” Alexei replied, making it practically impossible for Sean to respond by sucking on his bottom lip.
Sean drew his head back, putting some distance between them. “Before…before I lost my apartment? I was going to ask you to move in with me.”
The quiet grief in Sean’s voice made Alexei’s heart ache. He touched a finger to Sean’s mouth, staring down at him, counting the seconds before Sean had to look away.
“Okay,” Alexei murmured, turning his head to kiss at the hinge of Sean’s jaw.
Sean arched against him, the reaction practically instinctive whenever Alexei got his mouth on Sean’s throat, and he was glad to see that hadn’t changed at least. “Okay? The apartment is destroyed.”
Alexei sucked gently at Sean’s skin, unsure how Sean would react to bruises blooming on his body so soon after—after. “So? Get new one. Make Jamie pay for it.”
Sean curled his hands over Alexei’s shoulders, fingers pulling at the thin fabric of his long-sleeved shirt. “What do you mean?”
Alexei licked at the warm skin beneath his questing mouth before he lifted his head to look down at Sean. He settled his hands on Sean’s hips, thumbs moving in slow circles over the solid body in his arms. “Want move in? I not say no. Pick out one together.”
“Jamie isn’t buying us an apartment, Lyosha.”
Alexei thought about the handful of hours Jamie had stolen to sit by his bedside with a guilty look in his eyes before Kyle dragged their captain away to clear his head.
“Make him feel better,” Alexei said with a shrug. “Let him buy. Will ask at Thanksgiving.”
Sean might have kept arguing against getting a free apartment, but Alexei was tired and he had Sean here. Shaking his head, Alexei kissed the words away with soft touches of his lips. Sean gave up the argument with a sigh, eventually pulling back to study Alexei’s face for nearly half a minute before he had to look away and take a deep breath.
“You’re impossible,” Sean muttered.
“Am best.”
Sean bit his lip, and Alexei raised a hand to tug it free from unbroken teeth. He ran his thumb gently over the seam of Sean’s mouth, his touch lingering over the memory of the ugly tear that had deeply split Sean’s lip in that underground hellhole.
“Your knee?” Sean asked. “Gracie told me they had to amputate…”
His voice trailed off, some of the tension returning to his body. Alexei pulled him a fraction of an inch closer.
“Am healed, Senya. Want to see? Need to see?”
After a long moment, Sean nodded. Alexei snagged his hand and led him silently to the bedroom, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure Sean was okay with following. Once inside the bedroom, Alexei undid his jeans and stripped them off, but didn’t remove anything else. He stood there in front of Sean, half-naked, and gestured at his left leg.
“Look,” he said quietly. “Am whole.”
The words felt a little bit like a lie on his tongue, but Alexei refused to take them back. Sean’s gaze slid rapidly down his body before fixating
on his left knee. Alexei looked down at his leg as well, curling his bare toes in the carpet.
The regen regime had used his body’s own stem cells to regrow his leg at a rapid rate. The pattern of it set in his DNA meant it looked exactly like it had before Cillian took a hammer to his knee. Gracie had applied skin dyes to his left leg to match his right, because while a regen regime could regrow limbs and organs, it couldn’t replicate the marks of thirty years of living.
Sean took a hesitant step forward before his mouth firmed and he closed the distance between them. He flattened his hand over Alexei’s chest, fingers spreading over his heart. Alexei held his breath, even if he couldn’t hold his heartbeat still. Sean’s hand trailed down his chest and he followed after it, going to his knees in front of Alexei.
Alexei stared down at him, gently running his hand through Sean’s messy, dark hair. Sean wouldn’t look at him, but his touch felt like a brand Alexei would always accept. He closed his eyes, knowing he would always be safe in Sean’s hands.
The careful, gentle kiss Sean pressed to his left knee went a long way to exorcising the remembered weight of the hammer shattering bone. Even in the dark of his own making, Sean’s touch could never feel like Cillian’s.
