Blood Brothers [2/2]
Title: Blood Brothers Part 2
'Verse: Psychomachia
Pairing: Chris & Ty, Chris/Ranger
Rating: slash - implied, slash - mild
Author's Note: Currently, this is a two part series featuring Chris and Ty of Psychomachia, before they're hired as Keith's crew. This takes place five years after the events in Part 1.
Chris pushed open the front door of the Gibson’s house, calling out a loud hello. At twenty years old, he had grown up strong and handsome, confident and proud. Today, however, he looked a little pale and weak, doing his best to cover it up with a too-wide grin.
“Hi, Mrs. Gibson,” he greeted Ty’s stepmother as he entered the kitchen, where she was preparing lunch. “Ty around?”
“Hello, Chris. Tyler’s out back. Stay for lunch?” She wiped her hands on her apron and glanced at him expectantly.
“No’m, thanks. But I won’t be long.” He threw her his most charming smile and went out back to find his friend. Ty was working out, sweat slicked and concentrating fiercely. Chris’s grin became a little more real at the sight, and he threw his arm around Ty’s shoulders, stopping him mid-stretch, leaning in to lick his cheek. “Mm. Tastes like kiwi.”
“Sure that’s not just sweat?” Ty grunted, and swiped the back of his hand over his forehead.
“Yep. A little grease too. My kind of flavor.” Chris released him, still smiling, and Ty looked over at him. Instead of smiling back, his eyebrows creased.
“Hey, something the matter?” he asked quietly.
Chris cursed inwardly. Sometimes that weird psychic best friend link they had really didn’t work towards his favor. “No, of course not.” He paused, not meeting Ty’s eyes. “I’ve been doing some thinking though,” he went on. “And, uhh… Well, I’m leaving.”
“Huh? You just got here.”
He snorted and punched Ty in the shoulder. On the other hand, Ty could be extremely dense. “Leaving Patiwau. Gonna go out in the world and make my own life, or whatever it is people do.”
“Why?” Ty asked blankly.
“Cuz it seems like the thing to do. Plus, my parents are kicking me out.” He shrugged. “Guess they finally got sick of their little gay son.”
“What?!” Ty exploded. “That’s bullshit. I’ll go talk to them, they can’t do that to you, Kit.” He turned around, fully prepared to stalk over to the Rosette’s and give Chris’s parents a piece of his mind.
Chris grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t. Ty-” The sound of his real name caused him to pause. “I’m trying to say goodbye. Don’t make it any harder than it already is.”
Ty tried to laugh. It sounded helpless, hopeless. “Come on. You can’t be serious.”
“I’m already packed. It’s just a matter now of catching the next transport, which is in an hour.” Chris kicked the ground uncomfortably. Ty stared at him, then whirled off in the other direction, storming angrily into the house. Chris watched him go. Then he turned around himself and headed through the back yards to his own house. So the goodbye hadn’t gone very well. He hadn’t expected it to.
There was only one last goodbye then. Chris stood outside his sister’s room, shaking just a little. He knocked three times.
“Enter.” Her voice was calm. Chris swallowed, opened the door, and carefully stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
Miranda’s room was spotless, flawless. Chris was the only other person allowed to come inside. His sister’s phobia of germs was often overpowering. For whatever reason, he had always been the only one who could help her calm down during a fit. He hated seeing her in pain, when she was so terrified she became unintelligible.
He had wanted to help her. And maybe he’d just wanted to see how skilled he was at programming. Either way, he had reprogrammed that sim set. And now… his sister wasn’t the same.
“Hey Manda,” he tried to say casually, but his voice choked him. He noticed she was staring at something laid out in front of her. “What’re you doin’?”
“Memorizing the stars and their planets,” she answered surreally.
He wanted to scream. Instead, he smiled tightly. “That sounds fun.” He sat down beside her, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. She smiled up at him. “Do you know which ones we’ve visited?”
“Of course.” And she began rattling off a series of galaxy names and the years they were visited. Chris listened idly, his heart aching. He had thought reprogramming the sim set would fix her OCD. He had researched it, and discovered the disorder had everything to do with neurons miscommunicating in the brain. He figured if he reprogrammed the sim set to his liking, it would cause those neurons to fire correctly. He had misunderstood the purpose of the programming. It didn’t correct things, it stimulated. So her neurons still weren’t communicating in the way that he had hoped, and now her memory was heightened so much she didn’t need to wear the sim set every time she wanted to learn something, which was how everyone else did it. No, her brain was being constantly overstimulated. It meant she learned things quickly, yes, but her fits were worse now, and.. she was beginning to suffer delusions.
