Disclaimer: despite the punny title, this story is NOT based on any comic book title, character or property. It is an original piece of fiction and any resemblance to people, places or events is unintentional.
This is a reality similar to our own; a universe of infinitive possibilities, of extraordinary powers and incredible circumstances. The SEX Men is a group of elite agents... and also amateurs. Together they must use their abilities against a powerful enemy.
The SEX Men Vol. 1 : Issue. 9 (Final Issue!) Why Does It Always Rain On Me?
MORTAL INJURIES
Timmy looked down at Milo who collapsed to his knees as Timmy let him go. It faintly amused him to see the distress on Milo's crumpled face. Timmy's gaze shifted to Max who was very dead, a pool of blood spreading unevenly around his head like a crown painted by Picasso.
Timmy chuckled, amused and delighted by his victory – but the laugh was very painful. The laugh slowly faltered into a cough that only wracked him with even more pain and brought the taste of iron to his mouth. Timmy raised his hand, touching fingers to his lips that came away red and sticky.
Was he bleeding?
Timmy coughed again and the pain was agonising.
Then he looked down and saw blood spreading across his abdomen, sluicing down from a wound in his chest that he didn't understand. Timmy looked at Max again. He was dead, Timmy was sure about that. Timmy looked at Max's hands – they both had guns in them...
Then Timmy realised what had happened. Max had his weapon drawn when he had arrived to save Milo and he took Timmy's gun when he was within reach. When Timmy had instructed, ordered, demanded and commanded Max to "pull the fucking trigger," he had. On both weapons.
One bullet had passed through Max's head and plastered the wall with grey-tinted blood.
The other bullet had punched Timmy in the chest and filled his lungs with blood that was making it hard to breath.
Timmy staggered back, his vision pouring with blinding white light of pain. And blood loss. There was blood on the ground and it wasn't Max's. Timmy let out a frightened whimper as he staggered away, grabbing his chest with both hands but it hurt and the blood pumped out between his fingers.
As Timmy staggered again, he put a hand out to brace himself and left a bloody handprint on the wall that only horrified the villain even more. Looking back, Milo hadn't moved but at the far end of the corridor, Matt and Hugh had emerged.
Timmy had nearly reached the door at the opposite end of the corridor when he dropped to the floor on one knee. He needed to get back up. He could barely breath. He was... he was... he was dying. Timmy let out a cry of pain and fear as he hauled himself up and swiped his access card to open the door. Looking back one more time, there was a trail of blood. It was his blood.
Timmy stepped through the door – staggered more like – and offered the SEX Men one last glare before it closed. If he was going to die, Timmy would take satisfaction from knowing he had taken Max with him.
"It's ok, Milo," Matt whispered soothingly. "It's ok."
Matt had watched Timmy escape, never taking his eyes off the young man until the door was closed. He could have given chase but the trail of blood suggested a mortal wound and they had their own fatality to deal with. With the door closed, Matt assessed the threat as low and had dropped to his knees, pulling Milo into a tight embrace. Milo was crying on his shoulder. The tall, charming, silly, boyish, naked lad had never seemed so vulnerable.
Meanwhile, Hugh loomed over them both. His eyes were quick and attentive, taking in every gruesome detail. Hugh didn't flinch, he didn't vomit or cry or rage about the loss of their friend. He was quiet and while Hugh understood the finality of Max's death, he didn't know how to articulate his feelings about it.
"We need to go, Milo," Matt said softly. "We need to go."
Hugh had managed to get everyone else home. Sending everyone back to the Racetrack one at a time had been less overwhelming that trying to translocate three or six people all at once. He had still collapsed from the drain of the effort involved but bounced back more quickly with a shot of adrenaline and a glucose-packed tube of jelly-like energy.
After Hugh had sent Angelo home, Matt had pulled him into the corridor in search of Max and Milo. The main building was burning, the skylight had collapsed, the east wall of the main room was irreparable and Matt didn't know how much more damage had been done to the rest of the De Burs Airforce Base. The soldiers would regroup and eventually give chase. They weren't safe and the mission was over now. Hugh crouched and put a hand on Max's leg. Physical contact made the translocation a little bit easier.
Max's body vanished.
"Send him home," Matt said to Hugh.
Matt had nodded at Milo who had disengaged himself and sat back against the wall. Hugh reached forward and touched Milo's foot. His skin was cold – probably because he'd been nude for so long. Milo disappeared.
Angelo, Cyrus, Jeffrey, Steve, Jay, Milo and Max had all be returned home. Only Matt and Hugh remained. The base was on fire with extensive structural damage and a mortally wounded second in command. It was time to go.
"Can you get us both out of here?" Matt asked.
Matt was subdued but Hugh barely noticed. The young man nodded and offered his hand to Matt. Together, they both left the burning base behind.
HOME
Hugh was not totally devoid of insight or decorum – he had appreciated that Max needed to go somewhere else. So while the team all emerged from translocation in the recreational area where the seats were more comfortable, Max had been sent to the infirmary.
Milo was still upset but Jay was putting clothes on him and wrapping him in a blanket and hugs.
Angelo, Cyrus and Jeffrey were huddled together, sombre and talking quietly. Steve was struggling with all the high emotions in the room – the swirling colours of grief and misery, regret, guilt, sorrow, confusion...
Then Steve heard music. He hadn't even noticed he had closed his eyes because the colours and sensation of emotions penetrated his eyelids but when he opened his eyes he saw Hugh's face. Hugh had placed his headphones over Steve's ears; the music that usually helped Hugh to manage sensory overload was gently easing Steve's sense of being overwhelmed.
"Thank you," Steve said.
When Milo had come back traumatised, the team had known something terrible had happened. Milo had croaked out Max's name and dissolved into tears. He was just a kid and he had been through a lot in the last few days. The adults in the room were discussing the details of Max's death and Timmy's apparent injuries.
"Can you bring him back?" Milo asked.
His voice was quiet but it carried and broke every conversation and companionable silence in the room. Everyone looked at him – Milo was now dressed in a pair of joggers and a hooded sweater. Milo stood up and walked towards the adults but his eyes were locked on Angelo.
