17. Good For You

Once they’d cleared Egleesa’s atmosphere and were safely on their way back to the ice moon, Niko winced, holding his gloved hand over his face. “I seriously just annihilated somebody’s granddad. That was the guy who taught me to rush people.”

Elliott laughed. His smile was reminiscent of the old photographs Niko loved from his case files—briefly unburdened by gravity, luminous as the stars—taken before Elliott’s life had ever fallen apart. He had a way of tilting his head back and closing his eyes when something really amused him.

Niko felt himself grinning too. It felt good—no, fucking great—to have gone into the fray alongside Elliott Kestrel, against all of Galapol and the galaxy’s best hunters and win the day. They got a clean shot on Yuuorta, and the sadist would never hurt another person again.

And Elliott—

Elliott was radiant. Handsome and untethered. His movements were loose and easy, his face carrying a sly little pleased smile. He seemed genuinely happy. Niko wanted to kiss that smile up, to taste the lips that framed it.

“We did it,” Elliott said.

Niko held his hand up. “High five.”

Elliott leaned languorously against the wall, peering over at him, his eyebrows rising. “Are you serious?”

“Do it. Come on.”

“You’re a dork.” Elliott relented, though, slapping his hand hard into Niko’s, the gesture making his smile widen, despite his teasing. “I see there’s a certain type drawn to bounty hunting. Maybe when the Legend dies, you can rename yourself that.”

“You’re the real legend here. I’m just a converted fanboy.”

“You’re my fanboy?”

“Hey. We’re a team now. So, we should have a cool name too, to reflect that.”

“Like what?”

“How about Starhawk?” Niko asked.

Elliott frowned. “Why Starhawk?”

“Well, Estrella means ‘star’ in Galactic Standard. And Kestrel—”

“Is a falcon, not a hawk.”

Niko grinned. “It’s close enough. Predatory bird.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Come on, Elliott. It sounds so cool.”

Elliott shook his head and laughed again. Niko could lap up his laughter. He could live off the sound alone.

He stepped closer, looming down now over Elliott as he slumped back against the wall. It felt good to look down at him instead of up for once. “Come on, Elliott.”

Elliott peered up at him, eyes searching. “I’ll consider it. You’re still a dork, though.”

“And you’re hot as fuck,” Niko said. “You want to know something stupid? The first time I saw your face on Vhesa, I forgot what I was even supposed to be doing. You were that offensively gorgeous.”

“You want to know what else is stupid? I felt the same way when I finally saw yours on Uula.”

“Mmh, I remember that going a little differently. I remember you throat-punching me and running away. Wasn’t great for my self-esteem.”

Elliott grinned. “Well, I didn”t want to die either. So there was that.”

“You were so fucking phenomenal tonight, Elliott. You always are. It was thrilling getting to see you work,” Niko murmured. His voice turned low, wilderness clawing at the edges of his words. “It made me really want you.” He had Elliott’s full attention now, the other man’s smile gone, something else there now, darkly watchful and hungry.

“It was thrilling,” said Elliott, throwing the word back at him, “getting to see you toss everyone around like they weighed nothing. You went a little feral.”

“I can’t help it,” Niko said. “When you’re threatened, I go a little feral.”

He backed Elliott against the wall, pinning him there under his own weight. Elliott gave a small gasp. Niko closed the narrow gap between them, his lips meeting the heat of Elliott’s as they parted, permitting, inviting.

Niko wanted it bad, wanted to take him, to turn him over and pump him full right there against the wall, standing. The idea made him feverish, made him hot. He couldn’t keep himself off Elliott, and his desire was fully reciprocated at every step, Elliott kissing him, reaching up to grasp a tight fistful of hair.

It didn’t go as Niko usually tended to do things.

This time, Elliott pushed back against him, planting his own hungry, dominating kisses on Niko’s mouth. Before Niko realized it, Elliott had driven him back against the bunk bed compartment, the mattress hitting the backs of his legs. He fell back onto it, looking up at the other man.

Elliott loomed over him before crawling forward onto the bed, one knee beside Niko. He continued his insatiable kisses, hands moving exactly where they needed to be, unfastening the pieces of Niko’s suit snap by snap. He stripped them off Niko and set them aside, never once letting up on trying to devour him.

It left Niko lightheaded. He loved being so wanted, so desired. He ran his hands over Elliott, sliding them up under his shirt, along the bare skin there.

He saw the straining, voracious bulge in Elliott’s tight pants, felt it push against his stomach as the other man leaned against him. It was delicious. Niko wanted him, wholly, vivid memories of their last time together resurfacing. He wanted it again, wanted to make it last longer for him this time. He—

“I want to be inside you,” Elliott purred in his ear. “I bet you feel so fucking good, Niko.”

Niko’s breath caught in his chest, his body seizing up as a wave of trepidation spread through him.