He’d tried to fix it, but he hadn’t been able. Whatever he’d done, the damage was seemingly permanent. This, of course, was the true reason that his parents were forcing him to leave, but he couldn’t express that to Ty. He didn’t want his best friend to know what he’d done, though Chris knew once he left it was inevitable Ty would find out anyway.
“Manda,” he began quietly. “I have to tell you something. Something important.”
“You’re leaving,” she said calmly.
He blinked. “I-What? How did you-?”
“I overheard Mother arguing with Father. He doesn’t think you should leave, you know. Only Mother feels that way.”
Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. He’d figured as much, their dad wasn’t the type of man to force any of his children out of the house, regardless of what they’d done. Their dad knew Chris only wanted to help Miranda, but their mom, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as forgiving.
“So I guess this is goodbye then.”
“Why?”
He stared at the back of her head, wondering just what damage was being done to her brain now. “Because I’m leaving, I already said.”
“Actually, I said it,” she corrected him. “You only implied it. But I’m going with you, so-”
He hugged her quite suddenly, fiercely. “Oh, Manda. No. You can’t. You can’t. I’m sorry. You can’t come with.”
Her face twisted unusually as she broke apart from the hug to look at him. “But I have to,” she reasoned. “I can’t… Kit…” she trailed off helplessly.
Squeezing her hands, he shook his head. This was too difficult, and it was so unfair. Their mother didn’t know what she was doing, separating them. Chris was the only one who could help her, he knew it. “You know Mom won’t let you come with me. Be reasonable.”
“N-no. No! No. No, no, no,” she begged him. “Don’t leave. I need you. No. Don’t go.” Her hands clung to him, nails digging into his arms. He began to rise, disengaging himself from her gently. Her face stared at him in horror, and then went blank. She turned her back on him, threw her hands over her head, and rocked. “Abkhazia, Sukhumi; Afghanistan, Kabul; Aland, Mareihamn; Albania-”
Chris kissed the top of her head, wiped his eyes dry, and left.
* * *
The transport was a big, ugly heap of metal, and its pilot clearly had no regard for its passengers, of which there were very few. Chris, a drummer, a small family that had already been on the transport to begin with, and a suspicious looking older man whose occupation Chris didn’t care to guess. He dug in his pocket for the fare, gut weighing heavy. The pilot took his change without even a glance his way. Chris hefted up his bags and started climbing on.
“Kit, you bastard! Wait up!” a familiar voice shouted behind him.
He turned in surprise to see Ty rushing towards him, a bag slapping against his side. Chris jumped back off the transport and ran towards him, shock forcing his feet to move more than anything else. “What’re you doin’ here?” he demanded.
“I’m goin' with, idiot,” Ty told him contemptuously. “Did you really think you were going to leave without me?”
“Hey kid!” the pilot shouted. “You comin’ on or not?”
Chris stared at Ty. “Yeah, I’m comin’!” he shouted back to the pilot. “Ty, I don’t even know what I’m going to do, or where I’m going, or anything.”
Ty elbowed him roughly in the ribs. “I know. You’re completely helpless without me. That’s why I’m coming with. Hurry up, before the nice man leaves without us.” He strode over to the pilot and paid his fare, turning back to Chris impatiently.
A broad grin broke over his face, and Chris followed him hurriedly.
* * *
They took what jobs they could, anything that paid enough for them to find some lodgings, eat, and pay for their next transport. They never stayed in any particular village for longer than a few weeks at a time. They set up a nice salvaging business in between their other jobs-some of them good, decent ones, some less so.
No matter where they went, they couldn’t seem to settle. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t expected it. Traveling like theirs was rare in the Rim, it was looked down on. People moved when they were married. Otherwise, they stayed in the village they’d grown up in. It took someone with a lot of willpower and at least some money to move and resettle permanently.
But Chris and Ty were young, and the moving from village to village hardly bothered them. Maybe they even enjoyed it a bit. It somehow kept them sane.
Kimano was a large village, the largest one they’d been to, and the best for resettling, if resettling was what the traveler had in mind. The buildings were nicer than most, and there was green instead of dust. The village was thriving and full of young life and so perfect for the boys.
