The journey itself, is freedom
by Ainzfern
2
High above the glimmering golden lights of Tanagura, Riki, pleasantly buzzed on fine wine and full of good food, grinned contentedly and accepted a cigarette from Katze. Shoulder to shoulder they stood, leaning against the low wall that surrounded the penthouse balcony and, as they gazed out over the night-time cityscape, they shared conversation and friendship in equal measure.
Not a bad old way to pass an evening, Riki reflected as he tapped ash from his cigarette into a conveniently nearby planter-box.
Behind them, through the open glass doors of the penthouse, the deep velvet sound of Elite voices gently spilled out along with the soft light from the apartment. Iason and Raoul, comfortably ensconced in deep armchairs in the main room, were idly talking Syndicate matters while Katze and Riki enjoyed their now time-honored ritual of an after-dinner smoke.
Sighing happily Riki shifted his position, turning to face his friend and resting one lean hip against the balcony wall. He observed the ex-Furniture in silence for a moment noting how, as always, Katze's eyes seemed drawn towards the twin moons, their focus becoming soft, even fond.
"You like them, don't you?" Riki murmured suddenly.
Katze's striking eyes, oddly silvered by the moonlight, turned his way. "Mmm?"
"The moons," Riki clarified, crushing out his cigarette before hoisting himself up onto the wall, perching there and looking interestedly at the red-head. "Ever since I've known you, you've always made a point of giving them a nod when you see 'em."
Katze's chuckle, soft deep and remarkably pleasant, reached Riki's ears. "I know," Katze smiled, pitching his finished cigarette into the same planter-box that Riki had used. "Raoul made the same observation once." Broad shoulders lifted in a brief shrug. "True though. I do like them... kind of like old friends, in a way. They watched over me for a lot of years."
Riki nodded, his expression growing contemplative. "Yeah, I can get that." He ran one hand through his tousled dark hair, pushing it back off his brow for a moment. "I guess you could really say they watched over both of us for while there..." he grinned, his dark eyes smiling, "Till we found our way home."
Katze shot him a distinctly suspicious glance. "Exactly how much have you drunk tonight?"
"Why?"
"Because you only ever wax philosophical when you're half-cut," Katze turned around, leaning his rump against the wall and smirking slyly.
"Nice," Riki snorted gracelessly. "I try to lift the tone of the conversation and what do I get?"
"A dose of reality?"
Riki flipped his friend a rude gesture. "Everyone's a fuckin' critic," he shot back, amiably enough. "Seriously, man... I've got a point here. I mean, look at the paths our lives have taken," he sat forwards, his eyes intent on Katze's face. "Consider where we are, compared to where we came from. Doesn't it just blow you away sometimes when you think about it?"
Katze stilled, staring at him in silence for a moment. At length, he turned his face towards the glass windows that graced the entire balcony side of the apartment, a soft smile curving his full mouth and sincere affection warming his eyes as his gaze inevitably rested upon Raoul Am, talking softly with Iason in the main room. "Yeah," he murmured slowly. "Yeah, you're right. Sometimes it really does."
"Thought so," easing back on his hands, Riki stretched his legs out in front of him, glancing briefly up at the moons above him before also turning his attention towards the two elegant but relaxed Elites seated within the apartment.
Amoi's moons were nice enough, Riki supposed, reaching out to take another cigarette as Katze offered up his pack once more. But if the truth had to be told, the single bright centre of his world was not some cold and distant celestial body hanging all untouchable in the night sky.
He smiled again, letting his eyes trace the perfect lines of Iason Mink's profile.
It was closer, and much more constant.
And he had the sincere belief that Katze would wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment, poetic or not.
Peripherally, he noted Katze giving himself a little shake, tearing his attention away from his Companion and turning to face Riki once more. "Actually, talking of personal journeys," the redhead asked through a cloud of sweet-scented smoke, "how's Enif been lately? If I recall, you were getting sort of concerned about the guy the last time we talked."
Riki heaved a sigh and shook his head. "Well, I guess you could say he's okay... whenever we have our meetings at his apartment."
"Ah."
"Yeah," Riki nodded grimly. "Don't get me wrong; now that he's got everything running smoothly, he does a damned good job coordinating the ongoing relocations to Hepstra. But, it's the same old shit whenever he comes here to Eos. I mean, I really thought that getting him to come into Eos Tower would help him to get used to being around Elites again... at the very least I thought it'd help stop him from becoming some kind of fuckin' recluse out at the space port."
Katze arched a wry brow at him. "I take it from your tone, Riki, that it hasn't worked?"
