Murder on Metro 4

by Mattie Hope

  "I'm not actually sure," said Zheng. "Most of the sex I have is penetrative, to be honest. But we could try something different and see how it goes. Or I can wait until your foot is healed, if you'd rather. It's not as if I need it."

  "Don't you want to?"

  "It's not that. I just know that you like it…a certain way…"

  "Don't," said Jax. "I don't care about that."

  "Well," said Zheng, "I could try using my hand."

  Jax looked at it, a little doubtfully. "Is that safe? What if it…malfunctions, or…I mean, it's pretty strong, right? What if…"

  "Trust me," said Zheng.

  "Okay," said Jax, letting out a breath. He thought back to how expertly Zheng had used the chopsticks—he knew what he was doing.

  Zheng rolled over onto his side and moved closer to Jax's body. "Lube?" he prompted.

  "Right." Jax reached to pull open his bedside drawer and grab the tube. He was about to hand it to Zheng, but then he realized that Zheng wouldn't be able to open it, with only one arm.

  "Why don't you get another arm extender? I mean, arm," he said, then cursed his mouth for always being ahead of his brain. Obviously, it was part of Zheng's whole thing about how humans weren't so great and splices didn't need to be just like them.

  "Because I'm a stubborn bastard," said Zheng easily, before he could apologize. Maybe Zheng was getting used to him saying stupid shit by now—that was definitely for the best.

  "Stupid question," said Jax, opening the lube for him. Zheng held out his hand, and Jax squirted a little onto his palm. "What's this made out of, anyway? Your hand?"

  "Carbon fiber," said Zheng, hand moving to Jax's cock. "You can get a silicone skin for it which is removable, so that if it tears or is damaged, you can replace it more easily. You can also get it in different colors, flesh tones or otherwise. But I don't usually wear one, as you've no doubt noticed."

  "Uh-huh," said Jax, having a little trouble concentrating but enjoying the sound of Zheng's voice. The hand felt strange, and a little cold, but good. What was even better was Zheng's feathers brushing all up against his side.

  "Any other questions about my prosthetics?" asked Zheng.

  "Not right now," Jax managed.

  Zheng laughed. It was good, when he laughed. Jax liked it.

  Zheng pushed his beak into Jax's hair, like he was preening him. "I like your hair," he said.

  "Yeah?"

  "Yes. It's so red."

  "Ginger," said Jax self-consciously.

  "No," said Zheng, "it's really red. I like hair." He sounded…different.

  "Are you into this?" asked Jax hopefully.

  Zheng kind of hummed, a real noise in his throat that produced a staticky sound through the larynx at the same time. His hand was beginning to warm up.

  "Can I, uh, touch you?" asked Jax. "Your feathers and stuff?"

  "Yes," said Zheng.

  Jax rolled carefully onto his side, so they were more or less facing each other. Zheng adjusted his grip, but didn't stop stroking his cock, and Jax shuffled in as close as he could. He reached to stroke Zheng's throat, then down his side to the top of his tail, which twitched under his hand.

  When he looked at Zheng's face, he realized that his crest was erect—he didn't even know if it had been, last time, because they hadn't been face-to-face. He reached up and touched it cautiously, then stroked it when Zheng didn't protest.

  "That feels so good," said Zheng.

  "Really?"

  Zheng made the sound again, and Jax kept stroking his crest, with a little more intent this time.

  "I didn't know this was, uh…"

  "An erogenous zone? Only when I'm enjoying myself."

  Jax grinned at him. "So this is working?"

  "Definitely," said Zheng. "Is it working for you?"

  Jax laughed. "I'm not that hard to please," he said.

  "Oh, thanks a lot," said Zheng. "I think we need to work on your dirty talk."

  "This from the guy who just told me my hair was 'really red.'"

  Zheng laughed. "Well, it is."

  "Okay. Should I touch your…" He wasn't totally sure what to call it. Knowing Zheng had made him realize that he didn't know as much as he thought about splices after all. He knew the anatomy stuff, sure, but not the right way to talk about it. Was it called something different? Was calling it a 'cock' offensive maybe, even? There wasn't usually a whole lot of talking in the splice porn he watched, and he was pretty sure that what little there was wasn't a great source of accurate information.

  "No, it's fine," said Zheng, "I don't need direct genital stimulation."

  Jax laughed. "Another great example of your skills at dirty talk. Should I be taking notes here?"

  "Shut up," said Zheng, and Jax kept laughing. He'd never been much of one for laughing during sex, but it felt good. He buried his face in the feathers around Zheng's chest, below where the larynx strapped on, and took a deep breath of the clean, earthy smell of him. Then he felt, suddenly, feathers caressing his back, surrounding him. He turned his head and realized that Zheng had brought his tail up, and it was curved around Jax.

  "I didn't even know it could do that," whispered Jax.