And Chris was alone, because Ty had abandoned him, following like a lost puppy after a pretty girl who’d been flirting with him. Ty, Chris had discovered, was not as confident with girls as he’d always seemed. Maybe he didn’t get them after all, maybe he was just as overwhelmed by their softness and sweet-smelling skin as anyone else. Maybe Ty was vulnerable too.
He found himself in the marketplace, busy with people attending to their errands, buying and haggling and arguing. Choosing a shady alcove to stand beneath, Chris leaned against a stone wall, removing his hat and fanning himself. He released the top few buttons of his shirt where the sweat was gathering at his throat and aired off.
When he looked up to find a pair of eyes locked on him, it sent shivers down his spine. Across the street, in the center of a group of companions, the man watching him was rugged and dangerous in a way that was completely new to Chris. He quickly looked down, gathering his senses. When he looked up again, the man’s eyes were still there. Watching. He smiled.
Chris licked his dry, chapped lips nervously, and waited. It wasn’t long before the man excused himself from his friends and crossed the street in long, confident strides. Chris held his breath as the moment was pushed to its crisis.
“You new around here?” the man asked, his voice like silk over sand, leaning against the wall next to him. Chris flicked his eyes up at him uncertainly.
“Yeah. Me an’ my friend are here for business.”
The man raised an eyebrow, nodding agreeably. “Hm. What kind of business d’you do?”
“Whatever kind pays,” Chris replied with a shrug. “I work with computers mostly, he does some mechanical fixin' up. We salvage too a little.”
“Honest work for the young,” the man said with a white-toothed grin. He was not young. Not terribly old either, but not young. Mid thirties, quite possibly. Tanned, leathery skin, dirty blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail, rough stubble on his jaw. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Chris.”
“Ranger,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand. Chris shook it. His hand was clammy, whereas Ranger’s was dry, calloused, and firm. “So where’s your friend now?”
Chris shrugged. “Trippin’ after a girl.”
Ranger laughed, harder than the joke warranted. “More honest work from the young. You don’t go trippin’ after girls, Chris?”
“I’d try not to trip if I did,” he managed to reply, a little coyly.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Chris’s heart thumped in his chest, so loud he was sure Ranger could hear it. “Yeah.”
* * *
He wasn’t drunk. A little buzzed, but not drunk. His head was clear enough, anyway, when Ranger leaned a little closer and quietly asked if he’d like to go home with him. His head was clear enough to answer a very definite yes.
The sun was setting outside, and the danger of exposure was passing, and anyone outside was glorifying in that, removing shirts, raising skirts. Chris tried not to think about whether or not Ty was removing his shirt, and whether or not the girl was lifting her skirt.
When night fell, the village came to life. And Ranger and Chris sauntered along, unnoticed, walking side by side comfortably like two old friends, despite the tingle of want that vibrated through their bodies.
And as soon as the door to Ranger’s little shanty was closed, Chris was pushed against the wall, mouth covered by Ranger’s-hot and wet and hungry. He’d done this a few times with Ty, whenever he’d gotten lonely enough and Ty sympathetic enough, so he knew the basics of this ritual, but these were new lips, and this was a different body pressed against his. And that made it feel like he was starting all over from scratch. Like he’d never learned a thing.
So it took a few moments before his brain and his body caught up with one another, and then he managed to lift up his trembling hands and weave them into Ranger’s hair and break his lips away to gasp when the man’s fingers slid beneath his shirt and ran lightly along his ribcage. And Ranger’s lips moved to his throat, and his ear, and Chris was lost now. So lost in it.
His skin was tingling, fizzing over with lust. His fingers found their way to the buttons on Ranger’s shirt and worked them free, sliding the worn cotton off his shoulders, catching at the elbows because Ranger didn’t want to loosen his hold on Chris. He tugged, insistent, until Ranger stepped back, let it drop, and came back to him, three times the intensity as before.
Salty skin, heated, flushed, damp with perspiration. Chris’s nails dug into Ranger’s back, leaving little crescent-shaped wedges whenever he did something particularly good. Like when his tongue slid wetly into his ear, and when the rough pads of his fingers swept over his nipples.
"Wait," he gasped. "Wait."
"First time?" Ranger guessed, and licked a line down his throat.
"Mmm-mostly," Chris murmured.
"I'll make it good," he promised, leading him over to the bed, kissing him and coaxing him. Chris walked blindly into it.
