Evenfall (90 page)

Boyd looked back to the counter, trying to keep his lower body tilted away from Sin's view, and said suddenly, "I don't need to sit here watching it. I'm going to shower or I'll never get this mess off me. If it seems done before I'm out you can just eat." Without looking at Sin again he headed straight for the bathroom.

Sin watched Boyd disappear, eyes moving over his retreating form and the way he looked in the slightly ragged jeans he wore. When the door closed behind him, Sin made a face at his own behavior and walked across the studio to one of the couches. He yanked off his sweaty shirt and dropped it on the floor, sprawling down into the overstuffed couch as he kicked off his boots.

He didn't know if it was the heat, the distance from the Agency or the fact that he was temporarily pretending to be someone else, but for the past few weeks his thoughts had been completely consumed by sex. After twenty-eight years of thinking he was asexual, he suddenly couldn't think about anything else. Ever since the night they'd slept in the same bed and the following morning when he'd woken up with the worst case of morning wood he'd had in awhile, every time he looked at Boyd he'd suddenly be consumed by filthy thoughts and explicit mental images. He'd probably jerked off more times in the past two weeks than he had in his entire life.

Despite that, he never considered telling Boyd or acting out the things he pictured himself doing. He didn't want to jeopardize the friendship they'd worked hard to finally stabilize, especially not when he remembered how disastrous his last attempt had been. Whenever he wanted to cool himself down or get rid of a stubborn erection, all he had to do was remind himself that Boyd had been afraid that he would rape him that night in France.

If he hadn't been confused enough about that though, now he had other thoughts on his mind. Working at Lunar was probably the most obnoxious assignment he'd endured in awhile which was emphasized by the sheer amount of people who took it upon themselves to touch him casually. He could deal with the violent aspect, incapacitating drunk people was easy as long as he reminded himself not to accidentally kill them, but it was the other part that disturbed him.

He allowed Boyd to touch him because he trusted Boyd, he liked Boyd; he didn't take kindly to strangers rubbing against him or caressing him. He didn't like the way that gaggle of young girls followed him around and took turns trying to grab his ass. He didn't like the way the female bartender had boldly slid her hand down his chest, towards his crotch, but what he really didn't like was Jess.

And the fact that he didn't like her was because she made him curious. Anyone else who tried to touch him quickly backed off when they saw the expression on his face, but she was determined. The way she looked at him and spoke to him made it clear that she was attracted to him even if he couldn't possibly fathom why. After years of being treated like a leper, he couldn't imagine anyone being attracted to him, even if he supposed he wasn't physically repulsive. But Jess seemed incredibly taken with him and the more she did it, the more curious he became.

He'd never been interested in anything sexually before so it was only natural for him to wonder if these feelings he had were only for Boyd, who was unattainable, or if they could transfer to someone else who actually had interest in him. He didn't find himself to be attracted to Jess, he didn't really enjoy being in her presence, but the more frustrated he became the more he considered the idea that maybe it was possible that he would enjoy something sexual with her. It was strange that he was considering such a thing, especially considering the fact that for years he'd considered sex to be a weakness, an act that made a person entirely vulnerable to someone who could very well be an enemy. But now that he was pretending to be Jason, he felt almost liberated in a way that he'd never been before. He had the freedom to do things he'd never been able to do before. He wasn't under constant scrutiny of people who expected the worst from him. For these few months, he didn't have to be the monster from the fourth. He could be a man who could satisfy these new, unrelenting urges, even if the person he really wanted to satisfy them with was completely untouchable.

He was absently unbuckling his belt fifteen minutes later when Boyd came out of the bathroom. He looked up and immediately looked away when Boyd appeared damp, slightly flushed from the heat of the shower and wearing nothing more than a robe and the tracker that was wrapped around one ankle.

"Make me food," Sin said blandly, mostly because he had nothing better to say.