"Can you bring him back?" Milo asked again.
"No," Angelo replied.
"But you're an Angel. You... you have powers to see the future. Can't you change it?" Milo pleaded.
"Knowing glimpses of a possible future or parallel present doesn't mean I can stop every bad thing, Milo," Angelo said gently. "Time travel exactly isn't impossible but... I can't do it."
The truth was, Angelo didn't know if he could do it or not. He suspected the effort would kill him. Angelo experienced reality as a flow of time. He could affect that reality with knowledge from the future but the flow of time was always moving forward. To change history would require not just knowledge but to press his entire consciousness back in time. To create a new reality.
For Angelo to literally interfere in events that had already happened, to affect the course of the timeline that passed through him would destroy him.
"Did you know?" Jay asked.
Jay stood protectively beside Milo, putting an arm around his little brother. For a moment, Jay thought Angelo was going to protest ignorance and ask "know what?" but he didn't.
"It was always possible that one of us would die in this mission, Jay. It was important we get Cyrus back. It was important we try to rescue Raphael. It was important Jethro appreciated us as a credible threat," Angelo listed.
"But did you know it would be Max who died?" Jay demanded. "That my brother would be beside him when it happened?"
"As time went on, the branches of time grew fewer and I became aware that Max was in the most danger," Angelo admitted.
"It was too high a price to pay for me," Cyrus said.
Angelo supressed a sneer at the naivete of such a comment. There was a version of events in which Matt died trying to save Cyrus. That would have been a price too high for Cyrus, too high for the team... too high for Angelo. Angelo would never have what Cyrus and Matt had, no matter how much he coveted it. It broke his heart but Angelo knew there would be a lot of broken hearts before the end.
"No. It wasn't. If you had stayed in Jethro's custody, Timmy would have..." Angelo grunted with frustration. "Cyrus, there were crappy outcomes no matter what we did. More people in jeopardy or more of the team dead. The entire team dead. We have a dangerous job and sometimes people die. Today one person died instead of nine."
"But Max died because of me," Milo replied quietly.
"Max died because he was a hero," Matt told Milo. "He saved you and all of us."
"He's totally fucked De Burs Airforce Base as a base of operations for Mr Renton-Mass," said Jeffrey. "And brought unwanted attention onto a man who prefers to work in the shadows."
"Max also killed Timmy, a very dangerous enemy," Matt added. "We wouldn't have succeeded without him."
"We did not entirely succeed," Hugh reminded everyone. "What about the Angel, Raphael? You warned us that Mr Renton-Mass's son is important."
"He is. I had a very narrow path to the best outcome for that particular problem," Angelo admitted. "That path is closed now."
"I'm tired. I'm going to bed," Steve interrupted everyone.
Was there anything left to say?
TOGETHER
Matt drifted closer to Jay, catching his eye and reaching out for his hand. Jay let Matt take his hand but there was a lack of warmth between them.
"Are you mad at me?" Matt asked Jay.
"Why would you think that?" Jay replied.
"You were captured by Timmy and your brother was traumatised. Neither of you would have gone through this if it wasn't for me," Matt said.
"I don't blame you, Matt," Jay said – except maybe he did a little. "I just wish it hadn't happened like this. I heard about your past missions, the people you've helped, the good you've done and I wanted to be a part of it. To make a difference. My own mission turned out quite different."
"I know," Matt responded succinctly.
"I'm going to look after Milo tonight," Jay said,
Jay avoided eye contact because he felt like he was running away from his lover.
"I understand," Matt said and he meant it.
"I'm happy we're together again, Matt. I'm happy we saved Cyrus," Jay insisted.
"But?" Matt asked.
"But it came at a high price," Jay suggested and his eyes looked to Milo.
Milo had lost some of his innocence and naivete and Jay had grown up a lot in the space of a few days. Matt couldn't begrudge Jay for feeling the way he did. He leaned in and put his hands on either side of Jay's face, kissing him with tender affection.
Jay closed his eyes and felt some of his resentment and anger and guilt dissolve.
"I love you, Matt," Jay said as the kiss ended.
Matt pulled Jay into a tight embrace by way of reply but didn't actually reciprocate.
"How are you holding up?" Jeffry asked Cyrus.
"I'm okay," Cyrus replied in a tone that was too good to be true.
Cyrus had been kidnapped, forced by mind control to be a sex slave, nearly blown up and lost a good friend and ally. Was he ok?
"You don't need to be," Jeffrey told him.
"How did you free the boys? From the mind control?" Cyrus asked, diverting the conversation. "Timmy ordered them to kill us and even you've admitted his powers are stronger than yours."
"They are. In a straight fight between throwing commands, Timmy has the edge," Jeffrey replied. "However, I have experience and ingenuity. I implanted a kind of mental fuse box that I could trip with a verbal trigger. When that happened, it swept away Timmy's coercive instructions so I didn't need to be stronger than him. I just wiped out his advantage."
"The Bandar thing? That tripped the fuse?" Cyrus asked.
"It lifted the veil," Angelo murmured; recalling his own prophecy.
"I implanted it in Jay and Milo before the mission to save you even began," Jeffrey nodded. "Just in case."
"You're a very clever man," Cyrus told his lover and pulled him into a very intimate embrace.
Cyrus's lips met Jeffrey's and they kissed with longing. Cyrus had been captured weeks ago and they had missed each other. Now they weren't pretending to be henchmen for Jethro Renton-Mass, they could be more open and honest about their relationship. For starters, throughout their relationship so far Cyrus had looked like a different man. Rider Topsman had been Jethro's chief of security and Cyrus had masqueraded as him, assuming his appearance. It would take tome to get used to Cyrus looking like Cyrus.
Jeffrey pulled Cyrus even closer, their chest and groins pressing together. Cyrus was aware they were still in the recreation room and their intimacy was getting intense for a public space. Jeffrey had reached down his hand to grasp Cyrus's groin. It was exciting. Timmy had controlled him for sex but Cyrus chose to be with Jeffrey.
Across the room Cyrus watched as Matt and Jay embraced. Was he jealous?