"Not even close," Riki shook his head. "He even sees an Elite and he just goes to pieces... right back into 'Pet mode'. He might as well still be wearing a fuckin' ring."
"Poor bastard," Katze winced slightly.
"I know it's not something that he can help." Riki pulled in a deep lungful of smoke before continuing. "I mean, I know that he was bred and raised to be subservient to Elites. But, it kinda frustrates me now that, even after all this time, he still can't seem to get his head around the fact he's free. He's a full citizen of the federation now..."
Katze's brow smoothed as he nodded, "Chey got the official paperwork through, then?"
"Yeah," Riki flicked his cigarette butt into the planter. "About three months ago. He cut a lot of red-tape out to get it done faster. And when Enif told me... he seemed really pleased about it, almost relieved."
"But..?"
Riki heaved himself down off the wall, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, "But... even if we're right in the middle of working on new placements or a monthly report for Chey's office, if Iason so much as walks past, Enif starts the whole simpering, pouting, big-eyes thing. It's not pretty, man."
"How's Iason feel about it?"
Riki huffed a mirthless little laugh. "He ignores it. What else can he do? But I can tell, the more it happens, the more pissed off with it he gets. He doesn't want that shit in our home anymore, y'know? It's going to come to the stage where splitting the meetings between our places is just not gonna be workable." Riki shrugged, a certain feeling of discomfort rising in him. "The thing is, Katze, I want to talk to him about it, but I'm not sure I can. Even though I was a Pet for a pretty long time, I was never..." he trailed off, struggling for the right words.
"Obedient?" Katze offered, smiling slightly.
Riki shot him a look. "Well. Yeah... I was never that. But I was thinking more along the line of 'docile', actually."
"I think the only way you'd ever be docile, Riki, is if you also happened to be dead," The ex-Furniture chuckled, before sobering once more. "The fundamental differences between mongrels and Pets, I guess," he added quietly.
"Yeah," Riki grimaced. "I just... I find it so fuckin' hard to relate to where Enif is coming from. And it's a shame, 'cause in spite of how much we used to hate each other's guts... I like him now. He works his ass off and he asks for nothing." Riki grinned, almost sadly. "You can't help liking someone like that."
"Enif's case is a little ironic, too, when you think about it," Katze mused, the long fingers of one hand rubbing thoughtfully at his chin.
Riki looked questioningly at him.
Seeing his expression, Katze shrugged. "Well, think about Pets who've been upgraded to Companions. They don't seem to have the same issues as Enif does. Why do you think that is?"
Riki eyes widened a little as the simplicity of it hit him. "Because he was thrown away," he murmured, a vaguely sick feeling entering his gut, "while Companions were kept."
"Right," Katze met his gaze with eyes that suddenly seemed far older than his years. "And, his situation is even harder than most that are in the same boat because, unlike them, he can't relocate to Hepstra because he knows he's needed here. So he's stuck. He's just so much unwanted chattel, walking around in a world where he sees living breathing reminders of everything he lost, everything he'll never have – all around him every day. Is it really any wonder he falls back into the old habits when you take it in that context?"
"And to think," Riki muttered, his face flushing for a moment, "back when I was a Pet, I actually used to hope he'd get what was coming to him."
"Well, he did."
"Reality bites, man," Riki heaved a great sigh. "It's never as simple as you think."
"So, what are you going to do?"
Riki set his shoulders and lifted his chin, meeting Katze's eyes steadily. "I'll talk to him."
"I think that's a good idea."
"C'mon," Riki jerked his head towards the open doors of the apartment, "let's go in. I need some coffee."
Katze snorted in amusement. "I think that's a good idea, too."
In a spacious and rather elegantly appointed apartment in the mid-upper levels of Eos Tower, Tahna Lam, Elite head of the Tanagura Syndicate's department of Arts and Antiquities, picked almost delicately at a light meal while he focused his attention on the season schedule for the upcoming Tanagura arts festival.
At least, that was what he was trying to do.
Huffing a disconsolate little sigh from deep in his chest, Tahna pushed the schedule planner across the table and ran one slender hand through his wealth of pale gold hair, his huge violet eyes narrowing in disgust at himself.
He had arrived home only an hour before from his main office at the Midas museum of history, fully intending to work through the night until he was satisfied with the plans for the festival. He'd followed his customary routine, doing a brief inspection of the apartment to make sure that his furniture, Karu, had done his usual excellent job of ensuring that everything was clean and tidy, before refreshing himself with a quick shower and padding out to his kitchen to retrieve his evening meal and a bottle of fine wine.
