Trial 139C

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~ Hunting ~

That first morning passed with unexpected ease. Bentley even managed to convince the trial to put on a pair of loose cotton boxers which helped with the constant blushing.

Bentley used his morning to organize the mess left by the earthquake. 139C was never far from his side. Dutifully and silently sweeping and fetching garbage bags on Bentley’s instructions. It was… strange, but not in a bad way.

Lunch time came and Bentley stood over the counter eating. He had moved on from the granola bars to stale crackers hiding in the back of his cupboard. Evander, who was just a few feet away at the sink, had downed two more bottles of water, but he still hadn’t eaten anything. He must be getting hungry...Something disconcerting suddenly occurred to Bentley. What if –

“What?”

Bentley jolted lightly at the trial’s barked question. Feeling foolish, he pushed down his ludicrous musings. “Huh?”

The trial tossed his empty water bottle on the counter and sauntered closer to Bentley – trapping his back against the fridge. “You were looking at me oddly.”

“I was? Sorry.” He moved to turn away and scoot himself to the other side of the counter top but 139C grabbed his arm, pulling him back around.

“Tell me what you were thinking.”

Bentley shook his head, mop of dark hair swinging forward. “It was nothing. It was stupid.”

“Tell me, Bentley.” Evander stood his ground.

“It’s stupid,” Bentley repeated, “But for a second I was thinking that maybe you were only keeping around for when you got hungry.” At C’s puzzled look, he pressed on, “You know, so you’d...have something... to eat.”

“You think I’m going to eat you?” Evander looked offended.

Bentley wrenched his arm free, taking a much needed step to the side. “Well, I mean, why else are you here? Keeping me here too?”

“Because you’re mine.” The crossbreed snapped, expression changing from offended to mad to frustrated.

“That doesn’t make sense. Your what?” Bentley threw his hands up, “Your hostage?”

“No.” Sharp teeth made a terrible grinding sound as the word snapped out.

“What then? Your janitor? The human who you used to watch clean your tank?”

“Just mine.” The trial grumbled, fist coming down to bang the counter top – conversation over. The human was his. He could feel it with every fiber of his body. He just couldn’t understand how Bentley didn’t know it, too.

Bentley refused to back down, “No, I’m not, C!”

“Evander.” The crossbreed reminded him with finality.

“Right, habit. But I’m not yours…Evander.”

Evander apparently had enough of the argument and shot Bentley a glare. “You are. But feel free to keep telling yourself you’re not, if it makes you feel better.”

Bentley shook his head, opening his mouth to argue.

Evander leaned in and caught his lips in a slow, deep kiss.

Since their first kiss, only hours ago, Bentley had relived it in his head, what felt like 50 or 60 times. Even fresh and shiny in his mind, the memory didn’t hold a candle to the real thing.

His bare toes curled against the cold linoleum floor.

The trial’s tongue pushed into Bentley’s mouth possessively. At the kiss intensified, Bentley tried to do the same, slipping his tongue alongside Evander’s. The trial pulled back. “Don’t. I don’t want you to get hurt.” It only took one flash of his razor sharp teeth for Bentley to figure out what that meant.

“Evander – ” The name came out husky and breathless; he was cut off by a knock at the door.

Instantly, the trial’s demeanor shifted. Every muscle in his body pulled taut and alert to danger. Possible danger to his human. “Don’t answer it.” 139C barked in a low voice. At the same time, his hand wrapped around Bentley’s bicep and squeezed to reinforce the order.

The knock came again. “Ben?” A voice drifted through the door.

Bentley tried to free his arm. He hissed softly, recognizing the voice, “It’s my neighbour!”

Evander pulled him closer with one hand and wrapped his other hand over Bentley’s mouth. The hold was unyielding but gentle; the trial was clearly monitoring his own strength to make sure he wasn’t too rough.

Bentley struggled a little, jerking his elbow back to try to dislodge the hold.

The knocking continued, louder. A young man’s voice called through the heavy door. “Bentley? It’s James from downstairs.”

Bentley managed to twist his head to slide his mouth free. He spoke to the trial in a low, insistent whisper, “Just let me talk to him. I’ll get him to leave.”

Evander eyed him distrustfully.

“Bentley! I heard you walking around up here this morning. Are you okay?”

“One sec!” Bentley yelled out, making Evander growl. Bentley looked more smug than repentant; now the trial would have to let him answer the door.

“You have one minute to get rid of him. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Bentley’s stare was defiant. “You just stay out of sight. You’ll be impossible to explain.”

Evander gave him a murderous look. “I’m faster and stronger than he is.” With those familiar and ominous words, Evander released him slowly and took a few steps back into the bedroom and out of sight.

