by Lin Lustig
Emerson swallowed audibly. “You shouldn't have streamed the whole thing without telling us. You put yourself and the rest of us at risk. There's no telling what the fall out will be from something like that. You've put all the Abno—Ferly,” he corrected. “At risk. Not to mention if anything happens to you then we lose our most valuable asset. You have the eye of the media and the ear of the Internet, and if you're removed then we're lost... I'm lost.” Emerson's voice lowered to a whisper. “If something had happened to you I—it's my job to protect you, and tonight I could have lost you.”
John's heart picked up pace. “Em?” He wasn't saying what he thought he was, right? There was no way, not after everything he'd done to him. Em wanted nothing to do with him romantically. They'd closed that door. Emerson shifted forward until their knees touched. It caused a jolt through John's belly, but he had to come clean. “They made me an offer tonight. GANF wanted me as a public figure for the church to draw in others like us. Aubrey offered me control of her whole program if I accepted.”
“That's absurd.”
“I almost took it.” The words hung between them like pinpricks aiming to burst the bubble in John's chest.
Em was quiet for a long moment, the look on his face indecipherable. “But you didn't.”
“No.”
His hand reached out and brushed John's. He sucked in a breath and dared not move as Emerson's fingers curled around his own.
“What happened to you tonight?” John's voice shook, but he swallowed down the onset of nerves. “You look—”
“Healthier?” Emerson half-laughed in a self-depreciating way. “I took more tonight than I can ever remember, and I feel... amazing.” His voice betrayed how much he hated feeling good at the cost of others. John turned his hand to better hold Em’s and squeezed.
“You can't keep screwing up your health by denying something you need. You can't rely on doctors anymore. It's not safe.”
Emerson pulled back, but John held on. “I know, okay? I know how much I fucked up and how much I put everyone at risk. Jammers exist because of what they were able to take from me. And I... I never meant to hurt anyone, and I don't think you did either.”
John's breath hitched in surprise, and he tried to hide it. Emerson understood him. That's what he meant by all this. They'd both hurt and been hurt. “So then what do we do now?”
“We keep protecting the people we love.”
Say it. Please, just say it. John waited, but Emerson didn't elaborate. He could say it first, but Emerson knew what John was, how he felt, and what he wanted... what he could give. He leaned in.
A knock came at the door. He and Emerson sprang apart. “You two in there?” Azami asked.
John let out his strained breath and felt tears prickle his tired eyes. “Yeah, we'll be out in a minute. The girls okay?”
“They'll be fine. I think we all need some rest. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine, just debriefing.” Emerson answered before John could.
Azami made a sound of acceptance, then her soft footfalls padded away. They heard a door shut down the hall. John worried his hair again, trying to hold back the exhaustion, the fear, and worst of all, the hope. They’d done good tonight. They’d freed Tarrah. They’d exposed UHP. They’d even ended Aubrey's influence for good, though not how he’d wanted. It was hard to believe she was really gone. He'd given so much of his life to her and she was just...gone. He couldn't help it then.
Tears trailed down, betraying him. He brushed them away with the heel of his hand.
“You okay?” Emerson's voice was so wretchedly soft. Why did he have to be so kind?
“Fine. Just a long night.”
“What about your vibe?”
John shook his head. “I can't feel a thing. I don't know how much she injected, or how concentrated the dose. To be honest it's freaking me out a little.” He hadn't meant to say the last bit, but it was so damn late, and he was beginning to feel sleep-drunk. Then Emerson's hand was back on his, sliding across his skin. John leaned over and kissed the back of his hand, just glad to have the contact. “I love you.”
Emerson slid his hand free, and John went cold.
“You know,” Emerson looked away from him. “I thought I wanted the world to know. That maybe if we were public it would fix this emptiness inside me.” He let out a huff. “It was this tight space in my chest because I thought... I thought you were being selfish and conceited and vain.”
“Pretty sure I am those things.”
Em smiled a bit at that. “Maybe. But you weren't the problem. I wasn't being honest with myself. I didn't need a proposal or a public declaration, I just needed you and I knew there were things you weren’t letting me see. I was always on the outside, and now I see it wasn't without reason. I know why you kept this all from me, but it's my job to protect you, not the other way around. You don't have to hide from me anymore. I need you, but I need all of you. No more secrets.”
It felt surreal to hear. An open invitation to be himself, and he believed it. Emerson was so sincere it made him want to laugh. Or maybe cry some more—he really was stupidly tired. It was as close to forgiveness as he could ever hope to have, and he'd take it.
“I can do that.” Then when Emerson looked skeptical, John put his hand over Em's heart. “I don't mind anymore—being public. After everything else what's one more closet to jump out of?” Emerson smirked, which encouraged him further. “I still don't want to get married, and after all this I don't think I'll ever want that, but it doesn't mean we can't get engaged.”
Emerson jerked back at that. “But you—”
“It's not the same, trust me. One is a promise we hold for each other, the other is a promise we'd make to lawyers and judges and strangers that don't matter. I just need you.”
