Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 60 ( Chapter 60 )

60

 

like Orpheus with hope entangled

your path was mapped about your feet

leading backwards into forgiveness

or forward to a fools retreat

 

Someone was shaking me awake. I muttered and blinked. The room was dark, disorienting, and smelly. For a moment my mind screamed in panic, then I remembered where I was. Thunder rumbled the window glass, explaining the midday darkness.

 

“We have to go,” Farfarello whispered, half hauling me out of the bed. “We have to go now.”

 

My groggy brain startled to alertness. Rather than ask unneeded and stupid questions, I pulled on my shoes and grabbed my gear.

 

Far neatly and quickly pried the window out of its casing, and I swallowed down a complaint. We were on the second floor, it was raining, and we were going out the window. Correction, we were going out half the window - Far had turned the window frame rather than take it out entirely, so that we could put it back in place from the outside. No matter that we'd have to hang onto the building to do this. Hopefully the Irishman was tacitly volunteering for that job.

 

I started to neaten the room when Far hissed, “No time!” Already he was straddling the window casing and sliding through. I sprinted to the window and followed him out. Farfarello clung to the window ledge while I scrambled through, then he swung the window frame back into place with a gentle push.

 

The drop wasn't too bad, but my knees bitched anyway. Backs and knees - they say if you get hurt there once, it keeps coming back. I grumbled at myself as Far dropped effortlessly to the ground. He gestured at me for silence, then signaled not to use my telepathy, either. I frowned, but nodded. Slowly, letting the storm cover us, Far led us to the back parking lot. He looked around, then pointed at a Mercedes. The hood showed beads of water and runoff, but no puddling: this car was still warm.

 

The temptation to steal their vehicle only lasted a second. Then Far was picking his way into the woods behind the hotel, and I followed.

 

This wasn't really a woods, I realized, so much as an urban oasis. Thirty meters through and we reached another road. My heart pounded with unspent adrenalin. As if he could smell this, Far grinned and sprinted across the road. I followed, feeling absurdly like this was a game of tag.

 

We followed that road, getting more and more drenched as we walked. My mood turned from energized to sullen. It didn't help that my knees hadn't stopped complaining yet, and now I was engaged in a forced march with Farfarello.

 

A pair of headlights gleamed out of the rain. With a wild leer, Far launched himself in front of the car.

 

I watched, helpless, as the little white coupe hydroplaned and slid sideways toward my friend. But Farfarello met it like a rodeo cowboy, leaping to the hood and clinging to the chrome with no fear.

 

The driver was another story: even with my shields up, I could feel the panic and terror lancing through her mind. Oh, great - we'd just waylaid an innocent woman. She probably thought we were going to rape her and kill her, possibly in that order.

 

Farfarello hauled the door open and grabbed the driver. “You're walking,” he growled in rough German. “Hotel, that way, not far. Tell them your car is blue.”

 

Cautiously I pushed the suggestions home. The woman stood frozen a moment, then kicked off her shoes and started running.

 

I got in behind the wheel, and Far stretched out as best he could across the back seat. With only one of us visible, I turned the car around and drove back the way our good samaritan had come.

 

The adrenalin still buzzed in my veins, though the chill of the rain was starting to sink in. We needed a place to dry off, maybe even a change of clothes. I stopped at the next town, no longer sure where the hell we were.

 

With the road grime on Far's hands, we had a ready cover: car trouble, had to work on it in the rain. The shopkeeper told us there was a mechanic in town, and I fought to keep my smile civil. The temptation to smirk was damn near overwhelming.

 

We took a room at the local inn, dropped the car off at the mechanic's, and set about planning our next move. The inn had laundry facilities, bless their hearts, and we'd bought some spare clothes at the shop, so now all we had to do was think. If we had to leave before our clothes were dry, so be it.

 

I flopped on the bed, relieved to be warm and dry and just possibly two steps ahead of pursuit. The car was safely out of sight, so anyone who came looking would have to be very lucky to find us. Then again, I had to remind myself that if a fleet of telepaths came calling, they would very quickly find all the information they needed from the shopkeeper and the mechanic.

 

But Esset needed secrecy, and such tactics were usually a last recourse. Basically it all came down to how certain the hunters were that we were still in the area, and how badly they wanted us today.

 

A warm pressure on my leg reminded me that I wasn't alone. I glanced up at Farfarello, who had seated himself on the edge of the bed and rested one hand on my thigh. His smile cut through his scarred face, a feral and hungry sort of smile.

 

I smiled back. With Farfarello, danger begat sex. It didn't matter if he actually engaged in battle or just anticipated it: the energy was the same. I could smell the lingering adrenalin on his skin, a sharp undertone to his usual scent.

 

My smile became a leer as I remembered the many times we had ridden the wave of combat high all the way to the floor. Then I blurted out, “I thought you said you wouldn't trespass.” I could have kicked myself for reminding him, but better to lose a tumble than to have an irate Farfarello on your hands.

 

He grinned and said, “That's true, I won't. Crawford told me to stay clear of you until you'd made up your mind. Have you, Pretty?”

 

Made up my mind? About what?

 

Crawford told him?

 

I frowned at him, the meaning of his words lost in the whirl inside my head.

