ELIANO #6
And of course, knowing his intense personality, it’s no surprise that he swallows everything, wasting not a single drop.
When he straightens up and looks at me, there is a particular expression on his face. Probably the same one I had when I tasted how sweet his cum was, because that may signal a very specific bond between partners… the one suggested to us from the beginning: being True Mates.
He presses at the side of his jaw, sliding it back into place, and then unexpectedly says something I would not have anticipated in a moment like this.
"Eliano… I’m sorry for what happened, for that whole damn situation on the dance floor. I know you didn’t want to fight those idiots. I got drunk and made a mess of everything."
Wow, not the conversation I would have imagined after an incredible blowjob, but okay.
"It’s fine. Our situation here is really complicated. I get why you’re on edge. And why you felt the need to drink. Honestly, I felt the same way," I murmur, waving a hand dismissively.
I meet his eyes. I know his apology is sincere. He did not want to act that way, but alcohol and anger pushed him into it.
But is this really the moment to talk about it? Maybe not. I stand up slowly, feeling waves of weakness roll through my body.
Is this the crash after fighting mode, the adrenaline drop catching up with me?
"We’ll talk about everything tomorrow," I say, rubbing my forehead. "I need to lie down. I think it’s wearing off."
"Okay," Salt says quietly. "Your eyes are golden again, not red." He stands too. That is when I notice a sizable splatter of cum across his stomach. Nice!
He tosses the blanket aside, making room for me in the bed.
"Let there be no consequences from that fight," I mutter as I lie down.
I close my eyes, and even though it is only around six in the evening, sleep takes me.
◆◆◆
I wake in the morning to Salt shaking my arm.
"Eliano, Eliano," he repeats. "It’s time for breakfast. Our wristbands are beeping like crazy," he adds with a crooked smile.
I blink, my eyelids heavy as lead. It feels like my body still hasn’t fully recovered from fighting mode, but I’d rather not draw attention by skipping breakfast. I probably made us way too visible yesterday anyway.
With effort, I sit up, running my hands through my hair and rubbing my temples. My head feels unbearably heavy, my body sluggish.
"I read online, since you’re not using your laptop," Salt’s tone turns sarcastic, "that after fighting mode an alpha can sleep for up to twenty-four hours. You had less than that, so maybe you should try to nap again when we get back from breakfast?" he suggests.
There is something different in his voice. Less of his usual hostility, more of something neutral, almost practical, like he’s talking to a regular guy rather than an adversary.
Did something between us change?
"Sure," I mumble, getting to my feet unsteadily. Damn. Obviously, immense power comes with a price. It’s like heavy drinking; the hangover always comes after, often brutal.
I take a very quick shower, and then we leave the building together.
We are a few minutes late, and the promenade is already empty, which I accept with a sense of relief.
As we enter the dining hall, every head turns toward us at once, as if on command.
We grab trays and make our way toward the serving line; there is no one ahead of us. Everyone else is already seated with their food.
I school my face into something aloof and indifferent. I am not going to apologize to these idiots. They should never have attacked me and forced me into a fucking extra Last Man Standing game when they knew I wasn’t eager for it. I do not feel like I owe them anything.
Still, a few glances toward the tables are enough to tell me the damage I have done.
Bashir may have knocked some of them down before, but I did not hold back like he did. Many of them have massive bruises on their faces, swollen lips, blackened eyes, and some of the alphas are not here at all. Their betas sit alone in a tight group, staring at me with twisted expressions.
While the glances directed at me are wary, the ones aimed at Salt are downright hateful.
Right. We definitely did not make any friends here. They probably think it all started with Salt’s provocative dancing, and that I am just his biological ‘defense machine’ working on pure instinct.
I am not sure whether we should sit with Evan and Roman, but I do not want to create more tension between us. Considering that Evan did not take part in the fight, I can tolerate his presence.
So we sit down with them, exchanging a brief hello. Salt keeps his head lowered over his tray. He looks like he is in no mood for any kind of social interaction.
