Spliced - 4.5B
* * *
However, once Alex entered the room his earlier uneasiness redoubled.
Matt paused to turn on the lamp near the door before going to his desk and placing his briefcase on it. Then he leaned against the desk, eyeing the clone possessively again.
While the Kartan made a fine diversion from memories of Kristech, there was no way he could distract him from the memories of the things they’d done in this room. Not when Matt was an active participant in all of them. As Alex glanced around the bedroom, he couldn’t help noting: There isn’t a flat surface in here that we didn’t have sex on. Multiple times.
The unwelcome observation made him flush, and he felt Matt’s interested gaze sharpen. Avoiding eye contact, he closed the door behind him and walked further into the room, his composure unraveling with every step.
Alex had been here just the other day when he snuck in to place his monitoring equipment, and the memories had hit him badly enough then. But now with Matt in the room with him, it was so much worse.
He’d suspected it would be, and had deliberately delayed this ‘homecoming.’
Halting at the table he’d knelt by many times, Matt feeding him by hand, he ignored his rolling stomach and dropped his bag onto one of the chairs. He removed his jacket and abruptly checked the instinctive urge to sling it over the chair. Instead he opened the closet and hung it in there, deciding such a minor thing wasn’t worth annoying Muldane over.
As he walked back over to his bag, the cabinet along the wall near the bed caught his eye. Remembering well its contents, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, wondering how the hell he was going to do this.
The freedom-loving part of him was urging him to leave before it was too late, but his Andorian half was quivering with anticipation. Recalling how it felt to have Matt inside him, the incredible pleasure of it, his feet felt heavier, as if he were sinking in quicksand.
Matt shifted then, drawing his attention, and he watched the man move from the desk to the bed. He sat on it casually, placing one arm behind him and leaning on it. His gaze stayed alertly on Alex, a patience in his eyes that the clone found worrying. Like a predator eyeing his prey, he thought with an edge of rising hysteria.
The onset of panic snapping at his heels, he forced himself into motion. Grabbing his toiletries out of his bag, he headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him to shut out Matt and that room.
Of course, the bathroom wasn’t much of an improvement. He remembered showering in here together many times, the images still clear after all these months. Ironically though, he was much more nervous entering this bathroom now than he had been the first time. Back then he'd known generally what to expect, and now... well, that hadn't changed, yet everything seemed different. And he didn't like it.
He removed the wig and then stared into the mirror, telling himself to calm down. His face was pale, and his forehead glinted, a light sweat breaking out on his skin. Matt hadn’t even done anything yet, so why was he spiraling out already?
Because I remember all the things he did before. Glaring into the mirror, he reminded himself that he was capable of holding his own against Matt. No longer pretending to be a simple Andorian, Muldane couldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to do, contract or no contract.
Then why am I still so nervous? With a sudden epiphany, he realized what terrified him so much: after almost eight years spent learning to assert himself as an independent person, this felt like a horrible step back.
Yes, he’d gone back to slavery several times since escaping Kristech, but on a certain level he’d still retained a measure of control over the situation. None of the people he served had ever suspected there was more to him, and unerringly all of them had underestimated him. He’d known that escaping them wouldn’t be too difficult, because they’d never expected him to.
But Matt knew too much now. He couldn’t fool him by playing the ‘helpless Andorian’ card. Add on the need to identify Hayeston and deal with that threat, and he couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to. And on top of everything else, Matt affected him more than any ‘owner’ ever had. If you didn’t care about someone, they couldn’t hurt you as deeply. But Matt certainly could.
Beneath his brazen attitude, Alex felt horrendously out of control of the situation. There were too many uncertainties - from dealing with Matt and Hayeston, to handling the Min part of himself - and he hated it.
When did I become as big of a control freak as Matt? Alex wondered with shaky amusement, turning to open the linen closet. Recalling that as Min he’d been ordered to use the brown towels and keep them separate from Matt’s blue ones, he deliberately chose a blue towel this time. Bringing it back over to the sink, he removed the hazel lenses covering his eyes and rolled up the sleeves of his gray sweater before starting on the prosthetics.
Slaves, especially Andorians, were accustomed to having no control. Flame all, he’d never tasted power until his escape from Kristech. But, he observed reluctantly, that experience had left him with a craving for it. He might’ve denied it for a long time, but why else did he make such a point to ignore orders as Alex? He was overcompensating for the lack of control he’d experienced during his childhood, and satisfying his need to be independent now.
And yet he was still Andorian. He knew there was much pleasure to be had in surrendering to someone else. But the advantage of being underestimated was gone now, and this whole situation with Matt had become completely unpredictable. While Matt was predictable regarding certain things - such as his jealousy - Alex could no longer anticipate his own reactions.
He’d believed he could remain in control of himself, tamping down the Andorian urges until he wanted to act on them, but his panicked, contradictory response to being back here made him doubt that assumption now.
Rinsing the last of the annoying residue off his face, he dried his hands and face with the hand towel by the sink. Then he leaned over the counter, taking a deep, steadying breath.
