Chapter 47
FORTY-SEVEN
JETT
Jett woke as the shuttle docked with the Oasis. He was wrapped in Eddie’s arms, a warm barrier against visions of Neo-Tokyo filled with an endless, opaque cloud. They dissipated but left him with an intense sense of dread that he couldn’t shake.
“Ed, what did you do with our stuff?” The clothing he wore was ripped and ruined, caked with blood, gore, and other fluids.
He badly needed a shower. He hated being so close to Eddie like this, but he needed the comfort, the touch more.
He felt like without Eddie’s presence, he would start to slowly go insane.
“I sent our bag with the Bridge Crew.” Eddie pressed a kiss to Jett’s forehead. “If they afford us the luxury of a room, it should be waiting there.”
“They fucking better, or I’m gonna reintroduce my pistol to Blaine.”
Eddie chuckled, soft and warm. “Let’s wait until we’re back on Charon before you do something rash. They are our ride after all.”
A few short moments later, a handful of CDF medics and soldiers entered the control room. Jett was still in Eddie’s lap, but he didn’t care what they thought. He’d just been to literal hell and back. They could deal with some PDA.
“Captain Edward Stone?” one soldier asked, looking at their small group.
“I am he,” Eddie replied, his chest rumbling beneath Jett. “My husband here has been injured.”
A medic stepped forward and Jett held out the leg that had been touched by the Larva. It ached, something writhing beneath his skin and above his bones.
“Looks like a bad bruise, nothing you need to worry about.”
Jett didn’t believe them, didn’t believe that nothing was wrong; he’d felt the cold and stinging, felt bubbles in his blood. But he also couldn’t explain what happened or what the Larva was to them. And he suspected that it wasn’t something he should talk about right now.
Jett felt something there, nestled in and around his ankle. Felt that otherworldly cold seeping deeper. Felt an overwhelming anger that lurked deep within his brain and heart, biding its time. He slid out of Eddie’s lap and allowed the bigger man to help him limp from the shuttle.
“We made it,” Ollie said. His smile wasn’t quite as bright as it used to be. He’d lost some part of himself on the streets of Neo-Tokyo.
“Not enough did,” Jett grunted as he almost lost his footing in the airlock.
Outside a group of people waited, including Blaine.
Jett bared his teeth, hissing, though he didn’t know if it was anger or pain.
He wasn’t surprised to see his old Commanding Officer, but he wasn’t pleased either.
Anger smoldered in his chest. He wanted to make Blaine pay for his callousness, for taking Jett’s life from him.
“Captain Stone,” Blaine said, extending his hand.
“You will excuse me, Commander, but my husband needs my help.”
Blaine visibly straightened. “We can have Lieutenant Valla taken to your quarters while we talk, Captain.”
“Like fucking hell,” Jett growled. “I won’t go without a fight.”
Eddie’s arm held him tighter, closer, and Jett glared at Blaine with all the pent-up hatred he’d nursed over the last decade. He might not be able to take the man one-on-one right now, but he probably was the faster draw.
“Calm down, love,” Eddie whispered in his ear. And the words alone soothed the roiling anger in his chest. Anger that far outweighed the circumstances. He looked up at Eddie and remembered that he had so much to lose if he were to act on whatever the Larva had done to him.
You are disciplined. You can control this shit.
Blaine turned and waved a grunt forward. He was completely forgettable, but held their duffel in his hands. “I’ll take you to your quarters.”
Eddie adjusted his grip on Jett’s waist. “Lead the way.”
The Oasis had that barren, militaristic feeling that all CDF ships had. There was no style or glamor to the ship. It was utilitarian to a fault, with dark grey, bright blue, and off-white as the only colors.
An elevator took them to the civilian level, which were brighter and had a subdued style to them that made them softer, more comfortable.
Bright yellows and oranges joined CDF blue, tab panels in the walls displayed artwork or played vids.
Alcoves held seating areas and windows to see into the Void outside.
The soldier led them all the way fore and put them in a room on the exterior of the ship.
Inside it was spacious, far larger than necessary for temporary accommodations, even for a Captain and his spouse.
