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- 12/29/2010
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Not The Sun - 17. Chapter Seventeen: Leia Again
17 ~Leia Again~
Brandon woke up later that afternoon and found himself alone on Jordan's bed. He stretched slightly, sliding his arms up under Jordan's pillow before pulling the pillow to him, burying his face in it and breathing in deeply. He could smell Jordan on it and it made him smile.
He got up and left the room. Jordan was sitting downstairs, talking on his cellphone. He saw Brandon and waved at him, motioned for him.
"Yeah," Jordan was saying. "No. Not since last night. No, I didn't, but Brandon did. Very well." A long pause. "Well, I can't see that being a problem. I don't think he'll have a problem talking to you about it." Jordan raised his eyebrows at Brandon and Brandon nodded. "Yes. I understand. Okay." Jordan smiled at something the person on the other end of the line said. "Okay, I'll tell her. All right. Good. Okay. Bye." Jordan hung up the phone. "That was Ray. He's one of us. He's a cop up in Arlington and he's agreed to keep an eye on Keith and Elizabeth for us. He's searching our database for them as we speak, and if he finds them, which I doubt, he'll let us know. He's going to want to talk to you sometime soon."
"Okay. Is he a Creator or Enabler?"
"He's an Enabler. His Creator is a girl named Cynthia. They both work for the police; he's a Detective and she's a sketch artist."
Brandon shoved his hands into his jean pockets. "So now what?"
Jordan shrugged. "We wait."
It was an unsatisfactory answer, but Brandon took it. He helped Jordan put together a late lunch, a chicken chili salad. Brandon, who still didn't want to go home, sat down with Jordan to watch a movie. About fifteen minutes in, Jordan, who was feeling restless and brave, reached over to grab the remote and pause the movie. When Brandon turned to look at him curiously, Jordan gripped a handful of Brandon's shirt and gently pulled him down until his lips met Brandon's mouth. He kissed him softly, cautiously, all too aware of what had almost happened last night. Brandon kissed him back aggressively, and Jordan found himself too soon on his back with Brandon's weight on top of him. Jordan knew that stopping would not be as simple as pushing Brandon away and telling him no, and that more importantly, he didn't want to. His skin was tingling, his cock was heavy and throbbing and growing hard. So he decided this once, just this once, it would be okay to let go. To let everything go.
So he let himself do what he wanted to do right then, which was to wrap one arm around Brandon's waist and used the other one to grip the back of his head, kissing him hard. He ran his hand up Brandon's back, fingers catching on his shirt and pulling it up until he was breaking off the kiss to tug the shirt over Brandon's head, then letting his hands slide down Brandon's neck, down his back, fingers trailing over the small bumps of his vertebra, down to his hips, pulling them down against his own until they both moaned. Brandon finally broke off the kiss, leaning back, straddling Jordan's thighs. He ran a hand back though his hair, long thick black strands shot through with streaks of blue. The gesture was unintentionally sexy and had Jordan aching to pull him back down and copy the gesture, to run his own fingers through that same hair.
"You okay?" Brandon asked breathlessly.
"Yeah," Jordan said.
Brandon smiled and leaned down to kiss him again, his hands gently touching his face, stroking his neck and shoulders. Jordan ran his hands up the outside of Brandon's thighs, up to his hips, the rough denim rubbing against his fingertips. Brandon's mouth was hot and hungry on top of his, kissing him with an intensity that almost bordered on urgent. Jordan let his hand drift up to Brandon's belt, touching it, tracing the edges with his fingers, but not making any effort to unbuckle it. Just letting his fingers rest there for right now, because this hungry kissing, with Brandon's weight on top of him and his hands on his skin, was nice.
Brandon slid a hand down Jordan's chest and stomach until it rested on his groin, where he pressed gently, massaging the erection straining against the fly of his pants. Jordan threaded one hand through Brandon's hair, the other covering the hand on his groin, encouraging him to continue.
The click of the key in the lock was barely noticeable and the only hint Jordan had that something was off was a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision. He froze momentarily and pushed Brandon off of him, sitting up with wide eyes and staring at his brother who was in the doorway staring back at them.
"Dylan."
"Jordan," his brother said, his eyes taking in the scene. Brandon had managed to move off of Jordan and to the other end of the couch with a speed that was uncanny, his face tomato red as he tugged his shirt back on.
"Um... I'm going to go and get my... um... stuff together," Brandon muttered and left the room quickly.
"What are you doing?" Dylan asked then held up a hand. "Wait, wait, don't answer that. I don't even want to know."
"Dylan..."
"Jordan, what the hell?"
"What?" Jordan asked, standing up. "You have a problem with me kissing my boyfriend?"
"Since when did you start dating guys?"
"Since I found one that I wanted to date."
"Jordan, you're not gay."
Jordan's eyes widened. "And since when did you decide whether or not I'm gay?"
"Jordan, you know that it's unnatural. Two guys are not supposed to be together."