Bentley took a moment to compose himself; taking a slow, steadying breath before opening the door a crack to face his neighbor.

James Clinton rented the apartment directly beneath his own. The redhead was only a year or two older, fit but a little bookish. Right now he was standing at the door, fingers tapping on the door frame– a nervous habit.

Bentley kept the door half closed, using his body to block the view into the apartment. “Hey.”

A smile spread over James’ face, “Ben, hey, I just wanted to check on you. Make sure everything was okay.”

James was an attractive man when he smiled; the corners of his eyes crinkled and a cleft deepened on his chin. Upon occasion, Bentley had given thought to taking the other man up on his obvious, but unspoken, offer to take their friendship farther. But in the end, the bottom line had always been that as nice as he was...as cute as he was...he wasn’t Bentley’s type.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Bentley tried to keep his voice even, polite, “Thanks for checking up on me. It was a wild night, huh? Your apartment okay?”

James nodded, “Yeah, man, just some broken shit, you know. It could have been a lot worse. Have you heard what people are saying? The ocean front is just destroyed.”

“I know, I saw it. I was working at the Institute last night.”

“That’s right, eh? Crazy. That must have been terrifying. It was scary as hell here and I was just like bounced out of bed. I could hear the sirens and the wave, and all the commotion that followed. I was just going down to the docks now, actually, to volunteer with the search and rescue, or the clean-up. But I thought I’d make sure you didn’t need anything first.”

“No. Thank you though, so much. Really.” And he was appreciative. Bentley was flattered that the other man was concerned about his well-being in spite of the disaster zone outside their front door.

“Or, you know, if you just wanted some company...” James soldiered on.

Bentley tried to think of a gracious way of getting the man on his way when the trial called from the bedroom with unconcealed impatience, “Bentley!”

James’ eyes widened, clearly embarrassed. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you already had...”

“No!” Bentley interrupted quickly, hating the look of hurt on James’ face. “It’s just... a friend staying over because of the earthquake. It’s not like that.”

Some of the hurt faded, though it was clear he didn’t entirely believe Bentley’s explanation for having a man in his bedroom. “Oh, okay...”

It certainly didn’t help that the trial choose that moment to bellow, “Bentley come back to bed. So we can continue mat… having sex, lots and lots of sex.”

Bentley opened and closed his mouth, mortified and speechless. “I...”

“N...no. I should...go.” James nodded absently and started to hurry off down the corridor, practically running.

“Thanks again!” Bentley yelped after him, closing the door once James was out of sight.

He stomped back into the bedroom where 139C was stretched out on the bed; hands folded behind his head, appearing perfectly at ease and at home in Bentley’s bedroom. Bentley pointed a finger at him. “You, are a bastard.”

The trial just looked at him, self-satisfied.

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By the time night fell, Bentley had his apartment completely back to rights. It had been cleaned, scrubbed, and rearranged. Frankly, Bentley thought it hadn’t been this clean since he moved in.

There had been only one disconcerting moment.

He had been using a rag to clean the windows and he noticed the trial watching him, transfixed, as if in some sort of stupor. C’s straight dark hair swung softly as the trial’s head moved to follow each movement across the room.

It felt weird, like they were back in the institute, except there was no tank here, no glass between them.

“C?”

No response.

Worried, Bentley cleaned his throat and took a half-step closer, “C?”

139C startled, his head jerking up to meet Bentley’s eyes.

“You were staring.” Bentley pointed up, uneasy with the scrutiny.

The trial blinked, giving his head a little shake. “Sorry. Habit. I find watching you calming.”

“Sure, sure…” Bentley shifted self-consciously. He set his rag down and moved away from the windows back towards the bedroom. “No problem… I should probably go get some sleep. Are you okay here? Do you want some blankets for the couch? Or something…”

“No. I’m fine.” Horns started honking outside and C moved over to take Bentley’s place by the window, looking out cautiously. All day a constant stream of emergency workers, Red Cross, and construction equipment had been travelling back and forth to the coast.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” 139C didn’t take his eyes from the street below as he answered. “Sleep, I will stand guard.”

“Huh? You don’t have to –” Bentley trailed off when he realized C wasn’t listening to him. With a yawn and a last look, Bentley left the trial (Evander he corrected himself) in the living room, watching the activity out the windows.

He was tired and sore from all the work, as he climbed into his bed, but it was a nice tired and sore.

Yawning again, Bentley curled onto his side, falling asleep to the lullaby of sirens from the street.

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He was on the roof of the building, asphalt shaking apart under his feet, he looked over to 139C tank, but the bars were in place. The trial was holding on to them, pulling himself up from the water. There was no way he could get out though and the ground under Bentley’s feet was crumbling and he was falling...