"Jeffrey, I need to go," Cyrus said – ruining the moment.
"Go? Why?" Jeffrey asked. "Where?"
"I need to talk to Kash. I need to tell him what happened to Max," Cyrus said.
"You don't think he already knows?" Jeffrey asked. "The whole government and secret services will know about explosions at De Burs. Since he hasn't heard from Max, Kash has probably inferred the worst."
"He hasn't heard from anyone in the team. That's the point, Kash doesn't know our fates," Cyrus responded. "I owe it to Max to tell Kash in person. Besides..."
"Besides, what?" Jeffrey probed.
On returning to the base, Cyrus had discovered an encoded message had been sent to him just in case the worst happened. And it had happened. The message from Max was for Kash and Cyrus had been asked to deliver it in person.
"I'll come with you if you want?" Jeffrey suggested when Cyrus didn't answer.
"I think I should go alone. But thank you," Cyrus said.
"I love you Cyrus," Jeffrey said.
"I love you too," he replied with a kiss to his lover's forehead.
"Do you want to watch a movie?" Hugh asked.
Steve had his back to Hugh and he stifled both a sigh and rolling his eyes. Did he want to watch a movie? After everything that had happened in the last few days? Just sit down and watch Aladdin or something? Hugh was never intentionally oblivious to the atmosphere in a room but his lack of insight could be challenging. Of all people, Steve appreciated Hugh's own way of expressing his thoughts, feelings and ideas but at the moment Steve was irritable and tired.
"No, Hugh," Steve replied.
When Hugh entered their room a few minutes after Steve, he found Steve was barefoot and wearing a tight black t-shirt and tight black boxers that hugged his ample, round buttocks. Hugh sat down to remove his shoes and socks too. He was pleasantly exhausted.
However, Steve was acting oddly and it must have been very odd indeed for Hugh to notice. Steve wasn't looking at him, that was it. It was the absence of behaviour that caught his attention. Hugh didn't know if this was significant or not so he didn't say anything.
Steve winced as he pulled off his t-shirt. His back had bruises and cuts on it and when he turned around, Hugh noticed Steve was also injured across his chest. Hugh understood physical injury better than emotional or psychological damage.
Hugh crossed the room and put his fingers on Steve's chest, tracing one slash that crossed his lovers chest above the left nipple.
"Are you alright?" Hugh asked with concern.
"Yea. All my bleeding is internal which is where the blood is supposed to be," Steve answered dryly.
"I am glad," Hugh responded – missing sarcasm.
Hugh's fingers were absently tracing the laceration and he wondered if it would become a scar or heal so neatly that one would never know it had been there. For Steve, he liked the way Hugh was touching him and the wandered expression on his face. Steve had been frustrated that Hugh hadn't noticed or understood he was hurting but Hugh's uniqueness was what he loved the most.
Steve had told Jay, before the mission, that he wanted to tell Hugh he was in love but he was scared. He was scared Hugh would not reciprocate or that his response would be ambivalent or, worse, indifferent.
Jay had pointed out that Steve of all people should know what Hugh felt for him – he could literally see emotions. Selfishly, he wanted Hugh to say it back – to know how important those words were.
"Hugh?" Steve said and he lifted Hugh's chin so their eyes met. "There's something I want to tell you."
"Ok," Hugh replied.
"The thing is, when people talk about their emotions, they can have certain expectations," Steve explained. "I don't know what you're going to say or if you'll understand how important what I'm telling you is. But I want you to know how I feel about you."
"You know I have difficulty understanding and articulating emotions. Telling me would be very helpful," Hugh admitted.
Steve smiled and nearly chucked – so far, this was going exactly like he thought it would.
"Hugh, I love you," Steve said.
Hugh didn't respond right away because he didn't know if Steve was going to say anything else.
"I understand..." Hugh replied. "That makes me feel... very happy."
"You make me happy," Steve responded.
Steve kissed Hugh, pulling him into a hug that was like being wrapped up in joy. Hugh liked Steve's big, powerful arms and he felt safe inside them. Safe and horny. Hugh felt himself get hard and then Steve felt it too. They untangled and then Steve helped Hugh to undress. Within a couple of minutes, Hugh and Steve were dropping their underwear and standing naked in front of each other.
Steve took Hugh's hand and led him to the bed.
"Do you want to make love to me?" Hugh asked.
Steve appreciated the care that went into Hugh's words – as if Hugh understood the importance of their first sex after the "L" word.
"Yes," Steve replied.
Hugh turned on his side and pulled up his knees. Steve looked at Hugh's marshmallowy ass as he stroked his cock until it was totally hard. They had lube in the bedroom because they enjoyed having sex often (which surprised people because Hugh was so "weird"). Steve curled himself in behind Hugh, and aimed his cock for the hole between Hugh's cheeks.
Steve's entry was slow and gentle while Hugh, shuffled his ass towards Steve's pelvis to hump his butt on Steve's erection. Steve kissed the back of Hugh's neck while Hugh pleasured himself, masturbating as his ass was invaded by Steve's cock.
Steve pulled out before he could cum and Hugh felt a similar build up towards release. They both wanted it to last a little longer. Steve rolled onto his back and Hugh climbed on top, sitting on Steve's solid abdomen. Hugh was a tall and skinny boy with fair skin, which contrasted against the dark brown of Steve's skin. Hugh shifted back until his cheeks felt the rigid rod of Steve's cock, then he lifted his ass and lowered himself onto his lover's cock.
Hugh hopped up and down on the erection while Steve reached forward and took a hold of Hugh's cock, stroking it while filling Hugh's butt. Hugh came first – stimulated anally and from Steve's hand. His cum shot all over Steve's chest, making sticky white blobs on the black skin.
Then Steve came too – filling Hugh's ass with his warm seed. Hugh's efforts slowed after he climaxed, after he knew Steve had arrived too. Hugh slumped forward, putting his hands on Steve's shoulders and then lifting himself from Steve's cock.
Steve reached up, resisting the urge to tickle Hugh's scrawny pits, and slid his hands up Hugh's sides until his hands were nearly resting in Hugh's armpits. Steve topped Hugh over onto his side and the pair lay looking at each other with wet, hard pricks between them.
