GSF 'Feel'
Oct. 31st, 2005 05:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsI've been debating posting this with it being trickc day and all, but this story was written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sparklydarkboys's Halloween challenge so should really be posted today.
It's GSF. It's AU. It's dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ephemera_pop who gave me the idea and is also a beta wonder. Thanks also go to autumnyte and msktrnanny who both helped too. You ladies all rock, thank you.
Lance is part shadow as he hurries through the darkened alley, his face hidden by the black hood and cloak that swishes against the floor. His boots, dark and heavy-soled, pound against the sidewalk, footsteps echoing against high walls as he moves. He can feel the others now, their presence surrounding him, twisting and swirling around his body, urging him on until he reaches the door.
Most people don’t see it, their gazes sliding past the peeling paint and dull handle, but to Lance it shines, drawing him closer. He presses a black-gloved hand against the aged wood and connects to those inside: an immediate rush of intense emotion curls through his body like an electrical charge. Power, desire, need, lust.
He licks dry lips as the door opens and he slides inside, where he lets the cloak slip from his shoulders, handing it to the attendant who waits with a welcoming smile. Lance smiles back, admiring the play of muscle and skin as she walks away, then straightens his shirt before entering the main room, unable to wait any more.
Once he is inside the music surrounds him, the crowd touching with greedy hands, their energy sliding across his skin, dancing in time with the bone-deep beat. He revels in the feeling, tipping back his head and opening his wings wide, shivering with pleasure as he drinks in the emotion of the room.
“Lookin’ good, Bass.”
Lance smiles, the slight curl of lips, the light of his eyes so different to his usual beaming grin as he listens to the appreciative words, unable to resist plumping up his feathers until they shimmer like ice, sharp but beautiful under the gleaming lights. Joey whistles at the display, grin wide as he leans against the railings, his red hair flaming like fire.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Joey says, and his tail suddenly wraps itself around Lance’s wrist, pulling him close. “Come on.”
Lance tucks in his wings and allows himself to be led across the room, weaving through dancers who alternate between ground and air. He ripples with want, the desire to soar up high and dance between beams of light is strong, but Lance needs something more. He strokes his thumb across the red furred tail that twitches against his arm.
“Keep doing that and I won’t last.” Joey looks over his shoulder, eyes half closed as he shivers with each touch.
Lance crowds close, whispers against Joey’s ear. “Would that be so bad?”
“Unless you’re asking to get your ass kicked, yes it would.”
Chris’ words slide across Lance’s skin and he smiles against Joey’s neck, the feel of his tone at odds to the meaning of the words themselves. Especially when he looks up and sees Chris standing cross-armed and gilded with light, eyes ringed with kohl, skin pale against the black of his shirt and pants as he approaches with an unconvincing scowl.
“Oh shush, you know we’d wait for you,” Joey says, shaking his head and reaching for Chris’ hand. He pulls him close as Lance crowds in, bodies pressed together as he leans forward, his lips skimming Chris’ cheek.
“You know I need to do this.” Wings flaring, Lance licks down Chris’ horn, cool smoothness against his tongue as he explores, mouthing over the glossy surface until he reaches curling hair, dark against the gleaming white of the horn.
Chris groans, pressing against their bodies as Joey wraps his arms around them all, fingers and tail tip brushing over any bare skin he can reach.
“You’re too much, Bass.” Eyes half lidded, Chris runs his fingers carefully over crystal wings, a gesture grounded in love and trust. They ripple under his touch. “We should go home, it’s been too long.” He looks up, eyes dark and needing, wanting so badly as Joey’s tail strokes against his cheek. Soft slow touches as Chris leans in, mouth parted and tongue stud glinting as he breathes Lance’s name.
“It’s been all of twelve hours,” Lance says, the words dragged through images that dominate his mind. Pale skin and flaming hair, dark eyes and an arched back, hands bunched in sheets as Chris screams their names.
“That’s twelve hours too long, man.” Joey’s tail twitches as he runs it across Chris’ mouth, scarlet hair against damp lips, and Lance has to fight against the need, the urge to open his wings wide, craving their touch on both his body and mind.
“It is,” Lance says, and he tucks his wings in tight, stomach sour as he grounds himself once more. “But it’ll have to be longer.”
“You have news?” Chris looks up, gaze sharp and energy surging. He runs his hand through his hair, fingertips brushing the base of his horn that gleams almost blue under the lights, the end wickedly sharp.
“He’s close, I know it.” Lance closes his eyes, focusing on the faint ragged emotions - fear, defiance, longing - that have been circling constantly, calling him : the missing fifth finally within reach.
“Jaden called, he has something.”
“And he’ll give it to you, for a price I bet.” Joey says, his tail swishing against the floor.
“It’s worth it.” Lance lays his hand on Joey’s arm, pulling comfort from the steady strength under his fingers. “He needs us, Joe.”
“Then we’ll find him.” Joey says simply, confidence a warm glow. “We’d better get Justin first though; you know he’ll whine if we leave him.”
“He’s a pissy bitch.” Chris talks over his shoulder, footsteps quick and eyes alight as he twists and dances into the crowd. “We should leave him.”
“Yeah right.” Joey’s tail whips forward, hitting Chris’ ass with a snap. “Like you’d ever leave J behind.”
“Are you implying I’m freakishly attached to Justin?” Chris twirls to face them, mouth quirked into a smile as he bounces on the balls of his feet to the beat that surrounds them all.
“We’re all freakishly attached.” Lance smiles, his wings flaring slightly, each feather chiming clear and pure. “But you’re the biggest freak of all.”
“Such lies!” Chris announces, smile wide as he trails his fingers across Lance’s cheek, across the small of Joey’s back. “Lets find our fifth,” and forges ahead once more.
~*~*~*~
Cold, so cold. JC huddles in the corner, knees to his chest, head down as he shivers.
~*~*~*~
“You all suck.” Arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together, Justin jerks his head, letting his hood fall back. “You could have waited for me.”
“We’re waiting now aren’t we?” Voice sharp, Chris paces, his cloak twisting around his ankles at each turn. “I hate this shit, waiting in alleys is so clichéd.” He finally stills, body pressed against Justin’s in a wordless apology which is accepted with the touch of hand against hip.
“You know Jaden, he’s all about making an entrance.” Joey leans against the wall, contempt obvious in every line of his body, in the frown that mars his face.
