August

April 15: Saturday

Soyinka and Harley had left early in the morning for some purpose or the other. Sheridan assumed it was work-related. James assumed it wasn't.
"If he's fucking someone else, I'll die. I swear I will."
Sheridan calmly sliced an onion into thin slivers.
"I'm sure he's not."
"It's like I'm not enough for him? Really?"
Sheridan scraped the onion from the cutting board into the skillet.
"I'm sure you are."
"I fuck him every day. Twice a day, sometimes. I suck him off whenever he wants. And that's not enough?"
Sheridan stirred the vegetables in the pan and glanced at the clock.
"It seems like it should be." he accorded distractedly.
"I let him fuck me hard, too. And Harley's not small; I mean, that thing hurts."
"Mm."
Next went the pepper; chopped into thin slices and added to the stir. James had been chopping the same carrot for twenty minutes. He paused and looked over at Sheridan.
"How does Soyinka treat you?"
Sheridan shrugged.
"Fine."
James snorted.
"Descriptive."
Sheridan glanced at James in irritation and took the carrot from him to finish chopping it.
"He is kind to me. He doesn't rush me. He doesn't ask a lot. He treats me fine."
An emotion flashed over James' face that Sheridan only caught the tail of and couldn't name.
"Well. I bet he fucks like a beast. He looks like the type. Crazed. Wants it all the time. Demanding, but he's all power and no control."
James shrugged dismissively and picked up a handful of mushrooms. Sheridan wondered if this last comment was supposed to be a slight of some sort. Numb as his own emotions were towards Soyinka, he still felt an urge to defend him.
"He's actually very gentle. He doesn't "fuck like a beast" - he's very skilled, and very much in control." Sheridan found himself chopping the mushrooms with a little more force than was absolutely necessary. "And he doesn't demand anything of me." A beat passed, and Sheridan debated whether to take the high road and leave it at that. He decided against it. "After all, like you said before: he's nothing like Harley."
James tightened his grip around the cutting knife.
"I love Harley." he forced out through gritted teeth. Sheridan shrugged, trying not to grin at his victory.
"And I'm sure he loves you right back."

~:~

Phidias and Caddy spent the weekend at Henrik's house again. They had come in on Friday; Henrik had sent his driver to pick them up after Cadmus' private counseling, and they had also stopped to deliver one package to the post office and retrieve Anders from base before heading to Henrik's house. The errands made the ride take an hour longer than usual, and by the time they turned into the driveway, Phidias was ready to be out of the car. Cadmus, however, seated in the coach-style backseat across from Anders, had rather seemed to enjoy himself.

They exited, and Anders and the driver brought everyone's bags inside. Caddy carried his backpack and the stack of movies he'd rented from the CEC. Phidias carried his own backpack, stuffed with books that he'd been allowed to salvage from his office, and an armful of notebooks with information, records, and notes about the wedding.

Henrik had greeted them at the door.
"Ah," he'd said, smiling wide and throwing one arm around Phidias. "My family."