Hugh moved closer, touching his lips against Steve's.
"I am tired now," Hugh admitted.
"Me too," Steve agreed.
"I like sleeping with you, Steve," Hugh added. "It is very nice."
Steve grinned – Hugh was trying very, very hard.
"It is nice. I love you," Steve replied.
It didn't matter that Hugh didn't say it back – he could see the swirling emotions of happiness, affection and yes even love above Hugh's head and over his heart.
"Good night, Steve," Hugh replied.
THE MOST WONDERFUL MAN
The Racetrack where the SEX Men based their operations was twenty minutes from Clyde Daer Park – a sprawling greenspace in the centre of the city. The park was also home to an underground command centre called the Bunker. The SCION programme (Security Counter-Intelligence Observation & Neutralization) was a subdivision of the Albion Intelligence Network and Kash Spendpence had been Max's handler until his death.
Cyrus didn't know if Kash would know already but he owed it to Kash to tell him in person. Max had died to rescue him, to save the team and to save Milo in particular. Cyrus had SCION access so he made his way down to the Bunker but knew Kash would be aware of his approach.
The lift doors opened and Cyrus braced himself. He saw Kash the moment he walked into the control room. Kash was standing, arms at his sides, facing him, waiting. Kash looked at Cyrus's face and then covered his own as the tears fell. Kash didn't hide his grief or his pain and he didn't feel embarrassed by crying over the loss of his friend, colleague and lover.
"Sorry. I'm so sorry, Kash," Cyrus said.
Cyrus reached into his pocket and removed a data stick. He had listened to the message Max had sent him but knew Kash would want to hear it himself so he had transferred the file onto a data stick. When Kash was recovered, he had questions.
"How did he die?" Kash asked.
"He was saving Milo from Timmy. He'd already saved all of us by setting off those explosions to cripple Jethro's response," Cyrus replied. "Max knew how to subvert Timmy's mind control but..."
"Timmy figured out how he was defying him," Kash inferred miserably.
"Yes. Timmy killed Max but it looks like he took Timmy with him. Timmy could barely breath and was bleeding out when Matt last saw him," Cyrus explained.
"Good riddance," Kash said bitterly.
"Agreed," Cyrus replied. "Kash? Max sent me a message to give to you."
"He did?" Kash responded slowly. "What did he say?"
Cyrus opened his hand to reveal the data stick which Kash took from him.
"I could... If you want me to... I could tell you the message? Looking like him?" Cyrus offered.
"Yes, I'd like that. Lie to me, yes," Kash said.
He just wanted to see Max one last time.
Cyrus took a few steps back concentrated. A few seconds later and his face and hands bloated and bubbled, transforming Cyrus's height and hair and sallow skin into the black skinned features of the deceased spy.
Max Bind. Yuri Tiedup. Hans Bound. Shepherd Knott. Major Flemyng. Emory Qoyi. Agent 117.
"Hello Kash. I'm recording this in the bathroom of Timmy's pup play sex slave which, you must admit, is pretty on brand for me," Max said.
Kash laughed at the joke. As dismayed as he was to see Max's face eulogise himself, it also felt like Max was really talking to him.
"If you're hearing this then the worst has happened and that sucks because I really wanted to tell you how much I love you. I wanted to see the look on your face when I said it and I wanted it to be the start of something more," Max continued.
Cyrus paused only to give the words a chance to sink in. Recalling Max's own pauses and hesitations as best he could. Incidentally, the look on Kash's face was one of guarded amazement and mutuality.
"We were never meant to have a physical relationship but you know me and the rules. I don't know if we could ever have had a regular-person relationship but we aren't regular people," Max reminded him.
Max nodded his agreement.
"Regular people don't work to subvert and impair the operations of a corrupt, unelected, political advisor with superpowers and plans to create a catalyst for more gifted humans while kidnapping people and nurturing a malevolent and mind controlling dickhead," Max said all in one breath. "I told you I hated that guy! I wanted to kill Jethro Renton-Mass years ago."
Kash wished he'd given Max licence to kill. Too late now.
"But it's ok. Whatever happened, happened. Kash... I need you to know that my abilities, the whole seduction and orgasm enhancement powers, came as a surprise to me too. Maybe I've been seducing people in the field for years without knowing it?" Max pondered out loud.
Now that Max was talking emotionally, Kash felt butterflies.
"But whatever I could do, I never made you feel things for me. And my feelings for you were not a contrivance," Max insisted. "What we had, and I hope you felt what I did or this is really embarrassing..."
Kash laughed and cried at the same time as he heard Max's final words.
"What we had was real. We're real. You're my hero, Kash and I love you. In every way that a person can be loved," Max poured out his heart. "You are... the most wonderful man..."
Cyrus paused again, taking a moment because it was hard being the one to recite a death message. Also, this was the moment in the recording that another voice could be heard and Max's response.
"Giving yourself a pep talk?"
"Yea. I'm just coming."
"Timmy has summoned me and he does not like waiting."
"I'm just coming."
"Kash, I need to go now," Max said sombrely. "I... I'm going away. And I don't know if I'll see you again. I hope so. But if I don't, you are where I wanted to be. If I could come back for anything or anyone, it would be you. Goodbye, Kash. Goodbye."
Kash felt his heart breaking. Knowing that Max had loved him like that and they'd ever had the chance to say it and now they never could. Looking at Max's face while his final words were spoken was hard. Cyrus's gift for imitation was perfect.
If Kash hadn't known in advance that it was Cyrus, he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. The face and body, the stance, the gait, the voice, his blinking – everything was perfectly imitated. But it wasn't Max. Kash stepped towards Cyrus and put his hands on Max's chest.
"I just want to say goodbye to him," Kash said without making eye contact.
Cyrus nodded and Kash lifted his gaze to look Max in the eyes.
"Max... I got your message and... thank you. For everything. I don't know what I'm going to do without you. But I promise to make a nuisance of myself and to cause some good trouble," Kash told him. "It was real for me too. I love you, Max. And I always will."