Bentley startled awake, heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“You were having another nightmare.”

“C?” Bentley rubbed his eyes, focusing on the figure sitting in the corner of the room. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

“Evander,” came the low rebuke. “I don’t need much sleep anymore. But I’ll rest with you. It might help you sleep.”

“You don’t need to do that...”

The trial stood from the corner chair and walked over to the bed, “Shut up and push over.”

Bentley started up at the huge form standing over him. He thought about arguing. But he didn’t really want to be alone. His exhaustion was tearing down his restraint. Slowly, he slid over in the double bed. The trial climbed into bed with him, his body too big for the mattress. Evander lay on his side in deference to the underdeveloped dorsal fin curving up from his back. Long, solid limbs wrapped around the other man, locking Bentley to his chest.

It was a clear declaration of domination, but Bentley felt so tired and safe, he decided to save his complaints until the morning.

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Bentley slept deeply, but woke early to an empty bed. It was still dark out. He could hear the trial in the living room, rummaging in the closet.

Groggy, Bentley pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He fumbled for his laptop which he kept on the bedside table. He checked again to see if it was picking up a wi-fi signal. It still wasn’t, and soon the battery would die if the power didn’t come back on to charge it. He groaned and flopped back on the bed, frustrated. He craned his head up when he heard 139C walk into the bedroom.

“Hey, you’re dressed again.”

The trial nodded, wearing the clothes they had lifted on the beach. He came closer with an unreadable look in his eyes.

Bentley felt a flutter of dread, something wasn’t right. His feelings were justified as Evander pulled the long length of extension cord from behind his back. It was the same cord he had used to tie Bentley up the first night.

Bentley sprang up, natural flight mechanism kicking in. Evander was much quicker, grabbing him and boring him back into the bed. Bentley twisted, but was out weighted and overpowered easily. Before he knew it, Evander looped the cord around his wrists, pulling it tight.

Bentley tried to stay calm, twisting and pulling to free himself, “What are you doing?!”

“I need to leave to get food.”

“Evander...”

“Bentley.”

“You can’t just tie me up whenever you want.”

“You can’t come with me. It’s not safe.”

Bentley rolled his eyes, still twisting his wrists. “Not the point. Untie me.”

“No.” With that, the trial hooked the cord over the headboard and searched around to find the discarded blue bandana.

As before, he forced the material over Bentley’s mouth, tying it snugly behind his head, leaving him unable to make more than muffled grunts and wheezes.

“I won’t be long.”

Bentley’s struggling increased as he saw Evander move towards the door, leaving him tied to the bed.

Evander gave him one last look and then left, closing and locking the door behind himself.

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Bentley was seriously considering gnawing off his hands to free himself when the trial came back through the door several hours later. It was dawn now, light angling through the window to fall warmly across the bed and Bentley’s bound body.

Bentley twisted on the bed to glare at the doorway as 139C walked into the bedroom. The trial’s black hair was wet and falling past his chin in thick, straggly locks. His clothes were damp and sandy and he smelled like salt and seaweed.

The trial walked over to the bed and untied the makeshift gag first, pulling it down from Bentley’s mouth.

Bentley opened his mouth to yell at the trial, but it couldn’t decide what he was most upset about.

The trial analyzed his expression. “You’re angry.”

“That’s all you have to say for yourself? ‘You’re angry’?! No, ‘sorry for tying you up, Bentley’, no ‘sorry for leaving you trapped on the bed while I went out, Bentley’? No ‘sorry I’m clearly a psychopath and I’ve taken over your life, Bentley?’ ”

139C didn’t blink an eye. “Would you like me to untie your hands?”

Bentley gave the cord a frustrated jerk and directed a ‘fuck-you’ glare at the trial. “What do you think?”

Evander drew alongside the bed, reaching down to unknot the extension cord tying Bentley’s wrists the headboard. “I only tied you so you wouldn’t endanger yourself while I was hunting for food.”

Bentley rubbed his wrists and followed Evander back into the main room, “Bullshit, you tied me up so I wouldn’t run away, not so I wouldn’t endanger myself.”

Evander shrugged, “Those two things are synonymous.”

“Evander!” Bentley nearly growled like the trial did, apparently the crossbreed was rubbing off on him. “You can’t tie me up like you would a dog when you leave.”

Evander turned back to him, “I cannot trust you not to run off.”

