Gale

Pandora’s People 1: Gale Elizabeth Jewell All rights reserved. Copyright ©2006 Elizabeth Jewell No part of this e-bo...

Author: Jewell Elizabeth

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Pandora’s People 1: Gale Elizabeth Jewell All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2006 Elizabeth Jewell

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical

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written permission from Changeling Press LLC.

ISBN (10): 1-59596-249-2

ISBN (13): 978-1-59596-249-2

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This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Chapter One When Gale Harrison got off the bus at Applewood Village, everybody stared. Well, maybe not everybody -- a few of the bus’s occupants were asleep -- but damn close. He tried to ignore the feeling of eyes focused on him as he shouldered his rucksack and headed for the door. The driver gave him an uncomfortable smile. From the third or fourth row of the bus came a whisper: “Freak.” Gale didn’t look back. He felt his neck turning red, but he refused to acknowledge the comment. Instead he just held out his fare in carefully gloved fingers and watched the driver take it. Then he got the hell off the bus. It roared away in a cloud of diesel fumes. Gale stepped toward the big sign that said, “Welcome to Applewood Village. Population 1,764.” Soon to be 1,765. Pressing his lips together, he trudged on. Somehow he’d expected it to be different. Unusual. But the street led straight north, a paved stretch lined on either side by small, suburbanesque houses with neat lawns. Perhaps a half-mile away lay the buildings that made up the university -- red brick edifices jutting above the rows of houses. It looked like perfectly normal people lived there. He paused, looking at his watch. He was a bit early for his appointment with Dr. Preston, so he didn’t have to hurry. Which was good, because now that he was here, he had a sudden reluctance to continue. It had been the right decision. He was sure about that. The teaching job he’d accepted was a good opportunity for him. The pay was good, and he’d be among people who could help him. For the first time in his life, he’d be surrounded by his own kind.

Elizabeth Jewell

Pandora’s People 1: Gale

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His own kind. The thought made his stomach lurch. His parents had gone to a great deal of effort -- and spent a great deal of money -- to ensure he wouldn’t ever have to mingle with his “own kind.” He in no way felt he was better off for it, but still found himself swamped with trepidation over joining the community at Applewood Village. His mother had told him, flat out, that he was giving up. Admitting he couldn’t hack it in the “real world.” Well, he couldn’t. There was no shame in that. Not a bit of it. He wasn’t copping out, or giving up. Not at all. He’d be fine here. People could teach him how to live with what he was, how to more effectively control the talent that had plagued him since adolescence. Maybe -just maybe -- he could even find a way to lead a normal life. He clenched his teeth. He wasn’t copping out. Not at all.

*** Dr. Michael Preston glanced at the clock on his office wall. The new biochemistry teacher was due to arrive in about ten minutes. Pandora had suggested the addition to the department last spring. A specialist in biochemistry, she’d said, would be able to help them find solutions for those talents in Applewood who hadn’t yet found satisfactory mitigating approaches. Gale Harrison had never lived in an aberrant community before, having spent his childhood in expensive private schools in the US and Europe. His talent had manifested at puberty. A touch talent. For the last two years, he’d taught at a mainstream college in the Midwest, but he seemed to have made few personal connections there. Just reading about it made Michael angry. Too many arrogant parents decided they could “handle” their aberrant children. So they kept them home, dealing as best they could with the strange manifestations of power as the talent developed. It worked sometimes. Benign, lower-level talents could be dealt with by parents in most cases. But higher level talents -- touch talents in particular -- were a different

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matter altogether. Too often those children ended up insane, or dead, or inadvertently killing the people around them, or all of the above, not necessarily in that order. It appeared Gale had been lucky. First, his talent hadn’t manifested until puberty, when he was old enough to understand what was happening to him. Touch talents who manifested at birth often didn’t live to their first birthdays. Second, Gale had eventually gotten some training. The details in his biography were vague, but it looked like he’d been paired with private tutors during his high school years. Michael recognized the teachers’ names, and while he didn’t agree with the decision to attempt to maintain an aberrant in a “normal” environment, at least Gale had had someone to help him at some point. He sighed. He was old enough to remember the early days, when aberrants had first started to manifest among the general population. He remembered seeing a child in his school collapse into convulsions, bleeding from nose and mouth, waves of uncontrolled magnetic power tearing him apart inside. Another classmate had accidentally killed three other children when her fire-starting ability had run amuck. Now, the more deadly abilities could be controlled with drugs and appliances. It irked Michael to see people who seemed not to understand how hard it had been, and how much better it was now. Those who said aberrant communities were comparable to concentration camps had never experienced either. More importantly, they’d never seen the charred corpse of their best friend carted out of a grade school cafeteria. Michael felt the world had dealt with the situation remarkably well. Although no one knew what had caused the phenomenon, doctors, scientists, and a large community of experts had moved in to deal with it, in many cases devising unique solutions. Then there had been Pandora. With her arrival had come Applewood Village, and many more solutions, and even more questions. He looked at the clock again. Five minutes. Hopefully his and Pandora’s assessment of Gale had been correct. Michael was just happy he was finally here.

***

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The walk to the university from the bus stop proved to be shorter than Gale had expected. The grounds were pleasant enough, with wide, green lawns divided by sidewalks. The place was small, though, like the town. A city in miniature, built just for those properly qualified -- or afflicted -- to be there. Checking the slip of paper where he’d written the directions, he headed for the faculty building. The door just said “326.” He’d expected to see Dr. Preston’s name there, on a brass plate or something, but there was only the number. He knocked. “Come in.” The male voice that came from behind the door was pleasant enough. Gale pushed the door open and went in. “Dr. Preston?” Dr. Preston stood and leaned across his desk to shake Gale’s hand. “Mr. Harrison, I presume. Nice to meet you.” Gale took a seat, nervously running a hand through his hair. Dr. Preston was in his late thirties, Gale knew, but the slightly receding hairline made him seem a little older. He had a pleasant face, though. Friendly and attractive. Gale was surprised to feel a jolt of arousal hit him. He was usually drawn to taller, beefier sorts. Not that he ever acted on it. “I purchased the book list yesterday, and looked over the titles,” he said to get his brain back on track. “I’m familiar with most of them, so I shouldn’t have a problem getting started.” Dr. Preston nodded. “I have the curriculum here for you. I’d like you to go over that and then get back to me with any questions or suggestions. You’ll help me out first semester, then next semester we’ll cull out some of the students who want to specialize, and you can take them on solo.” Gale glanced at the folder, then looked up. “All right. I’ll take a look and see what I think.” Dr. Preston smiled. “Good. And call me Michael. Dr. Preston sounds stodgy.” “Michael it is, then. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” “Meet me for coffee?”

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Gale hesitated. Friendly, professional coffee, he was certain. Or maybe not. He couldn’t tell from Michael’s expression. Give it up. Guy’s probably straight. He didn’t seem straight, though. Gale’s gaydar was notoriously inaccurate, but in this case he had to wonder. “Coffee’s good,” he finally said. Michael grinned. “Eight a.m., then. Cafeteria.” “I’ll be there.” “Do you need help finding your rooms?” “I think I’m good.” “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Making his way back down the faculty building stairs, Gale wondered why he’d turned down Michael’s offer to escort him to his rooms. Once again, he’d felt a zing of attraction and then backed off. It had become a habit. Across the board, everything was just safer that way. But it reminded him of one reason he’d decided to come here, a reason he’d never articulated to his parents, or to anyone else. He hoped, perhaps beyond hope, that the people here would accept him on more than a superficial level, that he might make friends here, or, even more, find something deeper with someone. He’d been mucking along okay in the “real” world, but it was incredibly lonely. His fourth-floor apartment proved small but cozy, furnished with utilitarian but attractive furniture. He’d arrange to get more of his own things out of storage, to replace the standard furniture, as soon as he felt more settled. Which, to be honest, might be never. Tossing his rucksack on the bed, he began to unpack.

Chapter Two Michael jiggled the shower handle for the fifth time. There still wasn’t any water. He sighed. This was the third time in as many months that the water had gone out in this building. He could understand the outages over the summer -- only a few faculty members had been in residence, and it had been a logical time to shut things down for maintenance. But the school year officially started in a week. Time to get the situation in order. Except it wasn’t in order. And while his ability to create bursts of high frequency sound came in handy sometimes for disrupting clogs in pipes, it was useless when the water was completely shut down. And he was in desperate need of his morning shower. With a sigh, he gathered his clothes and toiletries, as well as a towel and washcloth, and stuffed them in a gym bag. No choice but to head for the gym if he wanted a shower. He’d done it before. Many times. A couple other male faculty members were in the locker room when he came in. Roger, in the process of getting dressed, merely smiled and nodded in greeting. Brett, however, quickly wrapped a towel around his waist. He always did that. He always smiled and said, “Hey, Mike,” afterward -- as he did now -- but he always covered himself up. Michael just gave him a tired smile. “Hey, Brett,” he answered. As usual, he thought about adding, “Nice cock,” but he knew Brett wouldn’t take it right, so he kept his mouth shut. He headed for his usual corner -- locker 69, because the number amused him in an admittedly adolescent way. To his surprise, it was already open and full of clothes.

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Not locked, though, and the T-shirt and sweats that had been shoved into the small space spilled out, dangling. Michael sighed and opened another locker. He took off his clothes, tossed them in, and grabbed a towel from the shelf. Towel in one hand, mesh bag of toiletries in the other, he headed for the showers. He went to his usual stall, lost in thought by now, thinking about the work he needed to get done today. He pulled the door open and was greeted by an indignant, “Hey! Occupied!” “Oh, God, sorry.” He backed out quickly, and only then realized who he’d barged in on. It was Gale. Buck naked, slicked with soap, with his dark hair wet and hanging in his brown eyes. He was wiry and lean and -Don’t look at his dick. Don’t look at his dick. Michael looked at his dick. It was respectable. Very. He backed out quickly, making himself focus on Gale’s face. Gale grinned. “See you at eight, boss. For coffee.” “Yeah.” Michael closed the shower door and went to another stall. He turned on the water to his usual, warm setting, then, reconsidering, cranked it down to cold.

*** After his shower, Gale headed down to the cafeteria and acquired his usual morning fare of scrambled eggs and toast. He’d beaten Dr. Preston -- Michael -- here. Not unexpected. He wondered how long it had taken the good professor to find an unoccupied shower stall. Finding a seat, he settled down and dug in. “Hi.” At the sound of the voice next to him, Gale looked up from his eggs. Michael stood in front of his table, holding his breakfast tray. “Are we still on for breakfast?” Gale shrugged. “Works for me.” With a smile, Michael took a seat. Gale grinned back at him. “So, what do you have planned for the day?”

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Michael gave him a far-too-serious look. “I was thinking about working on the lab. There’s always cleaning, rearranging, sorting, that kind of thing, that needs to be done before the students come in.” Gale nodded. “I could help with that.” “You don’t have to.” Michael seemed surprised by the offer. “I’m sure you still have unpacking to do.” “You said you wanted me to help you out,” Gale replied. “So I’ll help out.” Michael smiled. “All right, then. It’s a deal.” “So,” Gale ventured. “How long have you lived here?” “I was one of the first residents.” Michael poured an excess of cream into his coffee and stirred it. “They hired me on as a teacher after I served as a consultant for the education program.” Gale considered. “So you’ve been here since the beginning.” “Basically.” Gale poked at his eggs, mulling it all over. With his feelings about the community as mixed as they were, it would probably be better if he didn’t share them with Michael just now. “There was… a lot of controversy then.” Michael gave a slanted grin. “Still is. It’s been better since Pandora came, though. She brings a certain… steadiness… to the entire community.” This captured Gale’s attention. “Have you met Pandora?” “Of course.” Michael poured more coffee from the carafe. “She lives here. Technically, she’s my boss.” He added cream, as before, in mass quantities. “You’ll meet her later.” Gale was seized with a mixture of fear and anticipation. “What’s she like?” “She’s very difficult to explain.” He smiled at Gale’s grimace of dissatisfaction. “You’ll see. Finish your coffee. We have work to do.”

*** The lab was a mess. Michael regarded it with resigned disapproval. He walked farther into the room, picking scattered equipment up off the wide tables. “Summer

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school students always leave it a God-awful mess.” He sighed and picked up a textbook, leafing through it. “Next year I’m doing summer school. Then I won’t have to deal with this.” “No, you won’t. I bet you like the break too much.” With a surprised grin, Michael turned. Gale was regarding him with amused skepticism. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Gale chuckled. “Let’s get started on this, then.” The job mostly consisted of picking up scattered equipment and textbooks, wiping down the tables, and putting things in order. “Every year,” Michael said to Gale as they wiped down the last table. “Every damn year. I file the same papers, I make the same complaints, I bitch to the same people.” Gale’s biceps bulged against the cloth of his shirt as he worked; Michael found himself momentarily distracted by the sight. “And nothing gets straightened out?” “Nope.” He frowned, making himself pay attention to what he was doing instead of Gale’s arms. “I’ve even spoken to Pandora. Nothing seems to get any results.” Finished with the table he was cleaning, Gale tossed his damp rag into the bucket. “Well, it’s done now.” “Yeah.” He gathered the last of the rags and set all the cleaning supplies by the door. “So.” He paused, not sure he should go out on a limb. “Lunch?” Gale shrugged, nonchalant. “Sure.” There. Out on a limb wasn’t so bad. No, wait -- now he had to worry about whether Gale was interested in just lunch, or in lunch with him specifically. He shook his head. Worthless speculation, the kind of thing that would just make him crazy if he thought about it too much. In any case, Gale looked up at him and smiled, and headed toward the door. “Any place in particular?” Michael shrugged, suddenly nervous. “I could cook.”

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Gale’s smile seemed completely without suspicion or ulterior motive. “Sure. Sounds good.” So, a half-hour later, Michael stood in his kitchen sautéing green peppers and onions while Gale sat on the couch in the living room, drinking a Diet Coke. “Decent place,” Gale commented, looking around at the small but nicelyappointed room. Michael had made use of several of the pieces of furniture that came with the place, but added his own touches here and there -- a charcoal drawing of a man’s torso a friend had drawn, some furniture he’d picked up in Japan, knick-knacks from various places he’d visited in the course of trench coat operations for Pandora. “I like it.” Michael put thinly sliced beefsteak into the skillet and turned it quickly a few times, then deposited it into the large rolls he’d already prepared. He set the plates down on the table. “Here you go,” he said to Gale. Gale got up and headed into the kitchen. “Smells good. You like to cook?” Michael shrugged, sitting down. “Yeah. It’s relaxing. Not that this is exactly haute cuisine.” “Can’t cook for shit, myself.” Gale took a seat and snagged a potato chip off the plate. “Pretty much do the fast food take out or frozen food type menu.” “So how do you stay in shape?” He worried immediately that the comment might be inappropriate. He’d been out of the dating game for years, and he had no idea what was appropriate or inappropriate anymore. He should have gone back to the bar scene, he thought. It was simple there. Find what you like, fuck him. But he was too old for that, and he’d never liked it much to begin with. Gale shrugged. “I work out. Couple times a week. Try not to be too obsessive about it.” Michael surveyed Gale’s taut, fit body. “Well, you do a good job of it.” Gale smiled. “Thanks.” He tore into his lunch with a gusto Michael admired. Young, lusty, goodlooking… Michael remembered those days. Not all that well, though. It seemed like a

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century ago when he hadn’t had to obsess over the fact that last year’s pants were too tight -- again. Or the fact that his hairline seemed to be creeping up a little more every year, or that he was probably going to have to finally give in and get glasses. He was only thirty-eight, but some days he felt fifty. At least. Watching Gale’s enthusiasm as he devoured his cheesesteak didn’t help. It made Michael wonder if he was that enthusiastic in bed… and then wish he hadn’t. But Gale looked up at him and grinned and said, “You can cook for me any time.” A jolt of arousal hit Michael at the words. It must have shown on his face, because Gale’s expression changed to one of quickly quelled panic. Of course. He didn’t want to accidentally come on to the old man, after all. Michael managed a smile. “Yeah. We should do this again.” Gale swallowed. His expression changed again, and this time Michael thought he looked like he was gathering courage. “We definitely should.” He took another determined bite of his sandwich and stared at the table. Michael took the opportunity to change the subject. He had a feeling Gale would be as relieved as he would. “I noticed in your resume that you went to school in England. Not even a registered aberrant school. Why?” Gale sobered. Maybe the subject change wasn’t as helpful as Michael had hoped. “My parents thought it would be better for me. Figured I had to be out in the real world eventually, so I might as well start getting used to it.” Michael nodded. “That rarely works. Especially with a touch talent like yours.” “Yeah, but they were rich. I didn’t manifest until puberty, and they didn’t want to pull me out of this exclusive British school they’d paid umpteen thousands of dollars for, so they left me there. After a couple of years and a few difficult accidents, they hired an aberrant tutor to work with me.” “But you learned control eventually.” “After working with him every night through an entire school year, plus two years of intensive workshops with other aberrants over the summer.” Gale sighed. “It would have been a lot easier here, I think.”