REMEMBER HIS NAME
It was late. Or early. Depending on your definition. The Racetrack was quiet but for a gentle knocking on Matt's door. He had been sleeping fitfully – to wired, angry and guilty to really settle. He got out of bed and opened the door to his room half expecting to see Jay. Instead, Matt was face to face with his husband.
Separated.
"Can I come in?" Cyrus asked.
Matt nodded vigorously. It was the height of summer, so he was topless and wearing only shorts to bed. The longest day of the year had ended just a few hours ago and it wasn't until Matt was alone that he'd had time to sit down and think about it. He was alone because Jay was comforting Milo but he wondered why Cyrus was alone?
Alone in his room on the third anniversary of his son's death, Matt didn't feel the familiar stab of pain, the emotional agony, the dreadful and futile longing. He still missed Michael but Matt had learned to live with the pain and it didn't hurt as much as it used to. It was no longer a wound that reopened every year but one that had scarred, leaving it's mark and a constant reminder of itself.
Cyrus took off his jacket and Matt noticed his husband (separated) was dressed for going out. He was undressing though so he was returning. Cyrus pulled off his boots and left them on the floor – one standing up and the other toppled onto its side. Matt went over and stood it up beside the other.
"Where have you been?" Matt asked.
"I went to see Kash," Cyrus said solemnly. "To tell him Max was dead."
"How did he take it?" Matt asked.
Mat sat on the bottom of his bed, leaning back with his hands on either side to prop himself up. Cyrus couldn't help but notice Matt looked good. He had been working on his physique lately and it showed.
"Ok," Cyrus said.
The succinctness and bluntness of the response said more than words could have.
"Kash is going to arrange for Max's body to be collected and taken back to the Bunker," Cyrus added.
"I'm sorry," Matt said quietly; it was like being sorry for the whole world.
"They were in love. Did you know that?" Cyrus asked.
Matt shook his head.
"We can never forget Max for what he did for us. What we're doing, going against Jethro Renton-Mass, this is just the beginning," Cyrus said. "Max might not be the last person we loss. We have to remember his name, Matt."
Cyrus looked crestfallen and Matt understood that his husband felt guilty. Max might not have died if he had not been captured. But then, Max might not have died if Matt had listened and the SEX Men had planned things differently.
"We will," Matt promised. "There are some people you can never forget."
Matt's eyes met Cyrus's and they were both thinking about their son again.
"So... where is Jay? Is he ok?" Cyrus asked awkwardly.
Cyrus found himself thinking about how he had fucked Jay a few days ago – controlled by Timmy but still. Should he tell Matt and Jeffrey? They would understand, he was sure, but was there any good in telling them?
"He's with Milo tonight. He's ok. I think they'll be ok," Matt said hopefully.
"Good," Cyrus replied.
"I'm happy for you, Cyrus. Jeffrey seems like a good man," Matt said half-heartedly.
"He is," Cyrus agreed but he felt unfinished.
"But?" Matt prompted.
Cyrus looked guilty for a moment, hesitating about whether he should admit what he was thinking.
"But he's not you," Cyrus confessed. "Being around you again... It's been very confusing."
Matt stood up and walked to his husband (separated), placing his hands on Cyrus's hips and then drifting up his chest. Meeting no resistance, he leaned in and they kissed each other. There was a mutual exertion of effort between the men – neither one taking the burden of responsibility for infidelity. Technically, they were still married but both had other partners.
"I lost you, Cyrus. Three years ago, I lost you," Matt said. "Then when you were taken by Jethro, I knew I had to get you back. Because I still..."
"Don't say it, Matt. Please don't," Cyrus stopped him.
Matt looked disappointed and hurt but when started to pull away Cyrus grabbed his arm and pulled him back. They kissed again, more fervently this time. Cyrus reached down and pushed Matt's shorts down until the fell and his bare ass was grabbable. Between then, Matt's flaccid penis dangled, waiting for stimulation.
Between kisses, Matt pulled the zipper of Cyrus's jacket down and shoved it off his shoulders. Matt pulled Cyrus's t-shirt up to reveal his chest with his lips immediately going for Cyrus's nipples. Cyrus held Matt's head to his right teat while he worked his trousers open with one awkward hand.
A few minutes later, they were both naked and falling onto the bed. Their chests and groins pressed, humped together and making them hard. As they grabbed each other by the ass and entangled their legs. There was a simultaneous thoughtlessness to the tryst – allowing themselves to be taken by the passion, the need for each other, swept away in their reunion – and great care to the line they were crossing – cheating on their partners.
Yet both men felt that, still being married, there was a mutual sense of belonging. Until death do us part and all that. Matt turned onto his side and Cyrus took the hint, eluting precum to lubricate the passage. He pressed his cock against Matt's hole and then put his arms around his husband (separated) as he slid inside.
Matt gasped, almost forgetting what it felt like to be with Cyrus. Besides, Jay was a bottom and his opportunity for this position was rare. Cyrus's cock could be as big as he or his lover wanted it to be so he had made it small for the initial insertion and now he made it bigger.
Matt made a low, satisfied moan, encouraging Cyrus to keep it up. Cyrus lengthened and shortened his cock even as he pushed in and out. It created a sensation of pulsation inside Matt that was very exciting.
Matt felt cum dribbling from his cock as Cyrus pumped him and when he came, it was not a fountainous emission of fucking jizz, but it was a hugely satisfying dump of ball juice that spurted onto his bedsheets. Cyrus's orgasm was contained inside Matt.
When Cyrus pulled back, his cum coated Matt's hole and trickled into the crack between Matt's cheeks. They two men panted and sweated, eventually rolling onto their backs. Side by side, with Cyrus's arm tucked under Matt's neck, they allowed oblivion to linger before discussing the consequences of their actions.
"That was... very special to me," Matt admitted.
"Me too," Cyrus agreed.
They fell into a silence after that but they were both too afraid to fall asleep – aware they were naked and contaminated by sex. If Jay walked in or Jeffrey came looking, there would be no defence.
"We have to remember his name," Matt muttered.
"What's that?" Cyrus prompted.