“I’m sorry,” Sean murmured, resting his forehead against Alexei’s left thigh, one hand loosely holding his ankle.
Alexei opened his eyes, breathing in slowly through his nose. “Not be sorry. Not your fault.”
Sean didn’t argue, and Alexei let it lie. Sighing softly, he coaxed Sean to his feet and tumbled them both into bed. Sean’s shoes were still on and he was in no hurry to remove his clothes, but Alexei didn’t care. Sex would come later, when they were ready for it again. Right now, Alexei was still relearning touch, as was Sean, and he didn’t need a shrink to tell him that it would take time. That the flashbacks weren’t going to just disappear now that Cillian was dead. PTSD didn’t work that way.
Alexei leaned against the headboard, having tucked a pillow behind his back, and tugged at Sean until he settled on his lap. Sean went reluctantly until Alexei shook his head.
“Not do anything,” he promised.
Being able to hold Sean, to touch him—keep him close and warm and safe—that was all Alexei wanted right now. Sean seemed to want that too, because the tension in his body gradually faded away. His brown eyes flickered up to Alexei’s face for a few seconds before refocusing on the rest of him. Sean settled his hand against Alexei’s right forearm, gently stroking the regrown skin there.
Alexei cupped Sean’s jaw, tilting his head up, drinking his fill of a face unmarred by bruises and blood. The helplessness, the rage, he’d felt in that room when Cillian had laid hands on Sean, still lingered somewhere deep, wrapped with a guilt he’d be hard-pressed to ever dislodge.
“Glad you here with me, Senya.”
Sean leaned into Alexei’s touch without hesitation. “I’m glad, too, Lyosha.”
For several minutes, they remained cocooned in a warmth of shared trust, gently exchanging touches they didn’t flinch from, when they’d flinched from so many others. The intimacy between them was something Alexei had never had with a previous lover, and it reinforced everything he felt for Sean.
“Love you,” Alexei murmured, unable to keep the words to himself any longer.
Sean blinked in surprise, eyes snapping up from their linked hands to meet Alexei’s gaze. Those warm brown eyes searched Alexei’s face for a few seconds before Sean leaned forward and kissed him gently on the corner of his mouth.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Sean said, the Russian words coming out perfectly, as if he’d been practicing them in secret, waiting to say them.
Alexei closed his eyes, fighting back the sting of tears as he drew Sean flush against him. He wrapped his arms around Sean as tight as he could before burying his face against the curve of Sean’s neck. Alexei breathed in the smell of him, this feeling of home he’d been searching for since waking up in Medical without Sean by his side.
Sean wrapped his arms around Alexei’s shoulders, resting his cheek against the side of Alexei’s head. He didn’t speak, merely stroked a hand over the back of Alexei’s neck, cradling him close. Sean’s touch was grounding in a way Alexei hadn’t known he missed until it returned, a lifeline he never wanted to let go.
NOW
2285
___________________
18
Everything We Keep
Thursday found Jamie sitting down behind his desk in his office on base, pulling open the biolocked side drawer only two people had approved access to without an override. The lock beeped softly as it disengaged and he hooked his fingers beneath the handle, pulling it open. The drawer slid open soundlessly and he rifled through the random assortment of old snacks that needed to be tossed out, a few high-calorie nutrient bars, a broken work tablet, and a handful of holoframes that needed to be charged. Behind all that, shoved to the back of the drawer, was a small, black, leather-encased box Katie had delivered to him the other day.
Jamie lifted it out and closed the drawer, absently resetting the lock. He leaned back in his chair and opened the box, staring down at the engagement ring he’d had made. In a day and age where the more expensive and gaudier the ring, the better, Jamie had opted for a sleek platinum band, polished to a high shine. No engraving other than the jeweler’s mark was etched on the underside of the band. An emerald-cut diamond of the highest clarity sparkled brilliantly in the light, placed in an east-west tension setting on the ring.