“He serves his purpose.” Lance shrugs, senses thrown outwards as he listens. He longs to take flight, uncurl his wings and fly, become whole once more, radiating outwards, master of the sky. Instead he remains grounded, senses strained as they wait.
Head tilted to the side, Justin looks into the darkness, nose wrinkled as the alley echoes with heavy footsteps. “Here he comes.”
“Let me deal with him, okay?” Lance can feel the protests, concern goose-bumping his skin, but they all remain silent and watch as Lance steps forward, head held high as Jaden steps into view. Body misshapen and mottled skin constantly moving, he looms over Lance, slitted mouth gaping wide in a parody of a smile.
“Winged one.” He inclines his head, flesh rippling like waves.
“Jaden.” Lance nods in reply, gathering all his control. “You have information?”
“I have all that and more.” Jaden rummages in the folds of his flesh, pulling free a key that he holds in a clawed hand. “An auction will be held at midnight, invitation only.” He holds up the key. “There’s something there you need.”
“How do you know what I need?” Fear crawls across Lance’s skin, bitter and acrid.
“You underestimate me, winged one. You all do.” Jaden looks around, his body bubbling as if something inside is writhing to be free. “But no matter, it’s better that way.” He places his hand on Lance’s arm, ragged claws scraping against soft skin as Lance fights the urge to jerk his arm free. “This key will get you inside.”
“And in return?”
“One key, one feather.” Claws move upwards, intent clear.
“No.”
“You can’t.”
“That’s crazy.”
Their protests are expected, and horror slices through Lance like a blade, but he knows what’s at stake. He’s the one who can feel the fifth slipping away. “It’s a deal.” He opens up a wing, his palm splitting as he grips a feather and pulls.
Pain, white hot and savage, courses through him as the air resounds with a sickening crack that leaves him shaking. “Here.” He hands it over, a perfect crystal feather caked in red and staggers back into waiting arms.
“152 Endland Lane. Don’t be late.” Jaden drops the key to the floor as he disappears into the darkness, the feather held delicately between two claws.
“Are you crazy?” Joey’s arms snake around Lance, holding him steady as he bows his head, breathing through the pain of losing something that can never be replaced.
“What else could I do? The connection’s already so faint I could lose him at any time.” Lance opens his wings, fluttering blood-flecked feathers as Joey’s tail wraps around the key, lifting it in the air.
“I hope he’s worth it.” Chris’ anger crackles dangerously, his eyes narrowed and mouth a thin line.
Taking in his tight fists, Lance knows only Justin’s touch keeps Chris from chasing after Jaden intent on bloody vengeance. “He is.” Lance says simply, his hand joining Justin’s on Chris’ arm. “He’s the one, Chris. The fifth, you know how long we’ve been looking.”
“You’ll be okay?” Justin’s hand threads through his curls, his age showing as his fingers slide over his nubby horns, an instinctive self-comforting gesture as he stares at blood stained feathers.
“I’ll be fine.” Lance rests his hand against Justin’s arm, soothing with touch. “Or I will be once we find him.”
~*~*~*~
Crouched down, JC’s tongue flickers as he tastes the air. Things are changing and he paces the cage, skin prickling with each new taste and sound.
~*~*~*~
152 Endland Lane is a house that screams money. Huge and brightly lit, it’s situated in one of the city’s most affluent areas, a place where owning a freak is the ultimate status symbol.
Justin’s footsteps are silent and he’s little more than a shadow as he walks. “Have you got a plan once we get in?” He keeps his voice low even though there’s no one around, “I’m assuming we don’t have the money to bid.”
“Yeah, like we’re suddenly millionaires,” Chris says, gaze speculative as he turns to look at Justin. “Unless you’ve been using your pretty face to make money on the side, and, if so, why didn’t you tell me? I’d make a fortune with this fine ass.”
“As if. I’d make way more money than you.”
“You sure? More than this ass and this long horn?” Chris runs his fisted hand down his horn and flicks one of Justin’s, his fingernail tapping against the shiny surface. “Those two stubby things don’t even add up to half of mine.”
“Size doesn’t matter; it’s what you do with them that counts.” Switching tactics, Justin lowers his head and steps behind Joey, carefully rubbing his horns against his shoulder.
“Actually, Chris, kid's got a point,” Joey says, his head dropping forward, his tail snaking up Justin’s cloak as he submits to the touch.
“I’m going to take a look around.” Lance interrupts, and slips off his cloak, handing it to Justin to hold. “I’m going to check out security, you guys do the same from the ground.”
He steps forward, wings opened wide, as he takes off in a rush of speed, swooping upwards wild and free. This is Lance’s world, air flowing through his hair, arms outstretched as he flies ever higher, needing to touch the sky.
It’s tempting to go ever upwards, higher and higher, aiming for the stars, but Lance feels the tug of four invisible threads, a reminder that as much as he loves the air, his home will always be on the ground.
Hands stretched high Lance twists in the air; the gap in his feathers a physical ache. He plummets down, landing silently on the roof where he sits on one of the eaves, balancing easily as he feels, three spots of love, warm and constant deep inside, and the fifth, fainter and taunting with its promise.
The nearness of the fifth buzzes inside him, powering through his body as he stands, wings wide as he steps from the roof, fluttering to the ground. He stops, eyebrow raised when he sees Justin sitting in a tree, lightly holding on as he pats the branch next to him.
“You playing hide and seek?” Lance asks, landing on the branch with a faint rustle of leaves.
“I wish, there’s guards down there, big ones, with guns. We thought it was best to get up here out of the way.” Justin grins and points, teeth flashing white in the moonlight. “At least some of us did.”
Biting back his own grin, Lance looks at Chris who’s in the next tree over, arms locked around the trunk. Sensing fear dampened by trust, Lance looks closer and sees Joey’s tail wrapped securely round Chris’ waist as they sits side by side.
“They’re gone now; do you want a lift down?” Not waiting for an answer, he jumps from tree to tree, ignoring Chris’ curse as the branches move. “Hold on.” Joey’s tail is warm against Lance’s skin, a brief stroke of affection, as Lance wraps his arms around Chris, holding tight as he steps back.
Chris allows himself to fall, eyes closed and mouth hot against Lance’s cheek, until they stand on solid ground.
He holds on, hands against the small of Lance’s back before stepping back, half smiling as he looks up. “I could have got down myself.”
“I know,” Lance says, and he presses a kiss to Chris’ cheek. “You didn’t have to.”