“Yes, you can.” Warning bells went off in Bentley’s head because even as he said it he knew it was true and he also knew it was stupid and probably dangerous to put so much faith in the trial. Sure, he had technically known the trial for over a year now, but what did he really know about him? Aside from the fact he was genetically altered with shark DNA, had been kept in a tank, and was incredibly domineering. Never mind the fact he saved your life, a small voice taunted in Bentley’s head.

The trial just grunted, clearly sceptical.

“I’m not going to run off. I’m not going to turn you in.” Again, Bentley’s words surprised himself. He really should have a better sense of self-preservation. But reckless as it may be, it was the truth. The trial may be overprotective of him, but he also felt connected to the trial, he found he wanted to protect 139C, too.

He rubbed his wrists, sliding off the bed and following the trial out of the bedroom into the main room. “Evander, we need to tal –”

Bentley was momentarily distracted by a plastic bag that had been thrown down on the small kitchen table. It was tipped and several large fish had skittered out.

Bentley grimaced, “That’s what you meant by food?”

193C gave Bentley a narrow eyed glare, noting the unimpressed tone. “I caught them myself.”

Bentley then noticed the sharp teeth marks in them, “Ugh, I see that. I think I’ll stick to granola bars.”

The trial shrugged, though he clear looked miffed his offering had been rejected. “Suit yourself.” He grabbed one of the fish and Bentley didn’t look away soon enough to miss the view of the trial taking a big bite out from behind the head.

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The third day after the earthquake Bentley made two important discoveries. The first was that the plumbing was back on; the second (related discovery) was that the trial had a real fetish for water.

The first thing Bentley did in the morning was try the tap in the kitchen. For the first time since the earthquake the water ran clear, through the pressure was still weaker than normal. He wasn’t going to chance drinking it, but he hadn’t showered in days and felt grimy all over. He was excited by the idea he could wash with clean water.

Because there was still no power, the water ran cold without a heater. A full shower was therefore out. But he could still wash up in the sink. He went into the bathroom. The trial was in the living room, reading some of Bentley’s old magazines.

In the bathroom, he tugged his tee shirt off and filled the sink with cold water. He grabbed a washcloth and some soap and started scrubbing. He was just rinsing off when 139C pushed open the door to check on him.

The trial stopped and stood in the doorway, eyes flashing over Bentley’s wet torso. Bentley swallowed and shifted tensely, feeling like a fish suddenly confronted with a top predator.

The trial stepped forward, reaching out a finger to follow the path of a water droplet down Bentley’s chest, watching it with fascination. His movements were slightly stilted, as if he was being compelled.

Bentley stood still, frozen in place, barely breathing. Evander’s finger caught up with the droplet, wiping it off Bentley’s skin and then bringing it to his mouth to lick off his fingertip.

139C made a rumbling sound in his chest at the taste.

Bentley gasped as the crossbreed grabbed him by the shoulders, held him in place, and leaned down to lick up another droplet right from Bentley’s skin above a small pebbled nipple.

Bentley gasped, tingling from the small touch of the trial’s tongue. “Aah...” His fingers skittered over the edge of the sink, trying to grasp for something to hold on to. “C...”

The trial rumbled again in approval. “You like that, you like being tasted.” He licked up more water trails. “The smell of your arousal skyrocketed, just from that little touch.”

“Evander...” Bentley moaned low in his throat. He couldn’t think with 139C touching him like that. He felt himself becoming embarrassingly hard under his shorts.

“The taste of the water mixed with the salt from your skin is mouth-watering.” The trial’s tongue continued to wander, sending pleasurable shivers through Bentley. The feeling wasn’t enough to distract him from the fact Evander’s webbed fingers were snaking down to tug at draw-string waist of his shorts.

“W...what are you doing?” Bentley twisted a little, eyes wide, breath shallow.

“Let me.” He pushed Bentley back against the wall by the mirror, jerking down the shorts with one hand. Bentley’s prick sprang free, full and hard and flushed dark with arousal. Evander pinned him to the wall with one hand, grabbing the washcloth from the sink with his other hand. As Bentley gasped and writhed against the wall, Evander wrung the cloth out, making water stream over Bentley’s tensed stomach and throbbing erection.

“Ahh!” Bentley’s glistening abdomen rippled concave as he gasped, inhaling sharply. The water streaming over his flushed skin felt like feather-like, teasing touches. It ran over his balls and dripped down his thighs, soaking into his shorts, which were still tangled at his knees.

“Let me.” The trial ordered again, leaning down to curl his tongue over Bentley’s wet shaft, licking the water up.

Bentley shuttered, a small keening sound escaping his mouth. He’d had a few blow jobs before. But with just one swipe of his tongue, Evander had blown them all out of the water. The supernaturally strong hand that pushed him back, making it impossible to pull away from the wall, made it even more exciting. “’Vander...”

