by Sean Kennedy
“Are we under attack?” Bart asked, her rifle at the ready.
“It’s not the sensor alarm,” Jazz told them as she raced past them and up the short gangplank into the cockpit. The sun was scorching through the window; she’d be happier when the ship was fully functioning and they could get the air back on. Or at least fly with the windows open.
She could feel Bart behind her as she studied the sensors.
“If it isn’t the raiders again, then what is wrong?” Bart asked.
“It’s strange,” Jazz said slowly as she reacted to the readouts she was getting. “But it looks like I’m getting a signal from Kneebone again.”
“That’s good news!” Bart exclaimed. “Isn’t it?”
Jazz bit her lip. “It’s a very weak signal, and it keeps dropping in and out. That can’t be good.”
“But it means he’s alive, does it not?”
Jazz loved her for trying to find the silver lining, and she wished she could lie to put Bart’s mind at ease, at least. But she couldn’t do that. “We can hope so, but it doesn’t prove it, no.”
“Still, darling,” Bart said gently, resting her hand upon Jazz’s shoulder, “it’s better news than we had a few hours ago, yes?”
Jazz turned and kissed her deeply, closing her eyes at the thought of how good, and how right, the feeling of Lady Bart’s curves against her own was. It was like they fitted together, and the world was better for it. After all, if Bart hadn’t been here, Jazz would be convinced that the world was now Ezra Kneebone-less—also another world Jazz didn’t want to be a part of.
“You’re right. It is.”
“Then get back to work. We’ll have breakfast, you’ll fix… whatever it is you have to fix. I’m afraid Albert had to deal with the order for the parts. I’m good with a gun, but not an engine.”
“I know you’re good with a gun,” Jazz grinned. “The engine, well, that I could help you with in time.”
“All that grease?” Lady Bart shuddered. “It’s becoming on you, dear, but not on me.”
Jazz kissed her again and, buoyed by affection and the blind hope that her friend was alive, she went back to the engine and Lady Bart, back to bread, bacon and Albert.
“ARE we there yet?”
“Almost.”
Icarus’s reply wasn’t exactly the most heartening that Ezra had ever heard, but it was a darn sight better than a plain “no.”
Icarus turned back to him. “Just over this ridge.”
That statement was sweet relief to Ezra. He nodded and followed Icarus on the steep slope. He was almost staggering now, but as he felt the end was in sight, he pushed himself harder. Icarus was clearly sweating as well, but he still breathed far easier than his companion.
“Do you need me to carry you the rest of the way, Kneebone?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I were you, because I won’t refuse.”
Icarus’s laughter floated back down to him, and Ezra wished he could grab the invisible tendrils and hold onto them in the hope they would pull him along. Instead he found himself concentrating on the shape and movement of Icarus’s ass, shifting beneath the denim of his jeans as he strode along. He closed his eyes and thought of how he had seen the man bare, his skin a topography just waiting to be charted. But their relationship was just as mysterious as an uncharted region, with just as many unknown spaces and monsters within it. It was indefinable, and every time Ezra felt he was getting somewhere with Icarus, the other man would back off. It frustrated Ezra to be continually chasing and having Icarus slip deftly away out of his grip. He didn’t just have wings; he seemed to be made from cloud itself.
Had Lady Bart been this hard to catch for Jazz? Was it easier when you were both women? Somehow Ezra thought that unlikely. Love and sex and all that chasing seemed as unquantifiable on both sides of the fence.
“Just a few steps more,” Icarus announced. He was standing on top of the ridge now, looking at what lay below.
Ezra was thankful for the fact that he had daydreamed his way up the rest of the slope. The brain could be a marvelous distraction sometimes when you needed it to be. He joined Icarus upon the edge, and they towered above the valley that stretched out before them.
“Where are we?” Ezra asked.
“Home away from home,” Icarus replied.
“Not another cave?”
Icarus laughed. “No. Look over there.”
Ezra followed his line of sight, and a small number of wooden buildings slowly made themselves distinguishable against the stark background of the desert.