Elliott sensed it and paused. He leaned back, giving Niko a few inches of space, and reached up to cup his face in his hands. He looked at Niko searchingly, breathtaking eyes of dusty green full of concern.

“Is that alright? Do you like that?”

“I—” Niko hesitated.

It was always that way. He’d let himself bottom before, a few times in his early twenties, but had never been able to enjoy it. Not nearly so much as he’d enjoyed topping. Niko liked to control the situation, to be the one to fuck into his lovers, to pleasure them. Any other way made him feel inexplicably insecure and nervous. He wasn’t used to giving others that sort of power over him.

Normally his answer would be easy. But—

Something about Elliott was different. Niko’s face flushed, his heart racing at the memory of what he’d requested Elliott do to finish himself off during their previous lovemaking. He was shocked at himself that he’d even asked. The memory of it left him achingly hard now; he could feel himself dripping.

He remembered the shifting fantasy he’d had of Elliott after the picture had gotten under his skin. The way Elliott had felt in his mind. It was where his thoughts had all driven towards, in a single direction. It had been the destination. The very thought of it made him feel faint, made it hard to swallow. It was that good.

And it was hard to refuse Elliott when he’d… well, worded it like that.

Fast rising hunger warred with nebulous anxiety inside him, until finally Niko nodded his consent. “Yeah. I—I want you to.”

Elliott stroked his cheek. The tenderness and warmth of it made Niko want to melt into him. Some of his strange anxiety quieted.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Elliott leaned in and kissed him again, slowly this time, passionate. Niko felt some of the tension relinquish its tight hold on his shoulders as he leaned into Elliott, returning his kisses.

“I’ll make it good for you,” Elliott whispered. Goosebumps prickled along Niko’s skin in thrilling anticipation, which was now beginning to win out over his nerves.

He wanted this. Maybe he had all along.

Elliott pulled Niko’s shirt off, then his own. His gunshot wounds were looking much better now, thanks to the expedited healing of the RapiGel, ruddy and scarred patches of skin all that signaled where deep injuries had once been. “Lay down, lover,” he said.

Niko obliged, lying on his back with an anxious swallow. Elliott reached up and unfastened Niko’s pants, then carefully removed them.

He took his time. He helped himself to a handful of Niko’s own bulge beneath his boxers, giving a gentle squeeze that made Niko’s breath catch in his throat. Then he pulled the boxers off, Niko’s length springing free. Elliott didn’t touch him there again though yet, instead trailing his fingertips down Niko’s sides, his hips, his legs. The touch transitioned from fully felt to mere faint electric pinpricks as his fingers traveled.

Elliott tilted his head, eyes roaming the length of Niko’s body. He studied him like he was a fascinating gallery piece on display. Like he was something beautiful. Niko felt his cheeks and chest flush with heat at being looked at like this. Then Elliott took hold of Niko’s leg and lifted it. He merely held it, exploring with his hands, the touches gentle, worshipful even. He looked at Niko with a mixture of affection and awe, then bent his head forward to kiss his scarred and tattooed knee with such tenderness that Niko’s throat nearly closed up with a pang of emotion.

Niko couldn’t feel any of it. But the sight of Elliott as he held his cheek against Niko’s leg, eyes closed, before trailing more long, sensual kisses along it made him hurt in a profound way.

He’d spent so long stuck in a complex shame about himself and the image of his body. Particularly his legs. To see Elliott giving such attention—such love—to the part of Niko he’d wanted to ignore or throw away made it hard to breathe.

If Niko had felt deeply for him before, it crossed into something wild and fierce now. Something with wings that beat in time to his human heart.

“I—”

“Are you alright, Niko? Do you want me to stop?”

“No. No. I— Just.” It was hard to speak. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re so beautiful, Niko. I’ve never seen someone so beautiful as you.”

Niko had to look away. He had always worn his emotions on his sleeve, and they were threatening to surface now when he didn’t want them to. He wanted to enjoy this moment, here with Elliott, about to get fucked by him. About to be made love to by him. He didn’t want to let himself fall apart.

He wanted to hold onto Elliott and never let go.

Elliott set his leg back down, then briefly stepped off to rifle through Niko’s duffel bag which sat on the counter. Once he found the small bottle of lubrication, he returned, quickly undoing and shaking off his own pants, then underwear. He stood handsome and bare now. Niko would never tire of seeing it. He loved every part of Elliott.

Elliott rubbed himself with lube, then moved between Niko’s legs. He lifted one again, bending it at the knee, getting access to all of Niko now. Niko swallowed again in anticipation of the touch he was about to administer. Elliott planted another slow, soft kiss against his knee before taking his hand and rubbing lube onto Niko’s entrance.

It felt good—and strange, and alarming—to be touched there like that. Elliott rubbed him, then pushed a finger in.

Or tried.

“Niko, I’m going to need more than that. You need to relax.”