Hesitating, Lance drinks in the warmth that surrounds him, letting it ease the itch inside as the fifth calls him, silent cries vibrating heart deep. He takes his cloak back from Justin, fastening it as he looks up at the house. “The guards shouldn’t be a problem as long as I have the key.”
“You can’t go in alone.” Displeasure colours Justin’s tone, striking hard, but Lance can’t think of that now, needs to get inside.
“I have to, there’s only one key.”
“And what happens if something goes wrong?”
“Then you break in and rescue me.” It’s a risky plan. Lance knows he’s walking into danger, but it’s a chance he has to take and Justin knows that, shows it with a sudden hug, arms clinging, his horns pressing cold against Lance’s neck. Joey and Chris step forward too, the lines of love connecting as they hold on.
“It’s nearly twelve, you’d better go.” Joey’s tail slides across Lance’s cheek, a last embrace as they separate.
Lance stands straight, heart pounding and adrenalin flowing as he takes the key from Joey, holding it in white knuckled hands. “If I need you I’ll yell, loud.”
He moves forward, striding confidently up the lit drive as the others follow in the shadows, ready to wait, always there to have his back.
~*~*~*~
JC stares at the door. He can hear people outside, voices and laughter but no full words. He strains to hear, head tilting from side to side, every instinct telling him to run, to escape the danger that threatens. He can’t. He holds the bars in his bruised hands and waits.
~*~*~*~
A man guards the door, huge and heavily muscled. He watches as Lance approaches, his hand against the obvious bulge of a gun.
Gaze cool, Lance holds up the key, inclining his head when the man pushes open the heavy door without comment. Inside crystal chandeliers shine, illuminating polished wooden floors and panelled walls. Money is apparent in every element, every carefully placed painting and flower-filled vase that scent the air. To Lance’s senses their perfume does little to mask the stench of despair.
“If you would follow me.”
A slight, blue skinned man appears at Lance’s side. He bows his head, yellow eyes downcast, as he indicates the stairs. Letting his hood drop, Lance runs his hand through his hair and follows the man through a maze of corridors until they reach a door. Visually it’s identical to every other one on this corridor, but to Lance it flares red, seeping a negative energy that swirls around his body, clawing at his throat as he takes an instinctive step back.
“If sir would take this card and use it to bid. The auction will start soon.”
A leather card is passed over, a number eighteen embossed in gold. Taking it, Lance represses a shudder, feeling the touch of other hands and other times. “Thank you,” he says, then, card held loosely between his fingers he pushes open the door.
~*~*~*~
Back pressed hard against cold metal, JC hisses, heart thundering as two men appear. Their faces blank and unsmiling as they approach the bars.
~*~*~*~
Senses screaming and the taste of blood on his tongue, Lance walks into the room and quickly looks around. He takes in the décor - lavish wall hangings and padded velvet chairs – and the crowd, men and women sitting quietly, leather cards held in their hands. Ignoring their covert glances, Lance walks slowly around the room, hesitating in front of a large window that overlooks his city. Hands resting on the sill, Lance peers outside, watching as the moon disappears behind clouds that scurry across the sky. Then, aware of the time, he heads toward a deep couch positioned against the wall, perching on the edge as he waits.
It doesn’t take long: even as a distant clock chimes midnight a door opens, admitting a heavy man who steps forward onto a raised platform. The room falls silent as he checks the drape of his jacket, hands smoothing over the fabric. He smiled, all false sincerity, as he checks out the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you all. I have treats beyond imagination for you tonight. Freaks that will amaze you all, and each and every one ready to be taken to your home.” He hesitates, taking a spotted handkerchief from his pocket and rubbing it across his face. “If you see something you like, and believe me, I know you will, use your card to bid. But remember, all bids are final and payment is due tonight. There are no exceptions to that rule.” Menace flits across his face, replacing the smile, which resurfaces as he steps back, hand outstretched toward the door. “Now that the rules are taken care of, our first Freak.”
Stomach a lead weight, Lance clutches the card hard, nails biting into the leather even as he realises that this isn’t the fifth. The feeling is wrong and he knows that, but that can’t help the sour taste in his throat, the racing of his heart as the door opens and a woman is led inside.
She’s small, but the white wild hair surrounds her head like a tangled cloud, adds extra height as she’s led to the platform by a man, his fingers wrapped around her thin wrist. Stepping up, the strips of her white dress twisting around her legs; she looks down, grey eyes glazed.
“Lot one is, as you can see very docile and easy on the eye, an asset to anyone’s home.” The man steps up to the girl, resting his fat hand against her back as he looks around the room. “Who’s going to start the bidding? You sir? Five thousand credits, we can do better than that surely?”
Sorrow settles deep into Lance’s bones as the bidding rockets, cards flapping in the air while the girl twists her fingers in her dress, the material crumpling under her touch. She finally looks up for the first time as she’s sold, eyes seeking Lance’s with an unspoken plea. All he can do is mouth I’m sorry, as she’s led away.
Five sales later and Lance feels like he’s about to fly apart, stomach churning as he forces himself to sit still, outwardly cool and unaffected by what he sees.
~*~*~*~
“Come on, freak.” Two men step into the cage, gripping JC’s arms. They pull hard and he has no choice but to follow, aware of the third man at the door, gun pointed JC’s way.
~*~*~*~
The fifth is approaching. Lance can feel him, his energy crawling over Lance’s skin; heat pooling in his stomach as the fifth gets closer. It’s impossible to keep still, and under the cover of his cloak he fists his hands, focussing on the sting of his palm as the door is opened and a man is pulled onto the stage.
It’s him, the fifth. Lance knows it, feels the connection leap between them, and he sits forward in his chair, mind speeding with thoughts of escape.
“And now we have lot seven.” The man steps up, hand twisting in the man’s long tangled hair and Lance has to dampen the fury that rushes through him, white hot and almost uncontrollable. Instead he looks at the fifth, the glittering silver scales that circle his eyes and cover his inner-arms and throat. The way he’s looking around the room, before blue eyes widen slightly and a forked tongue flicks out when he looks Lance’s way.
Caught in that gaze, Lance knows he’s the one, the same way he knows he loves him already as the thread between them ties. Lance has to act, and stands, striding toward the front of the room.
“I’m sorry sir, no touching the merchandise, though I understand why you’d want to” The man laughs, fake amusement slipping as Lance continues to walk forward.
“He’s not merchandise.” Ice threads through Lance’s body, creeping up his spine. “And he’s not for sale.” He lets his cloak drop to the floor and his wings flair with deadly beauty. Lance can hear the gasps from behind, the clatter of chairs as people stand and stare, but those are an irrelevance, and he whirls, feathers slicing as he kicks, his heavy boot connecting with the knee of the man who had crept up behind.