The sudden opening of the door startled him, and he straightened, turning to look at Matt apprehensively. The realization that he’d left the bathroom door unlocked out of habit - after all, Min hadn’t been permitted to keep his master out - did nothing to improve his mood. Shit, next he’d be cursing in Pyrunian, like Min did.
Matt’s expression was pleased. “Being back here makes you spiral.”
Alex glared at him, irritation causing his backbone to return from its unexpected fear vacation.
“No wonder you didn’t want to come back here right away,” Matt murmured, propping himself against the doorway. “You aren’t as in control as you pretend to be.”
Determinedly he ignored the anxiety that arose from realizing that Matt’s position was effectively trapping him in the bathroom. Forcing his posture to appear casual, Alex leaned against the counter facing Matt. Compelling his tone into lightness, he replied, “It’s just a little embarrassing, that’s all. All those memories.”
“Yes,” Matt agreed softly, his eyes sparking. “I suppose they would be. All the things we did together, and can do again now.”
The first embers of arousal flared, but they didn’t burn away common sense. “Not all of them,” Alex countered, remembering Matt’s occasional cruelties.
The Kartan shrugged, his expression unreadable. “We’ll see.”
Straightening, Matt looked away as he said, “So the memories bother you. Imagine living here after you disappeared.”
Alex flushed as guilt pounced on him as suddenly as a Tamrikan snowcat. This room must’ve felt incredibly empty after he’d vanished.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, stepping forward to put a hand on Matt’s arm. Even through the barrier of clothing, the warm promise of Matt’s skin called to him. Not meeting his eyes, Alex added, “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”
But you did anyway. Matt didn’t say it, but it was clear all the same.
The clone looked up into the slightly taller man’s face. The Kartan was staring back at him, need and lingering hurt in his eyes. Alex moved closer, leaning against him in an offer of comfort, his hands caressing the other man’s hips.
Matt’s arms rose to embrace him, accepting his gesture. His hands roamed over Alex’s back before one lowered to cup his ass through his pants. Of course, Alex thought with a faint smile, not really complaining. He lifted his own hands to run along Matt’s back comfortingly, sliding over the man’s dark suit jacket.
The Kartan’s other hand meandered upwards then, pausing at Alex’s cheek. Matt leaned back a bit to look at him, and the clone met his eyes, watching as he studied Alex’s face intently. “Much better,” Matt whispered, caressing his skin, clear of the prosthetics now. Alex smiled in response.
Matt’s hand shifted, settling in the Andorian’s hair. His fingers stroked the short strands and then tugged on them playfully as he murmured, “I am not forgiving you for the hair though.”
Chuckling softly, Alex said, “I didn’t expect you to.”
Something had changed between them sometime during the evening, something neither of them would acknowledge aloud. But it was there in these new quiet moments between them.
Needing whatever peace he could get in this uncertain situation, Alex closed his eyes, focusing on Matt’s pleasant touch as he leaned into it. He’d always loved the feel of the Kartan’s fingers running through his hair, and for a moment he regretted cutting it.
But there were other distractions as well. The length of Matt’s body so close to his own, promising of delightful things to come, made his mouth dry. His arms tightened around the other man, as if he could meld them together if he held him closely enough. For a moment he lost himself in the fervent wish that the Kartan would accept him as an equal one day.
It was Matt who finally broke the silence. His hand curling under Alex’s jaw to lift his chin he said softly, “Let’s leave all that for tomorrow.”
Glad for the respite, Alex smiled, meeting that hazel gaze. Turning his head, he kissed Matt’s cheek chastely before shifting so his lips just brushed the Kartan’s. Matt’s warm breath tickled his face, and Alex’s pulse quickened with expectation.
Matt closed the small gap, the touch of his lips an offering not a taking. No tongue pressed aggressively at his lips; the kiss was soft, startlingly tender. They hadn’t kissed like this since he’d last been here, saying goodbye to Matt that final morning.
This gentleness surprised him, especially after so many months spent apart, but then he remembered how Matt had watched him just minutes earlier. Now that he was exactly where Matt wanted him to be, the impatient Kartan suddenly possessed endless patience. After all, they had all night, and months after that. Matt had done the same thing after buying him from that market, waiting until they reached his house to have sex with him, instead of tumbling him quickly in that hotel room.
And, Alex reminded himself, they weren’t adolescent boys. Eager as they were after their long separation, they both knew that the meal allowed to simmer all day has the richer taste.
Smiling against Matt’s lips, he opened his mouth, letting him in. Just like that first time in the shower months ago, their kisses left him feeling exposed, baring more to Matt than he intended to. It was as terrifying as it had always been, yet so intoxicating that he couldn’t help wanting more.
They broke apart then, heads tilted as they stared at each other, catching their breaths. Then Matt stepped away, slipping out of Alex’s arms with an odd expression on his face. Awe lit his features, giving him a dazed yet contented look that Alex could empathize with.
Although obscured in the past month by the angry passion of their fighting, their pure, uncontrollable desire for each other was still there.
No matter what else had changed, that hadn’t.
4.5C