Allie's War Season Three (82 page)

Everything kind of slid into a blur after that.

I remember his eyes glowing, the hardness of his face as he kissed my throat, his fingers inside me as he arched into me harder, wanting me to whimper for him again. Both of us were so far gone I don't remember anything either of us said...I don't think I formed another coherent thought for at least a few hours.

By then, it was sometime in the late afternoon.

JON FOUND HIMSELF staring at a ceiling he didn't know.

It occurred to him after a few seconds that it was probably somewhat strange that he was so aware of not knowing it...then realized it was probably at least partly because he'd spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling in his own room, and not really anyone else's.

All of this went through his mind with a pretty minimal amount of alarm.

Still, he could feel the barest beginnings of a nagging in the back of his head. Not quite a headache, more like that vaguely uneasy feeling he got whenever he'd been drunk enough the night before to have been out of control. It was why he never drank usually...yet somehow, he'd managed to spend most of the previous day and night inebriated.

He felt worn out. Unbelievably worn out. Not hungover really, though. The feeling was more akin to waking up after having run a marathon and then being hit by a car. Nothing permanently damaged, but a general weakness mixed with an undifferentiated soreness over most areas of his skin, muscle and bones.

He was still trying to wrap his head around the ceiling with the unfamiliar plaster whorls and spikes, when he realized he was also lying on the wrong side of the bed.

Maybe that was it. He'd been drunk...moved over to Dorje's side of the bed, and now the ceiling looked weird. The name hit him like a sucker punch to the sternum though, making it hard to breathe. His fingers found the same part in the middle of his chest, and then he was gasping, staring up at that odd swath of ceiling, when...

An arm wrapped around him.

Jon stared down at it.

The arm was muscular, covered in tattoos and very little hair. The parts without designs were a smooth, dark, yellowish-brown, soft-looking despite the utter lack of body fat. The fingers attached to the hand there were strong, gripping Jon's ribs.

For what felt like a long span of seconds, Jon didn't move.

He found he'd gone from gasping like a fish to suddenly not breathing at all. His whole body had stiffened, even before he turned his head, raising it off the pillow to get a good look at the person lying at a near diagonal angle across the bed beside him.

Wreg's black hair covered the top third and one side of his heavily tattooed back. Jon found himself lost in the sheer number of tattoos, which covered him pretty much from his shoulders down to the curve at the base of his back...then started up somewhere around mid-thigh to leave a few more streaks of color down to his ankles and calves.

Completely nude, the man's body was almost intimidatingly muscular.

Jon had often thought of Wreg as borderline stocky, but without clothes, he didn't have a spare ounce of flesh on him. Jon found himself wondering just how much time the seer spent in the weight room, then realized he pretty much knew the answer. Wreg didn't really hang socially with the other seers...even with most of the rebels.

In fact, apart from Balidor, Revik and Jon himself, Jon hardly saw him hanging out with anyone.

He'd always assumed the seer was straight. Maybe the fact that he'd caught him staring at his sister's ass on more than one occasion had been the clue on that one.

Unwilling to move the arm enough to risk waking him, Jon sank back down into the mattress, and fought not to panic.

He realized in the same set of seconds that he was naked, too.

In doing a second assessment of his own body, it was pretty clear sex had been had.

The fact that he could only remember pieces of it...along with a bunch of images that had to be hallucinations, or at least Jon hoped desperately that they were hallucinations...unless he really
had
seen Aunt Carol skinny-dipping with Loki in the roof pool while Revik and Allie made out against the pool wall on the deep end. Or that three of his cousins had been in the pool in their underwear too, being flirted with by Jax and Neela and a couple of the other seers.

And could he really remember Uncle James teaching Yumi the human star constellations?

The sheer detail in the images convinced Jon they probably were real.

Groaning quietly, he covered his face with the hand attached to the arm that wasn't pinned under some part of Wreg and fought to clear his mind.

What the hell had been in those cakes?

He remembered the wedding ceremony itself. He remembered delivering the cakes...and then a lot of wild dancing and, yes, there it was...kissing Wreg in some part of the kitchen after he ran out of there, sure he was having some kind of panic attack when he saw those flying dragon things in space.

He couldn't remember who started it
precisely,
but the more he replayed the memory, the more he was pretty sure it might have been him who kissed Wreg, and not the reverse. In his defense, the seer was the only one who seemed to understand him at all right then. He'd also looked incredibly hot in that tux, and there'd been something there between them, earlier that night...even before Jon fully admitted to himself that his mind was going there.

Also, he'd been hammered.

Even before he ate that magic cake of Tarsi's, Jon had pretty much been flying from all the shots and the Sarhacienne wine.

Still half-covering his face with one hand, Jon turned his head to look at the rest of the room. From the size of the shoulders on it, Wreg's tuxedo jacket and shirt had been tossed over a nearby chair. Jon found himself staring at the altar constructed there, and the images that covered the top half of it, many of which he'd seen on Wreg's body. Under the altar itself stood several rows of leather-bound books which looked incredibly old.

Jon hadn't seen such valuable-looking books in a long time. He wondered if those had been salvaged from Seertown, or if they'd belonged to Wreg himself for that long.