Cyrus was hearing his own words repeated back to him – he had said them just an hour ago.
"What you said about Max? I think it's true of our son too," Matt said. "I spent all this time feeling like our loss was a ball and chain around my neck. It dragged me down. But it should have lifted me up."
Like a balloon, Matt thought.
"We never really talked about him after he died. We never really talked about us," Cyrus used "us" as a collective term for their partnership.
"My son, our son... our memory of him. It's all we have left of him," Matt said as he rolled over to look Cyrus in the eyes.
"I don't know if I can do this, Matt. Jeffrey really is a good man. So's Jay," Cyrus replied.
Cyrus was glad it had happened but he didn't want Matt to put them back together again when he was still trying to figure what he wanted. Did he want a husband or a lover? At the moment it seemed he had both.
"I know," Matt replied but he seemed (and felt) more at peace than he had in a long time.
"We have to remember his name," Cyrus agreed. "Max."
"Max," Matt agreed. "And Michael."
Their son.
"And Michael," Cyrus echoed.
Neither of them fell asleep after that but they stayed together for a while. The light of the morning sun came early – just after 4AM, wakening the men who hadn't slept. Cyrus got dressed and slipped out of the room and Matt watched him leave.
THAT'S WHERE YOU'LL FIND ME
Milo was humming "somewhere over the rainbow" as he tucked into a second bowl of ice cream for breakfast. Everyone arrived eventually and it felt like a summer camp as conversations doubled over each other and merged. Some people listened and some people talked and some people ate ice cream for breakfast.
"I've been meaning to mention," Milo said during a quiet moment.
He was given some attention because of the uncharacteristically serious tone of his voice.
"There's a flash drive programmed for a burst transmission to inbox 01123581321345589144377610987," Milo said casually. "Max thought it might be important."
The attention became a stunned silence.
"I'm sorry, What?" Matt asked.
"Well yesterday was very confusing and upsetting so I didn't say anything right away but..." Milo shuddered at dredging up a bad memory. "Before he died, Max said something. You must remember this. He'd told me how my memory ability meant I could scroll though important memories. Before he died, I hound one that was important. A flash drive. He was confident it would be connected to a terminal with access to Mr Renton-Mass's files."
"What files was Max trying to get access to, Milo?" Angelo prompted the boy.
"It was programmed to seek and transmit information about nu-men," Milo revealed. "For one thing, Max thought Mr Renton-Mass had a nu-man database."
This was the end of Milo being helpful as he exhausted his reserves of useful information. Angelo, Matt, Cyrus and Jeffrey were eager to see if they had access yet but would wait until the houseguests were gone. Jay, Milo, Steve and Hugh were going home.
"What happens next?" Steve asked.
"We need more information," Hugh added.
"It depends what Jethro does. And I guess it depends on if you want to continue with the SEX Men? Knowing how dangerous it really is," Angelo replied.
"If you don't want to continue, the adult roster can handle it," Jeffrey assured them.
"You don't have to decide right now," Cyrus hastened to add.
Jeffrey and Cyrus were sitting together, intimate and companionable but Steve had noticed a wisp of jealousy coming from Matt whenever he looked at them. Which was strange because his own intimacy with Jay was unchanged.
"We don't know what Jethro Renton-Mass will do next," Angelo told the team. "I think he'll take his time to come up with a plan for us, to clean up the mess at De Burs, for the heat and attention that's on him to die down. And to recoup his resources... to find a successor for Timmy."
"We have time to plan our next move," Matt paraphrased.
After breakfast, the men and boys prepared to go their separate ways. Cyrus made his way over the Jay, reticent to say anything to the young man but feeling awkward about saying nothing.
"I feel like we should clear the air?" Cyrus said uncomfortably.
"Us? What about?" Jay asked.
"About Timmy making us have sex," Cyrus said uncomfortably.
"Oh, that," Jay responded anxiously. "Well, it was mind control, wasn't it?"
"Yes," Cyrus agreed.
"Honestly, it didn't mean anything to me. I fucked Milo too," Jay said casually.
Matt already knew that he and Milo fooled around and didn't object. Telling Cyrus just emphasised that their perspectives on casual sex were different. Afterall, Jay being eighteen compared to Cyrus's forty-two. Cyrus didn't quite know how to respond to Jay sexual confession so he was glad when Jeffrey came over.
"How is Milo doing?" asked Jeffrey, who had sauntered over to join Cyrus.
"He was restless last night. Kept kicking me in his sleep," Jay confided.
Cyrus and Jeffrey smiled, finding the brothers adorably endearing.
"But I think he'll be ok. He'll bounce back," Jay insisted.
"He's lucky to have a big brother like you looking after him," Jeffrey said.
"Who loves him," Cyrus added.
"Hey, I love you, babe," Jeffrey said and he kissed his lover.
Cyrus returned the kiss but after his night with Matt, he didn't find "I love you too," rolling off the tongue. He was glad that Jeffrey didn't notice.
Someone noticed though.
Steve was watching them and when he looked over at Matt, the flicker's of contained jealous flashed brighter and sharper as Cyrus and Jeffrey romanticised.
"They look happy," said Milo – grinning at the couple across the room.
"Looks can be deceiving," Steve offered mysteriously.
"That's true. This one time, I took a picture and because of forced perspective a pigeon looked bigger than a double decker bus," Milo replied.
Steve laughed out loud and didn't know how to reply – luckily, he was saved by the arrival of Hugh.
"I am packed and ready to go in twenty-six minutes," Hugh reported.
The precision was because they had agreed to leave at 10AM and so Hugh had set his watch by it. Milo was studying Hugh with a curious expression on his face.
"You were right about something," Milo told Hugh.
"Almost certainly," Hugh said with a twitch of a smile.
"You made a joke. I'm so happy for you," Milo hugged the older lad.
Steve could see happiness emanating from Milo and it was almost infectious. He could see a reciprocal aura of happiness from Hugh albeit his poker face remained in place. That was the thing about Hugh – he felt emotion very deeply but they didn't always break the surface.
"What was I right about?" Hugh prompted as he extracted himself from the embrace.