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“Yes, it would have.” Gale waxed a bit pensive, toying with his potato chips. “My parents did what they thought was best. Unfortunately, they were wrong.” “They are, sometimes,” Michael said. “I guess they do the best they can.” “Yeah, guess so.” Gale picked up his plate and took it to the counter. He seemed far away, Michael thought. Michael swallowed, gathering courage, then asked the question that had been niggling at him. “What kinds of accidents?” Gale turned toward him with a weary smile. “Not-good accidents. The kinds of accidents where people die.” “Shit.” “Yeah.” He set his plate in the sink, shoulders sagging a little. “I was sixteen. I’d had my talent evaluated by then, but they figured it would be easily controllable. The human body’s electrical field only produces so much current. The doctors said no matter how much or how little control I had, I’d only be able to produce low voltage, maybe short out a toaster, jumpstart a truck if I was lucky.” He fell silent. Michael waited. Too many aberrants had stories like this in their pasts. It was one of many reasons the Academy had come about -- that plus the government’s none-too-gentle insistence, but that was an entirely different matter. “It was a pool party,” Gale finally went on. “I think… I think if it hadn’t been for the water, she would have been okay. But water and electrical current --” He turned and looked at Michael, and the old pain still lay in his eyes. Seeing it made Michael uncomfortable, it was so raw. “They don’t mix,” Gale finished. “She never recovered.” “I’m sorry.” Gale shrugged, the nonchalance belying the heaviness in his eyes. It was grief, Michael realized. “Shouldn’t have been kissing girls, anyway.” “Apparently not.” It wasn’t funny, except that it was, in that tiny, weird way that things could be funny when you were trying very hard to get past something that hurt deeply and painfully and permanently.

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Gale pushed away from the sink. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to drag everything down.” “It’s okay.” Gale regarded him thoughtfully. “Truth is, there haven’t been many people I could talk to about it. It’s one of the reasons I came here. I was tired of being alone.” “I get that.” “Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. You’ve been here a long time, among your own kind… and I didn’t mean that to be as weird and head-up-my-ass as it sounded.” Michael shrugged. “No, I know what you mean.” “Anyway, thanks for lunch. I should go… do something. Finish unpacking I guess.” “Okay.” Michael really didn’t want to see him go. There was something about Gale that drew him. Maybe it was that magnetic current he obviously kept under intense control. Or maybe it was his big, brown eyes and his tight ass. Hard to say. He couldn’t tell Gale that, though. It would be forward, or pathetic, or something else unpleasant and embarrassing. Instead he walked Gale to the door. “Good lunch,” said Gale. He opened the door, then paused and turned back. Michael started to smile and say something benign like, “See you later.” But he couldn’t get it out, because Gale kissed him. Automatically, Michael closed his hand around Gale’s arm and kissed him back. It felt good. It had been far too long since he’d kissed anybody, much less a goodlooking, ridiculously young, attractive, fit man who made him hot just looking at him. That kind of guy never kissed Michael. Gale kissed Michael. For more than a couple of seconds. His mouth was soft, the full lips mobile and skilled. And there was a slight pulse across that soft flesh, perhaps the current that manifested as Gale’s talent. It tasted metallic, and made Michael hard. Well, the kiss did that. The current just made it a little more so. Gale’s hand came up to touch his shoulder and held him there for a moment, as if he thought Michael might run away.

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Finally, Gale drew back. Looking befuddled, as if he didn’t quite know what to do, he moved past Michael and left the apartment.

Chapter Three Lying awake in bed that night, Gale let his mind drift back over the lunch encounter. He’d fucked it up, he knew that much, but he wasn’t sure if he’d fucked it up by being too forward, or not forward enough. He liked Michael. A lot. Something about him was just… comfortable. Though he suspected Michael might not take that as a compliment, to Gale it was the sexiest thing about him. He needed to feel safe with someone before he could move forward. That feeling was hard to find, especially with another man. Even harder with a man his age. It seemed they were all into promiscuity and danger. Gale could give them more danger than they bargained for, but he didn’t want to take those risks with somebody else’s life. Michael seemed more stable. Sensible. The kind of man who would take his time, and let Gale take his. He is. Gale’s eyes snapped open. The voice, blatantly feminine, had spoken in his head. Panic hit him out of nowhere and he “heard” a low chuckle. I apologize. I did not intend intrusion. Slowly, Gale sat up. “Who is this?” He spoke aloud out of reflex, but knew the telepath would be able to pull the question from his mind. At the same time, he realized he knew the answer to the question. Pandora, the voice said. I would like you to come see me. “It’s a bit late.” His peevishness came out in his voice, but it didn’t really matter, as it was probably twice as obvious inside his head. But he didn’t appreciate being ambushed in his own brain.

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Pandora’s amusement did not abate. I assure you my intrusion was inadvertent. If you could come to my rooms, we could speak in a more normal fashion. He was about to ask for directions when the information flashed into his head, transmitted in a complete, totally coherent package. He blinked, taken aback, then shook his head and got up to put his clothes back on. Revisiting the picture she’d flashed into his mind, Gale realized Pandora’s living quarters were positioned at the exact center of the school. He wondered if there was a reason for that, or if it were just coincidence. Somehow he didn’t think so. He headed to the front door of the central campus building and pushed it open, walking down the flight of stairs into the lower levels. The stairs led down two flights, underground, ending at a tall, steel door. Gale reached for the intercom button next to it, but before he could touch it, the speaker came on. “Gale?” The voice was soft, feminine, almost ethereal. “Please come down.” There was a sharp click as the door latch was unlocked. Gale pushed it open. It was incredibly heavy, but the hinges seemed to be well-oiled, and it opened with barely a touch of a finger. Another flight of stairs led deeper underground. Finally, he reached the bottom of the stairs, and the last door. He started to knock, but again, the door opened before he could touch it. He walked in, breathing the odd smell of the rooms. He knew very little about Pandora, other than rumors, but assumed the smell had something to do with the highly specialized environment under which Pandora had to live. Pandora herself stood a few feet away. She was very tall, perhaps six feet four inches, and very slender. She looked as if she might break if the wind touched her the wrong way. But the wind would never touch her. She wore a metallic silver body suit, gloves, and low black boots. Over the suit was draped a midnight blue kimono-like garment, with intricate embroidery in bright reds and black. Over her head, she wore an oddly constructed helmet that covered her face completely. The front panel was transparent, curving back in a large bubble, so that

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most of her face was visible, but the back was solid metal, and there was a crest along the top, like a bird’s topknot. It was a dark, liquid silver, like pewter. “Gale.” The soft voice, spoken aloud now rather than inside his head, was filtered by the mechanism of the helmet. He nodded. Seeing Pandora in person, he could believe the rumors. That she was an aberrant mutated beyond recognizable humanity. That she was an alien. Yet her presence in his head had felt… comfortable. She gestured toward a low, sumptuously upholstered bench. On the table across from it, a tea service had been laid out. “I am sorry I did not contact you earlier. I had unexpected business.” “It’s quite all right.” Settling onto the bench, he looked around. The place was small and immaculately arranged, and he was exquisitely uncomfortable here. He felt as if he could move the wrong way and disrupt a vital balance, some minute detail on which hung the balance of Pandora’s life and death. Surely she wasn’t that delicate. She couldn’t have survived this long if she were. But still he felt discomfited and out of place. She took a seat in a delicate cane chair near the artificial fireplace. Behind the glass mask, he could see her smile. “So you’re settling in?” He nodded. “So far, so good.” He wanted to ask her how much she knew about his feelings for Michael, but on the other hand he didn’t want to know. “Good. I’d hoped you’d adjust.” One long, gloved finger traced along the arm of the chair. “You need us as much as we need you.” “Maybe.” The answer came automatically, even though he knew she was right. He’d spent too much time defending his past not to fall into that pattern now. Pandora only nodded. “I knew when I read your resume. You wouldn’t have sent it here if you hadn’t felt some need to be with us.” She paused. “And you turned down another offer -- a more lucrative offer -- to take this position.” His gaze jerked up to hers. “It wasn’t that lucrative. And isn’t there some kind of etiquette about not reading the staffs’ minds?”

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Her smile deepened. “There is. Unfortunately, I pick up everything that’s transmitted. And those who are not telepaths, or who have not been trained to school their minds in the presence of telepaths, transmit far more than they realize.” “Then maybe there’s some sort of etiquette about keeping it to yourself?” Mentally, he slapped himself. Not a good way to talk to the boss. But Pandora only chuckled. “There is. However, I reserve the right to take license.” “Right. Well, forgive me if I’m uncomfortable with that.” “Of course.” She watched him for a few seconds, her expression calmly amused. “So, my apologies in advance, but I do offer advice to new staff. To any new members of the community, in fact. So I make you this offer.” Gale frowned. “You’re… a precog?” “To some extent, yes.” He had a feeling she might be understating her abilities. He’d heard rumors she was the most powerful aberrant ever to emerge, and that her powers were so strong and varied as to be unquantifiable. “So you’re offering what? To read my future?” “Not exactly. Just a sort of pre-evaluation of your status. A bit of advice. Suggestions on how to proceed. How you might best find yourself a good fit in this community.” She paused, and he heard a series of soft, hissing sounds coming from her mask. Her mouth opened and closed, as if drinking in the air. “I know you’re uncomfortable,” she went on. “I’m sorry for that. But I meddle. It is what I do. And I do it with the best of intentions.” “I see.” He crossed his legs, sinking back on the bench, and picked up his tea, hoping a few sips might help him regain his composure. It didn’t. “Well, meddle away, then. I’m listening.” She gave a slight nod. “You want -- and need -- what we have to offer you here. You want -- and need -- to be among those who understand you, who can be of help to you, to guide you in your challenges, help you become.” “Become what?”

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“Yourself, of course.” Gale found the answer both enigmatic and annoying. Pandora chuckled again. “I’m glad you’re here, Gale. We’ll all be very good for each other.” Though skeptical, he nodded. “What you said before. About Michael…” “I wasn’t reading your future, if that’s what concerns you. I’ve just known Michael long enough to feel he can give you something you need.” “And you also feel you know what I need?” Her expression gentled behind the glass mask. “I’ve known many who’ve come from backgrounds similar to yours. They all need the same things. Trust. Companionship. Love. And perhaps most of all, to be touched.” She paused again, and the air hissed inside her mask, more loudly this time. “I must retire,” she said. “I need to revitalize. But please, Gale. Think on what I have said.” She leaned forward and ran a gloved hand down his arm. “You will be well here. Let Michael guide you.” Slowly, she stood. Gale rose, as well, nodded awkwardly, and headed for the door.

*** All was set up and ready, bright and early the next morning, in the biology classroom. Gale had his books ready; he’d read through the syllabus and the lesson plans for today, and had notes ready to go in case he was called upon. He wasn’t sure if Michael would have him do any teaching, or if he was planning to leave that for later in the year. He’d intended to ask yesterday, but he’d forgotten, and now Michael had gotten all twitchy. At breakfast this morning, he’d obviously caught sight of Gale in the cafeteria, but had veered to sit at another table. At this point, Gale was pretty sure kissing him had been a bad idea. It had caught Gale off guard, and he supposed if he’d been caught off guard, Michael had probably felt the same way, but more so. He was still surprised he’d done it -- appalled at himself, even. He had no business being so forward, not under the circumstances.

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- 22 -

He set his books on the table at the front of the room. There was a podium next to it, but that would be Michael’s. Michael hadn’t arrived yet, which surprised Gale a little, but then again they still had nearly twenty minutes before time for class to start. He arranged his things, setting his notes where they would be easy to grab if he needed them, then took a seat behind the table to finish the big cup of coffee he’d taken from the cafeteria in a to-go cup. To his own surprise, he was nervous. Whether about the actual teaching, meeting the students, or seeing Michael again, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t really matter, as he was finding it to be a good feeling; a nice pump of adrenaline, getting him ready to face the challenge. He pulled out his notes for today’s lesson and glanced over them, sipping the coffee. He’d put too much sugar in it, but it had started out good and strong. They made good coffee here, which had surprised him. He’d figured a school cafeteria would churn out sludge, not a gourmet brew. He was just getting involved in reading his notes when he heard the door open. Looking up, he saw Michael come in, as expected. He smiled. “Hey, Dr. Preston.” Michael smiled back, shaking his head a little. He crossed the room to join Gale at the table, laying a stack of books down next to Gale’s pile of books and notes. “You’re early this morning,” Michael said. “Yeah, a little bit.” “Raring to go?” Gale grinned. “Something like that.” Gale hadn’t meant anything sexual by that, and he was certain Michael hadn’t, either, but at Gale’s reply, Michael looked away with that uncomfortable, almost embarrassed look in his eyes. Gale sighed and touched his shoulder. “Look. Let’s get this out and deal with it now.” Michael looked back at him. “Get what out?” “My dick,” said Gale, because he couldn’t resist, and because he hoped it would break the tension.

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- 23 -

Michael mustered a smile and shook his head. “Okay. Get it out. Let’s deal with it before the students get here.” Gale nodded. “Exactly my point.” He fortified himself with another drink of the too-sweet coffee. “I like you. And let’s face it. We’re gay and we’re aberrant. Doesn’t really leave a huge dating pool.” Michael reluctantly met his gaze. “This is a very good point you’re making.” “I know. I’ve been thinking about it while you’ve been hiding from me behind potted palms.” He didn’t think it was really necessary to mention Pandora’s role in his newfound semi-confidence. Michael made a face. “I have not.” Gale shrugged. “Metaphorically.” Michael sobered -- too much, Gale thought. “So what do you think we should do about it?” “I think you should quit avoiding me. And I think we should just see where things go.” “Okay,” Michael said. Gale could tell he had something else to add, but he didn’t right away. He waited, silent, sipping his coffee, fighting his own tremulous uncertainty. Finally, Michael asked, “You’re serious?” Looking up, Gale met his gaze squarely. “About liking you? Yeah.” Michael shook his head in obvious disbelief. “Okay.” “Don’t sound so skeptical.” “I’m thirty-eight and balding. You’re -- what, twenty-three? And hot.” “Yeah, I am.” Gale grinned, unrepentant. “And I don’t find you particularly unattractive.” “Thanks.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Nice job, there, with my self-esteem.” “Just chill.” He sipped his coffee contemplatively. “If it makes you feel any better, that’s the first time I’ve really touched anybody -- much less kissed anybody -- in about three years.”

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- 24 -

Michael looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. The touch talents -- we’re all a mess, as a general rule.”