"What’s up," I murmur under my breath toward Evan.
He catches my eye, looking slightly uncertain, and answers quietly, "All good. All good."
And that is that. Things have definitely become awkward.
We finish eating in heavy silence. Just as we return our trays, I notice Deputy Miller passing by in the doorway, his silhouette briefly framed by the light.
An idea hits me.
"Come with me," I say quickly to Salt, instinctively grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He lets me do it, does not jerk away.
We catch up with Miller about fifty feet down the corridor.
"Mr. Miller," I call out. "I want to discuss what happened yesterday evening!"
He stops and turns, wearing that all-knowing smirk. I hate these artificial expressions that are morbidly abundant around Sector C.
"And what exactly happened?" he asks. "Typical alpha business?"
I clench my jaw, irritation flaring.
"This is a government facility. There should be rules here. That was a serious fight."
"Are you reporting on yourself?" Miller looks amused.
"Mr. Miller…"
"This facility has a very specific profile.
Natural hormonal stimulation. We do not pump people full of artificial hormones, because with the AO population, synthetic hormones perform poorly.
If they worked well, betas would have been able to switch sexes long ago, becoming omegas or alphas at any time.
That is not how it functions. We rely on nature, because nature is most effective. "
I stare at him with a heavy gaze.
"There will be no consequences? Some people lost teeth."
"One has a broken jaw, already wired by our medical team. Jeff has a concussion and a broken nose. And so what? Alphas are alphas. It’s like a river. You can guide it with stone banks, but when a flood comes, it overflows anyway. We are aware of that, and we do not regulate natural alpha behavior."
Salt steps forward.
"And what about attacks on betas? What if there had been… rape? On me? What if Eliano had no fighting experience and couldn’t protect me?"
Miller’s face turns sour.
"Scenarios, scenarios. What if this, what if that? And what if you hadn’t provoked the alphas, knowing they react like a bull to a red flag?
You cannot put all the blame on them, Salt.
Alphas can’t stop some reactions; it’s biological.
You can’t put a beta filter on alphas. When you stick your hand into boiling water, you get burned. "
"So you’re blaming the victim?!"
Miller sighs impatiently.
"You’re NOT a victim, Salt. You have your powerful protector, may I remind you? And besides, can you stop breathing, Salt?"
Salt clenches his teeth. "That’s a stupid comparison. Alphas have brains."
"Stop comparing! Alphas are not betas! They can’t be measured by our standards of low hormone levels.
Alphas have hormone levels like elephants in Musth.
If I pumped you with that now, you’d go nuts!
They enter real berserker states. It’s practically another species. If you fail to see that, it’s on you."
"This island is starting to really bother me," I mutter grimly. "I don’t want my husband to be in danger just because he wants to dance, and you feel justified in encouraging feral behaviors!"
I catch Salt’s surprised look. He probably didn’t expect me to defend him, especially with the guilt written all over his face.
He quickly adds, "Okay… To be fair, I got drunk and overdid it. I don’t deny it. I know I provoked them, I could probably skip the crotch-stroking part," he says with a short chuckle, rolling his eyes at himself self-mockingly.
"You shouldn’t feel threatened. Period," I say firmly.
Salt’s eyes linger on my face for a moment, his heart rate picking up slightly, then he speaks quietly. "The truth is, I didn’t. Because… you were there." There’s an intensity in his voice, and for a second we just stand there, staring at each other.
"I only did it because I knew you had my back. And that wasn’t fair to you, since I knew you didn’t like fighting. I’m sorry, Eliano."
Miller slips back into one of those infuriating smirks.
"I rest my case," he mutters, walking away.
Salt and I remain in the corridor. He lightly chews on his lower lip, then says, "Listen… I… what I said yesterday is still on the table."
I freeze, because the only thing that comes to mind is his offer of sex.