They hardly slept that night. Ranger's lumpy mattress was testimony to their forbidden tryst. He taught Chris all the secrets, the ways two men could love each other. Things Chris had wanted so badly to learn with Ty, but had always known there was a boundary there he couldn't cross. Because Ty was his best friend, and not his lover, and it wouldn't be fair to him. To either of them.
He woke up late the next morning, sore, confused, and very much alone. He rubbed his eyes and contemplated his situation. On the one hand, it felt rude for him to just leave without, what, thanking Ranger? But he also thought that maybe Ty would be a little worried about him, and somehow that seemed more important. So Chris collected his clothes, dressed, tried to fix his hair, and slipped out of Ranger's little shanty into the bright, aching light of day.
* * *
It was at least an hour before he found Ty, who looked more than a little relieved to see him. A little bruised too, but Chris didn't get a chance to ask why before Ty had grabbed him around the shoulders, wide-eyed and wild.
"Geez, Kit! Where were you?! I thought-I thought…." He just about collapsed on top of him. "You ass, don't go off like that without letting me know."
Chris felt a wave of anger rise up. "You were the one that left, Ty," he reminded him coldly.
"Yeah, but…. but we always meet up again later," Ty said helplessly, cowing a little under Chris's gaze. "Where were you?" he asked again.
He thought about telling him, just to see the look on his face. Thought about telling him how many ways he'd been fucked, ways he'd never thought possible. Thought about telling him how he'd wished it was him the whole time.
"Nowhere," he said finally. "Got a little drunk is all."
Ty grinned, knowledgeable enough about drunk-Chris. "Ah."
"What happened to you?" he asked, gesturing to the ugly purple bruise on Ty's jaw.
He rubbed the bruise gingerly. "Well, that girl?" Chris nodded. "Turned out she was married. And her husband was the jealous type." He grinned ruefully as Chris laughed. "So I think I'm about ready to get out of this town. You?"
"Yeah," Chris agreed. "I think it's about time to go."
"Where to next?" Ty asked, sauntering down the dusty street.
"Whichever village the pilot charges the least for, I guess," Chris said with a shrug. A sudden impulse caused him to loop an arm around Ty's shoulders and squeeze him tightly. Ty looked down at him and grinned. Oblivious. And that was just how Chris liked him.
'Verse: Psychomachia
Pairing: Chris & Ty, Chris/Ranger
Rating: slash - implied, slash - mild
Author's Note: Currently, this is a two part series featuring Chris and Ty of Psychomachia, before they're hired as Keith's crew. This takes place five years after the events in Part 1.
Chris pushed open the front door of the Gibson’s house, calling out a loud hello. At twenty years old, he had grown up strong and handsome, confident and proud. Today, however, he looked a little pale and weak, doing his best to cover it up with a too-wide grin.
“Hi, Mrs. Gibson,” he greeted Ty’s stepmother as he entered the kitchen, where she was preparing lunch. “Ty around?”
“Hello, Chris. Tyler’s out back. Stay for lunch?” She wiped her hands on her apron and glanced at him expectantly.
“No’m, thanks. But I won’t be long.” He threw her his most charming smile and went out back to find his friend. Ty was working out, sweat slicked and concentrating fiercely. Chris’s grin became a little more real at the sight, and he threw his arm around Ty’s shoulders, stopping him mid-stretch, leaning in to lick his cheek. “Mm. Tastes like kiwi.”
“Sure that’s not just sweat?” Ty grunted, and swiped the back of his hand over his forehead.
“Yep. A little grease too. My kind of flavor.” Chris released him, still smiling, and Ty looked over at him. Instead of smiling back, his eyebrows creased.
“Hey, something the matter?” he asked quietly.
Chris cursed inwardly. Sometimes that weird psychic best friend link they had really didn’t work towards his favor. “No, of course not.” He paused, not meeting Ty’s eyes. “I’ve been doing some thinking though,” he went on. “And, uhh… Well, I’m leaving.”
“Huh? You just got here.”
He snorted and punched Ty in the shoulder. On the other hand, Ty could be extremely dense. “Leaving Patiwau. Gonna go out in the world and make my own life, or whatever it is people do.”
“Why?” Ty asked blankly.
“Cuz it seems like the thing to do. Plus, my parents are kicking me out.” He shrugged. “Guess they finally got sick of their little gay son.”