  "I sleep with my tail curled around me, covering my head," said Zheng. "It's quite flexible."

  "That's amazing," Jax said softly. He tried to picture Zheng sleeping like that, and the image that came to mind was kind of sweet—maybe he shouldn't share that with Zheng, at least not right now. Hopefully he would get to see it. Hopefully he would have more than one chance to see it. "Can we stay like this? I love the feel of your feathers. They're so soft."

  Zheng hummed once more, and his long tail feathers twitched against Jax's back, and Jax buried his face in Zheng's chest again, so that he was engulfed in feathers. With his eyes shut, he could imagine that he was enclosed by them. It was the safest he could ever remember feeling.

  "Are you close?" Zheng asked him after a little while, and Jax nodded against him. Zheng shifted away from him and nudged Jax so that he rolled onto his back again. He missed the feathers around him. He frowned at Zheng.

  "Skin is a lot easier to clean than feathers," Zheng explained.

  "You mean I can't come on you?" complained Jax, mostly pretending to be upset, but maybe a little actually disappointed.

  "Maybe on your birthday."

  "Today's—"

  "No, it isn't. I've seen your file, remember?" said Zheng, thumb flicking over the head of Jax's cock.

  Jax grinned at him. It felt so good to mess around, make jokes in bed. He'd missed out on this last time—the sex had been rough and almost silent (apart from Jax's own moans and bitten-off curses) and might as well have been anonymous. But that was really all he'd ever known, before—he'd never even seriously tried to have a relationship, just secretive little one-nighters that he hid from his friends. The only reason he'd ever slept with the same guy more than once was that the active gay population of 4 was so small, and he tried to at least alternate the guys so they wouldn't get any ideas. So he'd never really had much chance to lay around in bed, laughing with someone he really liked and wanted to stick around.

  Zheng's tail came up to stroke at the inside of Jax's thighs, and Zheng twisted his wrist and stroked Jax's sweet spot with his thumb, and that was it. Zheng managed to aim so that Jax was the only one who got dirty, which he guessed was fair after all, since he was the only one who came.

  "Are you sure you don't want me to…" he started, not totally sure how to finish the sentence.

  "I'm good," said Zheng. "Honestly. That was really nice."

  "Nice?"

  Zheng looked like he'd be rolling his eyes if he could. "Nice. Good. It worked for me."

  Wow. High praise. "Stop, you're making me blush," muttered Jax.

  "I like it when you blush," said Zheng seriously, and then Jax actually did blush. He tried to turn his face away and hide it in the pillow, but Zheng reached over and turned it back toward him, so Jax covere
d it with both hands.

  "Let me see," said Zheng.

  "Stop fetishizing me!" said Jax, glaring at him through a crack in his fingers.

  Zheng laughed. "Sorry," he said, almost sounding like he meant it. "I'll go and get you a cloth."

  Jax put an arm behind his head. "I guess being an invalid has its perks, huh?"

  "Don't get used to it," said Zheng, coming back out of the bathroom, but when he wiped off Jax's stomach, his touch was incredibly gentle. "You need anything?" he asked. "Water, painkillers?"

  "I'm excellent," Jax told him, and Zheng hummed dubiously, but leaned down over him.

  "Take off my larynx for me?" he asked.

  Jax wanted to ask if he was sure, but Zheng had offered it up so easily, and Jax decided to follow his lead. Maybe everything didn't have to be so hard.

  "Sure," he said, unbuckling the strap carefully.

  Then, on a whim, he pressed a kiss to the side of Zheng's beak. Zheng pressed his head against Jax's for a second, and Jax laid a hand against his throat. Zheng made a whistling noise, and Jax sat up and put his arms around Zheng's neck, buried his face against it, kissed the feathers there.

  Zheng's hand came around his back and supported him, and they just stayed there for a little while, holding each other like that. Then Zheng pulled away but took Jax's hand and guided it to the straps of his arm. Jax knew that Zheng could take it off himself—had seen him do it—but he wasn't going to argue. He undid the buckles and put the arm down carefully next the bed, the larynx on top of it. He didn't have hooks, like Zheng had, to hang them on, and anyway, once he was in bed it was pretty hard to get up again, his foot the way it was. Zheng didn't seem to mind. He walked around the bed and settled back down. Jax clapped the lights off but kept his eyes open until they adjusted enough that he could see Zheng's tail, like he'd said, curled around his body and covering his head. Jax reached out and rested a hand on the tail feathers. They twitched, then relaxed again.

  Jax thought he could get used to this. Maybe Zheng would even let him.

  Epilogue

  It was good to be back in London. Rita didn't even like London, much, but after Metro 4, anywhere on Earth was a relief. The air might not have been what you'd call clean here, but at least it wasn't constantly recycled to keep the costs down. Station-dwellers had developed an increased resistance to the flu over the years; Rita had had to make do with a vaccination. Luckily, it had held.