~

It was Saturday morning now, and the house was in the midst of major upheaval. Cadmus, Henrik had discovered upon waking, was missing.
"Did you see or hear anyone enter or exit the house?!" he demanded.
Mr. Paul shook his head, a grave look on his face and his hands clasped tightly in front of him.
"No, Mr. Angstrom. Sorry. I've seen and heard nothing."
Henrik whirled around to face Anders.
"Anders."
"Nothing, Dad."
Beside Anders, Phidias was pale, but he managed to get himself together enough to give orders.
"OK. OK. Listen, Anders, you call the CEC and find out what they've heard. Maybe something happened. Maybe he went there. Maybe they came for him."
Anders nodded and turned to head for the telephone in the office. His father's voice stopped him.
"Anders, wait."
Obediently, he turned back. Henrik rubbed a hand through his hair.
"Call your friends. Call every one of them. Find out where they are. Find where they are right now."
Phidias traced the series of thoughts cross Ander's face; first disbelief, then worry, then fear, then anger hidden behind determination. He left to do as his father had ordered. Henrik turned back to Mr. Paul.
"Mr. Paul. You do as Phidias asked. Call the CEC."
the older man bowed slightly and disappeared towards the kitchen. Henrik turned to Phidias.
"Don't worry. We'll find him. I'm going to go out and check the grounds."
Phidias started forward.
"I'll go with you."
Henrik glanced back at him over his shoulder.
"Can you ride?"
Phidias stared back at him in confusion.
"Horseback." he clarified. Phidias shook his head, and Henrik nodded and kissed Phidias' forehead.
"Alright. Then you stay here. In case he comes back. I'm going to ride the borders. I'll - "
The door to the kitchen clicked open, and in walked Mr. Paul, looking very somber and holding a worried-looking Cadmus by the arm.
"Found him."
Henrik and Phidias spun on him simultaneously.
"WHERE WERE YOU?!"
Cadmus blinked up at them, fear making his voice tremble.
"I - I just wanted to go...I saw horses, from my window, I thought...I didn't go that far, Dad."
Phidias exhaled and rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. Mr. Paul quietly moved off to alert Anders.
"Fine. Fine. Just - " Phidias put a hand to his chest - his heart was pounding. He took deep breaths to calm himself.
"Just nothing." Henrik interrupted. Caddy looked over at him. "What did I tell you about leaving this house, Cadmus?"
Caddy looked at Henrik, hesitated, and glanced at Phidias.
"Do not look at him. Look at me. What did I tell you?" Caddy glanced down at the floor; Henrik was red in the face and his body was tense.
"I, um - not to, um - I don't remember."
Henrik's face shifted to disbelief, then back to anger.
"You don't - " he took a breath and nodded. "Very well. I will remind you."
Calmly, he began to unbuckle his belt. Caddy stepped backwards.
"Dad - "
"Henrik!" Phidias stepped in front of him, hands held out. "That's not - that's not necessary, Henrik, he's just a kid."
His fiancé calmly raised one eyebrow.
"That's exactly why it is necessary. If he doesn't learn now, he never will."
He successfully released his belt and yanked it from his waist, folding it over in his hand. He looked past Phidias to his son.
"Come here, Cadmus."
Caddy shook his head and backed up again; Phidias noticed that he was breathing roughly.
"Dad?!"
Something about the way he heard his name called compelled Phidias; he put one hand on Henrik's wrist.
"No. Stop. You're not going to do this. You don't need to beat him. You only need to talk to him. He's not a dog or a horse or a machine; he's a kid."
Henrik met Phidias' eyes.
"Phidias?" he asked evenly, "Have you already forgotten our contract?"
Phidias' pupils dilated for just a second before he recovered.
"I remember it. But that was for transgression. This is just forgetfulness. Caddy's like that; he's forgetful, but he doesn't mean any harm by it. He didn't mean to break your rules, he - "
"He put himself in danger."
"How?!" Caddy interjected. Phidias gave him a quelling glare and gently squeezed Henrik's wrist.
"I know. But he didn't mean it."
"He didn't mean to. And the next time he disappears, when we find him four miles from here, writhing in a field under some rogue soldier, will he not mean that, too?"
Phidias glanced at Caddy to see if his son had heard.
"He didn't mean it." he repeated. "And he won't do it again. And he's fine now, and things are OK. He only forgot."
Henrik still glared at Cadmus, but his grip slackened on the belt. He stared at the boy for another long moment before turning his attention to Phidias.
"I forgive him this time. Only because it is the first time. And only because he is not yet my son."
Phidias released his grip, and Henrik took the belt and began to fold it.
"But I will not forgive again."

~:~

Adrian took deep breaths and tried to focus. Four hours until the ceremony took place. Ten hours until he could eat again. The fasting was necessary, he knew, in order to prepare himself for what was to come. The ceremony, the bonding, the experience. He wondered how Sean was doing. Twenty-four hours since he'd been allowed to see his fiancé, and he'd had no word about how his soon-to-be-husband was making out.
The smell of incense was stifling. Some of the spices burned his nose. But he took them in, took them all in, because he knew that the pain would cleanse.
He shifted his position; the cedar bench beneath him creaked with his weight and Ren opened one eye to look him over.
"Everything OK?"
Adrian nodded.
"Just peachy."
Ren glanced at his watch.
"I can't stay much longer. It's not good for the baby. I've asked June to come."
"June's not pregnant?"
Ren shook his head.
"Too soon since the last one. She'll come and sit here with you."
"He." Adrian corrected under his breath, which Ren heard anyway. It earned him an amused look as Ren stood up and stretched, his body's musculature perfectly displayed in his nudity. Ren finished stretching, grinned and ruffled Adrian's hair.
"Don't be such an outsider. I can say 'she' if I want."
Sweat glistened on Adrian's skin, which was flushed prettily from the heat in the sauna. Adrian wished for the thousandth time that Ren was his biological mother; perhaps he would have inherited some of that beauty. He looked at the clock on the wall of the small room.
"When will June come in?"
Ren looked up at the clock as well.
"I think he's probably outside; shall I go and get him?"
Adrian hesitated, wanting the new company but unwilling to spend any time alone.
"OK. Please?"

~

The first phase of the ceremony was easy. Adrian sat, facing away from the mirror, at the vanity in his room at his parents' house. June sat in front of him, painting his face, and Kylie, Ren, and another young carrier all stood, already painted, in front of him.
"There. All done."
Adrian turned to the mirror. He wasn't himself. He was Fire; Smoke and dimness and the sun after setting and the night. His eyes were black, ringed as if in kohl. His face was cast in white, the pale color making the dark around his eyes even more obvious. He blinked. Two eyes not his blinked back at him.
June looked into the mirror and smiled at his own handiwork.
"You ready, sweetheart? Part two."
They wrapped him in one long piece of thin white linen and led him by candlelight out of the room.