“What?!” Ty exploded. “That’s bullshit. I’ll go talk to them, they can’t do that to you, Kit.” He turned around, fully prepared to stalk over to the Rosette’s and give Chris’s parents a piece of his mind.
Chris grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t. Ty-” The sound of his real name caused him to pause. “I’m trying to say goodbye. Don’t make it any harder than it already is.”
Ty tried to laugh. It sounded helpless, hopeless. “Come on. You can’t be serious.”
“I’m already packed. It’s just a matter now of catching the next transport, which is in an hour.” Chris kicked the ground uncomfortably. Ty stared at him, then whirled off in the other direction, storming angrily into the house. Chris watched him go. Then he turned around himself and headed through the back yards to his own house. So the goodbye hadn’t gone very well. He hadn’t expected it to.
There was only one last goodbye then. Chris stood outside his sister’s room, shaking just a little. He knocked three times.
“Enter.” Her voice was calm. Chris swallowed, opened the door, and carefully stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
Miranda’s room was spotless, flawless. Chris was the only other person allowed to come inside. His sister’s phobia of germs was often overpowering. For whatever reason, he had always been the only one who could help her calm down during a fit. He hated seeing her in pain, when she was so terrified she became unintelligible.
He had wanted to help her. And maybe he’d just wanted to see how skilled he was at programming. Either way, he had reprogrammed that sim set. And now… his sister wasn’t the same.
“Hey Manda,” he tried to say casually, but his voice choked him. He noticed she was staring at something laid out in front of her. “What’re you doin’?”
“Memorizing the stars and their planets,” she answered surreally.
He wanted to scream. Instead, he smiled tightly. “That sounds fun.” He sat down beside her, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. She smiled up at him. “Do you know which ones we’ve visited?”
“Of course.” And she began rattling off a series of galaxy names and the years they were visited. Chris listened idly, his heart aching. He had thought reprogramming the sim set would fix her OCD. He had researched it, and discovered the disorder had everything to do with neurons miscommunicating in the brain. He figured if he reprogrammed the sim set to his liking, it would cause those neurons to fire correctly. He had misunderstood the purpose of the programming. It didn’t correct things, it stimulated. So her neurons still weren’t communicating in the way that he had hoped, and now her memory was heightened so much she didn’t need to wear the sim set every time she wanted to learn something, which was how everyone else did it. No, her brain was being constantly overstimulated. It meant she learned things quickly, yes, but her fits were worse now, and.. she was beginning to suffer delusions.
He’d tried to fix it, but he hadn’t been able. Whatever he’d done, the damage was seemingly permanent. This, of course, was the true reason that his parents were forcing him to leave, but he couldn’t express that to Ty. He didn’t want his best friend to know what he’d done, though Chris knew once he left it was inevitable Ty would find out anyway.
“Manda,” he began quietly. “I have to tell you something. Something important.”
“You’re leaving,” she said calmly.
He blinked. “I-What? How did you-?”
“I overheard Mother arguing with Father. He doesn’t think you should leave, you know. Only Mother feels that way.”
Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. He’d figured as much, their dad wasn’t the type of man to force any of his children out of the house, regardless of what they’d done. Their dad knew Chris only wanted to help Miranda, but their mom, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as forgiving.
“So I guess this is goodbye then.”
“Why?”
He stared at the back of her head, wondering just what damage was being done to her brain now. “Because I’m leaving, I already said.”
“Actually, I said it,” she corrected him. “You only implied it. But I’m going with you, so-”
He hugged her quite suddenly, fiercely. “Oh, Manda. No. You can’t. You can’t. I’m sorry. You can’t come with.”
Her face twisted unusually as she broke apart from the hug to look at him. “But I have to,” she reasoned. “I can’t… Kit…” she trailed off helplessly.
Squeezing her hands, he shook his head. This was too difficult, and it was so unfair. Their mother didn’t know what she was doing, separating them. Chris was the only one who could help her, he knew it. “You know Mom won’t let you come with me. Be reasonable.”
“N-no. No! No. No, no, no,” she begged him. “Don’t leave. I need you. No. Don’t go.” Her hands clung to him, nails digging into his arms. He began to rise, disengaging himself from her gently. Her face stared at him in horror, and then went blank. She turned her back on him, threw her hands over her head, and rocked. “Abkhazia, Sukhumi; Afghanistan, Kabul; Aland, Mareihamn; Albania-”
Chris kissed the top of her head, wiped his eyes dry, and left.