"Christ, Dylan, I never pegged you for a homophobe."
"And I never pegged you for a faggot," Dylan returned. He sat his briefcase down. "Look, I'm way past the point where I'm going to try to tell you how to live your life. You do whatever the hell you want. But if you're going to do that, at least do it where I don't have to watch."
Stunned and hurt, Jordan turned and left the room, going upstairs. He paused outside Brandon's room and knocked on the door tentatively.
"Come in," Brandon said, and Jordan opened the door to see Brandon sitting on the floor, pulling on his boots.
"I'll take you home when you are ready," Jordan said.
"Just give me a few minutes, I'm almost done," Brandon said, glancing up. His movements slowed a little. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Jordan said. He couldn't meet Brandon's eyes. "I'm sorry that Dylan just walked in on us. He sometimes comes home early, especially on the weekends."
"It's no big deal," Brandon said. He stood up, his bag in one hand. He approached Jordan and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. Are you really all right? Was he mad?"
"No," Jordan said. "Just not terribly understanding."
"Do you want to come over and stay at my place for a while?"
It was a tempting offer, but Jordan shook his head. He still had homework to take care of before school started up again, and he wasn't going to let his brother chase him out of the house. "I'll be fine."
It was a lie both of them were growing comfortable telling.
Brandon went upstairs to his room after Jordan dropped him off and after he had passed his parental screening to make sure he hadn't been drinking. He flopped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He was still horny and he wished Jordan was here so they could take up where they had left off when they had been interrupted.
He shifted as he felt something digging into his back and reached underneath him to pull the offending object free. It was Leia's belt. He wrapped it around his hand, the press of leather and metal comforting. He sat up and grabbed the box he had taken from Leia's room. He should do something with her possessions; it didn't seem right to keep them tucked away in a box somewhere. He went through the contents again. The book he had given her could go with the rest in his bookshelf. He flipped through the pages and a concert ticket for Slipknot fell out. He picked it up then put it back in the box.
Christ, this was hard.
He went downstairs and then realized that he couldn't get a drink with his parents here and that when he thought about it, he didn't want a drink as much as he thought he did. His stomach still wasn't happy about the abuse it had been subjected to the other night. He got a Coke instead and went back up to his room. He took the picture of the four of them on the beach and stuck it in the frame of his mirror so he could see it every day.
He pulled out a couple of discs, curious about what Leia had been listening to. He put the first CD into his stereo and flipped through several of the songs. Rammstein. He grinned and slid another in and considered asking for a multidisc player or maybe even an iPod next Christmas. Metallica. He put in another disc. God help him… Justin Timberlake? He made a face.
Leia, what were you thinking?
He pulled out Justin Timberlake, thinking that if it hadn't been Leia's, he would have thrown it away. He would die of embarrassment if anyone found it. He slid another disk into the stereo, listening to it hum as the stereo attempted to read this disc.
DISC READ ERROR
Disc read error? What the hell? He removed the disc and studied it. It was plain silver with only one word written across the front in a green Sharpie. It wasn't Leia's handwriting.
Charion.
Was it a DVD then? He didn't recognize the title. He looked it over again, then went to his computer and inserted it into the CD-Rom drive. The drive hummed for a few moments before a screen popped up.
Welcome to Charion.
Brandon smiled in understanding. A computer game. Of course. Leia was so into that stuff.
Another screen popped up asking if he was a new or existing member. Brandon clicked on new member and the game paused for a moment, telling him it was loading. A screen asking for his name popped up. Brandon typed it in and hit okay.
The screen went black as the drive hummed for several seconds. Another box popped up.
There were three buttons he could click on. Three choices. Three options.
Creator
Enabler
Civilian
What the...
Heart beating hard, Brandon clicked on Creator. The drive hummed again and then a new image popped up, along with a dialog box.
Welcome Creator.
He barely registered the words, his eyes fixed on the image that filled the screen. The screen slowly panned a very familiar room, from the fireplace, across endless expanses of hardwood floors, resting finally on a grand piano gleaming in the light. And she was there. Not playing, not speaking, just sitting on the bench, her head lowered, hands in her lap.
He froze. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.
"What is this place?"
"The in between. I can get no closer to where I used to be."
As he watched, the figure of Leia lifted her head, stared right at him and smiled. It was a sad, lonely smile that made his heart ache for her. Then she slowly faded away into nothingness, leaving nothing but an empty bench by the piano.
"No!" Brandon said, desperately, reaching up to press his hand against the screen, forgetting for a moment where he was, what he was doing. God, she was just there, she had been right there. "No, Leia, please!" He closed his eyes, his hand fisting against the screen of his computer, tears sliding out from his closed eyes.
"You're never going to find me if you don't start fucking looking."
God. Oh, God. She was there. In the in between. And if she was there...
...God help him, if she was out there...
...he was going to find her.
End of Book 1
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18
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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