SALT #3
But Eliano doesn’t linger in any kind of afterglow. Practical as ever, he pulls tissues from his pocket and makes sure neither of us ends up with our stomachs sticky with cum.
We do not say a word. Damn.
My eyes half-lidded, I turn my attention back to the screen, staring blankly as I drift in the lingering haze of post-orgasmic bliss.
Soon, the movie reaches its finale. The invading prince marries his chosen beta, as he’s the brother of the former king, and together they rule a united kingdom.
Naturally, it is revealed that the previous king was a cruel ruler who exploited his people. The new ruler, together with his beta husband, who soon becomes pregnant, introduces a far gentler reign.
The end credits roll.
All right.
Time to go.
Eliano and I are among the first to leave the hall. Some other couples are still occupied inside their enclosures, and no one rushes them, no one interrupts.
And then that damn silence persists as we head back home, as if nothing happened.
Apparently, Eliano has decided that if I do not want to talk, he will not push the issue. Is he still turning over the idea that I might try to run away? Has he decided that investing in whatever this is between us is not worth it?
Good. And yet, part of me feels tempted to start some small talk, any conversation at all.
When I see him sit down with the laptop again and start typing, a strange pang of disappointment comes over me. Just fifteen minutes ago, his lips were on my burning skin, and now they’re pressed into a hard line, his gaze fixed firmly on the screen.
I stand by the window for a moment, staring out toward the gentle hill where the fence surrounding the sector is visible in the distance.
Is this how it is going to be now? A short burst of sexual energy between us and then silence?
Fuck. I have never let myself do sexual things like this before, and for some reason it feels wrong that the first person I let this close isn’t even someone I have a basic friendship with.
I know I shouldn’t be doing this for the sake of my plan, but the feeling won’t let go.
It gnaws at me, like something is missing, some unspoken need to engage, to…
I don’t know, to be seen by him. Acknowledged.
He touched me, caressed me, made me come, and then… nothing?
I barely recognize myself when the question slips out.
"Are you writing an article?"
Eliano nods.
And still silence. He says nothing else.
Crap, it’s obvious I am dealing with the fallout from that previous conversation now.
He asked me outright whether I wanted to run, and I did not give him a firm enough denial, which means he has now simply accepted that whatever this is between us is a matter of days, that putting energy in it is pointless.
That is exactly what I wanted, so why the hell am I reacting like this now, why does it feel like something inside me is being violently yanked apart?
Damn it. This time, I’m not letting it go.
"About what?" I push.
"Beta Activation facilities."
My curiosity spikes immediately. Now I have the perfect reason to sit down beside him—close—and fix my gaze on the screen.
Eliano raises one eyebrow, clearly surprised that I suddenly want to talk.
"Are you serious? I remember there was a rule saying that everything that happens here, all the procedures and stuff, is confidential. We’re not supposed to talk about this place with anyone from the outside."
He lets out a bitter laugh.
"Oh, trust me, I know my ways around ‘confidential’ things. For seven years, I ran a blog about my own family. I aired all their dirty laundry, basically fed it to the public, not directly, more like heavy hints mixed with real facts. The blog, The Truth Only I Know, actually got pretty popular."
"Wow. And your uncle never figured out it was you?"
"Well… he did. It went like this. I had this sparring partner, Archer. He’s a hacker, and a damn good one.
He taught me a lot about covering my tracks online.
I only got caught because I started writing investigative pieces for other blogs and news outlets, and got paid.
I had protection, but Anzo found a way into the server of one of the outlets, and tracked me down this way. "
"That is still a huge risk, Eliano. I am not completely clueless about internet security topics. If they have an internal network here, it will be much easier for them to trace you."
Eliano smiles with a hint of superiority and pulls a small rectangular object out of his pocket.
"What is that?"
"It’s a miniature phone burner I got from Storm and Damien."
"Wait a second. Mr. Miller said there’s no phone signal here, and we have to connect with the outside world through their WiFi."
"That’s not entirely true." Eliano opens the burner and shows me the screen.
There is a single bar of signal.
"This phone is really impressive. It’s probably picking up one of the relay stations on the coast, about a mile from here. Regular phones can’t reach it. I’m not connecting through their Wi-Fi at all, only through the phone’s hotspot using the external national network."