~

Part two was not so pleasant, but it was nothing he hadn't been through before. The elders, the matron and her virgins put him up on the table in the kitchen of the main house and checked him one last time, then sat him up, helped him to drink the spiced wine from the chalice that they gave him, painted a single black symbol in the center of his forehead, put a candle into his hand and waved him on.

~

For part three, he found himself outside, on the porch of the main house, flanked by Ren, veiled, and his father. In the front of the main house, the crowd had gathered. There were a few children among them; mostly the ones too young to be left in the house alone. His skin was itching underneath the paint, and his only clothing, the linen sheet, was sliding lower and lower on his hips. There were hundreds of candlelights; the majority of Woodacre had come. All were silent.
Adrian suddenly felt nervous.
Then there was a rustling, minor commotion over to the left, and Adrian realized they were presenting his husband. His heart pounded in his chest. Sean came into view. He was out of it already, barely able to walk, restrained on either side and struggling against his guards. His skin was painted, too - red and white, with the symbols of a man of Dothan. Adrian felt some small measure of relief at seeing the colors of an adult painted on his husband - Sean must have passed his own ritual. He looked a far cry different from the dignified officer in uniform who had stood beside him this morning at their wedding. Now he looked half-heathen, sweating with exertion, bleeding in places, his eyes glazed and wild, his body barely clothed.

The men shuffled Sean quickly past Adrian and went inside. Adrian looked once at Ren, who tilted his head to indicate that they should follow. William Mackenzie stepped forward, a pot of lit incense in his hands, to lead the way, and Adrian trailed after him into the house.

They took the stairs slowly; Sean was fighting against the men transporting him and so it took them some time to ascend. Ren reached out to squeeze Adrian's hand, and lifted his veil to give his stepson a reassuring smile. Adrian's head started to swim, but whether it was from the nerves or the incense, he wasn't sure. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and holding tight to Ren's hand.