* * *
The transport was a big, ugly heap of metal, and its pilot clearly had no regard for its passengers, of which there were very few. Chris, a drummer, a small family that had already been on the transport to begin with, and a suspicious looking older man whose occupation Chris didn’t care to guess. He dug in his pocket for the fare, gut weighing heavy. The pilot took his change without even a glance his way. Chris hefted up his bags and started climbing on.
“Kit, you bastard! Wait up!” a familiar voice shouted behind him.
He turned in surprise to see Ty rushing towards him, a bag slapping against his side. Chris jumped back off the transport and ran towards him, shock forcing his feet to move more than anything else. “What’re you doin’ here?” he demanded.
“I’m goin' with, idiot,” Ty told him contemptuously. “Did you really think you were going to leave without me?”
“Hey kid!” the pilot shouted. “You comin’ on or not?”
Chris stared at Ty. “Yeah, I’m comin’!” he shouted back to the pilot. “Ty, I don’t even know what I’m going to do, or where I’m going, or anything.”
Ty elbowed him roughly in the ribs. “I know. You’re completely helpless without me. That’s why I’m coming with. Hurry up, before the nice man leaves without us.” He strode over to the pilot and paid his fare, turning back to Chris impatiently.
A broad grin broke over his face, and Chris followed him hurriedly.
* * *
They took what jobs they could, anything that paid enough for them to find some lodgings, eat, and pay for their next transport. They never stayed in any particular village for longer than a few weeks at a time. They set up a nice salvaging business in between their other jobs-some of them good, decent ones, some less so.
No matter where they went, they couldn’t seem to settle. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t expected it. Traveling like theirs was rare in the Rim, it was looked down on. People moved when they were married. Otherwise, they stayed in the village they’d grown up in. It took someone with a lot of willpower and at least some money to move and resettle permanently.
But Chris and Ty were young, and the moving from village to village hardly bothered them. Maybe they even enjoyed it a bit. It somehow kept them sane.
Kimano was a large village, the largest one they’d been to, and the best for resettling, if resettling was what the traveler had in mind. The buildings were nicer than most, and there was green instead of dust. The village was thriving and full of young life and so perfect for the boys.
And Chris was alone, because Ty had abandoned him, following like a lost puppy after a pretty girl who’d been flirting with him. Ty, Chris had discovered, was not as confident with girls as he’d always seemed. Maybe he didn’t get them after all, maybe he was just as overwhelmed by their softness and sweet-smelling skin as anyone else. Maybe Ty was vulnerable too.
He found himself in the marketplace, busy with people attending to their errands, buying and haggling and arguing. Choosing a shady alcove to stand beneath, Chris leaned against a stone wall, removing his hat and fanning himself. He released the top few buttons of his shirt where the sweat was gathering at his throat and aired off.
When he looked up to find a pair of eyes locked on him, it sent shivers down his spine. Across the street, in the center of a group of companions, the man watching him was rugged and dangerous in a way that was completely new to Chris. He quickly looked down, gathering his senses. When he looked up again, the man’s eyes were still there. Watching. He smiled.
Chris licked his dry, chapped lips nervously, and waited. It wasn’t long before the man excused himself from his friends and crossed the street in long, confident strides. Chris held his breath as the moment was pushed to its crisis.
“You new around here?” the man asked, his voice like silk over sand, leaning against the wall next to him. Chris flicked his eyes up at him uncertainly.
“Yeah. Me an’ my friend are here for business.”
The man raised an eyebrow, nodding agreeably. “Hm. What kind of business d’you do?”
“Whatever kind pays,” Chris replied with a shrug. “I work with computers mostly, he does some mechanical fixin' up. We salvage too a little.”
“Honest work for the young,” the man said with a white-toothed grin. He was not young. Not terribly old either, but not young. Mid thirties, quite possibly. Tanned, leathery skin, dirty blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail, rough stubble on his jaw. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Chris.”
“Ranger,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand. Chris shook it. His hand was clammy, whereas Ranger’s was dry, calloused, and firm. “So where’s your friend now?”
Chris shrugged. “Trippin’ after a girl.”
Ranger laughed, harder than the joke warranted. “More honest work from the young. You don’t go trippin’ after girls, Chris?”
“I’d try not to trip if I did,” he managed to reply, a little coyly.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Chris’s heart thumped in his chest, so loud he was sure Ranger could hear it. “Yeah.”