It fit who Kyle was, who they were, because Jamie knew Kyle wouldn’t be comfortable wearing a ring that everyone would talk about. Not that he’d have many opportunities to show it off outside their home, but when that time came, Jamie wanted him to be comfortable with it.
“Captain Callahan, the director is on his way to you,” Ceres announced.
Jamie frowned before closing the box and slipping it into the inner pocket of his blazer. While Thanksgiving with his family was always a formal affair, the gathering happening at his condo today for the holiday was less so. That still hadn’t stopped him from dressing up a bit this morning before running a few last-minute errands.
He got to his feet when the door slid open and opted to salute the director despite wearing civilian clothes and not a uniform. “Sir.”
Nazari wasn’t in uniform, which was a bit of a surprise. He wore a raincoat over his clothes and had an umbrella tucked under one arm. He nodded at Jamie in greeting. “Leaving?”
“Just about to, sir.”
“I’ll walk with you. I won’t take a lot of your time. I’m heading out as well, actually.”
“Need to catch a flight somewhere?” Jamie asked. He grabbed his damp umbrella off the floor and headed for the door, letting Nazari exit first.
“No. I told my wife I would be home for the holidays this year. A political crisis isn’t enough to get me out of the dog house with her if I’m not on time for dinner today.” Nazari’s expression was unreadable as they walked down the hallway toward the elevator. “Speaking of said political crisis, I had another meeting with the Joint Chiefs last night.”
Jamie managed to refrain from making a face through sheer will alone. “What did they want?”
“To reiterate that while they are grateful for the sacrifices your family has made over the past year or so regarding your name and social standing, the Joint Chiefs, and in extension the MDF, would have still preferred you consult with us prior to ending the mission with the Pavluhkins.”
As a captain, Jamie didn’t have the rank, in any way, shape, or form, to talk back to someone of Nazari’s rank. He still did it.
“I don’t appreciate the MDF keeping me out of the loop when it comes to my team. I would’ve preferred you let me know Alexei and Sean were taken prisoner when it happened, not a day later. So let’s consider ourselves even on that score, sir. Feel free to share that observation with the Joint Chiefs,” Jamie said.
“You had your family to wo
rry about,” Nazari reminded him as the elevator door opened and they stepped inside.
“My team is my family, sir. I had the right to know.”
“We needed you clearheaded, Callahan.”
That statement was as close to an acknowledgement of the MDF’s awareness of Jamie’s personal issues as he was ever going to get. Jamie’s PTSD had manifested itself off and on through the years, but he could handle it, otherwise he wouldn’t be cleared for the field.
“If you think I would ever sacrifice one over the other, then you’re sadly mistaken. I know how to do my job, sir.”
Nazari inclined his head in silent acknowledgement of Jamie’s argument as they descended. “We’ll keep that in mind for the future.”
It wasn’t an apology; Jamie doubted he’d ever get one. For now, it felt like a draw, and he’d take it.
The elevator slowed and the doors opened on the lobby. Security manned the base at all hours, and agents were tasked with overseeing ongoing missions that didn’t stop for a holiday. Jamie had parked in the hourly parking for guests aboveground since his time on base today was a quick in and out.
Thanksgiving this year was rainy, a steady downpour that showed no signs of stopping. The drive back to his condo for the holiday meal was bound to take twice as long. Traffic was terrible coming to the base, he knew it would be just as bad going home. In Jamie’s opinion, most people never knew how to drive in the rain.
They passed through the security gates and walked through the lobby at a slow pace to the exit.
“I understand your father is having a difficult time of it in the media,” Nazari continued in a low voice. “I let him know we’ll provide him support in trying to minimize the damage, but there’s not much we can do about the stories being run.”
The New York Times was taking the lead on that, the initial reaction articles and editorials carrying details that had Adam Dixon’s fingers all over them. Jamie could see where those stories might lead, and he didn’t like it. His father was already struggling in the polls, and no matter what kind of statement he put out, there was no changing the public opinion about his decision to go forward with the Boston campaign rally.
In the Blood (Metahuman Files Book 4) Page 31