“This is where you live?”
Icarus shook his head. “Family.”
It was the first time Ezra had ever heard him mention the existence of any family. “Who?”
“You’ll see.”
“This whole mysterious act,” Ezra said, as they began making their way down the other side of the ridge, “is very fitting when you are the winged boy of the skies, showering the poor with food and coins. But I think I can be let in on the rest of it now.”
“And what fun would that be for me?” Icarus asked.
“I guess no fun at all,” Ezra muttered, and continued to follow him into the valley.
JAZZ wiped the sweat off her forehead and began screwing the filter back into place. It was proving resistant; the angle was such that it was practically impossible for her to hold it and screw it in without a third hand to add stability. She cursed as it slipped yet again, and threw the wrench away in fury.
Bart had to duck so she wouldn’t get hurt as she shuffled in the small entryway. “It’s a good thing your aim isn’t as proficient as your engineering skills.”
Jazz continued lying on the floor and staring up at the recalcitrant engine. “It seems they’re on a par at the moment.”
Bart offered her a plate that had a more than generous serving of bread and bacon. “I brought you breakfast, as I knew you would most likely want to work straight through.”
Jazz sat up and took the plate gratefully. “Thank you. Is there coffee?”
Bart produced it with a patient smile.
“You’re too good to me.”
“I know, darling. But you’re worth it.”
Jazz laughed, and wrapped a thick chunk of bread around two rashers of bacon. She bit into it and groaned with appreciation.
“It’s hardly haute cuisine, but it will do for today,” Bart sighed. “I am hoping we may be back in civilization by nightfall.”
“I agree. I just want Kneebone safe back on board ship. Then I can kick his ass for making me worry so.”
Bart gave her a weary look. “You both need some classes in etiquette.”
“You don’t need etiquette in the skies.”
“There are rules of etiquette everywhere. Even in the skies.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Jazz said, swallowing the rest of her sandwich and starting to roll another.
“You eat like a man,” Lady Bart said with disdain.
“Only when I’m in a hurry,” Jazz shrugged. “You’ve seen me eat without the benefit of a trough before.”
Bart giggled, and ducked her head as if she wouldn’t be found out for doing so. When she looked back up, her society mask was back on. “Even so, drink your coffee and let’s hit the road. Or the sky. Whichever gets us out of here.”
Jazz used the coffee to swallow down the rest of her meal and drank it in three huge gulps, if only to play up to Bart more. As Bart took the plate and mug, she gave her a swift kiss. Bart responded by giving her a light tap across the cheek. That only made Jazz laugh, unable to stop even as she rolled back under the engine and commenced working again.
EZRA and Icarus were only halfway up the path leading to the house when the front door flew open and a tall woman raced from within to greet them. The string from her apron came loose and flew free in the wake she left behind her.
“Tobias!” she yelled.
“Tobias?” Ezra asked in surprise, and Icarus steadfa
stly ignored him as he swept the woman up in his arms, even though she towered over him by a good three inches.
“Ruth,” he murmured.
Ruth came to her senses and took notice of Ezra. “Let me down, Tobias! And where is your shirt? You look like a savage! I almost thought you were one for a moment as you came up to the house. Except they’re far cleaner than you!”
“Calm down, Ruth. I got in a little bit of strife, that’s all. And there’s no ‘savages’ of any kind around here except the Maulson family.”
“That’s true. And a little bit of strife? You must be in a whole lot of it if you’ve ended up here again.” She peered out behind him to glare at Ezra. “Who’s this?”
“Ezra,” Ezra said politely, stepping forward and offering his hand. “Ezra Kneebone.”
Ruth sized him up, and did not take it. “Friend of yours?” she asked Icarus.
Icarus grinned. “I’m not sure. He’s a bounty hunter. I’m in his custody.”
“Hang on a minute!” Ezra protested.
Ruth snorted. “If you’ve ended up here, I’d think it’s more likely he’s now in your custody. Or under your protection.”