The men held Sean off to the side as they let Will, Ren, and Adrian pass into the room. Ren paused once at the doorway, touching the top of the frame and making the sign of Dothan against his chest. Adrian hesitated, at first unsure if he was meant to repeat this part, then did the same.
Inside, his father stepped over to the bed, drawing lazy circles in smoke with the incense over it, then placed the pot down on a side table. Ren lit the four pillar candles placed in each corner and turned the sheets down, inviting Adrian to get in.
Adrian clenched his fingers tightly around the drooping waistband of his linen sheet, and stepped towards the bed. A commotion in the hallway made everyone look towards the door, but the subsequent silence brought their attention back to the ritual. Nervously, Adrian unwrapped his only clothing, and got into the bed.
Ren linked hands with Will and they walked the room once, checking for any hidden or forgotten objects that could interfere with what was meant to go on. None were found, and so they came back to the bed, and each kissed Adrian. Will Mackenzie did not speak; only made a cross over his son's forehead with his fingers and turned to go. Ren took Adrian's chin in both hands when he kissed him, and, almost silently, whispered,
"You're going to be OK. I'll see you in the morning."
He turned, linked hands with his husband again, and without so much as a glance back at Adrian, left.
Adrian sat in the shadows on the bed for what felt like an hour, but was probably more like minutes, before there was movement at the doorway. Then three men appeared - Sean and the two who carried him. Adrian tried to make out their faces, but they were masked and it was impossible to do. They thrust Sean through the doorway into the room and retreated quickly. He was already untied.
The door closed behind him.
Adrian stayed in the shadows, not ready to move. Sean stood by the doorway, his chest heaving. He stared at Adrian. There was a moment that passed between them when Adrian wasn't at all sure the transference had been complete - Sean seemed himself for a second, seemed lucid, seemed to be in every way the man Adrian knew and loved. The ritual didn't seem real.
Then Sean moved.
He was like an animal. Before Adrian could move or even react, Sean was halfway across the bed, coming towards him, and Adrian could feel his furor, his frustration, and the heat from his skin. He mussed the bedsheets in his approach, smearing white paint across them and kicking anything that got in his way. His eyes were on Adrian.
Adrian tried to pretend that he wasn't afraid.
Questions flashed through his head at a thousand words a second - why had he done this? Why had he agreed to it? Why had Sean? Why had he come back? Why had he left? Why had he ever wanted Sean in the first place? Why had he ever wanted this?
Then Sean was on him, so nakedly and so abruptly that Adrian lost his wind for a minute and he fought back instinctively - wriggling to try to get away - before the training set back in and he remembered to collapse, to try to lay calm. Adrian had ended up on his stomach by then, and Sean was dragging his mouth across Adrian's back, his shoulders, smearing the paint there and spreading it with his tongue. Adrian felt teeth by his neck and tensed for a moment, but then remembered to stay calm; after a minute, Sean moved on. His hands were covering Adrian's arms as well, dragging up and down the skin, slickened by sweat and paint, pushing against him in something approximating a barbarian caress. The air was pungent in the room - sweat and lust and incense all combined, and for just a second, Adrian felt like he couldn't breathe. Behind him, Sean was trying to undress himself, and so he got just a second's reprieve with which Adrian moved forward on the bed, towards the window, and repositioned himself so that he lay head on his forearms, ass in the air. Adrenaline pounded through his veins, the mad beat trying to convince him to run, go, get out, get lost, go, get out of here.
It was too late anyway. There was a crowd outside. They catch him if he ran - catch him and lock him right back in here. They wouldn't have been mad or anything - sometimes brides just need help, they knew. Got cold feet or a little panicked. But the ceremony, once begun, could not be stopped until it was complete. And once they'd caught him, time would have been wasted - Sean would have been confused, angry, waiting. The resistance would have just made it worse.
Sean was at him again, naked, probing fiercely at him with blunt fingers and murmuring under his breath. Adrian wanted to remind him to be quiet, silent for this, but he knew it wouldn't do him any good. Sean was only barely in the room.
Then the fingers were gone and Sean was stabbing at him instead with his thick cock, missing his entrance entirely, struggling with the unfamiliar angle. Adrian briefly wondered what the problem was, then suddenly remembered that he should flip over - it would be better anyway; the blood would go straight to the bedsheets.
He took Sean's cock in one hand and tried to make calming noises long enough to get leverage to turn himself; once Adrian had his hands on him, Sean seemed to calm a little, and the murmuring even stopped. Adrian managed to separate his legs from his husband, sparking some kind of human growl from him, and then released his cock and flipped over quickly before there could be any more debate.
Sean shook his head weirdly and then collapsed down on top of him, his full weight pinning Adrian down. He writhed, thrusting futilely against Adrian's thigh, and Adrian took pity on him and reached down to grasp Sean's heavy cock again and guide it into himself.
Sean keened, as if frustrated, and then sheathed himself entirely inside of Adrian.
Adrian groaned himself and squeezed on tight to Sean's arms, doing his best not to cry out.
The breaking felt less like the sharp pain he'd had last time, and more like a burning; his insides stung, and Sean's eager thrusting seemed to drag the pain out in long lines through his passage. He tried to move, but that just made the humping more violent, until Sean was shaking them both with every thrust, forcing Adrian's legs higher to be out of the way. His back was starting to ache, and his legs were about to cramp, and he was starting to worry if this really was safe for the baby, but he kept his silence and just clung on to his husband's arms. Minutes later, and there was no mercy. Adrian thought about praying for it to be over, but decided the ancestors probably wouldn't answer the wedding night prayers of someone who was only a fake virgin. He thought about appealing to Sean, but decided that he didn't really want that to work - if he could call him, make contact with him, summon his husband here, he wasn't sure he wanted it to happen. For this part of the ceremony, Sean wasn't supposed to be here.
Adrian felt tears welling up in his eyes and wasn't sure where they were coming from. His thighs felt sticky. His legs hurt. He craned his neck and was just going to wonder if he could see the moon, when out of nowhere, he was hit with a kind of all-body burning sensation. He tried to alert Sean, to fight him back, but if anything, it seemed to excite his husband more. The burning subsided into a tingling, and then a feeling like falling into sand, and he felt as if he were out of his body, floating above himself. Sean was staring at him now, his eyes fixed on Adrian's. Adrian watched it all happen from outside himself, the strange thirdpersonness giving way to some sort of immaterial lightness - a clarity of vision that he'd never felt before.
He understood.
Then, as abruptly as it had begun, Sean gave a guttural grunt, and everything ended. Adrian slammed back into his body, suddenly, frighteningly aware of every sensation throughout himself. He focused on one. The heat of Sean's orgasm felt different than it had before; soothing, somehow - a relief. Sean's cock twitched inside of him for a moment more, before it and its owner retreated, and Sean collapsed prone on top of Adrian, breathing heavily.
After a few moments, Adrian managed to shift his half-conscious husband to the side, and slipped one finger down between his legs to the wet puddle he could feel beneath his ass. He held his finger up for inspection, squinting at it in the candlelight. White and red. Adrian let his head fall back. Thank God. It was done. Tomorrow, they would have the wedding, and then this would all be done.
Beside him, Sean was shaking and Adrian guessed at first that he must be coming back to himself, but when he leaned over to look, he saw Sean was still asleep. His skin, however, was cooling, and the words he'd been mumbling were coherent now.
"I'm sorry." he was murmuring, again and again. "I'm sorry Adrian."