Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

S weat stung his eyes and greased his neck. Felix pushed a hand over his head, mopping up some of the moisture. Baby curls teased his wet palm. He'd gone from bald thug to scarred child-man. By the time he hit forty, he might actually look thirty.

Hands falling into two raised fists, he eyed the kick bag. It swayed slowly back and forth. Jab, front punch, uppercut, hook. Loose left fist delivering the short blows, right fist the longer ones. He repeated the combination, timing his punches to the jerky swing of the heavy bag until his knuckles grazed an off swing, stripping skin from cartilage.

He should be wearing gloves, or wrapping. Both spilled out of the bin of workout gear he used when he felt like following rules, or wanted to punch something without grazing his knuckles. Right now, he welcomed the stinging pain—it was real, and it matched the burn in his shoulders and calves, the open heave of his lungs. Sensation had returned to his body and he reveled in it.

He was alive, and so was Zed. They had both survived the impossible—and he needed the sting across his knuckles to keep him grounded.

Strong arms caught him from behind. Felix dropped down and rocked backward, knocking away his assailant's center of gravity. Together, they rolled onto the hard metal floor. A sharp exhale tickled the back of his ear.

"Sneaky bastard, aren't you?"

"You're the one who grabbed me from behind," Felix said, driving his elbow into Zed's side.

Zed's hips rocked beneath him, pulling his ribs away from Felix's elbow as he tossed him aside. Pulling his arms and legs in, Felix rolled with the motion, then released the energy, kicking out at the one leg Zed had managed to put beneath himself. The soldier slid back to the deck with a grin. "Gonna be like that, is it?" he said.

"Oh, yeah."

Felix pushed up to a crouch and jumped to his feet, fists loosely raised in a defensive posture. Zed mimicked his pose and they circled one another for a full fifteen seconds before Felix tried a feint and strike. Zed dodged both with his preternatural quickness. Barely looked like he'd moved.

"Man, you move fast. Blink and you'd miss it."

Zed shrugged one shoulder and stepped in with a strike aimed at the lower end of Felix's rib cage. Felix turned in with his block and attempted to crack Zed across the jaw with his elbow. He missed.

"Gotta be faster than that," Zed taunted.

Felix danced backward and the circling began again. Zed shouldn't be faster. He was larger, bulkier. Brute strength should be his call. Felix knew he couldn't wear him down, either. He glowed with good health as if he'd just spent a month at one of those fancy retreats, whereas Felix was still shaking off the effects of a largely sleepless night. Maybe he wasn't ready to stop taking the pills yet.

With every exchange—feints, double feints, blocked strikes and kicks caught and turned aside—he looked for an opening, a weakness he could exploit, and found none. Then he thought of something.

He drew Zed out, throwing kicks and punches until he moved forward, committed to a combination of offense and defense, then Felix attempted a takedown that would place both of them on the floor. As he grabbed Zed's shoulder and twisted his hips, legs flying up, he saw the realization flash across that handsome face. Yeah, buddy. The only way to take Zed down was to hit the floor with him. They crashed down hard, arms and legs loudly slapping the floor. Felix's head bounced once and he kissed Zed's elbow, the pointed angle smacking him across the mouth so hard he saw stars. Tasted blood too.

They wrestled across the floor, a flurry of grunts and struggling limbs, truncated punches and aborted kicks. Felix's bloodied knuckles grazed Zed's brow. He hissed and retaliated by slamming his forearm down across Felix's chest. They rolled again, but Zed had the better position. Felix found himself pinned, Zed astride his hips, a corded arm pressed into his throat.

"You mad bastard," Zed said.

"Let me up." Much as he needed Zed back in his life, his fear of being held down threatened to ruin the moment.

Zed shifted quickly, taking his weight from Felix's hips. But he didn't move his arm.

"Not letting you get away that easily." His grin showed pink teeth.

"I actually caught you in the mouth?" Felix wheezed, grateful, annoyed, sore…and stupidly content to lie there with Zed's arm across his neck.

Zed eased the pressure at his throat by a single degree, knowing or expecting Felix would take advantage if he gave more than that. "Twice," he said, swiping his tongue across his not so pearly whites. He nodded at Felix's mouth. "And repaid the favor."

"I was an ugly bugger anyway." Another plan formed. Keep him talking, wait for that arm to loosen again. "That all you, or did you Zone?"

A complex series of expressions wormed across Zed's face. "I haven't tried to Zone."

For all that Felix had prompted Zed to dissect his experience with the Guardians, they hadn't talked about this part—whether he was fixed as in back to normal, or fixed as in more super than before. Not sure which outcome he preferred—as if his opinion mattered—Felix hadn't asked.

"Because you think you can't, or because you don't want to?"

Zed's lips pursed, squeezing a single droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth. "It's there. I can feel it."

"Aren't you curious?"

The pressure of Zed's arm eased briefly as he considered the question.

"Are you afraid?"

The arm loosened and Felix was ready for it. He rocked and rolled, pushing Zed back.

"You fucking—" Zed's complaint held no rancor and he cut himself off before he finished. Then he disappeared.