  As well as having air that actually came from trees rather than generators, London had the distinct advantage of having an Asian population of more than (generously) two digits. She could walk through the streets without feeling as if every single pair of eyes was on her at all times.

  Rita had asked Jax, once, whether people were always talking about how Doctor Gershon was from Earth. This was back when she was still 'Rita Qureshi,' peering out at the world through thick lenses, peppering every sentence with "ums" and question marks to make herself seem harmless. She was still growing out Qureshi's awful fringe.

  "Uh, I don't know," he'd said. "I didn't have a lot of conversations about her. I didn't know her that well, honestly. Why?"

  It was one of the more honest conversations she'd had with him―she really hadn't been probing him for anything to do with the case―but she'd filed it away. At that stage, her gut was already telling her that he wasn't guilty, but she'd still been suspicious; she'd felt he was trying too hard to distance himself from Gershon. This job did that to you. As it turned out, he just really didn't know his neighbors that well. She could hardly talk. She was fairly sure her neighbors wouldn't be able to pick her out of a line-up (she'd be able to identify them, but that was something else that came with the job).

  "It seems to be something that comes up a lot," she'd told him.

  "That Doctor Gershon was from Earth?"

  "That I am."

  "Yeah," said Jax. "Well, I guess it's, like, interesting to people? Probably most of us have never been off of the station."

  "Mm," Rita had said, not convinced.

  "What?"

  "I think it's code."

  "Code?"

  "Code for 'not Catholic.' Or 'not white.' 'Not one of us,' anyway."

  "Oh," Jax had said. "Right. I mean, maybe all those things, a little bit, and being from Earth too. Kind of rolled up into one. Yeah, I mean, 4 is pretty…I mean, there's a reason they made us have a diversity drive, you know."

  "'They?'"

  "Yeah, well, I mean…it's just what people say, but supposedly it came from pressure from 1, and from Earth. Most people here were pretty happy with the way things were."

  That was putting it mildly. Metro 4, without mincing words, was racist, sexist, and xenophobic. Jax meant well, but he didn't understand.

  Zheng would have, although perhaps he wouldn't have appreciated the comparison. She wished she'd got to know Zheng better, as herself. He was impulsive, and deceptively hot-headed, but he was a good detective, all things considered. He still wasn't thrilled with her, but she was hoping that taking down Callaghan would win him over.

  She put her feet up on her coffee table, got out her tablet, and dialed.

  Zheng's face appeared on screen. "Hi," he said. "Any new developments?"

  "On Callaghan? I've passed it up the chain. It won't happen overnight. I wasn't calling about that."

  "Oh?"

  "How's Jax doing?"

  "I'm fine," came Jax's voice from offscreen.

  "Is he going to physical therapy?" she asked Zheng.

  "I don't need another mother hen, thanks!" called Jax. On the screen, Zheng turned to look at him. "I meant―I didn't mean 'hen' like―it's just an expression, I meant Kath too―"

  Zheng laughed. "Too easy," he said. "Yes, he's going. So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

  "I was just wondering, have you ever thought about coming to Earth?"

  She thought she could hear a sudden intake of breath from Jax.

  "Are you inviting us to visit you?" asked Zheng. "That's very nice of you, but I still have to finish out the year, and I don't think I can get away with taking any time off."

  "I can probably get you out of that," said Rita. "But actually, I wasn't inviting you to visit. I wanted to let you know about a job opportunity."

  "At…Interpol?"

  "That's right."

  "I don't think I'd make a very good undercover cop," said Zheng. "I tend to stick out."

  "Most of it isn't undercover work," said Rita. "You'd be doing what you do anyway, but better, and with more autonomy. You wouldn't be micro-managed within an inch of your life." She paused. "And we do have free healthcare, if that were a consideration."

  Zheng turned again to look off-screen. "We'll talk about it," he said. She could tell he meant him and Jax, not him and her.

  "What is there to talk about, are you kidding?" she could hear Jax say. "Fresh raspberries, Zheng!"

  "I'll message you the details," said Rita. "Think about it. Earth's pretty nice."

  FIN

  About the Author

  Mattie Hope studied English literature at Leeds University, and American Studies at Ludwig-Maximilians University in Munich. As well as film criticism for Bitch Flicks and other outlets, Mattie has written an interactive story, ‘Concordia’ (2017), at https://writer.inklestudios.com/stories/zcph.

  Mattie enjoys writing in practically every medium, with the notable exception of the author bio.

  When not writing or working the day job, Mattie has roughly the same hobbies as a stereotypical adolescent boy: playing video games, reading comics and trying to avoid doing any housework. Mattie lives in Nottingham, England with two ferrets, and tweets at @Metro4Mattie.

 

 

 
00%); -moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share