The salesman roars. “You’re not taking him, he belongs to me.”
“He belongs to no one.” Lance spits the words as he steps onto the platform, enjoying the flash of fear in the man’s eyes, then looks at his fifth. “Do you want to come with me?” Lance needs to ask, even as he dreads the answer could be no.
“You’re kidding right? Let’s go.” Words slow, like they’re cotton in his mouth, the man shakes his head, blinking hard. The scales on his face catch the light and Lance itches to touch, but he can hear shouts and knows they have to go.
“Hold on then.” Wings wide, he thrusts them down, the air in the room stale against his feathers as he reaches for the man, holding him tight. “We’re going to take the direct route.” Gathering speed, Lance circles around the high ceiling, eyes narrowed as he banks to the side, one wing screeching against the window as it explodes, fragments showering the room as people scream under the rain of glass. Circling once more, Lance aims for the window and twists so he’s flying on his back for a brief moment, his fifth safe against his chest as he tucks in his wings and carefully shoots through the jagged hole.
“Dude, you’re crazy.” Eyes wide and laughing, the fifth looks down, curls streaming in the wind as Lance rights himself and swoops low unable to resist shouting for joy as they speed over tree tops, their feet brushing against the leaves,
“There’s no way that should have worked.” Lance tightens his hold on the man, knowing escaping unharmed, if at all, should have been impossible. But they have, and he concentrates on how his body sings as being so close. “I’m Lance by the way.”
“JC, I’d shake your hand, but, you know.” JC turns his head and his tongue flicks out, tiny touches as he tastes Lance’s skin.
“JC,” Lance says softly, and he knows JC’s already a part of their lives, slotting effortlessly into place as was meant to be. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, but first.” Lance easily finds the others who wait in the shadows by the mansion’s gates. He circles over their heads, sinking low enough to be heard without yelling. “Guys, meet JC, now run! I’ll meet you at home.”
~*~*~*~
JC wants to yell his joy, to laugh and cry as he feels fresh air against his skin, a cool breeze rippling through his hair. He wants to take each sensation and savour it, each taste and smell, each touch, sight and sound.
No more fear. No more cage.
He’s free.
~*~*~*~
“We’ve lost them.” Lance slows, landing soundlessly in a dark rubbish-filled alley. He can sense JC’s curiosity as he looks around, silently taking in the dumpsters and street lights with the useless bulbs and smashed glass. “Our apartment’s up there,” Lance points at a metal fire escape that clings precariously to the dirty brown wall.
“Our?” JC remains close to Lance, question obvious as he looks up.
“I live here with Chris, Joey and Justin. You saw them back there. I’ll introduce you properly when they get here, which should be…” Lance quickly calculates how long they’ll be. “…. in about thirty seconds.”
“You can feel them.” JC’s tongue slips out and he grimaces at the taste of the air.
“I can, they’re about a street away.” Lance hesitates, then says, “I can feel you too.”
“I know.” The words are simple and sincere, trust washing over Lance as he wraps an arm around JC’s waist one more, holding him close as Justin runs into the alley, Chris and Joey steps behind.
“JC,” Lance says, indicating the panting group. “This is Justin, Joey and Chris.” He gestures with each name, and JC inclines his head, grin wide as he looks at them all.
“It’s about time you got here.” Joey pants, stepping forward to gather JC in a hug that’s all arms and tail. “But why the hell are we standing here when we’ve got a perfectly good apartment?”
“Because you won’t let JC go, that’s why.” Pushing Joey aside, Chris claims his hug, squeezing hard before stepping back with a half smile. “You’d better hug J now, he’s a pissy bitch.”
“A pissy bitch with the best horns.” Justin ignores Chris’ exaggerated snort and steps forward, wrapping his arms around JC. “You’ll soon learn to block him out, he’s an idiot.” Justin looks at Chris over JC’s shoulder and smiles.
“Hello, perfectly good apartment up there.” Joey steps toward the stairs, running his hand over Lance’s shoulder, his tail across JC’s ankle, and they all follow, feet clanging against metal as they climb.
Lance takes JC’s arm before he walks inside. “You’re okay with this? I mean, you know what we’re about?” Crowded on the small landing Lance knows the answer, can feel it even as JC searches for words.
“I’m fine.” JC runs his hand through his hair, the silver scales on his arm shining bright. “I don’t know why this feels so right, I just know it does. That’s enough for me.”
“Good,” Lance says, and he rests his hand on the small of JC’s back, gently pushing him inside. “Come and meet the others for real, I think you’ll like it.”
Inside, the lamps have been lit and pools of light illuminate the room, flickering across the wall of bookshelves and the soft white couch that curves across the wooden floor.
Justin’s sitting on the couch, head tipped back against the cushions as Chris leans against him, eyes dark as he runs his thumb over Justin’s horns, first one then the other. Chris looks up, and licks his lips, tongue stud flashing silver, as Justin moans under his touch.
Joey sits at the end of the couch, his fur dark under the dim light as he unbuttons his shirt, leaving it open to expose a broad chest and soft belly as he watches JC and Lance approach. “Join me.” His tail snakes out, wrapping around JC’s wrist and pulls him close. “Hi.”
The scales around JC’s eyes crinkle and shine as he laughs, tumbling into Joey’s lap. “Hi.” Then laughter fades and JC’s tongue flicks out, his pupils widening as he rests his hand on Joey’s face, exploring with touch as Joey’s eyes slide shut and he whispers JC’s name.
Lance can hardly breathe, takes harsh breathes as Joey’s tail trails across JC’s neck, dipping over his collar bone as Justin and Chris shift closer, a tightly pressed group, fur and horns and silver scales explored with groping hands and mouths.
Wings spread, Lance watches, shivering at the emotion that caresses his body and the hands that do the same when he finally joins them, knowing his group is complete.
~*~*~*~
Days later and it’s like JC’s been there forever as they lounge in their bedroom, a tangle of men on one huge bed.
Lance runs his fingers through Chris’ hair, enjoying the unusual moment of stillness as Chris relaxes under the touch, body lax against Lance’s own. Joey lies on his other side, hair flaming red against the white sheets as he runs his hand over Lance’s folded wings, touch gentle as he watches JC flick his tongue against Justin’s neck, both laughing with each touch.