Pulling a lock of red hair behind his ear, Boyd headed toward the oven rather than the beds. He crouched down so he could see inside the glass, making sure the robe covered all the essentials in the process. One side slipped a little on the top, revealing a glance of his collarbone and just a hint of the right side of his chest before he absently pulled the robe closed.

"I can't tell," he said uncertainly, peering at the food with a slight frown. "I think it will be ready in a few minutes." He ran his hand through his hair to get it off his face and because it was wet it was actually marginally successful. He stood, absently cinched the robe a little tighter when it started to slip at his collarbone again, and crossed his arms loosely at his stomach as he tilted his head. "Let me get dressed and then I will check."

Sin eyes tracked the progress of the robe as it slid down repeatedly and he stood up, black pants sliding down his hips even more than usual since they were unbuttoned. He walked over to the kitchen again and smirked at Boyd.

"I didn't really think you would cook," he commented. "So does this mean you finally agree to be my slave?"

Boyd's gaze dipped down to Sin's pants, where a hint of hair could be seen. He snapped his attention back up to Sin's eyes and refused to look away again, because two showers in a row would be entirely too suspicious.  "Mm. I suppose I am considering something along those lines. But I'm holding out until you prove to me it's worth it."

Sin made a face at him. "You should feel lucky I would bother to consider you worthy of being my slave," he deadpanned. "Some people would jump at the chance."

"Or perhaps," Boyd said, stepping a little closer, "you should feel lucky I am even considering being your slave. There are some who would fall over themselves to have me at their beck and call."

Sin leaned against the counter and stared at Boyd as he crossed his arms over his chest and barely concealed the leer on his face. "Well wh--" Before he could finish his sentence, something began beeping wildly. Sin blinked and shook his head slightly, looking over at the stove. "I guess it's done."

Distracted from wondering about the expression he briefly saw on Sin's face, Boyd looked over at the oven. "Damn."

His attention was fully absorbed by preparing the food, but it was clear he was awkward in the kitchen. He couldn't remember at first how to turn off the timer and then when he opened the oven he almost forgot that he needed something to pad his hands because everything would be hot. He opened two drawers before he found a towel thick enough to wrap around his hand and pull the beef out. It looked decent but smelled better, but Boyd almost slopped it all onto the ground when he stood too quickly. Even after he set the dish on the stove top he didn't think to turn the oven off for almost a minute and he couldn't find a spoon to put the food onto the plates so he ended up using a spatula.

The end result was a rather messy-looking chile con carne and cheese burrito for each of them, with some leftover meat in case they wanted to make more. He frowned to himself and checked the cookbook a few times, a paranoid, completely unconscious gesture, and tried to pour the sauce on top so it looked exactly as it did in the picture. When it didn't look at all the same he was irritated but just decided next time he would do better.

Shaking his slowly drying hair out of his eyes, Boyd then wiped a bit of sauce off his cheek with the back of one hand and turned to Sin with a slightly frazzled expression. "Well. Honestly, I expect it to taste terrible. These recipes are completely incoherent and they don't know how to give proper directions for anything." He sounded a hint indignant but otherwise seemed to be in a good mood. "But I'm going to get dressed first." He held the plate out for Sin to take.

Sin grabbed it and inhaled, bypassing the dining table and instead wandering over to the loveseat. He folded his legs under him lotus-style and started to eat but then paused and decided to instead wait for Boyd.

Although Boyd initially was just going to dress behind the screen, when Sin sat on the loveseat he was in full view of the beds. So, after a distracted glance Sin's way, Boyd swiped his duffel bag off the floor and disappeared into the bathroom just long enough to change. He reemerged with scruffy red hair that was half-dry and a typical pair of low-rise pants and a shirt. He didn't bother putting on socks or shoes; instead, he tossed his duffel bag in the general vicinity of his bed and padded barefoot over to the kitchen. Pulling his bangs out of his eyes as he leaned over, he smelled the burrito rather dubiously, as if he had not been the one to make it. Glancing distractedly at Sin again, he gave up and just brought his food over to the couch, setting the plate on the coffee table and leaning forward to start eating.