Milo was thinking back to breakfast and to the night before the mission had started.
"The ice cream headache thing? You know, the whole... triceratops gluten necrophilia pain?" Milo pressed his thumb to the roof of his mouth.
Hugh stared for a moment – this was the same boy who had used his ability to make almost everyone on the base believe they belonged there. The same boy who had extracted useful information right before Max had died. For a moment, Milo thought Hugh wasn't going to reply.
"You are not as stupid as you pretend to be," Hugh said gently.
Milo stared and Hugh uncomfortably held the eye contact for a long moment. Milo pulled his thumb from his mouth and pointed at Hugh with it.
"Trigeminal neuralgia," Milo admitted, grinned and then ran off.
"I like him," Hugh said.
"Me too, sweetie," Steve replied.
Steve took Hugh's hand in his own, just holding hands and being happy.
Home is the place where, when you have to go, they have to take you.
Steve couldn't remember who had written that. Hugh would know. It wasn't Shakespeare. Or T.S Eliot. Was it Bono? He couldn't remember and it didn't really matter.
Matt, Jay and Milo went home to Logan Street – Matt was their neighbour.
Cyrus and Jeffrey left the Racetrack and headed to somewhere just outside the city, a suburb of Clyde Daer where Cyrus kept a flat.
Angelo was vague about where he went when he wasn't at the base. Maybe he permanently rattled around there?
Hugh went home, parting from Steve unceremoniously and listening to music without looking back. Steve had sent a few messages to his friends to announce his triumphant return and they had messaged back with (paraphrasing): "ok."
Steve knew he was in trouble the moment he walked into the house. There was something like a thundercloud in the atmosphere and when he saw his dad, Steve felt intimidated and unsettled. But it wasn't just anger in his dad's halo, although that was a prevailing emotion. It was fear and dread as well.
"We need to talk, Steve. Now," said Samuel Evans.
Steve followed his dad into the sitting room where the man turned on him with an expression of incomprehension.
"How could you be so stupid?" his dad asked.
"You're going to have to narrow it down for me, dad," Steve joked.
"This isn't a joke, Steven," his dad said furiously; rushing Steve and grabbing his shirt.
Steve didn't have the best relationship with his dad but the man had never grabbed him physically like this. For one thing, his dad hated that he was friends with Hugh; he regarded Hugh as having been convenient academically but no longer useful. Also, the man was an absentee father who worked for the Scottish Office of Senior Ministers Advisory Taskforce... for Jethro Renton-Mass.
"Do you have any idea how much danger you're in?" his dad asked – not angrily but verging on tears.
"Take your hands off me," Steve said softly.
His dad let him go and Steve no longer needed special abilities to see the fear and worry – it was writ on his father's face.
"I have been trying to protect you, Steven. That's why I tried to keep you away from that insignificant boy," Samuel Evans warned.
"He's significant to me," Steve interrupted.
"No. He is a freak even without translocation," Samuel replied, the final word was dripping with derision.
Steve was reeling – none of this made sense. Why was his dad so angry and how could he know about Hugh's ability?
"I... I don't know what you're talking about," Steve lied – trying to protect his boyfriend.
"Don't play stupid, Steven. Do you think I don't know about your visual empathy?" his dad said exasperatedly. "About the nu-men? Do you think I've worked for a man like Jethro Renton-Mass all these years and not been told things?"
"Why didn't you say anything before?" Steve asked.
"I was trying to protect you from Mr Renton-Mass. He knows all about you. About all of you. He warned me to keep you out of it," his sad said fretfully. "He was very angry."
"Well... You can help us," Steve said brightly. "If Mr Renton-Mass thinks you on his side, you can help us. Feed us information."
"No, Steven. I can't I won't. I have used up all my good will to stop him coming for you," Samuel Evans responded.
"What about Hugh?" Steve asked.
"What about him? Who cares?" the man replied dismissively.
"I care," Steve shot back.
"Of for god sake, Steven," his dad said disgustedly.
"If you fucking know everything, then you probably know I'm gay?" Steve blurted out.
His dad just glared at him for a moment. Still angry but now for a different reason.
"Well... If I didn't, you admission was tactless to say the least," Mr Evans replied.
"I'm in love with him," Steve added.
Samuel Evans buried his face in his hands and sighed loudly.
"I am in love with Hugh," Steve repeated himself.
"Give up that ridiculous boy," his dad replied. "I'll protect you, Steven. Mr Renton-Mass will protect you. He can be very generous."
"No," Steve answered.
"This is a mistake. You are making the biggest mistake of your life, my son," Samuel Evans insisted.
"This mistake would be trusting the generosity of a villain," Steve replied.
A stony silence followed – a stalemate or a standoff.
"I think you should leave," the man said.
Robert Frost!
That was it. That was who wrote that line about home. He also wrote about how two roads diverged and he took the one less travelled. It made all the difference. Steve certainly hoped that was true because his path had diverged from his father's and was going to need a new home.
Sentimentally, Steve decided Hugh was the only home he needed. Hugh was the place where he had to go.
Steve packed his bags and he could see in the colours above his dad's head that the man would not recant. As Steve left home, his father was steeped in a bitter silence, tinged with the hope that his son would see sense and change his mind. Resentment, fear, confusion and stubbornness pervaded his dad's feelings. Mr Evans didn't want his son to go, not really. Not even if he was gay. But the man was afraid of Jethro Renton-Mass and what he could do and what his boss might make him do.
"If you ever need me, dad..." Steve started to say. "Well, you know where I'm going..."
"I know," Samuel Evan replied.
"That's where you'll find me," Steve said.
THE SEX MEN WILL RETURN?
MEANWHILE...
HOW TO SAVE A LIFE
Raphael was propelled into the room with a shove in the middle of his back.
The last hour or so had been chaotic – the teenager had heard explosions and gunfire and then it seemed to grow quiet like a war had ended. It was with urgency and tactlessness that Raphael was pulled from his cell and hastened across the compound.
A door swung open and Raphael heard raised voices.
"If we get him off the base now..." Jethro said.
"He'll die en route to the nearest trauma centre," Jethro replied.