The connection between them is obvious, sparkling behind Lance’s eyes, golden threads tying them together, the way it should always be.
sparklydarkboys's Halloween challenge so should really be posted today.It's GSF. It's AU. It's dedicated to
ephemera_pop who gave me the idea and is also a beta wonder. Thanks also go to autumnyte and msktrnanny who both helped too. You ladies all rock, thank you.Lance is part shadow as he hurries through the darkened alley, his face hidden by the black hood and cloak that swishes against the floor. His boots, dark and heavy-soled, pound against the sidewalk, footsteps echoing against high walls as he moves. He can feel the others now, their presence surrounding him, twisting and swirling around his body, urging him on until he reaches the door.
Most people don’t see it, their gazes sliding past the peeling paint and dull handle, but to Lance it shines, drawing him closer. He presses a black-gloved hand against the aged wood and connects to those inside: an immediate rush of intense emotion curls through his body like an electrical charge. Power, desire, need, lust.
He licks dry lips as the door opens and he slides inside, where he lets the cloak slip from his shoulders, handing it to the attendant who waits with a welcoming smile. Lance smiles back, admiring the play of muscle and skin as she walks away, then straightens his shirt before entering the main room, unable to wait any more.
Once he is inside the music surrounds him, the crowd touching with greedy hands, their energy sliding across his skin, dancing in time with the bone-deep beat. He revels in the feeling, tipping back his head and opening his wings wide, shivering with pleasure as he drinks in the emotion of the room.
“Lookin’ good, Bass.”
Lance smiles, the slight curl of lips, the light of his eyes so different to his usual beaming grin as he listens to the appreciative words, unable to resist plumping up his feathers until they shimmer like ice, sharp but beautiful under the gleaming lights. Joey whistles at the display, grin wide as he leans against the railings, his red hair flaming like fire.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Joey says, and his tail suddenly wraps itself around Lance’s wrist, pulling him close. “Come on.”
Lance tucks in his wings and allows himself to be led across the room, weaving through dancers who alternate between ground and air. He ripples with want, the desire to soar up high and dance between beams of light is strong, but Lance needs something more. He strokes his thumb across the red furred tail that twitches against his arm.
“Keep doing that and I won’t last.” Joey looks over his shoulder, eyes half closed as he shivers with each touch.
Lance crowds close, whispers against Joey’s ear. “Would that be so bad?”
“Unless you’re asking to get your ass kicked, yes it would.”
Chris’ words slide across Lance’s skin and he smiles against Joey’s neck, the feel of his tone at odds to the meaning of the words themselves. Especially when he looks up and sees Chris standing cross-armed and gilded with light, eyes ringed with kohl, skin pale against the black of his shirt and pants as he approaches with an unconvincing scowl.
“Oh shush, you know we’d wait for you,” Joey says, shaking his head and reaching for Chris’ hand. He pulls him close as Lance crowds in, bodies pressed together as he leans forward, his lips skimming Chris’ cheek.
“You know I need to do this.” Wings flaring, Lance licks down Chris’ horn, cool smoothness against his tongue as he explores, mouthing over the glossy surface until he reaches curling hair, dark against the gleaming white of the horn.
Chris groans, pressing against their bodies as Joey wraps his arms around them all, fingers and tail tip brushing over any bare skin he can reach.
“You’re too much, Bass.” Eyes half lidded, Chris runs his fingers carefully over crystal wings, a gesture grounded in love and trust. They ripple under his touch. “We should go home, it’s been too long.” He looks up, eyes dark and needing, wanting so badly as Joey’s tail strokes against his cheek. Soft slow touches as Chris leans in, mouth parted and tongue stud glinting as he breathes Lance’s name.
“It’s been all of twelve hours,” Lance says, the words dragged through images that dominate his mind. Pale skin and flaming hair, dark eyes and an arched back, hands bunched in sheets as Chris screams their names.
“That’s twelve hours too long, man.” Joey’s tail twitches as he runs it across Chris’ mouth, scarlet hair against damp lips, and Lance has to fight against the need, the urge to open his wings wide, craving their touch on both his body and mind.
“It is,” Lance says, and he tucks his wings in tight, stomach sour as he grounds himself once more. “But it’ll have to be longer.”
“You have news?” Chris looks up, gaze sharp and energy surging. He runs his hand through his hair, fingertips brushing the base of his horn that gleams almost blue under the lights, the end wickedly sharp.
“He’s close, I know it.” Lance closes his eyes, focusing on the faint ragged emotions - fear, defiance, longing - that have been circling constantly, calling him : the missing fifth finally within reach.
“Jaden called, he has something.”
“And he’ll give it to you, for a price I bet.” Joey says, his tail swishing against the floor.
“It’s worth it.” Lance lays his hand on Joey’s arm, pulling comfort from the steady strength under his fingers. “He needs us, Joe.”
“Then we’ll find him.” Joey says simply, confidence a warm glow. “We’d better get Justin first though; you know he’ll whine if we leave him.”
“He’s a pissy bitch.” Chris talks over his shoulder, footsteps quick and eyes alight as he twists and dances into the crowd. “We should leave him.”
“Yeah right.” Joey’s tail whips forward, hitting Chris’ ass with a snap. “Like you’d ever leave J behind.”
“Are you implying I’m freakishly attached to Justin?” Chris twirls to face them, mouth quirked into a smile as he bounces on the balls of his feet to the beat that surrounds them all.
“We’re all freakishly attached.” Lance smiles, his wings flaring slightly, each feather chiming clear and pure. “But you’re the biggest freak of all.”
“Such lies!” Chris announces, smile wide as he trails his fingers across Lance’s cheek, across the small of Joey’s back. “Lets find our fifth,” and forges ahead once more.
~*~*~*~
Cold, so cold. JC huddles in the corner, knees to his chest, head down as he shivers.
~*~*~*~
“You all suck.” Arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together, Justin jerks his head, letting his hood fall back. “You could have waited for me.”
“We’re waiting now aren’t we?” Voice sharp, Chris paces, his cloak twisting around his ankles at each turn. “I hate this shit, waiting in alleys is so clichéd.” He finally stills, body pressed against Justin’s in a wordless apology which is accepted with the touch of hand against hip.
“You know Jaden, he’s all about making an entrance.” Joey leans against the wall, contempt obvious in every line of his body, in the frown that mars his face.
“He serves his purpose.” Lance shrugs, senses thrown outwards as he listens. He longs to take flight, uncurl his wings and fly, become whole once more, radiating outwards, master of the sky. Instead he remains grounded, senses strained as they wait.