Sin took a large bite of food and chewed slowly for a moment, staring at his plate suspiciously before he swallowed. He paused for a brief moment and then practically inhaled everything on the plate, not even making an attempt to practice anything resembling table manners. "Is there more?" He asked around a mouthful of burrito.

"Yes," Boyd said in faint amusement, eating his burrito far slower, though it ended up being just about as messy simply due to the nature of the food. He tilted his head toward the counter. "There is enough for a few more and the tortilla shells are next to the stove."

Sin unfolded his legs and got up, ignoring the way his pants were dangerously close to completely falling off, and went over to the island. "How do you put all this shit together? Just throw it in the shell?" He didn't wait for an answer before he began throwing ingredients on his plate without even bothering to try making it right.

"Oh, look at that, he learns so quickly," Boyd said teasingly between bites. He brought one leg onto the couch tilted at an angle and rested his arm on it, watching Sin with amusement. "I'm surprised this tastes decent. I feel nigh incompetent in the kitchen."

Sin shrugged and brought his loaded plate back while making vain attempts at pulling his pants up with his free hand. "You aren't incompetent at anything apparently," he replied and plopped down again, eating with his hands rather than silverware.

Boyd looked at him sidelong at the comment, feeling like he was just given a very good compliment, even if he wasn't quite sure why. Since only within the last few weeks he had been convinced Sin thought he was a backstabbing, worthless idiot, it was a surprising but nice thing to hear that he felt him competent. Returning his attention to the last bits of his burrito, he pushed some of the beef around idly before looking up through his bangs.

"How was your job?" he asked lightly.

"It's bullshit," Sin replied as he began eating his new plate of food at an alarming rate. "Apparently intoxicated civvies think they can do what they want with their hands. I don't understand what these people want from me."

Eyes narrowing just slightly, Boyd studied Sin over his food. "What do they do?"

Sin shrugged and glanced at Boyd. "They are very... forward. This group of teenage girls constantly follow me around and attempt to engage me in conversation or touch me. Some of my co-workers have put their arm around me or attempted to touch me in some way, and Jessica, the woman who owns the club, seems to be interested in me."

Boyd blinked slowly and tried to ignore the spike of displeasure he felt at the thought of anyone else being close to or interested in Sin. "Ah," he said neutrally after a moment, tilting his head down to the plate but watching Sin in his peripheral vision. "What does she look like? Jessica."

Sin gestured vaguely. "Like a woman. I don't know." He pictured Jessica for a moment and chewed thoughtfully. "Quite tall, slender, long legs, very large breasts, long dark hair and large blue eyes. I suppose she is technically an attractive woman."

"Sounds so," Boyd agreed calmly, watching his plate as he finished his food.

"I don't know how to appropriately respond to things these people do. I do not know what Jason Alvarez would do-- what a normal man would do. I don't have any experience being constantly surrounded by civilians, especially civilians who are apparently obsessed with flirtations and sex." Sin shook his head and licked sauce from his fingers, sitting back and balancing the now empty plate on his knee.

"Have you ever been with a woman?" Sin asked, voice casual.

Boyd felt uncomfortable with the question. Here was the person he found himself increasingly attracted to, talking about an apparently beautiful woman, and now bringing up sex with her and others. He drew in a breath and pushed his plate further onto the table so it wouldn't fall.

"Ah," he said after a moment, watching the floor before he finally was able to drag his gaze up to Sin's. He tried to keep his tone casual but he didn't know if he succeeded. "No, I don't suppose I have."

Sin frowned slightly. "Well you have more experience with civilians than I do. If you were in my place, how would you act? For example, they constantly ask me to spend time with them socially and I suspect that my employer knows that the person I am supposed to be would be interested in such a thing." He looked frustrated and began to toy with his lip ring absently. "This is why I have never been good at these assignments. I do not understand how someone who has no experience with civilians is expected to pretend to be one of them."