Michael nodded soberly. He started to say something else, but just then a small

group of students entered, effectively ending the conversation. Mercifully, maybe, Gale thought. He really didn’t want to get into his personal neurotic phobias, even though he knew he would have to eventually. Later. That kind of thing could never be put off long enough, as far as he was concerned. He straightened his books and smiled at the arriving students. They were fifteen minutes into class when the bomb went off.

Chapter Four The intense, low-pitched boom echoed through Gale’s feet, up into his balls. One of those sounds you heard with your body more than your ears. Michael stopped his lecture mid-word and turned to look at the silent roomful of students who sat, eyes wide, staring. “What the fuck was that?” said Michael. Gale came to his feet. “Sounded bad, whatever it was.” Michael looked at Gale, then took on an air of controlled competence. “Nobody move. I’ll look into it --” His reassuring speech was cut off by the sudden wailing of a fire alarm. The students broke immediately into confused, babbled speech, getting out of their seats and heading for the door, stumbling over each other on the way. Gale started toward them. Somebody was going to get hurt. Suddenly Michael’s voice boomed behind him. “Stop! Please proceed in an orderly fashion toward the emergency exits. Do not panic.” Gale felt the timbre of the voice in the bone behind the back of his ear, a strange and unexpected sensation. Then he remembered reading Michael’s abbreviated dossier, the one the school had sent him when he’d accepted the job. Michael’s talent involved producing controlled sonic bursts. He’d assumed they would involve a destructive element, but this was highly controlled, and with a specific purpose. Michael smiled, in spite of the seriousness of the situation. The students had calmed, and were proceeding toward the lecture hall’s doorway in a more orderly fashion.

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- 26 -

Michael had taken up the rear of the procession. He nodded to Gale to join him. Gale did, following him up the middle aisle toward the main exit. “What do you think it was?” Michael shook his head. “Sounded like an explosion. Not sure, but there was a solid percussion, and breaking glass.” “I didn’t hear that.” “Of course not. You’re not me.” There was a bitter edge to his voice, and he shook his head, with an apologetic smile. “I make sounds, and the hearing comes with the package.” “Makes sense.” Gale approached the main exit door and looked back down the corridor to see if everyone else had exited. The big lecture hall was deserted. Michael followed the students into the hallway. It seemed like a good idea to Gale -- the likelihood of another wave of panic seemed high. Especially when the lights went off. “Shit,” said Gale. “Just what we need.” The hallway was swallowed in darkness, and the emergency lighting showed no sign of coming on any time soon, either. “Don’t panic. Everybody just hold still.” Michael’s voice was remarkably soothing, Gale thought. He wondered what it would be like if he were, say, trying to blow the hell out of something with it. Probably not nearly as soothing. As best he could in the dark, Gale made a quick recon of the area. He could see, but only a little. It was enough, though, to make out the emergency lighting cell on the arch of the doorway only a few yards down the hall. He headed toward it, moving through the crowd of students. “Just hang on,” he said, touching students here and there as he passed through the crowd. He hoped he was being reassuring, rather than inadvertently feeling anyone up. Or electrocuting anyone, for that matter. Michael repeated his urge not to panic. The atmosphere in the hallway did seem calmer, so hopefully it was working. Gale made his way to the doorway.

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The wires from the emergency lighting cell ran down the wall. It took him a moment to suss them out through the darkness, but after his eyes adjusted, he was able to see and follow the line of the cord from the light down the wall to a circuit box. He opened the box and peered inside. It was too dark to follow all the wires from source to end; he couldn’t make out the individual colors. Giving exactness up as a lost cause, he stuck his hand in and just blasted everything. He hadn’t let go with a current like that in a long time. He’d forgotten how much it hurt. But the emergency lights flickered, sputtered, then finally came on. The light they afforded was dim, but better than nothing. A rumble of relief passed through the crowd of students, and a few of them smiled at Gale as he made his way back. “How long will that last?” Michael asked him quietly as he came back. “Indefinitely, with any luck. I hit it pretty hard.” “You okay?” The question surprised Gale, but maybe Michael could see the strained pain he knew lay on his face. “Yeah. Fine.” Michael looked skeptical, but didn’t push. “Please proceed down the hallway toward the exits, in an orderly fashion.” That shivering timbre still lay in his voice, but it had faded a little. Gale wondered if Michael was getting tired. In any case, it seemed to have lasted long enough, because the students stayed calm, and made their way quickly and quietly toward the outside door. There were more windows closer to the outside walls, and the sudden influx of light blinded Gale momentarily. He paused before leading the rest of the way out, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Michael continued, either not as affected or just ignoring it. Blinking, Gale followed him out into the courtyard. There was smoke in the air, and Gale looked up, trying to see where it was coming from.

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“That’s coming from the Liberal Arts building,” said Michael. Gale wasn’t certain why this would make Michael seem so grim, but it did. Gale decided to wait and ask later. Right now he needed to see to the students.

Gale and Michael had just finished settling the students when a wide-band telepathic message moved through the group. Gale jumped when it happened, startled in spite of Pandora’s telepathic communication with him the night before. He wasn’t used to having people talk in his head. Classes are canceled for today, the voice said. Please return to your dormitory rooms for check-in. Your section telepath will be contacting you in exactly fifteen minutes. The voice left a buzzing sensation behind. Gale shook his head to dislodge it. He remembered reading about the section telepaths. Each dormitory had two or three, depending on the building’s population. In times of emergency, a quick, coordinated check-in could determine the well-being and whereabouts of every occupant of the building within a matter of a few minutes. It was the only time involuntary telepathic intrusion was allowed on campus grounds. “Well, that’s that, then.” Michael’s voice, coming in through Gale’s ears in the normal way, startled him. Gale turned. “What do we do?” “We go back to our dorms and wait.” “Do we have to go to our own rooms?” Michael shrugged. “I think it’s expected.” Gale nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

Chapter Five Back in his apartment, Michael made tea. It seemed ludicrous, but also mundane enough to calm him. His hands were shaking and he splashed water out of the mug when he put in the teabag. Though he’d managed to remain calm during the actual emergency, inside him the panic had just been waiting to rush to the surface. It was there now, making him shake, making him clench his fists to keep from throwing his mug of tea against the wall. They’d lost people before. John had died last year, in a trench coat operation in Wyoming. But nothing had ever touched the school. Until now. To say it frightened him was an understatement. It terrified him. Made him feel like the entire world had been yanked out from under his feet. He dunked his teabag and stared at the cup without seeing it. Tried not to think about what this meant, about what the future might hold. He had just finished drinking the tea when the telepathic check passed through his mind. Michael Preston. Present, he thought back. Uninjured, accounted for. Noted. The standard answer brushed him briefly, then he felt the telepath pause, the contact brushing softly inside his head. Pandora says to stay calm. Calmness, no fear. Michael looked up toward the ceiling, as if he could see the speaker there somewhere, floating, or hanging upside down. Thank you. He knew the additional consolation was not required -- in fact was technically discouraged -- and he was grateful the telepath had taken the time to pass it along.

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- 30 -

The shaking in his hands had decreased a bit when he returned to his tea. He drank it slowly, savoring the flavor. He had put milk in it, the mixed flavors soothing him. If Pandora said to stay calm, he would do his damnedest to stay calm. Tea finished, he went to the kitchen to prepare another cup. He had just put a fresh teabag in the cup when a knock sounded on his door. Somehow he knew it was Gale. He opened the door without checking the peephole. “Come in,” he told the younger man, but Gale stayed in the hallway and grabbed Michael by the back of his neck and kissed him. Startled, Michael started to protest, but the words changed to soft, incoherent sounds as Gale’s tongue pushed into his mouth. He reached up to thread his fingers through Gale’s hair, shifting his head a little to deepen the kiss. Finally, Gale pulled back, his breath harsh and rapid. “Sorry.” Michael didn’t know what to say. He backed into the apartment. Gale followed, and Michael closed the door behind them. “Why?” Michael finally breathed. “That thing today scared the fucking shit out of me.” Gale leaned into him again. “So forget I did anything.” He walked into the kitchen. “You’re making tea?” “I am. I had some already. Can I get you anything?” Michael had no idea what he should say or do, at this point. Gale’s sudden retreat had him confused. “Tea’s good. Okay if I help myself?” “Yeah. Go ahead.” Surreal, Michael thought. He couldn’t keep up. Hesitant, he took a few steps toward the kitchen. “Gale?” Gale opened cabinets looking for mugs. He found them and took one down, filling it with water from the sink. “Yeah?” “What were your intentions when you came over here?” Gale was silent for a time, watching the water run into his mug. Finally, his voice low, he said, “I was thinking along the lines of a comfort fuck.” Nodding, Michael came to stand in the kitchen doorway. “Why did you stop?” Gale took a moment to answer the question. “I wanted to be sure I meant it.” “Did you?”

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- 31 -

Gale turned off the water and looked directly at Michael, an almost stubborn tilt to his mouth. “Yes.” Michael liked that answer. “So you think if you hung out here for a while, for a comfort fuck, you might stay, or maybe come back later for other sorts of fucks?” He leaned against the door jamb and folded his arms over his chest. Gale’s chuckle gratified him. “Do you have tea bags somewhere?” he said, then, “What other sorts of fucks are there?” Michael walked into the kitchen and pulled down the box of English Breakfast tea. “Well, fun ones and hard ones up against the wall, and fucks over the couch, or on the kitchen floor --” He broke off at Gale’s grin. “What?” “I like you.” Taking out a teabag, he dunked it in his mug and put the mug in the microwave. “Do you?” “I do. Why do you find that so hard to believe?” “Well…” No need to explain it, Michael thought. It was pretty damn obvious. “I’m not exactly prime material for someone your age.” “That’s stupid.” “Maybe. But it’s typical.” “I’m not typical.” “I get that.” The microwave dinged, and Michael watched him take out his tea. “Is there milk?” Gale asked. Michael smiled. “Of course there is.” So Gale liked milk in his tea. The fact made Michael smile. “So,” Michael said after a moment. “Is the tea comfort enough, or are you still interested in trying something else?” Gale looked at him with surprise in his eyes, over the rim of his mug. “I’m interested.” He lowered the mug to the counter. “Doesn’t feel very spontaneous now, though.”

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- 32 -

“Does it have to?” Michael took a step toward him. “I think the spontaneity might be what keeps throwing you off.” “What do you mean?” “This is the second time you’ve walked in and started something, then backed off. You just get going, and the fear kicks in.” The expression in Gale’s eyes darkened, just before he turned his attention back to the mug on the counter. Michael saw it, and knew he was right. “How long has it been?” Gale shrugged. “Couple of years.” “Did anyone get hurt the last time?” “No. I have enough control to get through it --” He broke off with a mocking chuckle. “Listen to me. Making it sound like some kind of ordeal.” “It probably is, for you, in some sense.” Gale looked at him, letting Michael see the discomfort, the uncertainty. “Yeah. You could say that.” Taking another step closer, Michael reached up to trace his fingers down Gale’s cheekbone. He felt no unusual sensations -- just the warmth of the younger man’s skin. Moving even closer, he let his shirt front brush Gale’s, turned his hand so his palm cupped his cheek. Gale closed his eyes, opened them again. Raw desire burned there. “You actually want me.” The realization took Michael aback, but there it was, plain to see in Gale’s eyes. It was more than just lust, too. Something else was laced through the baser emotion. Michael smiled, amazed. “Yeah.” Gale’s voice was husky. “I do. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have made it this far.” “Then let’s don’t stop. You need this, I think.” Gale nodded, barely. “Do you trust me?” Michael asked. “I do.”

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- 33 -

“Come with me, then.” He let his free hand drift down Gale’s arm, until their fingers linked. Casually, he led Gale into the bedroom. Michael wasn’t held back by the fear of accidentally electrocuting his partner, but it had still been a long time since he’d invited anyone into his bedroom. Now he wondered what kind of impression it might make on Gale, with the handmade quilt his mother had given him hanging half off the bed, the sheets askew, the stacks of books on the floor from his last research project. He gave Gale an apologetic look. “Homey,” said Gale.

“Sorry. I wasn’t expecting… you know… bedroom company.”

Gale shrugged. “You should see my place.”

“I should.” Michael smiled and pulled him down into the bed.

They kissed for a time, Michael taking the lead this time, exploring Gale’s mouth.

Gale seemed willing to accept a more passive role, settling against the disheveled pillows while Michael lay over him, kissing him deep, licking his face, his throat. Finally, he drew back. “Is it hard to control?” he asked quietly. His cock was rock-hard, straining against his zipper, and he knew Gale’s was, too; he’d felt it prodding into him as he’d lain against Gale’s supine body. “If it gets to be too much, just tell me.” “No, not really. Not anymore.” His voice was quiet and breathy, his brown eyes darkened with lust. “I can hold it all inside.” “Where?” Gale laid a hand against his stomach, right at his solar plexus. “Here.” Michael laid his hand there, as well. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought he could feel the power there, coiled just under the surface of Gale’s skin, waiting… “So when you need it?” “I just… let it go.” He reached toward Michael, cupped his face, drew him back down to kiss him again. This time when he drew back, Michael said, “You can touch me.”

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- 34 -

Of course Gale was touching him already, chest to chest, cock to cock, his hand cupping Michael’s face. But the shift in Gale’s expression told Michael he knew what he meant. Gale nodded slightly, then lowered his hand and softly cupped Michael’s cock. Michael flinched a little, involuntarily, and Gale jerked his hand back. “What?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Gale’s expression hardened. “You’re afraid of me.”

“No. No, I’m not. Honest.”

“Then what?”

“Truthfully? I haven’t been touched there in a very long time.” He looked right

into Gale’s eyes, hoping his honesty would show. “It can take some getting used to.” “I get that.” Gale’s hand tightened a little, his fingers curling around the hard length of Michael’s shaft, through his pants. Michael drew a sharp breath as need speared up through him, harsh and wanting, a knife to the chest. Gale pumped him a little, working his fist up and down. “Is that good?”

“Yes --” Michael’s eyes popped open. “You have done this before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” Gale gave a crooked smile. “Not a lot.” He flattened his hand, pressing

against the soft bulge of Michael’s balls. “Well, thank God you’re not a virgin.” Michael chuckled. He stroked a hand down Gale’s side, then reached for his shirt buttons, unfastening them one at a time. “Um…” Gale hesitated. “I kind of am… in a way.” Michael stopped what he was doing, with three buttons undone and three more to go. “You’re kidding me. You’ve never been fucked?” “No.” “So… you’re a top?” “No. I’ve never done that, either.” Michael drew back, looking into Gale’s face. Gale seemed a little embarrassed, but he looked straight back, unflinching. “Is that a problem?” Gale asked.

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“No, of course not. I’m just surprised. I mean, a guy who looks like you --” He broke off. “Touch talent,” Gale reiterated, his mouth quirking again. He let his head sag back against the pillows, his hand sliding away from Michael. Michael’s cock twitched in protest; it had been enjoying the warmth of Gale’s hand. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” “No, I’m glad you did. I would have assumed. Assuming is never good.” Gale nodded. He looked like he was thinking seriously about getting up and leaving, so Michael grabbed his hand by the wrist and pulled it back to him, settling it into its previous position against his crotch. “Don’t stop.” Smiling, Gale lifted his hand away again, this time to worry loose Michael’s trouser snap. “How about this instead?” He pulled down the zipper and slid his hand inside, under Michael’s underwear. Michael closed his eyes and gasped as Gale’s big hand engulfed his shaft. He seemed a little uncertain, but when Michael’s hips tipped involuntarily up against Gale’s grasp, his grip tightened, and he began to move. It had been a long time. Michael could barely even remember the last time anyone other than himself had touched his cock. His last long-term relationship -- if four months could be considered long-term -- had ended nearly three years ago. He’d picked up a couple of tricks since then, but it had made him feel old and pathetic. Young guys just didn’t go for the scholarly, receding hairline look… Yet here he was in bed with a young guy’s hand inside his pants, working his cock with increasing enthusiasm. He opened his eyes and looked at Gale, wondering for a moment if perhaps he had been hit in the head during the explosion, and was hallucinating the whole thing. Gale looked back at him, his eyes steady, and as Michael ventured a vague smile, Gale grabbed the back of Michael’s pants and jerked them roughly down around his thighs. Michael grabbed Gale’s shoulders to hold himself steady, and Gale ducked into him and kissed him.