 

“Have you picked one? I'm not to make it a field of three.” Far's hand slid up between my legs, gripping me through the fleecy sweatpants. His touch was sure, not particularly gentle, and sorely missed. I arched up into his hand, and he chuckled. “Give me your answer?”

 

Gods, he was asking if I'd decided between Brad and Yohji! I couldn't deal with this right now - my mind was being devoured by Far's lust, echoed in my own flesh.

 

Then I realized he hadn't asked me to tell him my choice, but only that I'd made one.

 

Had I? Did I even know the answer myself? Hell, at least I knew for certain that Far wouldn't affect the outcome. “Yes,” I gasped, “yes I have.”

 

“You lie only to God,” Far whispered.

 

I wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but apparently my answer had been good enough. Clothes donned only minutes before now flew to the carpet. I was caught up in Farfarello's wildness, his rush, and my body ached. Not for the first time I wondered how he perceived his own need, not knowing the meaning of pain. Did he ache? His member stood tautly erect, and my own throbbed in sympathy. He didn't often indulge, with me or by himself; never had, really. But when he did, he held nothing back.

 

Far paused a moment, as still as a leopard, his body solid and hard-muscled, the skin mottled with scarring. He licked his lips, then pounced, pinning me to the bed. His fingers sought out my erection, tickling and teasing, giving me desperate sensations he probably couldn't comprehend. I groaned against his lips, amazingly soft lips, and he squeezed as he stroked.

 

A pulsing ache that was not pain flared through me, centered on my groin and radiating into every fibre of my body. Electric heat flowed through my entire nervous system, speeding my heart. I could feel myself panting in time with his breath. My hand closed around his cock and pumped it, hard and fast. He closed his good eye, his face a mask of pleasure frozen in its deepest need.

 

Then he shifted his hips and raised my legs, and he thrust into me in one stroke. His spine arched, his head falling backward, the tendons in his neck standing out and reminding me of everything that was Farfarello: tense, graceful, pale, and hard.

 

I wrapped my legs around his middle and pulled him into me, lost in his need, in my own, in the moment. My hand reached down to grip myself. His next thrust made me groan, made my hand move faster.

 

He fucked in silence, the only sound his increasingly harsh breath. We were each seeking only our own pleasure, using one another to attain it. That was the way it had always been, with Far, and that was all we ever needed: fast, hard, driven.

 

I felt myself approaching that horizon, the point where I knew I would come even if all sensation stopped. I slowed down, lingering there, not yet willing to give in. It had been too long since Far had shared of himself like this, I didn't want it to end yet.

 

Far growled, deep in his throat. As my fingertips brushed across the tip of my cock, I felt him come inside me, throbbing, pulsing, and I came too, helpless to stop it.

 

Farfarello folded himself over me, lifting my back a little and wrapping his arms around me. Every muscle in his body had tensed with his climax, and now began to relax, leaving behind a gentle warmth. I revelled in the heat of him.

 

Slowly my breathing took on its own rhythm, and Far slipped out of me. With a grateful smile, Far excused himself for the bathroom. Our encounter had taken maybe five minutes.

 

In the profound stillness he left behind, I found my thoughts drifting back over all he had told me. Unsettling stuff. Unsettling implications. I realized that I didn't know Brad's motives the way I'd thought I had, and that frightened me. It also hurt, on a very deep level.

 

Maybe that was why… No, I couldn't take the time to think about that right now. I had no idea when, or even if, I would ever go back there. I sighed at the ceiling. Damn it, why did Farfarello have to be so good at making me think?

 

The Irishman returned from the bathroom and began to dress.

 

“Far?” I propped myself up on an elbow and spoke quietly. “What else has Crawford told you?”

 

“Enough. Enough that I can't give you today, so don't bother asking.”

 

“He's using me.”

 

“He's using us all.” Far sat on the bed again and caressed my cheek. “It's what he does. It's what they made him to do, and he's damn good at it. You know as well as I do, no matter what he's about, it's for his own reasons, and no other. That doesn't mean he can't watch out for his team, but he does it for himself, not for us.” Far paused, a slight frown creasing his forehead; then he said, “Maybe for Nagi. But you and I are his soldiers. He needs us, and he builds his plans around us. If that isn't good enough for you, then maybe you do belong in Tokyo.”

 

He knew. I hadn't even dared to think it, and he knew. “Far,” I whispered, “I won't leave the team.”

 

“I know you won't, Pretty. Question is, will the team have to leave you?” Rising from the bed, Far gestured at my clothes. “Come on, we have to go.”

 

Great. First Nagi, now Farfarello, each telling me that Brad has hinted that I wouldn't be with the team much longer. Was this a test, some warped control thing that Brad concocted to see how loyal I was?

 

Or was it worse: a vision not yet come to pass?

 

Crawford was really starting to piss me off, and he wasn't even here to glare at. No, he was out with Nagi; for all I knew they could be vacationing at Disneyworld or spying on Esset's most secure facilities. Enjoying some leisure time, or taking the boy into the very mouth of the dragon.

 

And all I could do was wait.

 

“I'm not leaving the team,” I growled. “Stop trying to push me.”

 

“I'm not pushing.”

 

“That was for Crawford.”

 

Far raised an eyebrow. “Talking to people not present, and without using your gift, now that's a bad sign.”