"No matter how things turn out in the future, what comes of it all…
I just…" He looks away, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. "I really appreciate that you didn’t do it when I was drunk. That was the right thing to do. Miller says alphas can’t control themselves, but even in fighting mode, you still kept your morals. "
I do not know what to say. I look away too, toward the bright end of the corridor. In the distance, more pairs are leaving the cafeteria, some of them turning to glance at us.
What keeps echoing in my head is the part where he said he didn’t know how things would turn out.
I suppose there's no way around it; I'll have to face it head-on.
"Are you sure we should be getting this close, Salt?" I blurt out. "I really want to have this experience, but I don’t want to do this with someone who will disappear from my life. I want it to mean more than just a hookup."
A deep silence falls. Salt stares at his hands.
"I just… I want that with you, Eliano. True, I don’t know what’s going to happen. This island is… not a place where I see my life. It has nothing to do with you. You’re a genuinely good guy. I just thought that if, you know, neither of us has had this experience, we could, well… trade our v-cards."
I chuckle at that expression despite my grim mood.
"Trade our v-cards? I’ve never heard that before, but I kind of get it.
" Then I grow serious again. "Still, I don’t want to trade it with someone for whom I mean nothing. I’d rather at least like each other a little.
Call me a romantic, but I suspect sex is deeper, more powerful, more beautiful that way. "
Salt glances to the side, his features tightening slightly as his eyes turn wistful. "Romance is overrated."
Not sure if I should delve deeper into it, but I add, "You know, my brother Luca once told me that sex without feelings has nothing on sex with someone you love."
The bitterness on Salt’s face deepens, tinged with melancholy.
He turns and walks away down the corridor, and I follow.
"Some people never get to experience love. Is it even real?" he mutters.
"I believe it is."
"Maybe, but it’s rare. My brother didn’t have it."
"He had you. Yes, it was a different kind of love, brotherly, but I am sure his life was so much better because of you."
Salt stops and blinks, his expression briefly softening before it tightens again, his gaze snapping back to mine with a strange intensity.
"Did Storm tell you something about my past?"
"Damien and Storm said you killed those alphas in revenge for what they did to your brother. That you were deeply loyal. I’m sure Senu returned your love."
Salt’s lips tremble slightly as he speaks. "Ten times over. He sacrificed himself for me. I wouldn’t have survived without him. I owe him so much."
I lift my hand, wanting to gently touch his cheek, but he suddenly steps back and my hand falls.
A crease forms on his forehead.
"Don’t," he says, clenching his jaw. "We shouldn’t… get closer. This is all temporary. I don’t want to hurt you or deceive you."
Silence settles between us.
And then I see it. His eyes drop for a brief moment to his forearm, where the words ‘Justice for Senu’ are tattooed.
It’s almost unconscious, automatic, but for me it opens a strange little window into his thought process.
So, I am not going to push, not going to beg for a chance for us.
I know that would only make things miserable.
"Fair," I say simply and turn to walk away.
Salt follows me slowly, but I can feel a shift in him on some deeper level. Even heavier sadness, mixed with anger, resistance, and something like grief.
But how do I even know this?
How is it possible that I read him so well? I feel his emotions almost physically in my own body. Is there really something more behind all this?
Whatever it is, I am not going to dig into it. Some things are better left alone.
As we walk along the promenade, I notice people sitting on benches, watching us with barely concealed hostility. I turn my head away and pretend that I don’t see it, don’t care.
But it dawns on me.
Damn. I’m always alone.
Alone in Anzo’s fortress, alone here too. Salt does not want to start a bond. Maybe he’s open to sex but not more.
My life just feels wrong.
Miserable.
We go back to unit 71. I sit down at the laptop and write my first article, openly critical of the situation in BA facilities.
I write about how, instead of building community, people are encouraged to compete, fight, and rival one another.
I ignore Salt, who stands in his usual spot by the window for a long hour, staring into the distance, smoking.
Lonely.
As I am.
Maybe that’s just our fate to accept.