It was easier said than done. Niko inhaled slowly, then let out a long breath, willing himself to relax, to yield to the other man’s touch which he wanted so badly. Elliott gently let go of the leg he was holding and brushed his hand against Niko’s erection, then took hold of him and began to stroke him. His touch drew a small sound from Niko’s throat, and he relented a little until Elliott loosened him up. He did that for a few moments, until he apparently felt Niko was ready, pulling his hand away.

Niko’s pulse hammered in his throat as Elliott climbed onto the bed and positioned himself between his legs. The other man took himself in hand and pushed against Niko.

And went nowhere—again.

“Niko,” Elliott murmured, pausing again to run his hand along Niko’s chest. He took his hand and held it. “Relax. Let me in.”

Niko mumbled an apology, letting out another exhale, then tried to force himself to calm back down.

They waited a moment, then Elliott tried again. Little by little he entered Niko, slowly, pausing frequently to allow him to get used to it. It felt—

It hurt. But it felt fucking phenomenal, too.

Elliott gave him a moment once he was fully in. Niko could feel him, feel every inch, feel the heat and the hardness of him. He loved it in a way he didn’t think he ever could. He liked it even more than their first time.

Elliott bent forward to kiss him, long and slow, passionate, but Niko was having none of that now—he pleaded wordlessly to Elliott with his own starving kisses, his hands roaming the other man’s body, running through his hair, touching him everywhere.

Elliott smiled against him, then took Niko’s legs gently in hand, holding them to give himself access. He started moving, slowly, pulling out, then pushing deeply into him again. Niko felt full with him, like a part of himself had been missing all along and only now was whole again.

Elliott moved in him, slowly, a delicious rhythm, gentle and considerate.

“Elliott,” Niko said, his voice emerging drunk sounding with desire. “I want—”

“What do you want, Niko?” Elliott murmured.

Niko wasn’t used to begging. “I want more. Give it to me. Please. Just— Fuck me hard.”

“If that’s how you like it,” Elliott said, his own voice lush and dark in a way that told Niko he liked it that way too. He obliged, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, until he was railing Niko relentlessly, his whole body rocking as Elliott met him again and again. Niko wrapped his arms around him and held him, his hands on Elliott’s back, feeling every muscle as they worked and strained. His fingertips trailed the old hook-shaped scar there. Niko met him tongue against tongue, the secondary penetration into the other man’s mouth making him dizzy.

Niko made himself endure it all, this time. He forced himself not to give in too early to the pleasure that ravaged him like a sultry fire, though Elliott made every cell in him feel aflame. It was everything he could do to barely keep himself together.

“Harder, Elliott,” Niko begged. “I want to feel you days from now.”

Soft sounds escaped Elliott, betraying his own heady indulgence of Niko and what they were sharing. Knowing his lover was so enjoying himself in him sent a rippling chill of pleasure through Niko. It was almost enough to send him over the edge, but he fought it.

Elliott came first, giving Niko a brief thrill of triumph. He felt the other man spill hot into him with an agonized moan. Elliott dug his fingertips in him, clinging hard but unfelt to Niko’s legs as he lost himself. Then he slid out, not missing a beat, moving to take Niko in his mouth.

“Mmm,” he hummed as he licked Niko’s cock. “Niko, I don’t know what you do to me.”

The feeling was mutual.

Niko came shortly after, finally letting himself succumb to Elliott’s warm, wet mouth. The other man swallowed, his Adam’s apple shifting as he did. He wiped at his lips, then cleaned them both up before crawling across the bunk and collapsing beside Niko.

Niko pulled him into a tight hug, burying his face in Elliott’s hair.

He felt warm. He felt alive. He felt resplendent in a way he couldn’t remember.

His emotions sat tangled and heavy and burning bright in his chest: appreciation, affection, need. Companionship, belonging—

“Niko. I really, really like you,” Elliott said. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

An even deeper warmth, all golden honey, spread thick through Niko’s chest. “Combination of shield generator and me being a piss-poor shot,” he joked. “At some point I had no choice but to give up shooting and just listen instead.”

Elliott smiled. It was wide, sincere, unburdened, his eyes squinting in a way that Niko knew would leave crinkles at the corners one day, when he was an older man. The thought made him smile too.

“Thank you for being here,” Elliott said. “This— It feels different now.”

“We’re a team now,” Niko said. “You’re not alone anymore. I’ll be here.”

Elliott’s smile grew. “Niko. Was it… alright?”

“Yeah, babe. It was great.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m pretty fucking sure, Elliott. I can’t fake things like that.” Nor did he want to. Niko couldn’t bear to live inauthentically—for all his flaws, he knew he could rest easy one day, knowing he had never pretended to be anything but himself.

Elliott planted another lingering, wet kiss on his collarbone. “You were incredible. You felt so good. I loved fucking you. I love— I love being with you.”