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- 36 -

Michael wasn’t sure what to think. So he decided not to. Gale obviously wanted him, for whatever reason, so why argue? Even if it did turn into nothing more than a comfort fuck, he didn’t think he could say no right now. So he turned his head a little and opened his mouth, and let Gale kiss the hell out of him. Gale’s mouth tasted odd, like pennies. Michael had noticed this last night, but it was more noticeable now. Perhaps the electric current flowed more freely when Gale was aroused -- and Michael had a sudden vision of himself being electrocuted through the penis, and dying, and Gale having to explain to an emergency room doctor -He dove deeper into Gale’s mouth, tasting the metallic penny-flavor, pressing his tongue against Gale’s, stroking his teeth, devouring him. His mouth was hot and eager, and Michael wanted to spelunk every corner of it with his tongue. A slight buzz covered his tongue, ever so faint, not enough to hurt, just enough that he could feel it, and suddenly he jerked back. “God --” “What?” Gale pulled back, fear in his eyes. “Did I hurt you?” “No. No, God, no. I need that. The way your tongue feels. I need that on my dick.” The expression on Gale’s face was comically skeptical. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.” Breathing hard, his cock twitching just with the thought, Michael shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. If it hurts, I’ll tell you. Just do it.” He stopped. “I mean, if you want to.” In response, Gale studied Michael’s face a moment, then his mouth tightened, as if he were gathering courage, and he ducked down toward Michael’s cock. His tongue slid over the glans, and Michael thought he was going to pass out. The barely-there tingle was just enough to send his senses reeling -- like a very lowpowered vibrator against his skin. He clenched his fingers into Gale’s hair and moaned. In response, Gale started to pull back. “No, it’s okay,” Michael managed.

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It was more than okay -- it was incredible. More intense than anything he’d ever experienced before. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the incredible sensation rising in his pelvis, clenching his body, tightening his balls. For a man without much experience, Gale seemed to know what he was doing. His tongue slid up and down Michael’s shaft as he went from licking to sucking and back again, his hand moving between Michael’s thighs to cup his balls. He rolled them, pushing them toward his body, handling them with a confidence Michael hadn’t expected. It was too much. The soft buzz on his cock, the fingers maneuvering his testicles -- he couldn’t hold back anymore and, much to his embarrassment, he felt the orgasm coming, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He pressed against Gale's head, hoping he would understand the signal. Gale drew back quickly, Michael’s cock sliding out of his mouth a split-second before Michael’s body jerked and thick, white come pulsed out of him. The first spray hit Gale in the face; he laughed and shifted a little, letting the rest of it hit his shoulder. Michael gasped in surprise as Gale pushed the head of his cock against the hollow between his clavicles, rubbing the head into the rounded space. He watched Michael’s face, until Michael finally signaled him to stop. He just couldn’t take any more. Drawing Gale up toward him, he cradled the younger man’s head against his chest. “Was that okay?” Gale sounded uncertain. A little awkwardly, he wiped his face off with the sheet. Michael could hardly gather enough breath to answer. “That was better than okay,” he managed. “That was incredible. You underestimate your touch talent, if you think all it’s good for is short-circuiting lighting systems and jumpstarting trucks.” Gale chuckled a little, still sounding not quite convinced. His hand brushed hesitantly over Michael’s chest. Reaching up, Michael laid his hand over Gale’s. “Now,” said Michael, “what can I do for you?” Obviously taken aback by the question, Gale looked up at him. “I… I don’t know.”

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- 38 -

“Well, at the very least I could get you off. Wouldn’t be fair, otherwise.” He had a sudden, very tangible vision of Gale arching over him, fucking him, but he wasn’t sure Gale was ready for that. He reached down to cup Gale’s balls, wondering if he would feel the tingle there, as well. Disappointingly, he didn’t. Maybe it was confined to mucus membranes -- in which case, what would it feel like inside him… Michael cut the thought off. He didn’t think Gale was ready for that, either, and he had no intention of pushing. Right now it was a waiting game. He needed Gale to take the lead, decide how far he was willing to go. He lay still for a few long seconds, and Michael waited, patient. Finally, Gale unfastened his pants. Michael reached down to help him, working the button loose, drawing the zipper down. He let his fingers trace Gale’s cock, caressing the warm, velvety skin. The vague tingle was there again, just over the glans. Fainter than it had been inside his mouth. If he’d been uncut, Michael thought, undoubtedly that natural membrane would have buzzed with current. Too bad. “Yes,” Gale mumbled. Michael looked at his face. Gale looked dazed, and it made Michael wonder if he was equally touch-deprived. Probably more. He’d never met a touch talent who wasn’t, or who hadn’t been at some point in his life. As far as what Gale was saying yes to, Michael wasn’t sure, but he kept doing what he was doing, stroking the thick, erect cock, feeling it twitch a little under his fingers, as he helped Gale get his jeans out of the way. Gale seemed willing to follow Michael’s lead, his hands reaching for Michael’s shoulders as Michael moved over him. He stroked Gale’s thighs, the soft inside skin, tracing up again to his testicles, fondling him, then handling him a little more roughly. Gale looked up at him with glazed eyes, his mouth lax, everything about him screaming profound need. Slowly, Michael positioned himself over Gale. He found the lube on the dresser and squeezed out a small amount, coating Gale’s cock with it.

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- 39 -

“What…” Gale said, and Michael kissed him. “Trust me.” Gale nodded, and Michael lowered his body, aligning his cock against Gale’s. He cupped a hand around both shafts and thrust, sliding himself along Gale, squeezing gently to increase the friction. The slight application of lube made it smoother, and his cock moved more firmly, more quickly, against Gale’s. Gale’s fingers tightened on his shoulders, digging in hard, and he arched his back, thrusting now in time to Michael’s rhythm. A low, keening sound came from him, and Michael pressed down, using his stomach against Gale’s to increase the friction, the pressure, holding cock against cock in his hand. The slight buzz from Gale’s glans shot through his skin, making it that much more intense. It felt damn good, and his own erection had risen again, more than he’d expected it to. Hands tightly clenched on Michael’s shoulders, Gale was riding him now, somehow, even though he was underneath, pulsing and thrusting his body against Michael’s. Michael felt the tension growing in him, heard his breathing quicken, his heartbeat increasing to a rapid patter. “Shit…” Gale breathed. “Shit… Michael…” And he opened his eyes, looked up into Michael’s face, his hips lurched forward, and he came. Michael felt the hot semen spill over his fingers, over his cock and Gale’s there inside his curled fist, and his own body lurched, finding his own climax. He leaned down to kiss Gale again, to feel the tingle inside his mouth, to taste his tongue, like copper pennies. He decided he liked that flavor, though he never really had before. He looked down into Gale’s face. “You okay?” Gale nodded. “Yeah. Almost forgot we almost got blown up.” Michael smiled. “Good.” He moved off Gale, to lie next to him, and reached for a box of tissues on the nightstand. “You can stay here if you want. I don’t mind.” Gale nodded. “Thanks.”

***

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Michael woke abruptly. The odd, high-pitched echo in his head told him it was Pandora’s doing. He sat up. He’d been expecting to hear something from Pandora earlier, likely on a broad signal, but she’d been disturbingly silent. This summons was specific. She was just calling him. Next to him on the bed, Gale opened his eyes. “What was that?” he mumbled. Michael looked at him in surprise. “That was Pandora. She must be calling you, too.” Slowly, Gale sat up. He looked pleasantly rumpled. Had the call not been from Pandora, Michael would have rolled him back into the bed and had his way with him again. Gale rubbed his eyes. “What does she want?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to find out.” Impulsively, Michael leaned over

and kissed him. As he drew back, Gale made a face. “What?” Michael asked. “Nothing.” Gale turned sideways in the bed, displaying his lovely, naked back. Michael eyed it with appreciation, then reached over to run his fingers lightly down Gale’s spine. “Do I taste bad?” “No. I do.” He gave a wry smile. “Where did you hide my pants?”

*** Fortified with instant coffee and toast, they made their way toward Pandora’s quarters at the center of the school compound. The air still prickled with the smell of smoke. Walking silently next to him, Gale slid his hand into Michael’s, threading their fingers together. Pandora was waiting for them in her living room, seated on the chair where she always sat when she had visitors. Across from her sat Keely, legs tucked up under her, her hands folded in her lap. Her presence surprised Michael.

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“Hi,” he said. Some reflex -- plain self-consciousness, really -- made him start to let go of Gale’s hand, but he stopped it and instead tightened his grip and drew him gently along into the room. “Hi, Michael,” said Keely, turning to greet them. She had a bandage on her head, and she looked tired. At the sight of the bandage, Michael frowned with concern. “Are you all right?” Keely’s nod wasn’t very convincing. “Gale, right?” Her attention had shifted to him, and she looked uncertain, as if concerned she’d gotten his name wrong. “Yes,” Gale answered. He gestured toward her bandaged head. “Is that from yesterday?” “Yes. Not serious. Didn’t even need stitches. I’ll be okay.” But Michael could see the haunted look in her eyes and knew she was thinking of John, who had died in a similar incident when he’d been on assignment. Michael hadn’t been a part of that team, but he’d seen Keely leave a buoyant, happy woman in love, and come back broken. It had been over a year, and she still seemed a shadow of her former self. “So…” Gale ventured as he settled into a chair. “Why are we here?” Michael took a seat, as well. Gale sounded edgy, he thought, as if perhaps he found Pandora off-putting. Not that that would be unusual -- Michael found Pandora off-putting, and he’d known her for years. “I have been contacted,” Pandora said. “Yesterday’s incident was properly reported, and those who… request our services from time to time feel they see connections. They have requested an investigative team be sent to England.” Michael stared at her, appalled. “We’ve just been attacked and they want us to run a trench coat operation for them? This is bullshit. We should be here, figuring out how they got in, how they managed to attack us from inside…” He trailed off. Pandora was watching him placidly. Keely had twisted her fingers together in her lap. Gale said nothing, and seemed to be trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

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“They have found connections.” Her voice had quieted. She sounded tired. “They believe yesterday’s incident to be connected to our loss of John.” Michael opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked at Keely, who continued to stare resolutely at her fingers, entwined in her lap. She shouldn’t be subjected to this, he thought. It was too fresh for her, the pain still raw. “I want to go,” she said quietly. “I need to go. I need to find out, if I can.” “Should I ask what all this is about?” Gale put in. “All will be explained,” Pandora told him. “There will be a briefing before you leave.” “What if I don’t want to go?” Gale’s protest surprised Michael at first, then suddenly didn’t. He could hear a thread of panic in the young man’s voice. He reached toward the chair next to him where Gale sat, laid a hand on top of his on the arm of the chair. “I have chosen you,” Pandora stated. She paused to breathe more deeply as the mechanism feeding gases into her mask suddenly stepped up production, pumping an extra supply in response to some unseen need of her body. “Why would you choose me?” Gale protested. “I just got here. I don’t know anything about any of this.” “You knew what might be asked of you when you came on with us.” Her voice remained gentle, but there was an underlying steel to her tone that brooked no argument. “I am sorry. It seems unfair to ask this of you so soon, but what I have seen, what I have read in the air… it tells me you are needed.” Gale nodded curtly. Pandora’s breathing device began to hiss again, and she was silent for a time, breathing, this time with her eyes closed until the flow of gases returned to normal. Finally she opened her eyes and regarded them again. “I am tired,” she said. “I have been many hours in communication and I must have rest. You will leave later today when the operative arrives. I will call you.” Michael nodded and came to his feet. She would retreat to the center of her inner sanctum, he knew, where she could breathe unaided in a room filled with exactly the

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mix of atmosphere her body demanded. Keely, too, stood, and finally Gale followed suit as Pandora retreated toward the door to her centermost room. Back outside, Gale came to a halt on the sidewalk. “I don’t like this.” “None of us does, Gale,” Keely said. Her hands were shaking now; Michael wanted to reach out and comfort her, but sensed she wouldn’t appreciate it right now. He was no telepath, but he’d always been able to read Keely. Something to do with her ability to project emotions onto others, he suspected. “I need to do this, though.” She walked away, then, head down, her hair obscuring her face. Gale watched her go, frowning. “I didn’t mean to upset her.” “I know.” Michael laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” “Fine. Just… I came here to be treated like a human being, not to say how high when some anonymous government stooge says jump.” He pulled back away from Michael. “Maybe you’ve been here long enough to be brainwashed into being okay with that. I haven’t.” Michael was too taken aback to answer. All he could do was watch as Gale, too, stalked away.

Chapter Six It wasn’t long before Gale’s conscience caught up with him, and he headed for Michael’s office. He started to knock, then just opened the door, silently and carefully, and peeked around it. Michael was going through the books on his office shelves. He looked focused, Gale thought, and wondered if he’d discovered something interesting, or if he was just brooding. He looked up as Gale knocked, and his frown deepened for a split-second, then relaxed. That couldn’t be good, Gale thought. He had a feeling Michael wasn’t happy to see him. Couldn’t blame him, really. “Come in,” Michael said, and Gale stepped in. He nodded toward the stack of books on Michael’s desk. “Anything interesting?” “I’m not sure yet. What do you want?” His tone was harried but not angry. In fact, he sounded fairly calm, for which Gale was grateful. “I wanted to apologize.” His expression softening a little more, Michael turned to face him, settling one hip on the desk. “Yeah?” “Yeah. I acted like an ass.” “You did.” “Want to know why I acted like an ass?” “Because you’re afraid.” “Scared shitless.” He took a deep breath and leaned against the wall next to the door. “I read about the trench coat stuff in the orientation information, but I never dreamed it would hit me in the face this soon.” “No. I can see where you wouldn’t.” He sighed, as well, and pushed himself up onto the desk, taking a more comfortable seat among the papers and books. “We used

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to go years without any of those government types showing up. Now it seems like it’s every year. Every semester, even.” “And this is worse, because someone’s gotten inside the school.” Michael nodded. “Yeah. Particularly disturbing.” He indicated the books he’d piled on the desk. “These are inventory books for the last three school years. I was wondering about the mess -- you know, I told you somebody messes the place up every year.” “Yeah.” “Every year, there’s something missing. I looked over the inventory from this year, and sure enough, a vial is missing from the inventory. There was something missing last year, and the year before that… for the last five years.” Gale shrugged. “And?” “And the individual chemicals by themselves are not really any cause for concern, but --” He broke off. Gale’s realization was rapid and frightening. “But put together -- they go boom?” Michael looked up at him, his expression almost apologetic. “They certainly do.” That was about as scary and disconcerting as Gale wanted things to get. Unfortunately, he had a feeling they were going to get scarier and more disconcerting before everything was over. “That’s not good.” “No, it’s not good.” “It means the bomb was an inside job.” “That would be strongly implied, yes.” Gale shook his head, trying to ward off the panic. “Who would do something like that? Plan it over that period of time?” “This school has always had enemies. It honestly was only a matter of time before something happened. But I never expected it to come from inside like this.” Glancing at the inventory books, Gale frowned. He wanted to look for himself, and wasn’t sure where that urge came from. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Michael’s

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assessment -- he just wanted to see it with his own eyes. “Why make the mess every year, then? Why draw attention to themselves?” “Maybe to make it look like dumb teenagers? That’s mostly what we have here, after all. A bunch of dumb teenagers who would be fairly likely, under many circumstances, to engage in vandalism.” “Covering their tracks by leaving them uncovered.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s a logical approach to take.”