The main room was set up with comfortable seating, an expansive desk tab against one wall, and a door leading to a comfortable bedroom with bright linens and another view outside.
“Is this acceptable for you, sirs?” the soldier asked, shaking slightly. He set their bag down just inside the door.
Jett eyed him, took them for someone’s personal assistant. “Are we expected to stay here for the return trip to Charon?”
A sudden stillness to the soldiers stance was the only response that Jett needed. “You have eight hours to rest and eat before your debriefing. Someone will be along thirty minutes prior to the meeting to escort you there.”
Jett waved them out of the room and stood there enjoying the silence, the lack of something trying to kill him.
“Love?” The word preceded Eddie’s arms around his shoulders, pulling him toward the bedroom. “You need to rest.”
Jett stopped and turned in the circle of Eddie’s arms and pulled the man against him. “I need a shower,” he said. “And I need to forget what I felt down there…”
Jett pulled Eddie down into a kiss, forceful and passionate. Need choked out the last embers of anger and he filed that fact away for later. He clawed at Eddie’s shoulders, hoping the man would pick him up and fuck him until he couldn’t remember anything.
But Eddie didn’t and when Jett pulled away to pout, Eddie smiled at him. “I thought you needed a shower.”
“Fuck you,” he growled, his shoulders sagging. He could wait until he was clean.
Eddie raised an eyebrow but dragged Jett toward the bathroom instead of the bed.
Jett ripped the disgusting clothing off of him, his stomach dropping as bloodied fabric stuck to his skin.
And he peeled off Eddie’s clothes for good measure, seeking comfort in their bodies together.
Hot water masked Jett’s tears as he relaxed enough to let his guard down and start processing everything that had happened. Especially Jack’s death.
But Eddie was there with his big hands, his warmth, his love, to hold him through the worst of the breakdown while the blood and gore washed down the drain.
The water went cold before Jett was done shedding his tears, but he wasn’t alone this time. And when he’d had enough, when the emotions were blunted, when his voice was hoarse, Eddie dried them both off and pulled Jett to the bed.
“Now?” Eddie asked.
“Uh-huh,” Jett replied, his hands already moving to Eddie’s chest, his waist, his hips. Eddie’s touch soothed him in more than one way now, but Jett didn’t want to think about that now. He wanted to feel Eddie.
But not how he’d expected.
Eddie kissed and licked his scars, making a lazy circuit from one shoulder to the other and back across his chest.
“Ed…” he whined.
“Yes, love?”
Jett almost didn’t have the words to describe what he wanted to do to Eddie, didn’t know if he had the energy.
Pushing up into a kneeling position, Jett kissed his husband. He finally saw a future ahead of him, with Eddie at its core. They had a chance to build a life together, go wherever they wanted, do whatever interested them.
“Lay down.”
He watched Eddie slide down, a coy look in his green eyes. “Ass up?”
Jett ran a hand from shoulder to hips, fingers grazing the skin, and was rewarded with a gasp. Eddie lay out before him, his shoulders broad, his waist narrow, his thick thighs resting beneath a toned ass.
It was a glorious sight, but more so for the heightened glow to Eddie’s eyes, the way he trembled beneath Jett’s hands.
Eddie always wanted this, but never begged.
He’d been neglected for too long before they met but, as always, Jett was there to meet his needs.
Meet, exceed, set higher thresholds of pleasure for the only man who had his love and devotion.
“Jett.” His name was a plea as Jett kissed down Eddie’s back, tongue tracing the map of his spine and muscles. Eddie squirmed beneath his ministrations.
“Please, please, please,” he begged, his voice a mere whimper.
“Relax,” Jett whispered, his hands kneading the muscle on his hips. “Turn over, Farm Boy.”
Eddie complied, shivering, his legs shaking with the stress and anxieties of the day. The need for release, for safety and reassurance.
Jett kissed Eddie, felt his trembling lips. “Relax. I have you, you’re safe.” They kissed again, Jett bruising himself against his husband, pushing everything else out of his mind. Every haunted face, every bloodied corpse; he pushed them away as he opened Eddie up.
It was a relief for both of them when Jett pulled their bodies close, lifted Eddie’s hips to the perfect position, and gave his husband the oblivion he begged for.