why do i only post shame here

[recalcitrare]

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[recalcitrare]

[Zeta hates off-world missions, and yet, here he is. Clearly, he'll have to make a point of making a hassle of himself after this is over. Maybe that will teach Vansell a lesson. Yeah, alright, he knows how likely that is. But he'll do it anyway. Maybe it'll feel a little bit like revenge. The only thing tolerable to this whole bloody ordeal is that he's been assigned with Fevrain, who is clearly meant to handle the... social element. A smart decision, considering Zeta spends the entire time they're wading through the locals glowering and inconsolable. Anybody else would've likely been too tempted to ditch Zeta somewhere. And Zeta would hardly let anybody else speak for him while he's in a bad mood.] Let's just get this over with, [Zeta hisses to Fevrain as they finally break away from the gaggle of aliens.]

[reformedcriminal]

We don't want to rush things. It isn't that kind of mission. [The kind where, even if the mission goes perfectly you can expect to be running to your escape in an adrenaline rush of desperation. Fevrain likes those missions.]

Besides, are you really in that great a hurry to return to the Capitol? [Fevrain says calmly.]

[recalcitrare]

Yes, [Zeta answers flatly, with no hesitation.] If I had any choice in the matter, I wouldn't have left at all. There's a reason I stay in my lab and leave the field missions to the junior techs.

Since you've evidently deigned to forget, I'll remind you I'm nothing like you. I don't enjoy this. And I'm especially not going to enjoy it when you elect to abandon me for a piece of tail.

[reformedcriminal]

I'm offended that you'd think I'd go play when I'm on duty.

I promise that if I leave you for a piece of tail, it's purely business.

[He's not expecting to professionally fuck anyone on this particular mission; that's more common during intelligence gathering, not tech sabotage. But he never knows what might come up.]

[recalcitrare]

I hardly care why. [That's clearly not much of a comfort, because Zeta's more peevish now.] I'm still going to be left standing around waiting on you. I won't do it in Low Town, I certainly won't do it here.

[reformedcriminal]

No, because if I'm off seducing someone, it will be because I'm distracting them from whatever you're doing.

[recalcitrare]

[A beat.] Surely you can think of better -- [Zeta catches himself, shakes his head.] Don't answer that. [Fevrain could. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't do it anyway.]

[recalcitrare]

[Zeta wasn't expecting Fevrain's reaction to be so strong. But he's moaning immediately into the kiss, even as he stumbles back through the door. He clutches at Fevrain's elbows, but once he gets his feet under him again, even if briefly, his hands are moving, rubbing up Fevrain's arms, gripping at the edges of his shoulders.]

[reformedcriminal]

[Fevrain's kiss is desperate, interspersed with needy whines as if it's still not enough. He scrabbles at Zeta's clothes, clutching and pulling. He entwines his thoughts with Zeta's and pulls him in to feel his need.]

[recalcitrare]

Yes, [Zeta isn't truly using his words, which would require too much conscious effort right now; all of that is stripped away, leaving only the meaning behind it.] Yes, yes, alright, here, here. [Before today, Zeta had never had psychic contact with Fevrain, and he certainly hasn't been this deep in anyone's mind since... some time before the divorce. Ranser had been pulling away from him for long enough that Zeta doesn't think he can pinpoint a specific time frame. Fevrain's mind isn't familiar, and the fact that he's so far into a mind that's unfamiliar is unfamiliar in and of itself, and there's a single thread of thought that is preoccupied with how strange that is. The rest of him is too lost, too swept away in this, too thirsty for it, to care. Physically, Zeta is moving as Fevrain needs him to, pliant under his desperate hands. Telepathically, Zeta arches his mind within Fevrain's and rubs insistently, breathing out warmth and affection, all on instinct.] For you.

[reformedcriminal]

[Fevrain wordlessly asks Zeta what he wants, flashes images of options from mundane to specialized. He needs Zeta to need him. He'll do anything Zeta wants him to do so he can soak up that wanting. He pulls down the edge of Zeta's collar and starts nipping and sucking at his clavicle.]

[recalcitrare]

[Zeta's answer is already a jumble even before Fevrain starts doing that. At first, they're inconsistent impressions, flickering nonsensically -- Fevrain on his knees like just moments ago, Zeta pinning him against a wall like that night when they first met (when Zeta thought Fevrain was Ranser regenerated, and every nerve was singing, it's a miracle he kept his mind inside his head instead of trying to crash against Fevrain's, he's missed the entrelacement so much, he hasn't forgotten the way Fevrain felt against him, the way he tasted, but even knowing the truth, he hasn't been willing to partition it away) -- Fevrain pinning Zeta against something and doing as he wills, having his way, Zeta is desperate and not picky and loving this feeling, the feeling of being swept away -- But then Fevrain's mouth is on his collarbone, not at the nerve cluster, not yet, but the suggestion of it has Zeta panting and whining and clutching at Fevrain, and the suggestions completely fall apart. They skitter, flipping through impressions at high speeds, touch mouth in fuck hair throat tongue fingers and the meanings of several obscene Gallifreyan swears followed by images of increasingly wild positions and kinks.]