“Yes.”

Letting his head fall back against the wall, Gale took a deep breath. “So do we

tell Pandora about this?” “I already did.” “You’ve been to see her?” “No.” Of course. No need to actually see the woman. All you had to do was think at her the right way. Gale suppressed a shudder. “I think maybe I didn’t really know what I was getting into when I took this job.” Michael regarded him soberly. “You belong here. You need to be here. I could tell that much from what you told me.” Gale couldn’t really argue with him. His life had been a mish-mash of confusion, mishandling, accidents. Pain, if he were honest with himself about it. He did belong here -- he’d sensed that when he’d walked in the front gate for the first time. The trench coats didn’t. That was what irked him. Not that he didn’t belong, but that they didn’t. He’d finally found a place, and they were invading it. “When will they come?” he asked quietly.

Michael looked up at him, his face softening, understanding in his eyes.

“Tomorrow. Probably early.” “How many?” “There’s no way to know.”

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A sinking feeling settled into Gale’s stomach. He couldn’t help it. He knew what happened, when the government interfered. He’d seen it. “What’s wrong?” Michael asked him gently. Gale shook his head. “Just --” He stopped, looked at his hands. He felt suddenly self-conscious, vulnerable. Exposed. “They tried to take me once. Pull me out of school and send me to one of their camps. It was during one of the disputes with the school here. They wanted us where we could be controlled. I was lucky because my parents had money, but there was a girl at school --” He stopped. He’d never seen her again, and he had no proof anything horrible had happened to her, but it seemed likely, the way they’d come onto the campus of the elite private school Gale had attended and dragged her away like a dog, strait-jacketed and gagged, while she screamed, and no one helped her. Something warm settled onto his shoulder, and he looked up. Michael’s hand lay there, gentle and comforting. Gale slid his own hand over it. “They won’t hurt us. They can’t, not here. The agreements prevent it.” “I don’t trust them.” “I know. I don’t, either. But they’ve kept their word so far.” “So far.” He took a deep breath. “This is stupid but I --” He broke off again. Michael’s hand tightened on his shoulder a little. “What?” “I have this feeling I’m going to die.” There. He’d said it. It sounded even stupider out loud than it had sounded in his head. Michael’s grip on his shoulder tightened almost painfully. “You’re not.” “I don’t --” He stopped, closed his eyes. “Shit.” “What is it?” Gale couldn’t answer, not right away. Vertigo had washed through him, nausea in its wake. Turning toward Michael, he clutched the older man’s arms, feeling his fingers bite hard into the muscle. “Michael…”

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Michael stared at him, then suddenly something flashed in his eyes, some sort of understanding. He disengaged his arm from Gale’s clenching hands and grabbed the phone. Gently, Michael eased Gale down to the couch. Gale barely registered what was going on -- his vision had blurred and everything sounded like he was underwater. Vaguely, he heard Michael’s voice, speaking softly to whoever was on the other end of the line. After a few seconds, he hung up the phone and leaned over Gale, brushing his fingers over his face. “Hold on. Just a few minutes.” Gale’s heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was inside his mouth, and he felt cold and hot by turns, sweat beading on his forehead. His hands shook; his stomach twisted into a painful knot. He needed his medication, and he didn’t have it with him. A small voice in the back of his head, barely audible over the neurological tumult, chastised him. He should have known better. Suddenly smaller, softer hands touched him, and a cool wash of peace moved over him. His vision cleared enough to see Keely bent over him. She had one hand on his forehead, and was looking into his eyes, whispering. “It’s all right. You’re all right. Take a deep breath.” Gale took a breath, pulling it in as far as he could, looking up at Keely. She was concentrating, and he realized this was her talent -- transferring emotion, he supposed. He breathed slowly, deliberately, and felt his heartbeat slowly return to normal. Finally, he pushed himself up to a sitting position on the couch. Keely touched his hair. “Are you all right?” “I am now. Thank you.” “Not a problem.” Keely looked at Michael for an explanation, but he just shrugged and gave her a perplexed look. Keely turned back to Gale. “What was that?” “Chemical imbalance. Brings on panic attacks. It happens a lot after I use my ability. I usually feel it coming on, and I have medication to stave it off, but this one

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caught me by surprise. I didn’t expect it. Didn’t use that much power.” He rubbed his face. “Usually happens sooner, too. This kind of a delay is weird.” “What causes it?” “I manipulate my electric field. It screws up my nervous system. Things start firing wrong.” Michael nodded. “Are you all right now?” “Yeah. For now. I should get my pills.” “Let’s go. I’ll walk you to your apartment.” Gale nodded and let Michael support him as they went out the door. He was aware of Keely’s attention, and it made him uncomfortable. She didn’t follow, though, and she didn’t ask any more questions, for which Gale was grateful. He felt weak, and still bore a sheen of cold sweat on his forehead. He blacked out on the way to his apartment -- not so much that he collapsed, but enough that he didn’t remember the short walk from Michael’s office. They had walked out the door, and the next thing he knew, Michael was lowering him to the couch in his living room. Gale wasn’t even sure how they’d gotten through the front door, as he was pretty sure he’d left it locked. “Are you okay?” Michael asked again. Gale rubbed his forehead, feeling the slick layer of sweat. “Yeah.” He drew a deep, careful breath. “I’ll be okay.” “I’ll stay with you until you’re sure.” Macho posturing demanded Gale protest, but he didn’t. He just nodded and leaned back into the couch while Michael went to get him a glass of water. “Thank you,” he said, taking the cold glass. He sipped the water slowly. The action steadied him, and it tasted good. Finally he set the glass on the table and closed his eyes. “You okay?” “You keep asking me that.” “Because I want to know.”

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Gale smiled. “I’m fine.” “Where’s your medication?” “In the bathroom. Drawer under the sink.” He wasn’t sure he needed it now, but it probably wouldn’t hurt. Michael went into the bathroom and returned with the pills. Gale took the bottle and shook out a pair. “Not that it’s any of my business,” Michael asked, “but what’s in them?” “Seratonins, mostly. Evens me back out.” He took the glass of water from Michael and swallowed the pills. “It was good of Keely to help me.” “Yes.” Michael sat next to him. “She’s good at what she does.” Gale nodded. He wondered how she’d even managed to summon such an aura of peace for him, given how agitated she obviously was. Thank God she’d been able to, though. He looked up. Michael was still bending over him, studying him intently. Gale smiled a little. “I’m okay. Really.” “You want me to stay for a while? Just in case?” The offer took Gale by surprise. He wasn’t sure why. “That’d be nice.” Michael touched Gale’s face, his fingers trailing down his cheek. This surprised Gale, as well, and he looked into Michael’s face, at the sincerity there, the concern. “It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to ask me for help.” Drawing his hand back, he smiled. “And you know that comfort fuck you were after the other day? It’s okay to ask for that, too.” Gale chuckled. The pills were kicking in; he felt loose and mellow. But he had a feeling he would have felt that way, anyway. “That’d be nice.” Leaning closer, Michael kissed him. “Any time.” To his own surprise, Gale met the kiss with hunger, deepening it, devouring Michael’s mouth. Slowly, gasping for breath, he drew back. “Now?” Michael cupped his face again. “Of course.” He stood, holding a hand down to Gale. “Let’s get you into bed first, see if you can rest.”

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“I don’t want to rest. I feel fine.” They moved toward the bedroom. Gale felt oddly disconnected, yet absorbed in the deep sensations of his own emotions. He wanted Michael, and for more than just comfort. He wanted from Michael things he’d never wanted from anyone before, and he knew Michael would answer his need without question. He’d never been trusted like this before. Not unconditionally, not once his talent had manifested. He sat on his bed and reached for Michael, pulling him down. Michael started to pull back, then moved into Gale’s embrace. Gale searched him out, found his mouth, kissed him. He could taste his own current in his mouth, wondered again what it felt like to Michael. Not painful, he had to assume, or he would have pulled back. Instead, Michael pushed closer, his tongue probing deep, exploring Gale’s mouth. Gale closed his eyes, taking in the tastes, the textures. “I want…” “What? What do you want?” “I haven’t… I want to know what it feels like…” Gale stopped. He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t ask. But Michael kissed him again and nodded, and Gale knew from the expression on his face that he understood. “You sure you’re okay?” “I’m sure.” The pills had kicked in. He was calm, relaxed, the panic gone. It felt artificial, but it was good. “This would be the best time, really.” Stroking his face, Michael looked at him in concern. “I won’t hurt you.” “I know.” His words seemed to blur a little, as if his mouth wasn’t moving quite right, not making the right shapes. He reached up to touch Michael, fingers trailing down his jaw, his neck. “I know.” Michael smoothed Gale’s shirt over his chest, then began to unbutton it. His fingers were warm and careful. Everything seemed to be happening too slowly, all Gale’s senses magnified by the drugs. His body seemed to sink heavily into the bed, even gravity amplified, drawing him down into the mattress.

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Michael’s fondling stopped, and he lifted his body over Gale’s, looking down into his face. “Are you too out of it for this?” he ventured. “No. I’m fine. Very relaxed. No memory impairment or reduction of inhibitions…” He trailed off. He sounded like he was quoting from the medicinal usage guide. “I want you, Michael. I trust you to show me this.” He smiled. “You trust me not to kill you?” Even that seemed outrageously funny. “Yeah, I do.” But Michael was frowning. “The drugs don’t affect your control?” “Not as far as I know.” The thought actually hadn’t occurred to him before. He felt all right, though. He started to sit up, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Maybe we shouldn’t.” Michael pressed him back down to the bed and kissed him. “It doesn’t seem any different from before. You taste the same.” “What do I taste like?” “Pennies.” “That’s gross.” “No, it really isn’t.” Michael dipped his head and kissed him again, slow and thorough, his tongue curling against Gale’s. He finished unbuttoning the shirt, helped Gale slide his arms out of the sleeves, then reached for his jeans buttons, unfastening them. Gale reached up, returning the favor. Michael’s skin was warm under his shirt, wiry hair springing against Gale’s hands as Gale stroked his chest, his belly. Gale worked his fly open, reached in to palm his cock. Michael was already hard, and Gale traced the length of his erection, remembering the shapes, the contours. It still seemed new to him, a unique and arousing experience, to acquaint his palm with another man’s cock. He pushed at Michael’s jeans with his other hand, then Michael moved in to assist, until they were both naked on the bed, Michael still kneeling over Gale. Michael slid his hand down the back of Gale’s thigh, stroking him, lifting his leg toward his chest. Gale lay back, relaxing -- as if he could relax any more than he already

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was, with the calming drugs in his system -- taking in the immediacy, the novelty, of Michael’s sure touch. His hand was big, and his fingers curled around Gale’s thigh, moved to the bend of his knee, back to the curve of his buttock. Leaning forward, he settled Gale’s calf against his shoulder and moved in, his cock prodding gently just behind Gale’s balls. “I’ve got a condom,” Michael said quietly. Gale couldn’t figure out when he would have put it on, but he could feel it as Michael’s cock butted against his skin. “All right.” Gale tensed a little, then relaxed again. Michael had promised not to hurt him, and Gale trusted him. He looked up to see Michael watching his face, still frowning a little. Michael rocked into him, prodding the head of his cock against Gale’s balls, stroking against him, stroking the length of his cock. Pre-come slid cool and slick down the length of Gale’s shaft. Warm and wanting already, Gale made himself wait. Closing his eyes, he spread his arms across the mattress while Michael caressed his belly, fondled the backs of his thighs, angled his hips more deeply between Gale’s legs. It was intimate contact, more than Gale was accustomed to, just that movement, the positioning, enough to light him on fire. Then Michael’s fingers touched him, behind his scrotum, moving down. They were cool and slick with lube, and Gale wondered when he’d acquired it. It didn’t matter. Steady, sure fingers traced a line back to his anus, circling the entrance. Gale tensed again, relaxed. Michael petted his stomach, stroking, soothing him. Slick fingers circled, the lube warming against his skin. It felt good, and Gale shifted, opening his legs, giving Michael better access. He hadn’t thought it would be this good, and when Michael slipped a finger inside him, he gasped and pushed down onto it. He wanted more suddenly, wanted whatever he could get. “Don’t rush it,” Michael said. Gale nodded, swallowing. He could barely think; he felt like he was floating on a deep, soft cloud of desire, like nothing existed of his body except that sensation, of Michael invading him, one finger, two, deeper, a little harder, until Gale began to pulse,

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wanting more, wanting it faster, fuller. Michael’s fingers curled up gently and sensation shot through Gale’s body, deep, stabbing need that rode the edge of pain. Gale cried out and reached for Michael’s shoulders, holding him, while Michael stroked inside him with the tips of his first two fingers, until desire flooded Gale’s body, and he wanted more than anything to feel Michael inside him… Michael drew back, his fingers sliding out, and Gale gasped with the loss, with the additional sensation, but almost immediately Michael’s cock butted up against him, and he pressed down onto it. Michael closed his hand around Gale’s calf, adjusting his leg, pushing back, opening him up, and slowly slid inside him. He wanted more, wanted it deep and hard, but the intensity of the sensation told him slow would be better, until he was more accustomed to it. A few more strokes -enough to let his body adjust -- Michael was already slowly deepening his thrusts, lifting Gale’s other leg over his shoulder as he repositioned for deeper penetration. “You okay?” Michael asked, looking down at him. Gale nodded. “You?” “It’s… interesting. Doesn’t hurt, though. Are you holding it back?” Gale shook his head. “Not as far as I know.” Michael nodded, his body moving as he thrust again in a long, slow stroke. “We should be okay, then.” He closed his eyes and slid back, then in again, deeper. “God… it’s like you’ve got a built-in vibrator inside your body…” Gale didn’t know what to make of that, but if Michael liked it, then he was in favor. Everything was unbelievably intense for him already -- he’d never been touched like this before, had never been this intimate with another human being, and it was overwhelming. His entire body seemed to be on fire, not just his cock, not just his ass, where Michael was like a deep brand inside him, and was thrusting harder now. There were sounds in the room, ragged and incomprehensible, and Gale realized they were coming from him. Michael’s hand moved between them, to circle Gale’s cock, and with the thrusting inside him, and the hand around his shaft, he felt himself heading for the deep, dark waters of orgasm.

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“Michael,” he whispered, to warn him if Michael wanted warning, because he wasn’t sure what his current would do when his body let go. But Michael just slid his thumb over the head of Gale’s cock, and Gale unwound suddenly, violently, climax spearing through him. Michael pushed hard into him at the same time, taking him deep, and Gale could feel Michael’s cock pulsing inside him. It was a perfect, suspended moment. Michael was silent, and Gale could hear his own fast, ragged heartbeat, his unsteady breath. Then Michael moved a little and let out a slow, measured exhalation. “Damn…” Gale opened his eyes. “What?” “That was… That was different.” Gale frowned in concern, resisting the urge to pull away, to curl back in on himself. “Did I hurt you?” “No… You’ve never done this before?” “No.” “Don’t do it again with anybody else. I want that to just be mine. God, that was incredible.” Smiling in relief, Gale cupped Michael’s face. “A little possessive there, aren’t you?” Michael shook his head. “I can’t believe nobody had the balls to discover you before this. You’re amazing.” He leaned down to kiss Gale briefly, then moved back, lowering Gale’s legs back to the bed, sliding out of him. He licked Gale’s stomach, then moved to lie next to him. “You want me to stay while we wait?” “Would you?” “Of course.” He nestled against Gale, holding him. They didn’t have to wait very long.