“Both of our worlds have gone topsy turvy,” Icarus said, giving Ezra a knowing look. Ezra didn’t know how to take it, so looked back at Ruth.
“Are you hungry, Mr. Kneebone?”
Food, the universal basis for finding common ground. He would take whatever he got. “I’m famished.”
“Lucky it’s lunchtime,” Ruth said. “You two are not sitting at my table looking like that, however. You can get washed up in the barn.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Icarus said mockingly.
“Don’t sass me. I’ve got a large wooden spoon in the house I could paddle you with.”
“Kneebone might like that.”
Ruth clucked indignantly and shook her head before gathering up her skirt and heading back into the house. Ezra was amazed at the change that had come over Icarus—Tobias—no, he still couldn’t see him as anyone but Icarus—ever since they had ended up in this valley. Somehow he had stripped away his defensiveness, and reverted to… well, a kid brother around his older sister.
It was like Icarus and Tobias were two entirely different people.
Ezra wondered which one was the real man. And which one was he interested in, really?
“IS IT all done?” Bart called as Jazz passed her and Albert on the way to the cockpit.
Jazz watched them loading up the carriage for a moment, shielding her eyes against the sun. “I think so. It’s time to flick the switch and hope for the best.”
“Should there be some kind of ceremony?”
“It’s not a launch.”
“Still, it feels like one.”
“Just cross your fingers and hope for the best.”
As Jazz made her way into the cockpit, she could hear Lady Bart sigh and say to Albert, “Oh well. It’s not like we had champagne with us, anyway.”
EZRA closed his eyes and smiled with the bliss of deep contentment as he slid under the water until his nose was in danger of being submerged. The water was cool, and Icarus had scented it with petals of some kind that Ruth had foisted upon them, claiming that she wanted men who smelled good at the table. She had even insisted upon taking their clothing, laying out spare replacements from her husband’s wardrobe. He was apparently away on business for a couple of days, and the children seemed to be used to their uncle’s comings and goings, as the sight of Icarus appearing half-naked out of the desert sands didn’t raise an eyebrow with them.
“Good?” a voice enquired.
Ezra sat up, and looked over to the small wooden screen that divided him from the other tub. He had thought it amusing that the modesty screen had been erected, seeing he and Icarus had already seen just about every inch of skin of the other.
“It’s perfect,” he replied.
“I know you want to ask,” Icarus said.
“Ask what?”
“Don’t play coy. Just get it off your chest.”
Funny how the modesty screen acted like the dark, and the two of them could be more honest with each other than they were face to face.
“Okay,” Ezra said. “Tobias.”
There came a sigh from beyond the screen. “Yes, yes, you found out. My name is Tobias.”
“Can I know your surname?”
“Is it necessary?”
“Seems stupid, or just plain stubborn, for you to keep it from me now.”
“Fine. My name is Tobias Daedalus.”
Surprised and amused, Ezra snorted, trying to contain his laughter.
“What?” Icarus demanded.
The modesty screen teetered dangerously as a dripping wet hand came around and pushed it back. Ezra could now see Icarus lying in his own tub, although he looked in no way as relaxed as himself.
“Okay, I have a couple of comments and questions,” Ezra began.
“Fine. Fire away.”
“First, Daedalus? Your surname is really the same name as the real Icarus’s father?”
“You know that?” Icarus asked, looking slightly embarrassed.
“I’m not stupid. I do know some of the Greek myths.”
“I didn’t think you were stupid.”
“You’re surprised I figured that out, though.”
“It’s not exactly something that pops up in common conversation,” Icarus said.
“This isn’t common conversation? Anyway, my father liked all kinds of myths. He said they were doomed to repeat throughout time, and they taught us valuable lessons we would just ignore anyway.”
“Now I see why you are the way you are.”
Ezra studied him for a moment. “Is there that much wrong with me?”
Icarus gave him an indefinable smile. “You’re growing on me. Anyway, you had more questions.”