So, he'd stuck to his standard late-evening habits... with one tiny exception. He'd quite obviously made a fundamental mistake in deciding to wear Chey's gift in lieu of his usual night-time attire. Simple sleepwear that Chey had sent to him only a few days ago, ordered all the way from Isius. Ice-blue, finely woven satin. Long low-slung pants that whispered against his skin as he moved, and a soft elegantly cut sleeveless vest that clung to his torso like a second skin.
Tahna had made the rather erroneous decision to put it on this evening thinking, incorrectly in hindsight, that it might make Chey's absence seem a little less vexing. However... Tahna took a deep swallow from his wine glass before rising to his feet and stalking across to the floor to ceiling windows that looked out over Midas, damned if the wretched man hadn't managed to purchase something that was literally one of the most sensual things Tahna had ever worn.
As he glared out into the night, holding his wine loosely in one hand, Tahna almost absently ran the fingers of his other hand down his chest, stroking for a moment over the smooth cool satin that covered his flat stomach.
Five weeks.
Heaving another disgusted sigh, Tahna stood and brooded.
Approaching the annual budget debates in the federation government's parliament, Chey had warned him that he wouldn't be likely to get away for some time. Tahna had responded to that with his usual affected lack of concern, stating that he had managed for many years without Chey Neeson's attentions and he could certainly cope without them for an extended period now. He'd also, rather graciously Tahna thought, decided not to make an issue of the smugly knowing little look in his lover's eyes as he'd made that declaration.
But... five weeks.
In the absolute privacy of his apartment, alone as he was, Tahna was forced to admit, grudgingly, that he might have just, possibly, maybe, underestimated the full impact of being separated from Chey for this long would have on him.
Downing the rest of his wine in one swallow, Tahna pressed his hand against the glass window in front of him, his beautiful eyes reflecting the silvery light of Amoi's twin moons, his full mouth pursed into a delicate moue of discontent. He had to admit it... he was restless. Physically, sexually, emotionally. His temper, never serene at the best of times, was starting to fray. Even Quinn had begun to find excuses to avoid him, and the little man, as a rule, generally could put up with anything.
In a rare moment of personal self-revelation, Tahna Lam embraced the truth of the matter.
He had become used to having Chey Neeson more or less constantly in his life... and he missed him.
It wasn't just about sexual gratification, Tahna knew. For goodness sake, he could pick up the phone and dial that in within a moment. He could, if the mood were to take him, call Karu out to collect him and take him back to Apathia, where his dear little Pets, Elle and Tei, would be more than overjoyed to perform for him, even at this late hour.
But that wasn't what he wanted. Or needed.
Quite odd, really, Tahna reflected as he returned to the table and poured another glass of wine for himself, considering that he was an Elite – a creature born and raised and educated to consider emotional entanglements as little more than an encumbrance – that absolute faithfulness to his lover seemed somehow built into his very nature now. He smirked slightly, returning to his post at the window.
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. Iason, Raoul... and now countless others who had taken the step of acquiring Companions, the very idea that they would stray in any way from their chosen mates was incomprehensible. Somehow, Tahna just knew that. Whether it was some element of the Elite's intense and introspective nature, or whether it was something built in at the DNA level, he could not say.
Jupiter would probably know... but as far as Tahna was aware, she wasn't telling.
Of course, Tahna felt a tiny surge of smug satisfaction at the thought; his situation was unique once again. Chey was a not a Companion, not a civilian of Amoi or a Pet who had been upgraded. Chey Neeson was a formidable, mature and successful man, a senior federation minister and Tahna Lam's social equal. And he was Tahna's lover. Tahna had been chosen, not the other way around. Chey had pursued him with almost appalling dedication and, in the end, he had won.
But the bottom line was, just as all the other Elites who had opened their hearts, he had bonded to Chey Neeson, as surely as Iason had bonded to Riki, or Raoul had bonded to his overly-clever little redhead, and a physical separation of this length was beginning to hurt.
There... he'd admitted it.
Tahna pulled a nasty little face at his ghostly reflection in the window.
And, to make matters worse, Chey had begun of recent times to step up his wretched 'commitment' campaign. Tahna vented a disdainful little sound from low in his throat, lifting his free hand to rub at the tense muscles at the back of his neck. As if the very fact that he held Tahna's entire soul in his hands wasn't enough... some in-bred, obviously recessive, Neanderthal gene was clearly compelling the man to insist upon formalizing the whole arrangement, binding them legally in some ridiculous federation bonding ceremony that probably went out of date with the steam engine.