Head tilted to the side, Justin looks into the darkness, nose wrinkled as the alley echoes with heavy footsteps. “Here he comes.”
“Let me deal with him, okay?” Lance can feel the protests, concern goose-bumping his skin, but they all remain silent and watch as Lance steps forward, head held high as Jaden steps into view. Body misshapen and mottled skin constantly moving, he looms over Lance, slitted mouth gaping wide in a parody of a smile.
“Winged one.” He inclines his head, flesh rippling like waves.
“Jaden.” Lance nods in reply, gathering all his control. “You have information?”
“I have all that and more.” Jaden rummages in the folds of his flesh, pulling free a key that he holds in a clawed hand. “An auction will be held at midnight, invitation only.” He holds up the key. “There’s something there you need.”
“How do you know what I need?” Fear crawls across Lance’s skin, bitter and acrid.
“You underestimate me, winged one. You all do.” Jaden looks around, his body bubbling as if something inside is writhing to be free. “But no matter, it’s better that way.” He places his hand on Lance’s arm, ragged claws scraping against soft skin as Lance fights the urge to jerk his arm free. “This key will get you inside.”
“And in return?”
“One key, one feather.” Claws move upwards, intent clear.
“No.”
“You can’t.”
“That’s crazy.”
Their protests are expected, and horror slices through Lance like a blade, but he knows what’s at stake. He’s the one who can feel the fifth slipping away. “It’s a deal.” He opens up a wing, his palm splitting as he grips a feather and pulls.
Pain, white hot and savage, courses through him as the air resounds with a sickening crack that leaves him shaking. “Here.” He hands it over, a perfect crystal feather caked in red and staggers back into waiting arms.
“152 Endland Lane. Don’t be late.” Jaden drops the key to the floor as he disappears into the darkness, the feather held delicately between two claws.
“Are you crazy?” Joey’s arms snake around Lance, holding him steady as he bows his head, breathing through the pain of losing something that can never be replaced.
“What else could I do? The connection’s already so faint I could lose him at any time.” Lance opens his wings, fluttering blood-flecked feathers as Joey’s tail wraps around the key, lifting it in the air.
“I hope he’s worth it.” Chris’ anger crackles dangerously, his eyes narrowed and mouth a thin line.
Taking in his tight fists, Lance knows only Justin’s touch keeps Chris from chasing after Jaden intent on bloody vengeance. “He is.” Lance says simply, his hand joining Justin’s on Chris’ arm. “He’s the one, Chris. The fifth, you know how long we’ve been looking.”
“You’ll be okay?” Justin’s hand threads through his curls, his age showing as his fingers slide over his nubby horns, an instinctive self-comforting gesture as he stares at blood stained feathers.
“I’ll be fine.” Lance rests his hand against Justin’s arm, soothing with touch. “Or I will be once we find him.”
~*~*~*~
Crouched down, JC’s tongue flickers as he tastes the air. Things are changing and he paces the cage, skin prickling with each new taste and sound.
~*~*~*~
152 Endland Lane is a house that screams money. Huge and brightly lit, it’s situated in one of the city’s most affluent areas, a place where owning a freak is the ultimate status symbol.
Justin’s footsteps are silent and he’s little more than a shadow as he walks. “Have you got a plan once we get in?” He keeps his voice low even though there’s no one around, “I’m assuming we don’t have the money to bid.”
“Yeah, like we’re suddenly millionaires,” Chris says, gaze speculative as he turns to look at Justin. “Unless you’ve been using your pretty face to make money on the side, and, if so, why didn’t you tell me? I’d make a fortune with this fine ass.”
“As if. I’d make way more money than you.”
“You sure? More than this ass and this long horn?” Chris runs his fisted hand down his horn and flicks one of Justin’s, his fingernail tapping against the shiny surface. “Those two stubby things don’t even add up to half of mine.”
“Size doesn’t matter; it’s what you do with them that counts.” Switching tactics, Justin lowers his head and steps behind Joey, carefully rubbing his horns against his shoulder.
“Actually, Chris, kid's got a point,” Joey says, his head dropping forward, his tail snaking up Justin’s cloak as he submits to the touch.
“I’m going to take a look around.” Lance interrupts, and slips off his cloak, handing it to Justin to hold. “I’m going to check out security, you guys do the same from the ground.”
He steps forward, wings opened wide, as he takes off in a rush of speed, swooping upwards wild and free. This is Lance’s world, air flowing through his hair, arms outstretched as he flies ever higher, needing to touch the sky.
It’s tempting to go ever upwards, higher and higher, aiming for the stars, but Lance feels the tug of four invisible threads, a reminder that as much as he loves the air, his home will always be on the ground.
Hands stretched high Lance twists in the air; the gap in his feathers a physical ache. He plummets down, landing silently on the roof where he sits on one of the eaves, balancing easily as he feels, three spots of love, warm and constant deep inside, and the fifth, fainter and taunting with its promise.
The nearness of the fifth buzzes inside him, powering through his body as he stands, wings wide as he steps from the roof, fluttering to the ground. He stops, eyebrow raised when he sees Justin sitting in a tree, lightly holding on as he pats the branch next to him.
“You playing hide and seek?” Lance asks, landing on the branch with a faint rustle of leaves.
“I wish, there’s guards down there, big ones, with guns. We thought it was best to get up here out of the way.” Justin grins and points, teeth flashing white in the moonlight. “At least some of us did.”
Biting back his own grin, Lance looks at Chris who’s in the next tree over, arms locked around the trunk. Sensing fear dampened by trust, Lance looks closer and sees Joey’s tail wrapped securely round Chris’ waist as they sits side by side.
“They’re gone now; do you want a lift down?” Not waiting for an answer, he jumps from tree to tree, ignoring Chris’ curse as the branches move. “Hold on.” Joey’s tail is warm against Lance’s skin, a brief stroke of affection, as Lance wraps his arms around Chris, holding tight as he steps back.
Chris allows himself to fall, eyes closed and mouth hot against Lance’s cheek, until they stand on solid ground.
He holds on, hands against the small of Lance’s back before stepping back, half smiling as he looks up. “I could have got down myself.”
“I know,” Lance says, and he presses a kiss to Chris’ cheek. “You didn’t have to.”
Hesitating, Lance drinks in the warmth that surrounds him, letting it ease the itch inside as the fifth calls him, silent cries vibrating heart deep. He takes his cloak back from Justin, fastening it as he looks up at the house. “The guards shouldn’t be a problem as long as I have the key.”