“It’s mutual, Elliott.”

The light of what they shared permeated even the ice moon facility, where even the plain gray walls and too-empty corridors couldn’t stifle it. Niko was happy. Elliott seemed relieved. He joked and smiled.

The days passed by, luminous, even in the moon’s eternal dark.

Elliott showed him how to use the sniper rifle at the makeshift shooting range, putting Niko to shame when it became competitive. Niko distracted him with hungry kisses and seeking hands.

Niko invented new meals from the meager range of foods Elliott had, some being a little more disastrous than others. But Elliott was a good sport—or didn’t want to waste the limited resources available to them—and ate it all anyway.

He introduced Elliott to the fine artistry of Royce RG, which he blared loudly over the facility’s speakers and out into the desolate icy night of RM-9832642G. It made Elliott groan, but Niko caught him mumbling some of the lyrics to himself in the kitchen—and Niko found himself doing the same with the annoyingly saccharine songs of Hayura and Kuliedi Taan. They were growing on him now, and almost gave him a strange nostalgia. He couldn’t hear their music without thinking about Elliott now.

They made bets on what their collective bounties must have reached by now and discussed what they would spend the money on if they turned each other in—Niko’s idea being to use the money to bail Elliott out again, and Elliott saying he’d take a vacation to the beaches of Eanan.

Niko’s birthday came and passed; he would have forgotten it completely, but Elliott surprised him with a sweetly-made but horrific-tasting cake he’d engineered from the scarce food supplies they possessed.

Their work continued on for two more successful kills: Jori Tauldaath and Kunathad, absolutely nothing of value lost in the galaxy with either of their deaths. Niko made it a habit to witness their files before embarking on each kill. He wanted the reminder of what these people did, wanted to see again for himself the horrific reality they hid behind prestige and shining public image. Together with Elliott, they were cleaning up the galaxy and giving it a better future, cutting a tumor free.

He and Elliott worked well side by side—more efficiently, even, than when Elliott had worked alone. Niko acted as his bodyguard and bulwark, ready to defend him at a moment’s notice. They got out quickly and quietly, not needing to fight either time.

Niko found working with him thrilling.

As the morning of the next event came up, however, Elliott had begun to retreat back into quietude again, some of that luminous high dissipating from him. Niko found him looking out the thick windows of a quiet, empty lounge. He stared out into the unchanging, empty night, his pale reflection peering back at him, earbuds in his ears. Niko could hear the soft music even from feet away.

Elliott startled when he realized Niko was there, pulling the earbuds out. He turned the music off, the room filling with silence. Niko wrapped his arm around Elliott’s waist and Elliott leaned into the touch.

“Hey, babe. Something on your mind?”

“Mmh,” Elliott acknowledged. Niko thought that was the only answer he was going to get, until Elliott finally spoke again. “Duuru Orkan.”

“Yeah?” Niko looked up at him. “He’s next.”

“He is.” Elliott looked unwell.

Something clicked in Niko’s memory. “Wait— Isn’t he—?”

“Uru Taal’s son.” Elliott craned his neck to look down at him.

Niko blinked. He’d completely forgotten the two massive Toliai were related, both in succession to the throne of Thoro.

“He grew up to be just as much a disgusting worm as his father. Clearly.” Elliott gripped the window ledge so tightly his knuckles turned white. His voice held a faint tremor. “I can’t wait to hurt him.”

Niko didn’t know if he was referring to father or son.

“Hey. Come here,” he said, gently tugging Elliott over into his lap. He half expected the man to shove away from him, his whole body tense with anger, but instead he relented, sinking into Niko’s lap and resting his head against his shoulder. Niko stroked his hair.

“They—they were both there when—”

Niko made a soft sound. “It’s alright, Elliott. We’re going to make sure Duuru doesn’t hurt anyone ever again. Maybe now we’ll have his old man’s attention, too.”

“I hope so,” Elliott seethed. “I hope he feels what I had to feel when my family never came home again.”

It worried Niko. He would be a liar to deny that it did. And he understood. He very intimately understood that all-consuming drive for revenge. But he also knew how poisonous it was, too. If Elliott disdained Honeybliss, the sheer contempt and vitriol he possessed for Uru Taal and his son were on another level entirely. Niko just hoped it wouldn’t burn through him like a star on the edge of its supernova, all fire and energy and rage and nothing left enduring once it was over.

There was a special kind of emptiness that came after. One that Niko had only barely survived.

“I’ll be there with you,” Niko said. “I’ll be there when you do it. It’s okay, Elliott. We’ll take him down together. We’ll keep him from hurting anyone ever again.”

Elliott relented finally, his body relaxing into Niko.

“Niko… I—” he said slowly, quietly. “I l—”

He hesitated a moment, seeming to reconsider his words. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Niko said, and meant it.