[reformedcriminal]

[Fevrain smirks against Zeta's skin and rolls his hips against him. His cock is hard and straining against the front of his trousers. He can't pinpoint when it happened; it feels like he's been hard and aching for Zeta forever. He takes one of Zeta's hands and guides it to his arse, just so he can appropriately appreciate it while his mind winds closer and tighter.]

gallifrey

[recalcitrare]

[If Zeta is twitchy and tetchy once they return to CIA headquarters, it doesn't look out of place in the slightest. He's always in a bad mood after off-world missions. He writes and delivers his report promptly, citing the reason being nothing more than wanting to go home after a trying day. The lab assistants don't talk to him, reading his sour mood and avoiding him accordingly.

But Zeta lingers just outside of headquarters afterwards, arms folded tightly and fingers tapping on them restlessly. It's all he can do to keep himself from pacing or fussing.

He doesn't know if Fevrain still wants to... follow him to his rooms. Doesn't know if Fevrain is instead going to run -- disappear. Doesn't know when he'll see Fevrain again if he does -- Doesn't know if he'll see Fevrain again.

Doesn't know how he feels about wanting Fevrain to come home with him. The chemical is long gone out of his system, and it's still true. He... does. He does want it. Wants to taste Fevrain with his mind clear. Wants to be able to lie with him afterwards, instead of rushing because they were still in danger.

He shouldn't want it. Shouldn't be willing to risk what they have. Shouldn't want...

But he isn't willing to try to partition it away, pretend it isn't there. Zeta's never been one for partitioning emotions, has always hated it. But it's more than that. And he... He doesn't like that. And he doesn't know when these feelings first started, doesn't know how they could have snuck up on him like this.]

[reformedcriminal]

[Fevrain doesn't know what he wants to do. And so he does what he always does when he isn't sure about something: he stops thinking about it. He wants to fuck Zeta properly. He feels that in every cell in his body. It's a terrible idea, perhaps, one that might destroy their friendship, but Fevrain's never been one to balk at terrible ideas.

And so once he submits his carefully edited report of the mission, he leaves CIA headquarters to meet Zeta outside.

If Zeta's gone, then he'll know that, free from the chemical, Zeta doesn't want him.

He tries not to think about that possibility either.]

[recalcitrare]

[Zeta sees movement out of the corner of his eyes, and when he turns his head, he sees it's Fevrain. There's a surge of emotion in his chest, up behind his hearts. Relief is there, he knows, but also something fluttering that feels like nervousness and fear, and several others he can't pin down. He has to take a deep breath to try to chase it away.] Drinks? [he offers, because it's routine, and anyone who might be watching them wouldn't think twice of it. But there's nothing saying they'll drink in public, if they do.]

[reformedcriminal]

Naturally. I survived you on a field mission. That's a cause for celebration.

[Zeta's hatred of field work is notorious.]

[recalcitrare]

[Zeta hates that that has his hearts fluttering with anticipation and anxiety.

Outwardly, he quirks his eyebrows up and snorts.] Please. I wasn't that bad this time.

[But he starts to lead the way. Where the air car takes them... will be no one else's business.]

[reformedcriminal]

[Fevrain just gives Zeta a small smile in reply and follows him to the air car.

He wonders how flustered he can make Zeta during the trip before they reach Zeta's home.]

[recalcitrare]

[Zeta is warm. Immensely comfortable. More relaxed than he's felt in centuries. And incredibly unwilling to wake before he's ready. Even after the suns filter through the curtains to brighten the room, Zeta only stirs enough to burrow further into Fevrain, physically and mentally both. It's some spans later that his comm goes off with irritating insistence. Zeta growls lowly in the back of his throat and presses his face against Fevrain, but the noise doesn't stop.]

[reformedcriminal]

[Fevrain ignores the noise of Zeta's comm. It's not his comm, after all. And to help Zeta ignore it, too, he begins to plant lazy, sleepy kisses along Zeta's throat.]

[recalcitrare]

[Mmmm. That is nice. Zeta tilts his head to arch his throat and give Fevrain better access, eyes still closed.]

[reformedcriminal]

[The comm stops chirping, with one final ding to indicate that a message was left. Fevrain ignores that too and moves his mouth to Zeta's collar bones.

The comm starts chirping again.]

[recalcitrare]

[Mmmmmmmm. Zeta lazily lifts a sleep-heavy hand to sink his fingers into Fevrain's hair and...

... his comm starts right back up, and there's exactly one person who does such a thing.

Zeta sighs heavily.] Narvin. [He lifts his head slightly just so he can drop it back against the pillow, repeats the process a couple of times. Dammit.

But then he tightens his fingers in Fevrain's hair and tugs back, tries to encourage him to move off.]

[reformedcriminal]

[Fevrain drags his mouth off Zeta's skin.]

Should I be offended that you're voicing another man's name while we're in bed together?

[Fevrain smirks, knowing how appalled Zeta would be at the suggestion.]