“You can’t go in alone.” Displeasure colours Justin’s tone, striking hard, but Lance can’t think of that now, needs to get inside.
“I have to, there’s only one key.”
“And what happens if something goes wrong?”
“Then you break in and rescue me.” It’s a risky plan. Lance knows he’s walking into danger, but it’s a chance he has to take and Justin knows that, shows it with a sudden hug, arms clinging, his horns pressing cold against Lance’s neck. Joey and Chris step forward too, the lines of love connecting as they hold on.
“It’s nearly twelve, you’d better go.” Joey’s tail slides across Lance’s cheek, a last embrace as they separate.
Lance stands straight, heart pounding and adrenalin flowing as he takes the key from Joey, holding it in white knuckled hands. “If I need you I’ll yell, loud.”
He moves forward, striding confidently up the lit drive as the others follow in the shadows, ready to wait, always there to have his back.
~*~*~*~
JC stares at the door. He can hear people outside, voices and laughter but no full words. He strains to hear, head tilting from side to side, every instinct telling him to run, to escape the danger that threatens. He can’t. He holds the bars in his bruised hands and waits.
~*~*~*~
A man guards the door, huge and heavily muscled. He watches as Lance approaches, his hand against the obvious bulge of a gun.
Gaze cool, Lance holds up the key, inclining his head when the man pushes open the heavy door without comment. Inside crystal chandeliers shine, illuminating polished wooden floors and panelled walls. Money is apparent in every element, every carefully placed painting and flower-filled vase that scent the air. To Lance’s senses their perfume does little to mask the stench of despair.
“If you would follow me.”
A slight, blue skinned man appears at Lance’s side. He bows his head, yellow eyes downcast, as he indicates the stairs. Letting his hood drop, Lance runs his hand through his hair and follows the man through a maze of corridors until they reach a door. Visually it’s identical to every other one on this corridor, but to Lance it flares red, seeping a negative energy that swirls around his body, clawing at his throat as he takes an instinctive step back.
“If sir would take this card and use it to bid. The auction will start soon.”
A leather card is passed over, a number eighteen embossed in gold. Taking it, Lance represses a shudder, feeling the touch of other hands and other times. “Thank you,” he says, then, card held loosely between his fingers he pushes open the door.
~*~*~*~
Back pressed hard against cold metal, JC hisses, heart thundering as two men appear. Their faces blank and unsmiling as they approach the bars.
~*~*~*~
Senses screaming and the taste of blood on his tongue, Lance walks into the room and quickly looks around. He takes in the décor - lavish wall hangings and padded velvet chairs – and the crowd, men and women sitting quietly, leather cards held in their hands. Ignoring their covert glances, Lance walks slowly around the room, hesitating in front of a large window that overlooks his city. Hands resting on the sill, Lance peers outside, watching as the moon disappears behind clouds that scurry across the sky. Then, aware of the time, he heads toward a deep couch positioned against the wall, perching on the edge as he waits.
It doesn’t take long: even as a distant clock chimes midnight a door opens, admitting a heavy man who steps forward onto a raised platform. The room falls silent as he checks the drape of his jacket, hands smoothing over the fabric. He smiled, all false sincerity, as he checks out the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you all. I have treats beyond imagination for you tonight. Freaks that will amaze you all, and each and every one ready to be taken to your home.” He hesitates, taking a spotted handkerchief from his pocket and rubbing it across his face. “If you see something you like, and believe me, I know you will, use your card to bid. But remember, all bids are final and payment is due tonight. There are no exceptions to that rule.” Menace flits across his face, replacing the smile, which resurfaces as he steps back, hand outstretched toward the door. “Now that the rules are taken care of, our first Freak.”
Stomach a lead weight, Lance clutches the card hard, nails biting into the leather even as he realises that this isn’t the fifth. The feeling is wrong and he knows that, but that can’t help the sour taste in his throat, the racing of his heart as the door opens and a woman is led inside.
She’s small, but the white wild hair surrounds her head like a tangled cloud, adds extra height as she’s led to the platform by a man, his fingers wrapped around her thin wrist. Stepping up, the strips of her white dress twisting around her legs; she looks down, grey eyes glazed.
“Lot one is, as you can see very docile and easy on the eye, an asset to anyone’s home.” The man steps up to the girl, resting his fat hand against her back as he looks around the room. “Who’s going to start the bidding? You sir? Five thousand credits, we can do better than that surely?”
Sorrow settles deep into Lance’s bones as the bidding rockets, cards flapping in the air while the girl twists her fingers in her dress, the material crumpling under her touch. She finally looks up for the first time as she’s sold, eyes seeking Lance’s with an unspoken plea. All he can do is mouth I’m sorry, as she’s led away.
Five sales later and Lance feels like he’s about to fly apart, stomach churning as he forces himself to sit still, outwardly cool and unaffected by what he sees.
~*~*~*~
“Come on, freak.” Two men step into the cage, gripping JC’s arms. They pull hard and he has no choice but to follow, aware of the third man at the door, gun pointed JC’s way.
~*~*~*~
The fifth is approaching. Lance can feel him, his energy crawling over Lance’s skin; heat pooling in his stomach as the fifth gets closer. It’s impossible to keep still, and under the cover of his cloak he fists his hands, focussing on the sting of his palm as the door is opened and a man is pulled onto the stage.
It’s him, the fifth. Lance knows it, feels the connection leap between them, and he sits forward in his chair, mind speeding with thoughts of escape.
“And now we have lot seven.” The man steps up, hand twisting in the man’s long tangled hair and Lance has to dampen the fury that rushes through him, white hot and almost uncontrollable. Instead he looks at the fifth, the glittering silver scales that circle his eyes and cover his inner-arms and throat. The way he’s looking around the room, before blue eyes widen slightly and a forked tongue flicks out when he looks Lance’s way.
Caught in that gaze, Lance knows he’s the one, the same way he knows he loves him already as the thread between them ties. Lance has to act, and stands, striding toward the front of the room.
“I’m sorry sir, no touching the merchandise, though I understand why you’d want to” The man laughs, fake amusement slipping as Lance continues to walk forward.
“He’s not merchandise.” Ice threads through Lance’s body, creeping up his spine. “And he’s not for sale.” He lets his cloak drop to the floor and his wings flair with deadly beauty. Lance can hear the gasps from behind, the clatter of chairs as people stand and stare, but those are an irrelevance, and he whirls, feathers slicing as he kicks, his heavy boot connecting with the knee of the man who had crept up behind.