Chapter Seven Pandora seemed uneasy, Gale thought, as they waited in her small apartment for Keely. Gliding silently from room to room, Pandora seemed overly concerned with the placement of the books on the shelves, the alignment of the few framed photographs on the walls. Her quarters were very plain, but immaculate. The presence of the fourth person in the room probably contributed more to her unease than anything else. He was tall and dour, dressed in black suit pants and an immaculately tailored sky-blue dress shirt. His tie, folded into a perfect Windsor knot, was midnight blue with a brocade-like pattern. He had introduced himself as General Baldwin. Gale wondered why he was out of uniform. Baldwin looked at his watch. “What’s taking so long?” Pandora paused in the middle of the room, closed her eyes. After a moment, a small smile curved her lips. “She is coming.” “About time,” Baldwin grumbled. Pandora regarded him levelly. “Do you have somewhere else to be?” The look Baldwin gave her would have cowed nearly anyone, but Pandora only smiled placidly back at him. After a moment, Baldwin looked away. It seemed more like a victory to Gale than it probably should have. A few minutes later, Keely came in. Her head was down, and her carefully applied makeup couldn’t cover the tear streaks on her face. Baldwin gave her a narrow, measured look. “About time,” Baldwin snipped again, and came to his feet. “We need to get going.” “Not yet.” The softness of Pandora’s voice made it more rather than less emphatic.

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Baldwin glared at her. “There’s a plane --” “It can wait.” She gestured for Keely to take a seat, then looked levelly at Baldwin. “Please explain.” Obviously reluctant, not to mention resentful, Baldwin sat back down. “We have a lead regarding information on the death of an operative last year. We believe there may be a connection to the incident that occurred here yesterday.” Keely’s face went white, and she clenched her hands together in her lap. “John?” Michael asked, his voice quiet. “John Rice,” Baldwin confirmed. He glanced toward the kitchen, then at Pandora, a sour expression flitting over his face before it returned to military stoicism. “I must say, your choice of operatives in this case seems ill-considered.” “You will not question my choice of operatives,” Pandora stated flatly. Baldwin nodded, his lips thin. “You will meet up with a team in Great Britain. They’ll brief you further upon your arrival.” “That’s all?” Gale protested. “For now.” “It’s about par for the course,” Michael assured him. Gale wasn’t ready for this, he thought, and wondered if he was really the best choice for the job. “You will not question my choice of operatives,” Pandora said again, and Michael looked up to see her regarding him this time, her expression placid, but her eyes intense. He only nodded. “What the hell?” said Gale, and Michael touched his arm, silencing him. Baldwin swept a look over them all, his eyes narrow and derisive. “We need to leave. Our plane is waiting.” Michael looked at Pandora. She nodded curtly. “Go. Time moves quickly. This must be attended to.” She seemed more serious, more focused, even than usual. “Take care. All of you.”

***

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“Can’t you sit still? Jesus.” Michael glared at Gale, who kept moving back and forth, taking the inflight magazines out and putting them back, fiddling with the safety information card… Gale looked back over his shoulder, then turned to face front. “Sorry.”

Michael shrugged. “Yeah. Me, too.” He sighed. “I hate this shit.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“A couple of times. Doesn’t make it any more fun.”

“I’m here. That’ll make it fun.” Gale didn’t grin, making Michael think the joke

was more reflexive than a real effort to defuse the tension. “Yeah.” Michael leaned back in his seat and took a slow breath. He’d never been this wired on a mission before. But this was his first mission since John’s death -- it was the first mission since John’s death -- and that added a weight and a pain to the proceedings. He suddenly realized Gale was watching him. He looked at the other man, noting the concerned expression. “You all right?” Gale asked. Michael smiled. “No. I’m scared. Hold my hand.” Gale grinned, and held his hand.

Gale drifted off to sleep once the plane took off. It was an eight-hour flight to London, and he was tired from yesterday’s chemical rebound. Michael’s hand gently stroking his hair was the last thing he felt before succumbing to exhaustion. The sound of voices woke him. He opened his eyes and looked up, frowning. “Are we there?” “No.” The voice was Keely’s. He straightened in his seat and pushed a hand through his hair. He blinked a few times, clarity gradually returning to his eyes. “What is it? Is something wrong?” “I’m not sure.” Her voice shook a little.

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- 59 -

Michael joined the conversation, his voice quiet. Gale realized he’d already been talking to Keely, before Gale had awakened. “She’s sensed something.” Gale was alert now, looking at her with some concern. “What is it? Is it serious?” “It might be. I felt… it was anger. Rage. It hurt.” Her hands opened and closed, as if grasping for words. “Do you still sense it?” Michael asked, but Keely’s hand shot up, cutting him off before he could go any farther. “There’s someone on the plane…” Her eyes went wide. “Someone dangerous.” Gale reflexively looked out over the seats, and she grabbed his arm, redirecting his attention to her. Michael grabbed him at almost the same time, making Gale wonder what was more conspicuous -- his glancing or their grabbing. “Who is it?” Michael asked. “I don’t know.” He bent closer to her, whispering. “A hijacker?” “I don’t know. I can only sense the emotions, not the reasoning behind them.” She seemed both annoyed and distressed at the explanation. Gale sympathized; it was a burden always having to explain your talent. Keely took a slow breath. “It’d be handy if we had a telepath on this team.” “Yes,” said Michael. “But we don’t. So what do you think we should do?” “I’m not sure.” She scanned the rest of the plane, looking from face to face of all the passengers she could see, which wasn’t very many as far as Gale could tell. He wondered if she could sense anything from people outside her line of sight. “Anything?” Michael asked her. “Not really.” Giving Michael a slight frown, she added, “Where the hell did Baldwin go?” “No idea,” said Michael. Startled at the statement, Gale straightened and tried to look surreptitiously over the rest of the plane. Their big, immaculately suited chaperone was nowhere to be seen.

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Keely frowned. “I wonder --” Suddenly her eyes widened, and her attention jerked toward the cockpit. “Oh, my God…” Michael’s hand closed on her arm. “What is it?” “It’s Baldwin --” She stopped, gasping. She closed her eyes, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. One of the flight attendants, moving down the aisle to answer a summons, looked toward them with a frown. Keely blinked, tears gathering, as Michael’s hand shifted, moving over her back in an attempt to comfort her. “Shit --” “What?” Gale said. He was a bit lost, but knew enough to understand something untoward and probably very, very bad was going on. Keely stared toward the front of the plane. She said nothing; her mouth opened and closed, but she seemed to be struggling just to breathe. The door to the cockpit opened. Gale drew a sharp breath, panic flooding him. He tried to tamp it down, knowing Keely could feel it, and unwilling to interfere with whatever other use she was trying to make of her talent. She didn’t even look at him. Three men emerged from the cockpit, all dressed in dark, pinstriped suits. One carried a round object. He cocked his arm back and rolled it down the aisle of the airplane like a bowling ball. It came to a stop at Keely’s feet. It was Baldwin’s head.

Chapter Eight Gale stared at the open-mouthed expression of shock on Baldwin’s dead face, still not able to accept what he was seeing. But it was there. Baldwin’s head, lying in the aisle of the plane, gaping up at them. “What do you want?” Michael’s voice, and Gale was glad to hear it, glad to hear the steady, challenging note in it, the strength. Michael’s hand lifted, his fingers resting against the small of Gale’s back, protectively, affectionately. Gale took a slow breath, steadying himself. He forced himself to look straight ahead, down the aisle to the three suited men rather than down at the gaping, dead face at his feet. “We want you dead,” said the man who’d so nonchalantly pitched Baldwin’s head at them, “and we’re willing to put this whole plane into the ocean to do that.” A murmur ran through the plane, and Gale saw Keely close her eyes and shake her head. Gale could only imagine the hostility that must be being directed at them right now by the other passengers on the plane. Undoubtedly they’d be perfectly willing to turn the three of them over, to save their own lives. Gale would have, had he been in their position. He looked around at the flummoxed faces, women, small children… then at Michael. “Who are you?” Keely demanded of the hijackers. At the same moment Gale stood up and said firmly, “Take me, then.” The others looked at him, startled. Gale took a step forward. He had to do this. He was the most logical among them to take the lead. “Gale, no,” Michael whispered, his voice barely audible, and Gale scarcely felt the brush of the other man’s hand against his arm. “Let him go,” Keely murmured, and Gale continued to move.

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She was going to back him up. He knew it the minute she spoke -- probably had known it a moment before. The hijackers -- or whatever they were -- suddenly began to look at each other, uneasiness dominating their expressions. That would be Keely’s work, Gale was certain, and he moved forward with more confidence, squaring his shoulders, looking at his opponents with a mocking smirk. The man in front withdrew a knife from inside his jacket. Gale broke into a run, grabbed the man by the shoulders, and released his current. He’d never done anything like it before. Until this moment, his control had always been about exactly that -- control. Keeping the current manageable. Using it here and there, for small, exact tasks. Jumpstarting a car, providing current to an alarm, or a bank of lights. Preventing injury to himself or others. But this -- it was different. He had no desire to rein his talent in. If the man he touched died, well, too bad for him. Gale stared at him, at the shock on his rough-hewn face, and watched his eyes roll up as he lost consciousness. One of the other two men had withdrawn a knife, while the second brandished a bloody loop of piano wire he must have used to decapitate Baldwin. But both men just waved the weapons weakly, gaping in fear, likely either caused or enhanced by Keely’s abilities. Gale stared down at the man he’d attacked, looking for signs of life. The man twitched, but Gale couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. He looked up, facing his other opponents. “Next?” he said quietly, flexing his hands. His palms tingled, small rivulets of pain moving down to the tips of his fingers. The others stepped back, which was fortunate, Gale thought, because he wasn’t sure he could summon the power to take out another one of them. But Keely appeared to have taken over, sending the remaining hijackers into sudden convulsions of fear. “God… God… don’t kill us…” one of them began to babble. He sank suddenly to the floor, folding his hands behind his head, weeping hysterically. The sharp odor of urine struck the air. The other began to babble, as well, flattening himself against the bulkhead.

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Gale took a step back, suddenly dizzy, but not wanting to show any indication of weakness in front of the hijackers. And then, to his complete shock, he felt a hand on his elbow. He turned to see Michael looking at him, one hand clasped firmly on his arm. “It’s under control now,” Michael said in a soft voice. “Let us take care of the rest.” Gale stared at him, not comprehending. Michael was touching him. Michael was holding his arm. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, feeling a huge lump rise in his throat. His eyes went hot. He nodded, and stepped back. Michael let him go then, looking at him with a mixture of concern and confusion. Gale moved back toward his seat, barely aware of the passengers staring at him, flinching back away from him if it appeared he might be about to brush against them. He went back to his place and sat down. Another passenger was helping Michael tie up the hijackers, using the men’s own neckties to firmly secure them. Keely came down the aisle to stand next to Gale. “Are you all right?” she asked. He nodded mutely. Her continued regard made him uncomfortable; he turned away to look under the seat for his carry-on. Finding the pills inside, he took two of them dry and replaced the bottle. When he looked back up, Keely had returned to her own seat and was sitting with her hands folded in her lap, eyes closed, as if meditating. Maybe she suffered after-effects, too. It occurred to him he should go help Michael, and he started to get up, but his hands started to shake, so he sat back down. He felt numb. What had he done? Had he killed that man? Looking up toward the front of the plane, he could see the supine body, but he still couldn’t tell if the man was breathing. But Michael pulled the man’s tie off and began to bind his wrists behind his back -- surely he wouldn’t bother if the man were dead. Gale clenched his fists, willing his hands to stop trembling, but they wouldn’t. He could feel eyes watching him, the other passengers showing far too much interest in his current state. The previous, stunned silence had broken apart into nervous chatter.

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He heard a few people speculating over whether they still had a pilot. It was a reasonable question, Gale thought. He closed his eyes tightly as his teeth began to chatter. He must have drifted off, or passed out for a few seconds, because suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, and he heard Michael’s voice softly calling his name. “Don’t touch me,” Gale murmured, shrugging weakly away. “You’ll get hurt --” “No, I won’t. You’re fine.” Gale forced his eyes open and looked into Michael’s face. Michael looked concerned. His hand tightened on Gale’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” “Let a lot go,” Gale managed through shuddering teeth. “I --” He stopped. Michael cupped his face, then pulled him into an embrace. His lips pressed against Gale’s cheek. Gale flinched, certain Michael would be hurt, but Michael only whispered into his ear, “You’re okay. We’re all okay. Just relax.” Unable to hold it back any longer, Gale began to cry.

Michael held Gale against him. He couldn’t really do anything else. At the front of the plane, Keely had gone to speak to the pilot, who had emerged, still woozy, after the hijackers had been subdued. From what he overheard of their conversation, Michael gathered he’d been knocked unconscious and left in the cockpit. After a time, Gale grew quieter in his arms; he felt like he’d drifted off to sleep. Finally, shaking her head, Keely came back toward them. She slid into the empty seat next to Michael. “There’ll be a situation when we land. The pilot and co-pilot contacted the ‘proper authorities’.” Michael sighed. “Shit.”

“Exactly.”

He looked around, as if someone might be spying on them, then leaned close to

her, speaking in a low voice. “Will they know us on sight?”

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“Probably not. But they’ll ask questions. Like what exactly happened, and who subdued the hijackers and how.” She shook her head, more exasperated than she should have been. “It’s not going to be pretty, and I don’t know how to fix it.” Frowning, Michael mulled the situation. “There has to be something. I’ll give it some thought. How long until we land?” “About another two hours, I think.” Suddenly her face went gray, and she grabbed the back of the seat. She let out a slow, gasping breath, closed her eyes. “Are you all right?” Michael bent toward her, reaching for her, unsure what to do. “No,” she managed. “I need to sit down for a bit.” She nodded toward the seat behind him. “Gale’s waking up. You’d better see to him.” She made her way back to her seat. Michael started to follow her, to help, but stopped at the sound of Gale’s sudden, sobbing breath. He turned to see the other man reaching for him, desperation on his face and tears again in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but the only thing that came out was an inarticulate sob. Michael held him, letting him fall apart, but there wasn’t any sign he was going to get back together. He just kept shaking, sobbing, groping at Michael’s shoulders. He was drawing the attention of the other passengers, and Michael didn’t know what to do for him. “Your pills. Where are they?” He said it too loudly, hoping those who were taking far too much interest in what was going on would hear and back off. Gale’s head went back, his face contorted, wet with tears. “Bag --” he gasped. Still holding him as best he could, Michael dug for the carry-on bag under Gale’s seat and fished for the pills. He read the instructions on the label and shook out two pills. They’d attracted the attention of a flight attendant by now, and, seeing what was going on, she went to fetch a cup of water. Michael took it, thanking her, and helped Gale swallow the pills. “Finish the water,” he coaxed. “You’ll be okay.”

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Gale nodded and made an incoherent sound. His hands were shaking too much to hold the cup, so Michael held it for him while he drank the rest of the water. “What else can I do?” he whispered. “What else will help?” “Hold me…” Michael could barely make out the words through the shivering in Gale’s voice, but he drew the younger man against him, cradling him. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m here.” Gradually, Gale quieted. Michael continued to hold him, feeling the soft spark of current through his clothes. It was vague, a feeling much like circulation returning to a limb, but softer, and it gradually faded to nothing. He stroked Gale’s face, Gale’s head lolling back. His skin was clammy, his eyes glazed. “You don’t look so good,” Michael commented. Gale smiled a little and focused vaguely on Michael’s face. “That’s funny, because I feel like shit…” Michael chuckled. “You’ll be okay.” “Yeah…” He closed his eyes. “I need… I need help.” “What do you need?” “Bathroom.” He blushed a little. “Don’t be embarrassed. Let’s just go and get you taken care of.” Michael helped him to his feet, steadying him, and guided him out to the main aisle. The other passengers seemed less interested now that Gale was more composed. Morbid sons of bitches, Michael thought. All of the bathrooms were occupied, so they stood in the small alcove, waiting. Michael kept his arm around Gale, but Gale seemed to be gradually regaining his balance, so Michael backed off a little. He wasn’t sure Gale even noticed; the younger man seemed focused on calming himself, gathering his control. Gently, a little daring, Michael stroked his shoulders. Finally one of the small stalls cleared out, and Gale went in. Michael stood outside the door. “Leave it unlocked,” he told Gale, “just in case.”