And, Chey was being so horribly reasonable about it... giving Tahna options, ranging from to co-habiting across both Amoi and federation home-worlds for part of the year, to simply formalizing their bond and continuing to commute to see each other as they already did.
Honestly, it was almost impossible to argue with someone who insisted on being so damned rational about everything.
Still, Tahna was holding firm.
Much as he loved Chey, and he did love him – aggravating creature that he was – he wasn't quite ready to take that step.
At least... not yet.
The soft trill of his cell-phone broke Tahna out of his musing and he turned, swiftly crossing back to the table where he'd set his phone down prior to starting dinner. The softness of the smile that appeared almost unbidden upon his flawless face would have genuinely shocked those who knew and worked with him. Here in the privacy of his apartment, however, Tahna didn't care. At this time of night, there was only one person he knew who would be calling.
Flipping open the phone, Tahna accepted the call, sinking gracefully into his chair once more. "Good evening, Mr. Neeson," he purred, all discontent forgotten under the simple pleasure of hearing that deep warm voice once more.
"Hello, Blondie." Chey's voice, startlingly clear considering that he was calling via and interstellar link-up, came through the speaker to him. "How are you holding up?"
Tahna snorted softly. "Oh, perfectly well, I assure you," he smirked at the opposite wall, shifting into a more comfortable position. "In fact, I'm so busy these days I hardly notice that you're not here."
"Liar," Chey shot back amiably. "I miss you."
"Of course you do," Tahna stroked his hand down the front of his satin vest once more. "Your desperate neediness for me would be almost pitiful if it weren't for the fact that it's rather endearing."
A soft chuckle met his remark. "You say the sweetest things, Tahna." Chey paused a moment before going on. "Actually... I've got some good news to share."
"Oh?" Tahna rolled his eyes and sighed. "Let me guess... you've picked a ring."
"Claws in, you cat," Chey's voice lightly chided him; "I promised I wouldn't harp on at you during our phone calls, didn't I?"
"You did," Tahna leaned his elbow on the table top, smiling. "So... your news?"
"The senate announced a three-day recess yesterday," Chey's answer literally vibrated with amusement.
Tahna straightened in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "Yesterday, you said?"
"I did."
"And you're only telling me now?" Tahna raked his free hand through his hair in an agitated swipe. "You know, for a man trained in diplomacy, your total lack of consideration absolutely boggles my mind!"
To Tahna's utter disgust, Chey's beautiful deep laughter was his only reply.
"Oh," Tahna's full mouth curled into a little sneer. "Oh. I see. Amusing, am I? Might I just remind you, you conceited backwater troglodyte, that it will take at least twelve hours for me to get to Elldaren Prime to see you, not including the fact that I'll have to make arrangements to—"
"Actually, Blondie," Chey interjected happily. "It took fourteen hours, and you won't have to arrange anything, because I came to you."
Tahna froze, mouth open, diatribe instantly cut off. Tossing his cell phone to one side, he rose to his feet and moved quickly to the front door of his apartment, wrenching it wide open. His eyes flashed furiously as he took in the sight of Chey Neeson, travel-rumpled and utterly handsome, grinning at him from the hallway as he pocketed his phone.
"Why, you..." Tahna shook his head. "You actually let me think that—mmph!"
In one smooth movement, Chey pulled Tahna into his arms, his soft lips covering the Elite's chattering mouth, smothering his words and his ire with a deep slow kiss that literally left him breathless and, despite the rather open location of the common hallway, also hardened him painfully fast. As Chey pulled back, almost regretfully breaking the kiss, Tahna found, to his inner dismay, that he was clutching at the federation statesman's broad shoulders, staring raptly into his eyes.
Chey smiled, lifting his hand to cup the side of Tahna's perfect face. "Hi there," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness, his shrewd gaze filled with wicked mirth. He gave Tahna a slow smoldering once-over as he backed the Blondie into his apartment and flung the door shut behind him. "I've got to say... I really like that outfit."
Panting, aroused to the point of agony by the very nearness of the man, his warmth and his scent, Tahna gripped the front of Chey's shirt with both hands and hauled on him, falling backwards onto the plush sofa behind him with Chey landing rather conveniently right between his thighs.
"Good," he hissed, gripping Chey's head and delivering a searing kiss of his own. "I'm so glad," he shoved his hands down between their heaving bodies, ripping Chey's shirt free from his pants and fumbling almost frantically with the buttons. "Now... get the blasted thing off me, or so help me, it will end up shredded."
With his eyes darkening with lust, even as his deep laughter filled the apartment, Chey began to do exactly that.
The journey itself... – chapter 1 << >> The journey itself... – chapter 3