* * *
He wasn’t drunk. A little buzzed, but not drunk. His head was clear enough, anyway, when Ranger leaned a little closer and quietly asked if he’d like to go home with him. His head was clear enough to answer a very definite yes.
The sun was setting outside, and the danger of exposure was passing, and anyone outside was glorifying in that, removing shirts, raising skirts. Chris tried not to think about whether or not Ty was removing his shirt, and whether or not the girl was lifting her skirt.
When night fell, the village came to life. And Ranger and Chris sauntered along, unnoticed, walking side by side comfortably like two old friends, despite the tingle of want that vibrated through their bodies.
And as soon as the door to Ranger’s little shanty was closed, Chris was pushed against the wall, mouth covered by Ranger’s-hot and wet and hungry. He’d done this a few times with Ty, whenever he’d gotten lonely enough and Ty sympathetic enough, so he knew the basics of this ritual, but these were new lips, and this was a different body pressed against his. And that made it feel like he was starting all over from scratch. Like he’d never learned a thing.
So it took a few moments before his brain and his body caught up with one another, and then he managed to lift up his trembling hands and weave them into Ranger’s hair and break his lips away to gasp when the man’s fingers slid beneath his shirt and ran lightly along his ribcage. And Ranger’s lips moved to his throat, and his ear, and Chris was lost now. So lost in it.
His skin was tingling, fizzing over with lust. His fingers found their way to the buttons on Ranger’s shirt and worked them free, sliding the worn cotton off his shoulders, catching at the elbows because Ranger didn’t want to loosen his hold on Chris. He tugged, insistent, until Ranger stepped back, let it drop, and came back to him, three times the intensity as before.
Salty skin, heated, flushed, damp with perspiration. Chris’s nails dug into Ranger’s back, leaving little crescent-shaped wedges whenever he did something particularly good. Like when his tongue slid wetly into his ear, and when the rough pads of his fingers swept over his nipples.
"Wait," he gasped. "Wait."
"First time?" Ranger guessed, and licked a line down his throat.
"Mmm-mostly," Chris murmured.
"I'll make it good," he promised, leading him over to the bed, kissing him and coaxing him. Chris walked blindly into it.
They hardly slept that night. Ranger's lumpy mattress was testimony to their forbidden tryst. He taught Chris all the secrets, the ways two men could love each other. Things Chris had wanted so badly to learn with Ty, but had always known there was a boundary there he couldn't cross. Because Ty was his best friend, and not his lover, and it wouldn't be fair to him. To either of them.
He woke up late the next morning, sore, confused, and very much alone. He rubbed his eyes and contemplated his situation. On the one hand, it felt rude for him to just leave without, what, thanking Ranger? But he also thought that maybe Ty would be a little worried about him, and somehow that seemed more important. So Chris collected his clothes, dressed, tried to fix his hair, and slipped out of Ranger's little shanty into the bright, aching light of day.
* * *
It was at least an hour before he found Ty, who looked more than a little relieved to see him. A little bruised too, but Chris didn't get a chance to ask why before Ty had grabbed him around the shoulders, wide-eyed and wild.
"Geez, Kit! Where were you?! I thought-I thought…." He just about collapsed on top of him. "You ass, don't go off like that without letting me know."
Chris felt a wave of anger rise up. "You were the one that left, Ty," he reminded him coldly.
"Yeah, but…. but we always meet up again later," Ty said helplessly, cowing a little under Chris's gaze. "Where were you?" he asked again.
He thought about telling him, just to see the look on his face. Thought about telling him how many ways he'd been fucked, ways he'd never thought possible. Thought about telling him how he'd wished it was him the whole time.
"Nowhere," he said finally. "Got a little drunk is all."
Ty grinned, knowledgeable enough about drunk-Chris. "Ah."
"What happened to you?" he asked, gesturing to the ugly purple bruise on Ty's jaw.
He rubbed the bruise gingerly. "Well, that girl?" Chris nodded. "Turned out she was married. And her husband was the jealous type." He grinned ruefully as Chris laughed. "So I think I'm about ready to get out of this town. You?"
"Yeah," Chris agreed. "I think it's about time to go."
"Where to next?" Ty asked, sauntering down the dusty street.
"Whichever village the pilot charges the least for, I guess," Chris said with a shrug. A sudden impulse caused him to loop an arm around Ty's shoulders and squeeze him tightly. Ty looked down at him and grinned. Oblivious. And that was just how Chris liked him.