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Gale nodded and went in, leaving the door unlocked behind him. Michael stood in front of it, blocking it from other passengers who might wander by. A flight attendant moved past him, toward the back of the plane, to prepare the drink carts. Michael shook his head a little, surprised they were going ahead with the in-flight beverages after what had happened. Her tremulous smile as she passed made him think perhaps she shared the sentiment. But maybe it would be better for everyone, particularly the passengers, if they returned to a semi-normal routine for the rest of the flight. She began to prepare the plastic cups and cans of soda, her hands visibly trembling. “Are you all right?” Michael ventured. “Not really. I -- I’ve never had anything like that happen on a flight before.” “Probably none of us has.” “You were one of the ones… You were one of the ones who stopped them?” “I didn’t do much. It was mostly my friends.” The flight attendant nodded. “You saved our lives.” At a loss what to say to that, Michael only nodded. The flight attendant smiled weakly again. “The stall behind you -- it’s unoccupied, if you’re waiting.” “No. My friend’s in there. He’s not feeling well. I had him leave the door open in case he needed help.” “Oh.” A little of what Michael knew had to be her usual sparkle returned to her eyes. “This isn’t one of those Mile High Club things, is it?” Chuckling, Michael shook his head. “No, it really, really isn’t. He’s sick.” “That’s too bad,” she said, sobering. “I hope he feels better soon.” “Me, too.” She went back to arranging the beverage cart, her hands a bit steadier now. Michael leaned against the bathroom door, waiting. After a few minutes he heard Gale’s voice, weak, calling his name.

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With as much discretion as possible, Michael eased the bathroom door open. Gale sat on the toilet, fully clothed, his face pale. Concerned, Michael slid into the stall, closing the door behind him. “What’s up?” “It’s okay,” Gale said quietly. “I’m done. I just wanted to rest a minute and I didn’t want you to think I’d flushed myself out of the plane or something.” Smiling, Michael settled back against the bathroom door. “Do you need me, then?” Something shifted in the room, strangely, and Gale looked up at Michael with deep, dark, sincere eyes. “Always.” Michael sobered. He reached out to cup Gale’s face in his hand, letting his fingers trail down his cheekbone. Then let his hand fall back, saying nothing. His eyes moist, Gale blinked. The show of emotion made Michael uneasy, but not as much as it might have with someone else. He knew Gale was still struggling with the aftereffects of his talent, waiting for the drugs to settle him down, and that took some of the edge off his reaction, but the rest was just that he didn’t feel out of place here, witnessing Gale’s attempt to hold back tears. “You held me,” Gale murmured. “I asked you to hold me and you did.” “Of course.” Gale looked away, closed his eyes, visibly dragging himself back under control. “Nobody does that.” He hesitated, and Michael heard him swallow, saw the taut clench of his jaw, before he relaxed again and turned back to face Michael. “Last time I went home… my mother wouldn’t even hug me.” Michael brushed his fingers over Gale’s forehead, caressed his temple. “It shouldn’t surprise you. I’ve been inside you. Why wouldn’t I hold you?” Gale just shook his head, wordless. Reaching up, he clasped Michael’s hand. “They fucked you up good, didn’t they?” Keeping him away from the people and the places where he could have learned control before it had hurt anyone else,

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making him even more isolated than he had to be by nature. It angered Michael that Gale had lost so much of himself because of stupidity, prejudice, pride. “Guess they did.” He took a long breath. “We should get back out. The flight attendants probably think we’re fucking in here.” “Would if I could,” said Michael, and pushed away from the wall. He offered Gale his hand, and he took it, let Michael help him to his feet. For a moment, the younger man was still, regarding him, sober. “Just so you know,” Gale said finally, “I think I might be in love with you.” Michael stared at him. His hand tightened reflexively on Gale’s, then, slowly, he let go. “Well,” he managed. “Thanks for the warning.”

Chapter Nine The tarmac was swarming with police and government officials when they arrived in London. Michael looked out the window and sighed. “You were right,” he said to Keely. “Way too many of the wrong sort of people.” Keely was watching, her chin propped on her fist, brows knit together. “This is what they wanted. This is why they did it.” “They hijacked the plane to get the cops to the airstrip?” “No. They wanted to expose us. Force our hand. They’re feeling us out -- they want to know what resources we have, what they’re up against.” “And they killed Baldwin for that?” She looked at him, her eyes dark and shuttered. “They would have killed every passenger on this plane for that.” “A hundred people. Just for that.” He shook his head. It seemed ludicrous, but people had killed other people en masse for lesser reasons. “I think so, yes.” Her voice had gone small, and she leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes. Michael studied her. She looked tired, a little gray under the eyes, her mouth tight. “Have you read something from one of them?” Her gaze shot to him, flashing. “No. I’m not a telepath.” Then, with a sigh, she relaxed from the automatic response. “I don’t know. I can’t read that way -- not exact thoughts. But I get impressions, layers of emotion that fit together like bits of a puzzle, and sometimes I get a feeling of what’s beneath them, what brought them to life.” Leaning forward, she looked directly into his face, her voice still quiet, but emphatic. “They want us dead. All of us.”

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“Why?” There were any number of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that they were aberrant in the first place. “I don’t know. But I think it’s deep. Complicated. Not just -- let’s kill them all, all those aberrant bastards --” She broke off. When she resumed, her voice was hesitant. “There’s something building. Something big. This is just the beginning of it. I can sense that much, and I could ‘hear’ their feelings about it -- that it’s important to them beyond reason.” Her hand rose to her forehead. “They’re fanatics. That’s the worst kind of opponent.” “Pandora’s a ’path,” Michael said. “Could she help us from this distance?” Keely eyed him sharply, as if she hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe. I don’t know.” “You could call.” She withdrew her small cell phone. Looking warily around, she scootched down in her seat and leaned toward the window to make the call. Michael looked around, too. In these circumstances, it didn’t hurt to be paranoid. Apparently, Pandora answered, because Keely began to speak, in tones so quiet Michael couldn’t make out the words. She nodded a few times, shook her head once, and finally hung up the phone. “She’ll do what she can.” “That’s something, then.” “Yeah.” Keely sighed. “We have to figure out what to do here and now, to keep ourselves from being outed.” “It might have to be just you and me,” Michael said, glancing toward Gale. Even asleep, Gale still looked ill. Nodding, Keely frowned. “That’s okay. I think we can do it. Actually, I could do it on my own, but this is starting to wear on me, so whatever help I can get, I won’t turn down.” “Fair enough.” He looked out the window. The agents were gathering around the plane, waiting for passengers to disembark. “Okay,” said Keely. “This is what we do…”

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- 72 -

***

The swarm of law enforcement at the airport was impressive. Uniformed and plain-clothes officers of various varieties covered the tarmac. Keely let her senses spread over them, taking in the emotion. Apprehension, readiness -- anger. The last one worried her, because she got the sense it was directed at more than one target. Some of it was intense, as well, and she couldn’t help wondering if it were directed at the hijackers, or at her and her companions. She’d gotten a sense of depth and width from the hijackers, the feeling that their conspiracy was wide-spread. The sensation still lay weighty in the pit of her stomach, and made her want to not trust anyone. She had to put that aside for now, though, and concentrate on dealing with them as a group, to facilitate their escape. Finding the overall drift of emotion, deciding how best to tweak it. Fear was always powerful, but tricky to deal with because it could get out of control so easily. It had worked with the hijackers because there had only been three of them; with many people it could be disastrous. Mass panic never turned out well. Uncertainty, confusion -- in a crowd of people these were always present, and this crowd was no different. These emotions were often the safest to manipulate, if the manipulator eased off before they mutated into fear. She stared out at the crowd, considering. A bit here, a bit there… they would be off-guard, confused, maneuverable. She and Gale and Michael would be able to slip by unnoticed if she managed things correctly. “Okay,” she said to Michael. “I think I’m ready.” “Are you sure? Not too tired from before?” “Actually, I am, but I think I can handle it.” “We could try something else,” Michael offered. “Like what?” “I could do a wide-range sonic blast, at low levels. It would be likely to freak a lot of people out, but it wouldn’t hurt anyone. Then you’d have an easier time dispersing or distracting the rest of them.”

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Keely considered. “Not a bad idea.” Michael nodded. “All right. I’ll keep it in mind, in case we need it.” By the time the flight attendants began to usher them off the plane, all was ready. Still tied up and unconscious, the hijackers were ready for apprehension by the authorities. Keely had been moving slowly from one mind to the next within the plane, stirring up uncertainty about what exactly had transpired. By the time the authorities got around to questioning them, the passengers would be so muddled about what had happened and who had been involved that there would be no way to connect the three of them to the hijackers’ capture. The passengers were taken off the plane one at a time and thoroughly patted down. Keely and the others stood quietly, waiting for their turn. She didn’t like the idea of being subjected to such intense scrutiny. It would make them all too easy to remember. “Distraction?” she murmured, quietly enough that only the three of them could hear, and Gale promptly fainted. It startled her, mostly because he was so damn pale she’d actually been expecting it, and wasn’t sure whether he’d passed out or was faking it to supply the requested distraction. If he was acting, he was damn good at it. Michael caught him on his way down and eased him to the floor, calling out, “Doctor? Is there a doctor?” Passengers stepped back, mumbling growing. Keely caught the edges of conversation -- more than one person had come to the conclusion that the hijackers had released a biological weapon on the plane. She shifted her manipulation, quieting those fears. That kind of panic was something they really didn’t need right now. Two women, one with First Aid supplies and the other with a large gun, made their way through the crowd to them. Michael lifted a hand to help direct them. The woman with the gun eased back a bit as they approached, apparently not feeling as threatened once she’d seen Gale’s condition. The paramedic went to her knees next to him, opening her kit.

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“What happened?” “He hasn’t been feeling well all through the flight,” Michael said. “He passed out.” The paramedic nodded. “Let’s get you away from this crowd so he can breathe.” She spoke on a walkie-talkie, and a few minutes later another paramedic arrived with a stretcher. The guard remained close to them as the two medics carried Gale on the stretcher away from the crowd. He still appeared to be unconscious, and Keely’s careful scanning didn’t reveal any emotion coming from him. She was having no trouble exhibiting concern for his well-being. Michael looked grim, as well. Away from the others, Gale finally began to stir again, but weakly, and he still felt muddled to Keely. She had to turn her attention away from him, though, to focus on her manipulation of the crowd. It was a delicate balancing act, building them carefully toward a disruption that would make it possible for them to escape, but not be so severe as to cause mass panic, which she was afraid would lead to unnecessary injuries or death. “Gale?” Michael said, leaning over the younger man. His emotion was obvious, and it surprised Keely. She’d known Michael a long time, and she’d never sensed anything as deep from him before. He’d completely fallen for Gale. She wondered if he’d figured that out yet. Gale’s head turned and bleary eyes barely focused on Michael. He hadn’t been faking, Keely decided, and it occurred to her that they needed to figure out some way for him to use his talent without being this debilitated, or he wasn’t going to be much use to them in the long run. She watched as the medic checked him over. Finally, the woman straightened. “I’m going to have you folks head over toward the edge of the secured area. You’re all clean -- no weapons. He’s all right. I’d like to have him checked over in a hospital, but let’s give it some time -- make sure nobody else is more seriously injured before we make that decision.” Keely tensed, afraid Michael might protest, but he nodded. “I’ll see to him.”

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The medic nodded. “I need to move on, since he’s not serious, but I’ll have to leave her here.” She indicated the soldier. “No offense.” “None taken,” Michael chimed in. Nodding, the medic left them alone with the single guard. They were a few yards from the rest of the group, which had been carefully corralled. “If we’re going to do something, we should get it done soon,” Michael murmured. “I don’t want to get stuck in the general cattle call.” He drew Gale against him protectively. “We don’t want him ending up at the hospital, either,” Keely concurred. Michael had to agree. Gale needed rest, not to be tossed into a standard hospital where he’d likely short out every piece of equipment they might attach to him. But right now, short of causing complete chaos, he didn’t see much hope for escape. “I can put fear on them,” Keely said, “or you could do that low-level sonic blast. Either way, it’ll make things crazy.” Michael shook his head. “Either of those is likely to get people hurt. They’re scared enough as it is, and I don’t want to risk mass hysteria, people getting trampled…” “Yeah.” Keely made a face. “Any ideas, Gale?” “Short of passing out again, I got nothing.” “Then what --” Michael began, but Keely broke in. “Wait.” She straightened, looking toward the plane. A suited man, who appeared to be in charge of the precautionary measures being taken with the passengers, was standing in a semi-belligerent pose, arms crossed over his chest, facing a taller, similarly-dressed man with a crew cut. “The cavalry’s here.” Gale struggled to sit up and look, as well. “Who is that?” “That’s Clint Maxwell,” Michael said, relieved to see the severe but familiar face. “He runs the aberrant school here. Total hardass.” As they spoke, Maxwell looked in their direction and waved curtly.

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“Let’s go,” said Keely. She came to her feet while Michael assisted Gale. “I’m okay,” Gale said. “You can let go of me.” “Don’t want to,” Michael told him. He kissed his shoulder and took his hand, holding it as they crossed the tarmac to join Maxwell. Maxwell nodded at them, his expression remaining focused and sober. “Michael, Keely… you must be Gale?” His voice boomed, decorated with a crisp British accent. “Orders from Pandora. You come with me.” “Sir,” the other man broke in, sounding harried. “As I’ve explained already, Pandora’s authority does not extend --” Maxwell lifted a thick finger. “Mine does. Your superior has been notified. These people come with me.” “Sir --” Maxwell pointed at the cell phone on the other man’s belt, and it began to ring. The man jumped, then answered it. Keely covered her mouth, hiding a smile. Gale looked at Michael questioningly. “Limited ’path,” Michael said by way of explanation. Gale nodded. The man spoke on the phone for a few minutes, his tone becoming steadily more agitated, then finally resigned. He turned off the phone. “Fine, Mr. Maxwell. These three people are remanded into your custody. But this man needs medical attention, and I strongly recommend --” “I’m fine,” said Gale. “I’ll go with them.” “Good,” said Maxwell. “Then we’re set to go. I'll have somebody take care of the luggage.” He headed out of the cordoned-off area. Michael put an arm around Gale’s shoulders and followed.

Chapter Ten “That was bloody cocked up,” Maxwell said once they were on the road. He’d ushered them to a limo with privacy windows, and had torn out of the parking area, laying rubber behind him. “Are you folks all right?” “We’re fine,” said Keely. “Gale’s a bit the worse for wear, but otherwise --” “I’m fine,” Gale put in. Maxwell regarded him in a rear-view mirror. “Looks to me as if you could stand a bit of rest.” “Won’t argue that,” Gale conceded. “Well, I have to say, I’ve never gotten a direct ’path signal from Pandora before. Not here, in any case. Wasn’t aware she could transmit that far.” “It was a calculated risk,” said Keely. “Well, it worked. Bloody brilliant.” He took a sharp turn onto a side road, sending Michael careening into Keely. “So what happened?” Much to Michael’s relief, Keely took on the chore of explaining. He focused on Gale, as the younger man relaxed into the seat, eyes closed, his hand going limp in Michael’s. Michael’s thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hand as he listened to Keely talk. By the time she finished, they were pulling up the long, shaded driveway to the UK School for Aberrants. Like its US counterpart, it sat in the middle of a small, aberrant-exclusive community, this one bearing the quaint name of Skara Brae. Michael had been here a few times, but never for an extended period, and always under less than ideal circumstances. Apparently that trend was destined to continue. “I don’t like the sound of any of that,” Maxwell said when she’d finished.