The salesman roars. “You’re not taking him, he belongs to me.”
“He belongs to no one.” Lance spits the words as he steps onto the platform, enjoying the flash of fear in the man’s eyes, then looks at his fifth. “Do you want to come with me?” Lance needs to ask, even as he dreads the answer could be no.
“You’re kidding right? Let’s go.” Words slow, like they’re cotton in his mouth, the man shakes his head, blinking hard. The scales on his face catch the light and Lance itches to touch, but he can hear shouts and knows they have to go.
“Hold on then.” Wings wide, he thrusts them down, the air in the room stale against his feathers as he reaches for the man, holding him tight. “We’re going to take the direct route.” Gathering speed, Lance circles around the high ceiling, eyes narrowed as he banks to the side, one wing screeching against the window as it explodes, fragments showering the room as people scream under the rain of glass. Circling once more, Lance aims for the window and twists so he’s flying on his back for a brief moment, his fifth safe against his chest as he tucks in his wings and carefully shoots through the jagged hole.
“Dude, you’re crazy.” Eyes wide and laughing, the fifth looks down, curls streaming in the wind as Lance rights himself and swoops low unable to resist shouting for joy as they speed over tree tops, their feet brushing against the leaves,
“There’s no way that should have worked.” Lance tightens his hold on the man, knowing escaping unharmed, if at all, should have been impossible. But they have, and he concentrates on how his body sings as being so close. “I’m Lance by the way.”
“JC, I’d shake your hand, but, you know.” JC turns his head and his tongue flicks out, tiny touches as he tastes Lance’s skin.
“JC,” Lance says softly, and he knows JC’s already a part of their lives, slotting effortlessly into place as was meant to be. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, but first.” Lance easily finds the others who wait in the shadows by the mansion’s gates. He circles over their heads, sinking low enough to be heard without yelling. “Guys, meet JC, now run! I’ll meet you at home.”
~*~*~*~
JC wants to yell his joy, to laugh and cry as he feels fresh air against his skin, a cool breeze rippling through his hair. He wants to take each sensation and savour it, each taste and smell, each touch, sight and sound.
No more fear. No more cage.
He’s free.
~*~*~*~
“We’ve lost them.” Lance slows, landing soundlessly in a dark rubbish-filled alley. He can sense JC’s curiosity as he looks around, silently taking in the dumpsters and street lights with the useless bulbs and smashed glass. “Our apartment’s up there,” Lance points at a metal fire escape that clings precariously to the dirty brown wall.
“Our?” JC remains close to Lance, question obvious as he looks up.
“I live here with Chris, Joey and Justin. You saw them back there. I’ll introduce you properly when they get here, which should be…” Lance quickly calculates how long they’ll be. “…. in about thirty seconds.”
“You can feel them.” JC’s tongue slips out and he grimaces at the taste of the air.
“I can, they’re about a street away.” Lance hesitates, then says, “I can feel you too.”
“I know.” The words are simple and sincere, trust washing over Lance as he wraps an arm around JC’s waist one more, holding him close as Justin runs into the alley, Chris and Joey steps behind.
“JC,” Lance says, indicating the panting group. “This is Justin, Joey and Chris.” He gestures with each name, and JC inclines his head, grin wide as he looks at them all.
“It’s about time you got here.” Joey pants, stepping forward to gather JC in a hug that’s all arms and tail. “But why the hell are we standing here when we’ve got a perfectly good apartment?”
“Because you won’t let JC go, that’s why.” Pushing Joey aside, Chris claims his hug, squeezing hard before stepping back with a half smile. “You’d better hug J now, he’s a pissy bitch.”
“A pissy bitch with the best horns.” Justin ignores Chris’ exaggerated snort and steps forward, wrapping his arms around JC. “You’ll soon learn to block him out, he’s an idiot.” Justin looks at Chris over JC’s shoulder and smiles.
“Hello, perfectly good apartment up there.” Joey steps toward the stairs, running his hand over Lance’s shoulder, his tail across JC’s ankle, and they all follow, feet clanging against metal as they climb.
Lance takes JC’s arm before he walks inside. “You’re okay with this? I mean, you know what we’re about?” Crowded on the small landing Lance knows the answer, can feel it even as JC searches for words.
“I’m fine.” JC runs his hand through his hair, the silver scales on his arm shining bright. “I don’t know why this feels so right, I just know it does. That’s enough for me.”
“Good,” Lance says, and he rests his hand on the small of JC’s back, gently pushing him inside. “Come and meet the others for real, I think you’ll like it.”
Inside, the lamps have been lit and pools of light illuminate the room, flickering across the wall of bookshelves and the soft white couch that curves across the wooden floor.
Justin’s sitting on the couch, head tipped back against the cushions as Chris leans against him, eyes dark as he runs his thumb over Justin’s horns, first one then the other. Chris looks up, and licks his lips, tongue stud flashing silver, as Justin moans under his touch.
Joey sits at the end of the couch, his fur dark under the dim light as he unbuttons his shirt, leaving it open to expose a broad chest and soft belly as he watches JC and Lance approach. “Join me.” His tail snakes out, wrapping around JC’s wrist and pulls him close. “Hi.”
The scales around JC’s eyes crinkle and shine as he laughs, tumbling into Joey’s lap. “Hi.” Then laughter fades and JC’s tongue flicks out, his pupils widening as he rests his hand on Joey’s face, exploring with touch as Joey’s eyes slide shut and he whispers JC’s name.
Lance can hardly breathe, takes harsh breathes as Joey’s tail trails across JC’s neck, dipping over his collar bone as Justin and Chris shift closer, a tightly pressed group, fur and horns and silver scales explored with groping hands and mouths.
Wings spread, Lance watches, shivering at the emotion that caresses his body and the hands that do the same when he finally joins them, knowing his group is complete.
~*~*~*~
Days later and it’s like JC’s been there forever as they lounge in their bedroom, a tangle of men on one huge bed.
Lance runs his fingers through Chris’ hair, enjoying the unusual moment of stillness as Chris relaxes under the touch, body lax against Lance’s own. Joey lies on his other side, hair flaming red against the white sheets as he runs his hand over Lance’s folded wings, touch gentle as he watches JC flick his tongue against Justin’s neck, both laughing with each touch.
The connection between them is obvious, sparkling behind Lance’s eyes, golden threads tying them together, the way it should always be.