“Me and Prisha and Licia and—”
“No.” John's voice came out harsher than he meant. He kissed Em's hand again, holding it to his lips to take in the warmth. “Licia... I can't. Not after...” He'd always have a connection with her, but anything more than that seemed impossible now. He might need her help, maybe her guidance, but not her affection. He was just... done.
Emerson seemed to notice his shift in mood and tugged John closer. Not close enough to kiss, but damn close enough to make him think about nothing but Emerson's thick lips and sensual tongue.
John brushed Emerson’s cheek on an undeniable impulse. “I don’t think I can ever say how much I need you, too. I love you more than I’ve ever loved someone before. It’s a little unnerving.”
Emerson leaned into his touch and tried to smother a sly smile. “I accept.”
“Huh?” John blinked a couple of times to bring his attention away from his growing arousal.
“Your offer of engagement.”
The grin that spread across John’s lips was lazy but didn't seem to stop. His cheeks hurt and his eyes stung and everything in him wanted to burst. Including, he realized, a soft effervescence growing low in his abdomen. He laughed out of sheer relief and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Emerson's, feeling his hot breath swirl over his skin. He tilted his head and felt Em’s tongue sweep across his lips to tangle with his own. He was so afraid to push further and crumble the bridge rebuilding between them.
They both hesitated, pulling back enough to search each other's faces in the dim light.
“I'm going to buy you a ring,” John licked his lips and let that lazy grin return.
Emerson laughed with just his breath. “You don't need to; we're making our own rules here.”
“Alright,” John considered. “If you don't want a standard ring for our non-standard relationship, then I can get you a cock ring instead.”
The room filled with Emerson's laughter.
CHAPTER 65
John
Chances were Azami could hear their muted gasps and moans, but John wasn't going to miss a chance to be with the man he loved tonight. He practically crawled onto Em's lap on the
folding chair.
“Do you have any lube. Condoms?” Emerson bit his ear.
“Weirdly that wasn't on my mind tonight when I broke into UHP.” He kissed down Em's neck and sucked on the soft spot between his neck and shoulder.
Emerson pushed John down to his knees, cupped his chin, and hungrily kissed him. “I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if you had.”
“Your opinion of me is so high.”
“Shut up.” Em smirked.
John didn't need any convincing to unbuckle Emerson's belt. Impatient, Em helped unbutton and unzip his pants. John then freed the length of him, taking his time to enjoy how hard he was. How much he wanted this, too.
Emerson fisted John’s hair, holding him in place as he brought his mouth down around him. He rather liked the prickling tug and went deeper. He licked and sucked, aching with desire as Emerson let out little moans and uneven breaths. The cement under his knees bit into his skin, but somehow made the pleasure he delivered even more exquisite, except then Emerson stopped him.
At first, he thought Em changed his mind—couldn’t handle what being with John would mean, how much hard work was ahead for them to be together—but then he was lost in Emerson's lips smothering his, and the desperate tugging at his jeans. John half fell back onto the opposite chair as Emerson sank down, and when his hot, wet mouth wrapped around the length of him, he thought he'd lose it immediately. Instead his returning vibe uncorked and spilled free. Emerson moaned, the vibration adding to the experience, and John knew he was lapping up both the energy and his arousal.
It felt beyond good to feel and not think, so when he was unbearably close, he pulled out of Em's reach and pinned him against the wall. They faced each other, flushed and breathing hard.
John reached down and slid his hand around Emerson’s cock. Em pressed his head back against the wall and closed his eyes with a look so caught in pleasure that John pressed himself into Em’s hand in turn and groaned.
Em kissed him, hard and wet and slanted to slip his tongue into John’s mouth. John gripped his shoulder and dipped his forehead down against his, growing tight as their pace accelerated. They paused to briefly lay their mouths on each other’s cocks to stay slick, then Em spun John to the wall instead.
Em’s other hand found his ass and traipsed his fingers along sensitive areas. They pumped and kissed and groaned, begging for release and yet savoring the moment.
Emerson's free hand moved aside and dug into John’s hips, the strong and fast strokes stoking the fire until John thought he'd burn alive with need. He stroked, keeping pace, listening for Emerson's little cues—the way he quivered when he was close, the high strain when his breath became too tight with lust—he’d thought he’d never hear them again.
They came at the same time, not even pretending to stay quiet. Emerson leaned into him, kissing his shoulder, his neck, whatever he could reach. John practically collapsed. He was drained down to nothing and had never felt more relieved.
Emerson eased back, pulling free. John offered his soon-to-be-discarded boxers to clean up, then gathered Emerson to his chest, holding on. He was never letting go.
“I love you.” Emerson kissed the underside of his jaw.
John snuggled into Emerson's neck and nipped him. He yelped in surprise. “I love you, too.”
He refused to hold back ever again.
EPILOGUE
Tarrah
A blank ceiling greeted her, the white walls equally pale and empty. Was she not even allowed a calendar in her room anymore? A clock? And why did the bed feel so bouncy?
She tipped to the side and came face to face with an unconscious Licia. An involuntary squeak slipped from her mouth as she tried to sit up and away but kept falling further towards the woman from her dreams instead.