"We would need a surgical team to save him and we don't have one," Jethro said.
Propelled into the room, Raphael could see why the voices were angry and concerned. There was a lot of blood. Someone grabbed his arm and guided him through the infirmary to an operating room. On the table was Timmy. And he was dying.
"He was shot twenty minutes ago. Heal him," ordered Jethro Renton-Mass.
Raphael looked from one Jethro to the other. They were the same man, the same Angel – it must be one of his abilities. One was literally more than enough so two was unimaginable. Raphael was an Angel too. A young man with incredible healing powers. Raphael hadn't even scratched the surface of his capabilities. Jethro planned to change that.
"Heal him? Me?" Raphael protested.
Jethro tried to contain his anger and his desperation. He needed Timmy possibly more than he needed Raphael. If he could manipulate Raphael's healing ability, he might be able to remove (heal) the mental block that restricted the flow of information about Angels. His mind would be free again. But that was a long-term plan. In the short term, Timmy was essential.
"We have a surgeon here but we don't have the resources to repair Timmy's injuries so... heal him," Jethro insisted.
Raphael infuriated the man by not even moving. He was looking at Timmy who looked small and weak and very close to dying.
"Raphael, Timmy has a hemopneumothorax and is in hypovolemic shock. If you do not heal him, son... he will die," Jethro said angrily. "You have a difficult decision to make and if you don't make it, you have made one."
Son? The man hadn't spoken to him for days. Raphael had been quite happy (not very happy, but quite) in the safehouse until this man had abducted him. Jethro Renton-Mass was his father, his biological father, but Raphael didn't think of him as a dad. Raphael owed this man nothing.
"You want me to heal your cruel, deranged, malicious, mind-controlling lieutenant?" Raphael asked.
Jethro Renton-Mass was not used to being disobeyed or challenged; he wasn't used to repeating himself but persuasion was his forte.
"You know who did this to him, Raphael? The SEX Men, that's what they call themselves," Jethro spat.
"Angelo and Jeffrey, Jay, Milo, Steve, Hugh and Cyrus and Matt. I thought they might try harder to save you to be honest," the other Jethro added.
The man watched to see if the names or his words had any effect but the boy had an impressive poker face.
"What happened to Max?" Raphael asked as if no-one else had been mentioned.
"Max is dead," Jethro replied. "And Timmy is dying. Heal him."
"Max was going to come back for me," Raphael said. "He promised."
The Jethro's had grown tired of his son's inaction, the approached and bumped chests, instantaneously snapping back together. Two became one. The one Jethro he collected a scalpel from the tray beside him, took a step towards Raphael, grabbed his wrist and slashed his palm from just in front of the thumb to his pinkie. Raphael screamed but Jethro didn't let go.
Blood welled up in the wound and spilled over his hand to drip onto the floor as the bright red fluid pumped from the neat laceration. Raphael concentrated and the blood slowed, the wound started to close and the pain abated.
And then the pain became excruciating. The wound reopened and widened. And widened again. Raphael thought his hand was going to explode. What was Jethro Renton-Mass doing to him?
"I am an anti-hero. I can turn someone's ability against them," Jethro said through gritted teeth. "You think the world's best mind controller is my subordinate because I'm a natural leader? I use his ability against him!"
The man was almost boastful.
"You know, I'm pretty sure I could make you slice your whole hand in half," Jethro threatened before finally letting go.
Raphael grabbed his wounded hand with his other, applying pressure and a healing touch but it was much more difficult this time. Mr Renton-Mass hand turned healing into harming and it had been agonising. The pain abated as the final line of the injury faded into nothing.
Once his hand was healed, Raphael stepped towards Timmy. The wound in Timmy's chest was covered but Raphael pulled off the wound pad and then covered it with his hand. Raphael could feel a sensation like pulling. Like the middle of his hand was made of dough and it was being stretched. After a few minutes, he felt something solid touch the palm of his hand so he lifted his hand slowly. From Timmy's wound there protruded a bullet which seemed to push itself out of Timmy's wound as his chest stitched itself back together.
There wouldn't even be a scar.
WHAT'S IN A NAME?
Raphael felt weakened after exerting himself but even more exhausting was the smugness coming from Jethro Renton-Mass.
"Well done, Raphael," Jethro said condescendingly.
"You know that's not my real name?" the boy shot back spitefully.
The young Angel could see immediately that it had the desired effect. Jethro was bitter and furious because yes, he did know that "Raphael" wasn't his son's name. But what did it matter what he called the child? In the end, he was his fathers' son.
"Oh I know," Jethro replied resentfully. "But thank you for saving Timmy. He's like the son I never had."
The barb stung Raphael more than he expected considering he didn't want to be Jethro's son. But he was. Perhaps it stung because he wasn't wanted. He had been once. He had been loved. He had been so loved.
"You should have let Timmy die," Jethro heckled. "Do you know how dangerous he is?"
This taunt also had the desired effect. Jethro Renton-Mass could see his son was doubting his decision. That letting Timmy die might have saved lives even if it cost his own. Raphael had been forced to choose between inaction (letting Timmy die) and evil (saving Timmy's life... or letting him die – both seemed like evil choices).
"I know," Raphael replied guiltily.
"But you couldn't let him die, could you?" Jethro said. "What is it your dad said? Inaction is not the same as malevolent undertaking? But that's not true, is it Raphael?"
His dad said that?
"That! Is not my name," the boy insisted again.
"I know..." Jethro smiled. "Michael."
THE END!
MICHAEL TEMPEST WILL RETURN?
This was the final instalment of the story. It would be awesome to hear from more readers; if you liked the story, do you want a sequel? A potential follow-up would explore Timmy attempting to recruit a new boy to his team; also, Matt and Cyrus discover the truth about their son Michael.
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My stories so far:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#jforrester
Complete series: School Exhibitionism, The Symposium, The Embarrassment of Riches, Do As You're Told and A Series of Embarrassing Events.
The SEX Men prequel series: Anthology.
Short stories: Aiden's Accidental Autoerotic Assignment, Jogging Joe's Jaunty Journey and Peter's Past Posing Pictures.