"The latter, brother," Wreg mumbled sleepily against the pillow. He prodded Jon's arm. "You can look if you want..."

Jon glanced over at him, feeling his face warm, and wondering what else the seer had heard while he'd been feigning sleep.

Even as he thought it, Wreg raised his head. Rubbing his face with one hand, he rolled over to his back. Jon found himself looking hastily away when he saw the full frontal...especially when he noticed the incredibly prominent erection.

When he glanced back at Wreg's face, the seer was watching him, his expression uncharacteristically cautious.

"You all right?" he said.

Jon nodded, still fighting to get enough spit in his mouth to speak. He was still just lying there when Wreg shifted to his side, and began massaging Jon's shoulder.

"You're sure?" he said.

"Yeah," Jon said, clearing his throat. He knew his voice was anything but convincing, but found himself nodding anyway. "Yeah...I'm good." The seer's fingers were starting to affect him though, and he found himself looking away, swallowing again. He motioned towards the books. "So what are those, exactly? Commentaries?"

He felt a pleased ripple off the seer's light, along with an uncomfortable amount of desire.

"You really did study the books, didn't you? How well do you know them?"

Jon shook his head, glancing up in spite of himself. "Not well."

"Did Dorje study them, too?" Wreg said.

Jon got the sense that Wreg said the name deliberately, but it didn't feel in any way like a dig. Instead it felt like the seer was trying to be transparent, not forcing the subject but not shying away from it, either.

Still, the question paralyzed Jon briefly. When Wreg continued massaging his shoulder and arm, he found himself slowly relaxing.

"No," he said finally. "No, and I'm afraid I stopped doing as much of that as I wanted when we got together. I studied under Vash...but I did a lot more when I was single, when I first got to Seertown. I was one of his students then..." He trailed, forcing himself to look at Wreg again, uncomfortably aware that he was getting hard from the seer's hands on him. "Look, Wreg..."

But Wreg shook his head. "I know what you're going to say. Don't."

"I was going to apologize..."

Wreg smiled. "Apologize? For what?"

Jon fumbled with that for a moment, then shrugged. "For being blasted, I guess. For acting like a jerk..."

Wreg's smile still tugged at his lips. "Trust me, brother...you were fine."

"You've got to know," Jon blurted. "I mean...this isn't going to happen. You know that, right? Last night, I was tanked..."

Wreg nodded, his expression unmoving. "So you don't want to fuck now?"

Jon flinched, feeling his face warm.

"No." He shook his head. "No, man. No way. I mean, thanks...but no. Really bad idea."

Wreg glanced down at Jon's erection, without making too much of it...or taking his hands off him. When Jon didn't react to either thing, he sighed, clicking softly.

"It's not only your cock that disagrees, Jon," he said then. "You're pulling on me a lot, brother. You sure resisting that is what you want? Or is this guilt talking?" His eyes still on Jon's, he shrugged subtly with one hand, still stroking Jon's ribs lightly with the other. "...I think maybe you're more seer than you realize now..."

"Meaning what?" Jon said, flushing angrily. "Meaning I'll fuck anything that moves?"

Wreg's face hardened.

Enough that Jon found himself regretting his words.

"I'm sorry, man," he said, his voice still short. "I'm just a little out of my element here, okay? I really didn't think I'd be
that
guy at my sister's wedding..." At Wreg's blank look, Jon gestured in the air with one hand. "You know,
that
guy...the one who wakes up in someone's bed, not quite sure how he got there..." When Wreg continued to look only faintly puzzled, Jon covered his eyes with a hand, exhaling. "...It's kind of a human cliché...never mind..."

After another silence, Wreg shrugged again, his voice neutral. "If it helps, it was not only us. Even Balidor left with someone..."

"You're kidding," Jon said, turning his head in spite of himself.

Wreg smiled, shaking his head. "No. He left with that prostitute from Seattle. The older one...tall. With the braids..."

"So you guys were right," Jon mused. "Isn't she the one you've been giving him shit about for the past few..." His words trailed when Wreg's hand fell on his erection. Jon raised his own hand, as if to push Wreg's off, then didn't, gripping the blanket he was lying on instead. "Wreg, jesus..." Closing his eyes, he felt another surge of that nausea, enough that he gasped, gripping the seer's arm in spite of himself. "Jesus...don't..."

"You want me to stop?" Wreg looked at him skeptically, but his eyes were clear. Clear enough that the question had to be real.

Jon stared up at him, fighting to think. But the pain worsened in the pause, and he found himself shaking his head.

"No," he said finally.

Tears came to his eyes as he said it.

He didn't even know why at first, but he saw Wreg's expression change, right before the seer caressed his face with his free hand. Sliding closer to him on the mattress, he kissed Jon's face, his mouth surprisingly gentle...then more insistent when it found Jon's. They kissed like that until Jon felt his hands slowly unclench...until his mind started to not care so much about the logistics of what he was doing. He found himself relaxing under Wreg's fingers and mouth until the seer leaned over him, working his way down his chest, massaging him with strong hands.