“Easy! You're okay. You're not in the hospital anymore,” a familiar voice said.
That much was clear, but then, “Where am I? Wait, you're Azami, right?” The Japanese woman hadn't been a feature of her visions, but she'd seen her through the others. She was short with long, straight black hair, and she looked so healthy and strong.
“Yeah, that's me. You're in the office of a store Licia owns.”
Licia, who was asleep beside her. Tarrah managed to push hard enough against the inflated bed to sit upright and marveled at how clear her head felt and how stable her muscles were.
There was a soft knock at the door and another familiar face peeked in. “Everything okay? I heard a—Tarrah. You're awake.” John stepped inside looking rather disheveled, but strong. Azami blushed a little and looked away from him.
“Hello.” What do you say to a guy who helped you escape? “Thank you for... just, thanks.” The exodus came back to her in waves. Fighting to stay upright and reach the door. Hearing her name. Feeling a hand in hers and then...
Tarrah rolled off the bed and stood, almost more alarmed by her ability to effortlessly do so than the rush of images leftover from the last vision she’d had. However, she could feel her muscles strain and had to lean against the nearby wall. She might be able to move, but she didn't have the endurance to stay up for long.
“What's wrong?” John came to her side, not touching, but he kept his arms out like he was waiting to catch her. It was then she realized she was still in a hospital gown, the back threatening to flap open and reveal her pink knickers at any moment. She was uncomfortably aware of her usual lack of bra as well and a furious embarrassment flamed her cheeks.
“Nothing. Are there any clothes around? Or a loo?” She buried the imprint from the vision in her mind and focused on more immediate problems.
Azami dug into a nearby bag and pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a jumper similar to the one she currently wore. Tarrah reached for them, but her legs gave out. John held her up, not seeming to notice how exposed she was.
“Easy, I'll take you.” He reached out for the clothes and tucked them under his arm, then half carried her out of the room to an empty hall. It was only a few steps from there to an unadorned door where a blessed toilet and sink awaited. “Don't lock the door and call if you need me.”
She wanted to lock it behind her just because she could, but she was accustomed to needing help. Still, it wasn’t often she had any privacy, so it was enough to close the door and empty her bladder, wash, and then dress in the borrowed clothes alone.
“You doing okay in there?”
“Fine. I... I never thought I'd get out of there, let alone meet all of you.”
“How do you know us?” His voice was quiet through the door.
She closed the lid on the toilet and sat, examining her cracked fingernails and dry skin. “I’ve been seeing you in my dreams. You, Emerson, and Licia. The last two days every time I fall into one of my visions, it’s one of you.”
It sounded like he slid down against the wall. Curious, she opened the door and found him sitting on the floor, looking uncertain. Carefully, she joined him.
“Days?” John ran a hand over his eyes. “We started having these episodes a couple weeks ago. Everything would freeze up then we'd relive these moments of our lives that...did you see the memories?”
She shook her head and felt her hair bounce a little with the motion. She'd need to cut a lot of it off to tame it and felt self-conscious next to John's beauty, but not intimidated. “I didn't know my vision affected the people I see. I just see you going about your life like I’m a fly on the wall. I knew I was seeing the recent things with you when UHP made their announcement.” It was nice to have a time stamp on the visions.
“Do you control them?”
She laughed a little, her stare losing focus as she thought about being strapped down to the bed and fearing the loss of control. “No. I don't know what they are or how they work. I never meant to intrude on your lives.”
He offered his hand. If she hadn't known him as well as she did, she never would have taken it, but instead she set hers in his. He squeezed. “It's okay. We'll figure this all out
. I'm going to watch over you and the others.” She could hear his silent promise. Or maybe she heard it for real somewhere in the visions.
“Are the others okay?” She kept her hand in his. It was comforting to be tethered to her consciousness here and know this was real.
“I think so. Em's fine, just dozing in the other room. Glen—do you know who that is? Okay, good—he had the company put him up in a hotel. I'm not sure about Azami and Licia. Today was a lot to process.”
Images from her last vision spliced back into her mind, two overlapping version of Licia. “About Licia, I think something is wrong, when I took her hand at the hospital something changed with her and I saw...” She trailed off, unsure what she really saw. Or how. Her visions gave her little glimpses of a person's past—usually the recent past. Abnormals had been outed for almost two weeks before she first saw John in her dreams. She never knew how far back she saw, but it was always then, not now. And not yet.
“Nothing you say can be worse than what I've seen tonight. Go on.”
Still, she hesitated. It was impossible, but she saw what she saw. “Licia's going to destroy us.”
John stilled at that, turning to face her with a carefully constructed look of concern. “What? How?”
A bubble of discomfort built in her chest, but she trusted John the most through all this because he'd screwed up so much and come so far to make it right. She'd seen him deal with his own past—he could deal with this. “When we touched there was this moment where I saw things that might happen. Will happen. I don't know how I know, but the image was wrong, like a double exposure. In one, Licia is standing behind us, like she's one of us, but in the other...” she swallowed, the image in her head so vibrant. “She was standing over our bodies.”
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