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Michael had to agree. Conspiracy-minded hijackers were never good. And he had the feeling Keely was holding back. He’d have to discuss that with her later, when they were alone. “Things are off-kilter here, too,” Maxwell went on. “Carter’s been getting ’path transmissions from Pandora almost non-stop since yesterday. About the time you folks left for the UK, in fact. Hasn’t ever happened before -- like I said, none of us even knew she could do it. He’s got Skara Brae on high alert. Nobody really knows what’s going on.” “Neither do we,” said Michael. “No idea why we were pulled away after the incident at the school, except Pandora said there might be a connection to John’s death, and she chose us to go.” Maxwell glanced at Keely in the rear-view mirror. “That was a nasty business. If there is a connection, I hope it’s all settled.” “Thank you,” said Keely, her voice a little tight. Maxwell nodded and parked the car.

*** Much to Gale’s chagrin, Michael escorted him straight to the school’s medical wing. “I’m all right,” he insisted. It wasn’t as much of an exaggeration as it would have been a few hours before; he actually was feeling considerably better. “I just want to be sure.” Michael’s hand on the small of his back made his concern more endearing than annoying, and Gale capitulated. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing you haven’t given your talent this kind of a workout for a very long time, if ever.” Gale considered. “You’d be right about that. Certainly not on purpose.” That aspect of the situation hadn’t occurred to him. He’d spent his whole life trying to control his talent. He’d never actually tried to use it. Certainly not to the extent he had today. A shiver passed through him, perhaps the result of the drugs, perhaps stemming from his own thoughts. “The guy on the plane,” he muttered. “Did I kill him?”

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Michael’s look gave him the answer. There was no condemnation in it, only understanding and deep sympathy. “He was still breathing, but honestly I don’t think he’s ever going to wake up.” Gale nodded, fighting back the memory of the girl in high school, the terror in her eyes and then the complete blankness. He’d visited her in the hospital a few weeks later, and she had been utterly still, a frail, wan shadow of what she had been, kept alive only by the myriad of machines beeping at her bedside. “Don’t,” said Michael gently. “You saved everyone on that plane.” “Yeah.” The agreement came grudgingly. He gave Michael a careful look as they took a seat in the waiting room. “Have you ever killed anyone?” “Yes, I have.” Darkness flickered over his face. “It happens, unfortunately. But it was life and death, and the only thing I regret is that it wasn’t instantaneous.” Gale mulled that. “Sonic blasts, huh?” “Yes. Concentrated to burst internal organs. It’s not pretty.” “It must take a huge amount of control.” “It does. And I don’t end up flat on my ass for hours after. Which is why you’re here. There has to be a way for you to use your powers without wiping yourself out. I intend to be sure you find it.” Gale nodded. He felt suddenly warm and wanted. Taken care of, looked out for in a way he’d never felt before. Still -“Michael.” He spoke quietly, aware of the young woman behind the receptionist’s counter. She had oddly pale blue eyes -- he wondered if the strange coloration was connected to her talent, whatever that might be. “What I said on the plane -- I didn’t mean to push.” Michael smiled, his eyes soft. “It’s okay. I feel the same way.” Relief moved through him in a soft wave. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Michael put an arm around him and pulled him close.

***

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The doctor pronounced him fit but on the edge of exhaustion, and asked him to send information on his current prescriptions. Gale couldn’t see the harm in it; if this doctor could come up with a better way to mitigate his symptoms, Gale was in favor. Maxwell met them back in the lobby of the guest dormitories. “You all right, then?” he asked Gale. “I’ll live,” Gale said wryly. “Good to hear it. Now, Dr. Preston, you’re in room 1208. Mr. Harrison is in room --” Michael grabbed the key Maxwell held out. “He’s in room 1208, too.” Maxwell’s mouth clicked shut. “If you’ve had his luggage taken elsewhere, get it moved.” “I need to check this --” Maxwell started. “No, you don’t,” said Michael. “Just do it.” He steered Gale toward the elevator, leaving Maxwell speechless behind them. “That was really hot,” Gale said. The elevator doors slid shut, and Michael put an arm around his shoulders, drawing him against him, chest to chest. He kissed Gale’s forehead. “From here on out, I take care of you. Do you have a problem with that?” “No. I really don’t.” “Good.” He took in the room, his luggage sitting neatly by the door. “I’m sure they’ll have your things sent up shortly. In the meantime -- shower?” “Sounds lovely.” “Good.” It felt so nice to let someone take care of him. Not to worry about anything, but just to let Michael guide him. He found himself led into the bathroom, where Michael started the water for a shower, letting it warm up while he began to unfasten Gale’s shirt buttons. Suddenly drained and tired, he closed his eyes. Michael’s hands were deft and gentle on his shirt, then on his skin as he pushed the shirt back, exposing Gale’s skin to the air, which was quickly filling with hot steam from the shower.

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The shower. “Water,” Gale said with an abrupt jerk back to reality. “Water and me -- not a good combination.” “It’ll be okay,” Michael told him with easy certainty. Gale took a slow breath. “I just found you. I don’t really want to kill you yet.” Michael chuckled, his fingers teasing open the buttons on Gale’s fly. “Yet?” “Give it a few months.” “Not very optimistic of you.” His hand slid past the open fly, his fingers tracing along Gale’s erection. “It’ll be a passing thing, followed by crazy monkey-like make-up sex.” He laughed, the sound gasping out of him, full of surprise, relief and desire. He’d never felt quite like this before. “You okay?” Deft hands pushed Gale’s jeans down past his hips. They fell to his ankles; he toed off his shoes and stepped out of them. “Yeah. Just… it’s still…” “Overwhelming?” “Yeah. And it scares me.” Michael held Gale’s arm as he removed his jeans, then pulled Gale against him. Gale drew another sharp breath, resisting the movement for a split second, then giving in. Michael’s hands slid down his back, across his belly, taking in his skin. “You feel good,” he said quietly, then laid a hand flat against his solar plexus. “You’re quiet inside.” The comment surprised Gale. “Yes. I’ve never used that much power before all at once.” “Maybe it needs to recharge?” “I don’t know.” He let himself settle into Michael’s embrace with a satisfied sigh. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that it’s gone forever?” Michael’s lips brushed Gale’s, then moved softly over his face. “Would you want that?” Gale shrugged. “It’d make things a lot easier.”

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“Yes.” Michael took a step back. Fear stabbed through Gale -- fear that Michael was rejecting him. But Michael only began to unbutton his shirt, his expression contemplative. “I suppose it would, at that.” He slid the shirt off his shoulders. Without thinking, Gale reached for him, touching the soft, springy hair on his chest. Michael’s hand came up to cover his. Gale looked down, at their hands joined there together against Michael’s body. “I’ve spent my whole life hating what I was. Hiding it. Fighting it. Controlling it. I never imagined I could… accept it.” “That’s really what this was always about.” Michael’s hands stroked Gale’s body, then he moved to unfasten his trousers. Around them, the small bathroom had filled with steam. Gale reached out to take over from Michael, unfastening his trousers, letting them fall to the floor. “It wasn’t supposed to be about controlling aberrants, or keeping them away from ‘normal’ society. It was supposed to be about making life bearable. More than bearable -- rewarding. Happy. Dare I say normal. Then other influences came in and… things didn’t come out quite that way.” “It was a good goal.” “Yes. And I don’t think it’s impossible.” He cupped Gale’s cheek. “Not for you. Not for us.” He kissed Gale carefully, then steered him toward the shower. They stepped in together. Gale moved to stand under the warm cascade of water, remembering again the girl in the swimming pool, the blankness in her eyes. This was different. He knew it was -- he could feel it. The current was dormant, discharged for the moment. It would be back, though; he knew that as certainly as he knew his heart would continue to beat. With gentle hands, Michael bathed him. The water cascaded soft and warm over their increasingly entwined bodies.

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Gale had never felt like this before Michael. Cared for, looked out for. Loved. Even his mother had become strange and aloof after his talent had manifested, afraid to touch him, afraid to express any kind of affection. Not that he blamed her. But Michael’s hands explored and accepted him, worshipped him. Soft, sleek caresses with the washcloth, then bare hands sliding over skin on a layer of soap and suds. Then Michael went to his knees and took Gale’s cock in his mouth. Gale let out a low, satisfied moan. It felt so good, the deep, wet heat, Michael’s tongue circling the head of his cock. He combed his fingers into Michael’s hair, tilting his head a bit, not even thinking about what he was doing, or if it might not be appropriate. His action was rewarded by a satisfied hum from Michael. The sound vibrated down Gale’s cock, making his body shiver and tighten with need and arousal. The warm water pouring down over them made it all almost more than Gale could bear. He grasped Michael’s head, holding him steady, letting the head of his cock settle against the back of Michael’s throat. Michael hummed, then swallowed, and Gale gave a startled gasp. “Don’t --” he started, only realizing what he was about to say as the words began to leave his mouth. Slowly, Michael drew back, letting Gale’s erection slip from his mouth. He peered up through the falling water. “What is it?” “Don’t… I’m not ready. I don’t want to come yet.” Michael nodded. “Fair enough.” Slowly, he came to his feet and pulled Gale against him for another kiss. “We should get out before the water gets cold.” He reached behind Gale to turn the shower off. Stepping out of the shower, Gale started to grab a towel, but Michael beat him to it, picking up a folded towel from the shelf and wrapping it around Gale’s bare shoulders like a shawl.

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“Thanks.” Gale felt unaccountably self-conscious, befuddled in a way by Michael’s care. Michael dropped another kiss on his shoulder. “Still doing okay?” “Yeah.” He closed his eyes. “Take me to bed?” Michael chuckled. “Of course.” He took a few seconds to dry himself, then Gale, before heading them both toward the bedroom. The room smelled crisp, clean, like a hotel room. Michael turned the sheets back and sat, unselfconsciously naked. Still wrapped in his towel, Gale sat beside him. Michael’s hands went to him again, pushing the towel aside to stroke his bare back. “The drugs,” he said quietly. “You don’t seem as… out of it… as before.” “Yeah. It’s mostly out of my system now.” “Good.” He played with Gale’s hair. “Didn’t really feel right last time, with you so doped up.” Gale shook his head. “It was fine. It was more than fine.” Michael leaned over to kiss him, and Gale melted. It felt so good to have Michael’s mouth on his, soft and teasing, his tongue hot against Gale’s lips. He let Michael push him back into the bed, let him take control. It seemed easier this time, even without the influence of the drugs. Long fingers trailed down his belly, finally touching the root of his cock. “Did they put lube in the room?” Gale managed. He could barely breathe past the need building inside him. “Nightstand, maybe? Next to the Bible?” Michael chuckled. “No. I have some in my bag, though.” He reached for the carry-on bag he’d dropped next to the bed and fished out a tube. “It’ll be cold.” “Don’t care.” He reached up to pull Michael back to him, missing his heat already, missing the weight of his body and the feel of his skin. Gently, Michael traced fingers again down his belly, stroked the length of his cock. His other hand rose and he circled the head of Gale’s cock with a lightly lubed

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fingertip. Gale felt his cock twitch in response, his body going weak with need. Michael’s finger moved back, down the back of his erection, to rim him with the lube. Gale felt tingly again. Not with arousal, but with his current. It was faint, though, not up to its usual levels. He pushed down onto Michael’s questing finger, trusting Michael to withdraw if there was a problem. Michael didn’t withdraw. He pushed his finger in more deeply, sliding on the thin layer of lube. The burn went deep, dragging Gale down with it. It hadn’t been this intense last time, this real. He panicked a moment, clenching, and pain lanced through him. Michael stopped. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “Breathe.” “I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes, making himself relax, remembering the languid liquidity of their last encounter, the deep, deep eddies of pleasure that had drawn him down. His body slowly acquiesced, melting into the mattress. Michael pushed forward again, bringing his finger in all the way. “God…” Gale breathed. “You okay?” “Yeah. Don’t stop.” Michael thrust gently, adding more lube. Tucking his legs back, Gale lifted his hips, giving Michael better access, pulsing back on his hand as he carefully added a second finger. He thrust. Gale thrust back. Gradually faster, deeper, until Gale lay gasping, overwhelmed by the intensity. Michael’s voice came again, soft, nearly breaking his rising reverie, but not quite. “Tell me when you’re ready.” “Any time,” Gale managed. “More lube?” “Never hurts.” Michael’s fingers slipped back, leaving Gale’s body hungry and burning. More cool, wet lube slicked across him, then Michael lifted Gale’s legs and pressed his cock

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against him, gently, then more firmly, slowly sliding in. Gale grabbed his shoulders and pushed. “Shit --” Michael let out a breathy curse as he sank suddenly hard and fast inside. Gale wrapped his legs around him and pulled his head down to kiss him, biting his lip. “Just fuck me,” he murmured. “Please.” Meeting his gaze, Michael held it for a moment, searching his eyes. Then he lifted his hand to cup Gale’s face, and fucked him. Hard. Gale gasped, moaned, the intense, burning beauty of it so much he couldn’t form words. Michael stroked him gently, his face, his chest, fingers plucking his nipples. The gentle touching, teasing contact contrasted with the harsher, faster thrusting. Gale just held on and let it happen. It was too much, so much he thought he would die with it, as the burning intensity of pleasure and pain tore through his body. And then Michael tilted his hips, bumped the head of his cock into Gale’s prostate, and Gale drowned. His body convulsed, his cock stabbing against Michael’s stomach as his climax tore through him, as he pulsed and shuddered and groaned, and spilled an almost painfully intense orgasm over Michael’s belly. Michael grabbed him, hands clenching Gale’s shoulders, and let out a ragged, helpless sound as he, too, finished. “Michael…” Gale managed, reaching for Michael’s face, struggling to hold him as his body went weak and helpless. “Michael… Are you okay? Is it okay?” “It’s fine.” He swallowed, breathed raggedly. “It’s fine.” Brushing Gale’s hair back from his forehead, Michael kissed him. “I love you.” Gale blinked up at him. He couldn’t speak; it was too much. He just drew a shaky breath and nodded. Michael rolled sideways, took Gale in his arms, and held him.

*** Gale fell asleep not long after. Michael lay next to him, watching him sleep. Hesitant, afraid to wake him but unable to help himself, he reached out and touched Gale’s shoulder. Gale slept on, and Michael let his hand fall back to the blankets.

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It felt… right. The circumstances were far from ideal, but he knew he belonged here, tangled in bed with this man. They needed each other, he realized. Gale needed a chance at a normal life, but so did Michael, and with Gale he felt more complete than he ever had in his life. The rest -- dealing with Gale’s talent, handling the crisis situation at Applewood and here in England -- would fall into place. What mattered right now was that they had found each other, and that they were together. He stretched out next to Gale, put an arm around him, and slept.

The End… For now…

Pandora’s People 2: Keely Last year, Keely lost her lover, John, in a supposed anti-terrorist operation. Now, as she and her fellow aberrants uncover a government plot to destroy the society they’ve built for themselves, the facts about John’s death slowly come to light. To complicate matters, Keely is teamed with West, a powerful aberrant who captures her heart. Afraid to love again in the face of her recent loss, Keely must come to terms with her past, and decide whether to accept the love West offers as they fight together to uncover a shocking secret about Pandora.

Elizabeth Jewell Multi-published author, and mother, Elizabeth Jewell is really one cool lady. She lives in Colorado with her kids and Spike the ferret. She claims she’s tired of talking about herself, but we know she has a day job in addition to all the fantastic stories she writes, and we’ve heard some rumors of a life outside work, involving both kids and occasional trips to comic book stores, where she stalks all the best lycra-clad heroes.

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