"That’s clever! So you can actually browse the internet like this?"
"Yeah. Everything loads rather slowly, but it’s still enough."
"Wow," I blurt out.
"The post I put up on my blog already has fifty thousand shares. For now I’m not writing anything overtly negative. But who knows what I’ll end up writing later. If they push things too far, I’ll always have an audience ready for a scandal."
"For the folks out there this must be fascinating. All the secrecy around this program, plus how much resentment it attracts. People will be even more eager to read what you write. That definitely makes your post hot."
I rub my chin. "Listen, there are a few things I wanted to check online, and I don’t want it going through their internet gateway. Would it be okay if I used it later?"
Eliano’s face, which had been kind of lit up during the conversation, suddenly darkens. His gaze drifts over my face, and something shifts between us.
"Sure," he says curtly, almost icily.
Right. Just a moment ago, he must have briefly forgotten about our earlier conversation, but now it comes rushing back.
Does he suspect I need to look up something that could help me with an escape plan? Whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t say a word. He turns his head back toward the screen, and his energy grows heavy and withdrawn.
We sit there for a moment. I chew on my nails, wondering what to do, my eyes sliding over his naked forearms, the pronounced veins catching my attention without me even realizing it. Gosh, this is awkward.
Finally, Eliano puts the phone away and closes the laptop.
"Dinner is coming up. Let’s get going," he says in a forced neutral tone.
He steps into the bathroom for a moment. When he comes back, he does not say anything, just waits for me by the door.
At dinner, we sit with Evan and Roman again, along with a group of other couples. Evan introduces us one by one. Apparently, these are the people they usually hang out with.
I do not remember even half the names, but once again I am grateful to Eliano for carrying the weight of small talk.
Of course, the topic drifts back to those damn fights, which makes Eliano frown every time and give evasive answers. Also, at some point, Roman asks me if I like dancing, because there is a party coming up. I say that I actually do, which he greets with enthusiasm.
After dinner, when we get back to our unit, Eliano pulls the laptop out again, completely zoned in, and the whole scenario repeats itself almost exactly as before!
I stand by the window like an idiot, gnawing on my fingers, stupidly wanting to have some kind of connection with him, another conversation, or… a handjob.
Yeah. Damn it. I’m breaking my own rules. Honestly, fuck that.
The problem is choosing a topic. I have to avoid anything that could turn into bonding, lead to actually getting to know each other, or, Fate forbid, closeness. And yet those are exactly the things pulling at me.
I simply want something, even if it’s just the sound of his voice or his eyes landing on me for a second. Pathetic!
"So," I say, putting on what I hope passes for casual indifference, "mafia boy, right? What do they teach you growing up? Mafia family upbringing sounds like a thrill."
Eliano’s face twitches, just slightly, like I stuck him with a pin.
"What do you mean by thrill?" he asks flatly.
Right. That sounded way better in my head. I shoot him a crooked half smile. "You know. Shooting guns, smoking cigars, car racing… The stuff you see in movies."
The look he gives me is impossible to read, almost too still, like a hunting lion that’s decided not to move yet.
"Is that what mafia means to you?"
Damn. It somehow went the wrong way. What I actually want is a normal conversation, not this half-teasing thing.
"Seeing people killed, including your own parents, seeing folks raped, drugged, beaten, and forced to be an obedient dog with electric shocks wasn’t a thrill to me," he says calmly. "But yeah. I can shoot guns. And I can smoke cigars. If that’s what you wanted to hear."
"Uhhh. Heavy stuff," I mutter gloomily.
Fuck. That went straight off a cliff.
With jittery fingers, I take out a cigarette and start smoking, hoping to get my chill back.
Eliano lowers his head, his eyes locking back onto the screen.
A normal version of me would probably get defensive, but even I have lines I don’t cross. Mocking someone’s abuse is a hard no-go zone for me.
At the same time, I’m not about to apologize either, so I let it drop, pretending it never happened.
Taking one deep drag after another, I brood gloomily. Maybe I should switch to something neutral? Or at least only lightly provocative.
"Why do you want to avoid those fights here so badly, huh?" I ask.
Eliano doesn’t look up, no reaction.
"You’re pretty good, I’ve seen you on the bus. Your mood tanks every time they come up. It’s not like you’re scared, is it?"