Felix rolled harder, faster, but the blur that had been Zed still caught him. His SFT tugged at his shoulders and the room tilted. Felix staggered against the deck, surprised to be upright. Putting a hand out in front of him, he sought the balance he already had. Zed stood to his right, a look of wonder stretching his mouth wide.

"Holy shit."

"You said it," Zed replied. While turning a slow circle, he patted himself down. He stopped in front of Felix, mouth still ajar, eyes dancing with light. Not flat, not squinted in pain.

"Does it hurt?" Really, this was the most important question, the reason Felix had avoided prompting Zed until now. The reason neither of them had broached this one subject…why Felix's shoulders still hunched with fear. Zed had barely passed through his Zone just now, but at the end there…God, at the end, even thinking about the Zone had caused them all pain.

"No, but this bitch stings." Zed touched the clotting wound at the corner of his right brow.

Relief weakened Felix's knees. He locked them again, determined to stay upright. Surely he'd given enough drama for a while. Lifting his chin, he searched for the inner asshole who never strayed far. "You're welcome."

Zed laughed. "And you're uglier than ever."

"Fuck you." Felix wiped the back of his hand across his bloody mouth. His lips and jaw hurt, and his shoulders. And everything else. The collection of stings and aches felt good, though. The pain was real, the sweat stinging his eyes and the taint of blood at the back of his throat was as real as the man standing before him, knuckles smudged red.

"So, you're really fixed then."

"I figured I was, but…" Zed fingered the back of his neck.

"I get it. Tempting fate is like putting your hand in a bag of snakes, eh?"

"Something like that."

Zed stepped forward and pressed his thumb to the corner of Felix's mouth, blotting the nick in his lip. Felix did the same to the small wound on Zed's brow and then brushed his fingers through the taller man's thick, wavy hair.

"I'm glad you're fixed," he said. A wince pulled at his brow as he considered the facile nature of the statement. "I mean…"

Zed's thumb pressed his lips together. "Shh. I know what you mean."

Felix shook his head. "No," he mumbled. Zed moved his thumb. "I'm glad for me, yeah, I was a mess without you. Kinda dead." Hollow, empty, as good as dead. Zed's blue eyes darkened. "But you had the worst of it. Fuck, Zed, I can't even?—"

Zed silenced him with a kiss, a gentle one that tasted of sweat and blood. "It's done, Flick. Don't look back. It's done."

Eyes closed, Felix rubbed his forehead to Zed's and tried to absorb the words and their meaning with the smell of Zed's skin. Sweat, soap, tank water and the vague whiff of more, that hint of the essential Zed—the scent he thought he'd never catch again. Words pushed at his lips, the three he'd been holding back for weeks, the three that had wrenched more tears from him than should be healthy. The three that Zed seemed to want to wear out, though Felix didn't think he'd ever tire of hearing them.

"I—" Fear paralyzed his tongue. His shoulders stiffened again. Conversely, his knees wobbled. It was too soon, too late. Not the right time…would he ever find the right time?

Zed pulled him closer, so close they touched all the way down. Warm arms gathered him close. "Shh," he whispered against Felix's temple. "It's okay. I know."

The scent of steam, soap and arousal chased them back to Flick's quarters from the shower. The hot water had washed away evidence of their tussle and soothed abused skin and muscles. It had been tempting to get each other off under the sprays, but Zed wanted more than just to come—and he figured Flick did, too, even if they didn't say it in so many words. They'd denied themselves this. Closeness was safe, but up until Zed Zoned during the impromptu sparring session and answered questions he'd been too afraid to voice, that had been all they'd dared—warm embraces, soft kisses, time in each other's company.

Now, with the hint that he'd truly been put to rights, he wanted to take the risk, to lose himself. He wanted to forget how this closeness had been stolen from them long before those last moments on Ashie Prime. Most importantly, he wanted to prove to himself, to Flick, that everything was back to normal.

Zed peeled off Flick's shirt and pants, thrown on haphazardly so the run from the showers wouldn't give anyone an eyeful. The damp clothes landed on the floor, and in their absence, goose bumps raced across Flick's arms and chest. His nipples beaded into tight nubs that begged for Zed's lips and tongue. His gaze skimmed over the multitude of scars on Flick's pale chest, and his throat clogged with self-recrimination. A familiar, unwelcome friend. Maybe if he'd tried to stay more connected with Marnie and her military intelligence clearance…or maybe if he'd contacted his parents more often…

No. Fuck that. Yes, he'd made mistakes—a shitload of mistakes—but he couldn't fix the past. All either of them could do was move forward.

The next kiss he pressed to Flick's lips was fierce with determination, making Flick gasp at the pressure on the just-healed cut. "I love you," he breathed, pulling away to trail nips along his jaw. "I promise to be who you need me to be."

"Zed…" The last part of his name dissolved into a groan. "All you need to be is you. I want you. I've always wanted just you."

Zed swallowed and pressed his cheek against Flick's. "Then I'll be me," he whispered.

He'd figure that out, building on the foundation the Guardians had given him. He'd reclaim what parts of himself he could. He'd do his best to discard the bits corrupted by the war. For himself, and for the man he loved.