The second the permission passed his lips, Evander’s mouth grew more aggressive, lips and mouth sucking up the water, tongue swirling and wrapping over the shaft.

Bentley’s head fell back, snapping against the wall – he didn’t even feel it.

When all the water was gone, the trials mouth descended on Bentley’s cock, the suction hot and tight. Bentley cried out, pleasure racing through his body. He felt his balls drawing up, surging towards his orgasm in an amazingly short amount of time. Hand shaking lightly, he had the presence of mind to push at Evander’s shoulder, giving him warning, “Close!”

Instead of pulling off, Evander sucked harder, head angling to the side as he bobbed his mouth up and down, free hand curled around the base of Bentley’s cock, dragging him over the edge.

“Ahh!” with a shout, Bentley came, whole body pulsing with pleasure. His orgasm was so strong, white light flashed in front of his eyes.

Evander swallowed, and then pulled off, licking his lips with a self-satisfied expression.

Bentley didn’t move, he was afraid if did he would embarrass himself by wobbling on his jelly-like legs.

Evander moved away, getting the washcloth. It seemed like his intention honestly was to clean Bentley off, but as the water touched Bentley’s skin, Evander appeared compelled to lick it off again, wreaking havoc on Bentley’s post-orgasm-overly-sensitive skin.

The brunette finally had to push Evander back, pulling the washcloth from his hands. “Nnghh, stop. Let me do it.”

Evander snapped his teeth, clearly displeased with being pushed away from his prize. Bentley flinched back a little, but recovered quickly, giving Evander a dirty look. “You don’t scare me.”

“Yes. I do. But that doesn’t stop you from wanting to mate with me.” The trial gave him a sinful grin before relinquishing the washcloth. He gave Bentley a knowing look, retreating from the small room.

Once he was alone again, Bentley stumbled to the sink, pulling his shorts up with one hand, all the while cursing 139C for being right. He would also have to take another sponge bath now.

He made sure to lock the door this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evander came into the bedroom as he was trying to get to sleep that night. Without being told, Bentley pushed over to give him room. He hadn’t had any nightmares after Evander had started to sleep with him and he had convinced himself it couldn’t hurt to let him in the bed if it meant a full night’s sleep.

Evander slid under the covers and pulled Bentley to him.

Bentley draped against his side, hand idly stroking the rough, pale skin over his chest. Evander’s hand came down and rested over top of Bentley’s. The trial’s thumb brushed over his knuckles softly.

“What happened to you that night?” The question was deceptively casually.

Bentley was too tired and relaxed to notice the weight behind it. “Mmm...What night?”

“The night a few weeks ago when you came to me all broken.”

Bentley thought for a moment and then remembered the night he had saved the fox trial. “Oh... Two guards were hurting a woman. I got in a fight with them.”

“What were their names?” Again, the tone was carefully causal.

“I don’t know. They were fired after that night.”

“Describe them.”

Bentley yawned, “What does it matter?”

“It matters.”

“Evander?”

“Yes?”

Bentley turned his head into the crook of Evander’s shoulder, words muffled. “If you don’t shut up and let me sleep, I’m kicking you out of bed.”

The trial went quiet.

Just when Bentley’s was drifting off, Evander shifted, jostling him, “Just tell me their height and hair colour.”

“You’re impossible.” Bentley fell asleep still mumbling about stubborn asses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blackout lasted two more days before the power came back on, during that time, the two men maintained their truce and even fell into a surprisingly easy routine.

Really the only bad part of the routine, in Bentley’s opinion, was this – Evander had gone out for ‘food’ again and left him tied and gagged on the couch.

139C still didn’t trust him on his own.

Evander had left some slack in the extension cord this time, at least. So despite being his hands being tied behind his back and then to the radiator beside the couch, he could get up and move around within a five foot radius.

The first sign that the power was finally back on was the hum the refrigerator starting up. Bentley’s first instinct was to try to turn on the TV to see what they were saying about the earthquake. Luckily, the rope reached long enough to get to the TV. He had to twist around to work the controls behind his back. He crossed his fingers that the satellite was working.

Miraculously, the guide came up on the screen. He turned to one of the big news channels and stood glued in front of the set as he watched pictures flash up of the damages and death toll from the earthquake and tsunami. Then words scrolled across the bottom of screen, promising an update on the ‘LUFDOR INSTITUTE BOMBSHELL’ after the break.

Bentley’s heart jumped in his chest.

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You guys are awesome! Thank you so much for your supports and your wonderful reviews. Please let me know what you think. I love hearing what you predict is going to happen next, some of you are eerily good at figuring it out before I even finish writing it :P