A warm feeling was rapidly spreading through his body, and Ezra tried to dismiss it as being a result of the temperature of his bath. Except the water was cold. “Questions. Yes. You’re not by any chance part of Daedalus Industries?”
The smile rapidly turned into a scowl.
“Sore subject?”
“The sorest,” Icarus muttered.
Ezra wanted to be kind and let the subject drop, but the question ripped out of him before he could stop it. “It explains a lot, given what you said before about how you were raised. Daedalus Industries is one of the biggest moneymakers in the world. Why are you robbing trains?”
Icarus didn’t look at him. He skimmed his hand over the surface of the water, creating small waves. “That business wasn’t what I wanted my life to be. But it was decided that it wasn’t for me anyway.”
His tone suggested there wasn’t anything else forthcoming about the topic.
Ezra tried for a light tone. “So you were just being a wanker when you decided to name yourself Icarus with the surname you had?”
This purchased his desired effect: a true smile from the other man.
“Maybe I was. It seemed fitting.”
“You weren’t scared someone would make the connection?”
Icarus finally met his gaze again. “Who would? It’s just too crazy.”
He might have been right, but Ezra thought it was a long shot. “Are you scared you’re jinxing yourself by naming yourself after a guy who died while flying?”
There was that smile again. “I try to never fly too close to the sun,” Icarus murmured.
In an equally low tone, Ezra replied, “I’m glad to hear it.”
Icarus looked up, obviously surprised. “I still don’t get you.”
“That’s okay, as I don’t really get you, either.” Ezra let that statement sink in, and then continued. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
Icarus grasped both sides of the tub and pulled himself out. The water streamed off his hard body, and Ezra swallowed at the sight of the hardening pecker, which made his start to follow suit.
Icarus’s feet didn’t even touc
h the floor. His long legs allowed him to cross over the small divide between their tubs, and in seconds, he was standing above Ezra within his own bath.
Ezra swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. “What are you doing?”
Icarus sank down into the water. It was a tight squeeze, but Ezra didn’t voice any protest. “You know what I’m doing.”
“Your sister—”
“She’s busy cooking. Now shut up for once in your life.”
“You tell me to shut up a lot,” Ezra said, amused.
“Because you never do,” Icarus replied, now hovering slightly over him, hunched up in the small tub, his lips only a short distance from Ezra’s.
Ezra parted his lips, waiting for Icarus to kiss him. When Icarus continued teasing him, Ezra decided to take action. He pushed himself up, and pushed Icarus back with his chest. Icarus fell against the back of the tub, and Ezra pinned him down, feverishly working his mouth against the other man’s. Icarus laughed, his hot breath invading Ezra’s mouth, working its way down the nerves and through the bloodways that led straight to his pecker. He felt Icarus’s arms circling around his back, holding him in place, and then one hand snaking up through his hair and pulling his head back so Icarus could look at him.
“This isn’t the most orthodox way,” Icarus said. “But it will do for now.”
That there was a promise of more, and later, made Ezra even more wild. He moaned as Icarus nibbled at his exposed neck, his lips surely grazed by the two-day growth of beard.
“I want you,” Ezra managed to grunt.
Icarus laughed and shifted beneath him. There was a glorious moment of frisson as their cocks finally made contact with each other beneath the water. “I’m pretty sure you can have me.”
Ezra cursed softly as Icarus arched up, and began to thrust—such a small, slow movement, but with each sway came that agonizingly brilliant contact between them. Now that Icarus was in his arms, or more technically, he was in Icarus’s arms, Ezra couldn’t help but think of how different it was to his fantasies—when he had used fucking Lee as a substitute for what he had thought was a sure impossibility. Being buried within Lee, as nice as it was at the time, was nothing compared to what was little more than a mutual jack-off session with Icarus. With Icarus he felt vulnerable, because he wanted him so damn much. It was probably marked upon his face much like a branding iron would do, and the problem with being so naked about your desire was that it made it so much easier to be used against you later.