Broken Wings

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Jak bit the inside of his lip, his fingers digging into Maika's hips as he fucked the gasping faerie in the dark. Neither of them said a word. No words were needed in what had become an all too familiar arrangement. For the third time in as many days, Jak had awakened to Maika climbing into his bed, chilly fingers sliding into his underwear, his touch urgent, needy, as he stroked Jak to erection.

Jak tasted blood as he fought to hold back, struggled to make it last long enough that, this time, Maika wouldn't stop him. It wasn't going to happen. Jak felt himself approaching climax and tried to slow his thrusts, but Maika pushed back against him, groaning into Jak's pillow.

"Fuck, Jak--Don't stop," Maika gasped, and Jak felt himself shudder, at the mercy of Maika's words, his voice. He cried out and came, leaning onto Maika's back as he jerked his hips and spilled himself inside the faerie. Gritting his teeth, Jak wrapped his arms around Maika, holding him tight as the echoed of his orgasm slowly faded away. Beneath him, Maika started to push himself up off the bed.

"Stay," Jak whispered, letting his head fall forward, his forehead resting in the middle of Maika's back, one hand sliding up to caress Maika's chest. Maika tensed and reached back, his hand finding the side of Jak's face and pushing him away.

"Damn it, Jak, I told you--"

"Cut the shit, Maika," Jak snapped, sitting up as Maika climbed off the bed and snatched up his boxers from off the floor. "I'm human. If you wanted an arrangement you would have made one with a faerie. You knew I wouldn't be able to not get involved...It's what you wanted..."

Maika pulled up his shorts and turned to face Jak, his expression cold, empty.

"If I could have found a faerie, or even a fey, who was willing to touch me, believe me, I never would have asked you, but not even Akitra will fuck a faerie without wings. So don't delude yourself into thinking this was anything more than it was. I used you, Jak. That's all. And if you can't deal with that, I'll go back to cutting. To be honest, you weren't quite doing it for me anyway."

"Say whatever you want," Jak said, fighting to shrug off the sting in his words, "but I don't believe you. You didn't stop cutting yourself because you were afraid you'd get caught, you stopped because you need something more, you're just afraid to need it from me. I'm just a worthless human, and you'd rather wallow in your own misery than let me make you happy."

"Well, you're right about one thing," Maika said, turning away. "You're a worthless human."

"Give it a rest," Jak said. "I know what the wings mean, okay?" He glanced at his jacket, draped conspicuously over the back of his desk chair. He'd seen Maika looking at the butterfly patch a couple of times, but he wasn't surprised that Maika hadn't said anything. Now, Maika stepped over to the desk and turned on Jak's little desk lamp.

"These wings?" he asked, pointing at the jacket. "You think these are mine?" He stalked over to his dresser and jerked open a drawer, pulling out a worn notebook, the cover faded, the corners of the pages curled up. He flung it across the room at Jak, the pages flapping as it flew through the air like a wounded dove and hit the wall beside Jak's head. It fell to the bed, lying open, and Jak gasped as the light played across a drawing of lacy faerie wings colored pale gray, winter blue, and dark turquoise. Jak glanced over at Maika.

"I don't know who tagged you," the faerie said, "but it wasn't me." He turned away, and Jak reached down, picking up the notebook and flipping through the pages. Each one was covered in a drawing of gray, blue, and turquoise wings, both sides of the page, with smaller wings drawn in the empty corners. Jak looked at his jacket, at the delicate green, green-gold, and honey brown wings on his shoulder, and then back down at the notebook in his hands.

"But- but--" Across the room, Maika slammed his top drawer shut.

"Somebody's fucking with you, Jak," he said, raising his voice. "Somebody's fucking with us both." He moved to the door, jerking it open and disappearing into the hall. Jak looked down at the book in his hands, then closed it and got up, dropping it on Maika's pillow before turning his desk lamp back off. In the dark, he cleaned himself up and climbed back into bed, his mind racing as he lay on his side and stared at the silhouette of his jacket hanging over the back of the chair.

Zaiden said Maika gave him the jacket, but these were clearly not Maika's wings. Why would Zaiden lie to him? And whose wings were they? And what did he mean, I don't know who tagged you...He made it sound like a bad thing, as opposed to the almost shy, secret-admirer sort of gesture that Zaiden had made it sound like. Zaiden...

Jak sighed and threw back his covers, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. It was almost two in the morning, but he knew he'd never get to sleep unless he got some answers. He pulled on a T-shirt and sweatpants--he didn't want to give Zaiden the impression that this was a booty-call--and headed down the hall to the fire mage's room.

Easing the door open, he stuck his head inside. The room was lit by flickering firelight, the glow coming from a stone sculpture of a three-headed dragon sitting on one of the desks, each gaping mouth holding a tiny ball of colored flame, one blue, one yellow, and one red. Casting a glance at the sleeping figure of Zaiden's roommate, Jak slipped into the room and crept over to Zaiden's bedside, waking him with a gentle shake.

Zaiden's eye popped open and he drew a sharp breath, tensing as he looked up at Jak.

"What?" he asked, his voice thick and sleepy. "What is it? What's wrong?" Across the room, the roommate grunted and rolled over, muttering something in his sleep.

"I need to talk to you," Jak whispered, flipping back Zaiden's covers.

"Holy shit, it's cold," Zaiden hissed, grabbing at his blankets. Big surprise, he was naked. Jak grabbed a handful of clothes off the floor and shoved them at him.

"Get up."

"It's two in the morning," Zaiden groaned, turning his face into his pillow. "Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"No," Jak said, sinking down on the edge of his bed. "I need to know who really gave you my jacket."

Zaiden raised his head, frowning.

"What do you mean? Maika gave it--"

"No, he didn't."

"How do you know?" Zaiden sat up and pulled a T-shirt on over his head. "Did you ask him?"

"We had a...an argument," Jak said. "I confronted him about the wings--"

Zaiden groaned.

"What did I tell you about being direct?" he said. "If you want to dance with a faerie--"

"He didn't say anything about dancing," Jak said. "In fact, he said he didn't know who 'tagged' me, but it wasn't him. He even showed me a notebook full of drawings of faerie wings--the same wings over and over, and over--in colors that suit him a lot better than green and brown."

"I don't know what 'tagging' is, Jak, but I'm telling you the truth. Maika was standing outside my room when I left to get breakfast. He handed me the jacket and said, 'Give this to Jak'. If the colors aren't his...then I don't know what's going on." He frowned and absently scratched the back of his neck. "I could ask around, see if I can figure out what being tagged means."

"Thanks," Jak said. After a moment, he sighed and stood up. "I'll let you go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you, I just...if he wants something more from me, he's got a funny way of showing it."

"That's what I was trying to tell you," Zaiden said. "The dance, the game, the courting, is very important to them. It's how they decide if someone is worthy of establishing a deeper relationship with. And you probably just blew it."

"Wow, thanks," Jak said, shaking his head. "That makes me feel so much better. I don't know why I even care. I don't like him."

Zaiden snorted.

"I think we both know that's a lie," he said as he laid back down and pulled the blankets up under his chin. Jak opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again. He wasn't sure, but there was a chance that Zaiden might not be wrong.

Out in the hall, he walked slowly, his hands shoved into his pants pockets. Maika was probably in their room, and if he had anything more to say, Jak wasn't ready to hear it. He thought of turning around, going back to Zaiden, crawling into bed with the hot young fire mage, and forgetting everything that had happened in the past hour, but he would be using Zaiden just like Maika used him. He was better than that.