"Fucking two weeks alone to do nothing but think, and you still think too much." With a growl, Flick rose up and flipped Zed onto his back. "And you're wearing too many clothes."

Zed grinned as Flick yanked off his loose SFT and pants, the movements lacking any sort of finesse. His gnarled hand didn't help matters, but it was more than that—Flick trembled and his chest heaved with each breath. Zed lifted a hand to cup his cheek and waited for Flick's gaze to meet his.

"I'm really here," he said.

Flick fell forward with a strangled cry, pressing Zed fully onto his back, his lips and tongue and teeth attacking him in a frenzy. Zed met and matched the passion. Teeth clacked together, catching lips between. Tongues demanded entry, demanded attention. Breaths panted past lips that never closed completely, heating skin and tickling nerves. His temple stung where Flick's hair brushed and caught the barely there scab, drawing him out of the passion arcing between them. It made room for a frisson of nervousness to skitter along Zed's spine, worry that he'd Zone just before climax like he'd done before.

He had to have faith that the Guardians had fixed him. Fixed all of him.

He couldn't hold back from this, from what he needed. From what Flick needed. He shoved the worry aside and focused on the man so determined to love him senseless.

"God, oh God," Flick gasped. His teeth tugged on Zed's ear, eliciting a groan. His cock seared itself into the groove at Zed's hip, thrusting hard. "I need…"

"Yes." Zed tilted his head back as Flick latched into his neck, giving the man more space. "Do it. Fill me up."

Flick scrabbled at the overhead shelf, blindly seeking the little container of lube. It skittered out of his hands and he chased it, swearing. Zed would have laughed, except his entire focus was on how hard he was, how desperately he needed this connection with his lover. Lube squirted over Zed's balls, dripping down into his ass. Even that light touch was enough to make him writhe.

"C'mon," he growled.

"I know. God, I know."

Fingers pressed against his entrance and Zed arched his back, instinctively fighting the intrusion and wanting more, all at the same time. Fuck the prep. He wanted Flick inside him.

"Now."

Flick groaned, his fingers pushing in deeper. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Don't care." Zed reached between them and grabbed Flick's cock. "Now, Felix."

Flick pushed Zed's hand away with a muttered curse, replacing it with his own lube-covered one. He coated himself, then added more lube for good measure, and leaned forward. The tip of Flick's cock felt enormous, hotter than the sun, and fucking perfect. Zed focused on breathing, relaxing, accepting, and Flick slid inside so damned slowly. He felt every inch, reveled in the burn and stretch, letting the connection touch so much more than Flick's cock did, physically.

"Fuck," he gasped as Flick sank in up to his balls. Zed lifted his head to look down, to see them joined together, then let his head fall back onto the pillow. He gazed up at Flick, marveling at the sight of his green eyes with the pupils blown wide with desire. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he held himself still. Flick's arms, corded and strong, trembled with exertion but Zed knew they'd never fail.

"Need to…" Flick didn't finish his sentence. Didn't have to. His body took over, drawing back and thrusting forward. His groan overtook Zed's gasp, the sounds blending together until Zed didn't know which originated with whom.

Didn't matter.

He kept his eyes open, watching Flick, needing to see the expressions flow over his face as their bodies surged together and apart. His brow was furrowed with concentration. His lips fell open, showing a pink sliver of tongue. His good hand abandoned the bed to grab Zed's hip, the fingers digging in, as Flick's rhythm faltered. He slammed into Zed, his thrusts erratic, his head dipping to look at their joining.

"Look at me," Zed demanded. His fingers grasped Flick's chin and tugged him back to face him. "I want to see your face when you come."

One of his hands drifted downward to jack himself as Flick looked at him, teeth buried in his lower lip. A flush colored Flick's cheeks, rising up his forehead and past his hairline, and his eyes glittered with desire.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," Zed gasped. "C'mon, baby, come for me."

Flick thrust forward hard, his fingers clamping down on Zed's hip. His head arched back, his mouth opening in a silent expulsion of air. His eyes closed, but Zed forgave him that because he was the most goddamned beautiful thing in the entire fucking galaxy.

And he was his. All his.

Zed's balls tightened, signaling the impending end of their interlude. He had an instant to hope, pray that his pleasure wouldn't throw him somewhere he didn't want to go—then his orgasm crashed over him, heat spurting across his stomach, the rush better than ever because he was present. Flick's movements stuttered above him, the loss of rhythm and a fierce cry signaling his own climax.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to see Flick looking down at him, his green eyes bright, sated, incredible. Rainbows softened the light. Zed smiled. He'd wondered if that post-coital reaction would stick after the Guardians had done their thing. He was glad it had.

"You okay?" Flick asked, a shadow of concern in his gaze.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Seeing rainbows?"

"Yeah. Though it's a wonder I'm not blind, after that." He sighed, then gasped as Flick separated their bodies. Before he could move away, Zed stopped him with a hand on his cheek. "I love you," he said softly.

"Shh, you'll wear it out." Flick smiled and turned to press a kiss into Zed's palm. Sighing again, Zed let his eyes close, content in the rightness of the galaxy.