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Title: Wings ``°°ºº¤oøO§Oøo¤ºº°°``°°ºº¤oøO§Oøo¤ºº°°``°°ºº¤oøO§Oøo¤ºº°°`` Wolf was having a wonderful dream. He was standing on a rocky cliff overlooking the sea, high in the wooded coastal mountains of his ancestors. The strength of his animal spirit, the golden eagle, was running strong in his veins, and he leapt off the cliff with a fierce cry. Huge golden wings spread magically from his shoulders, and he soared out over the water. Giddy with freedom, he flew for hours, reveling in the heady sensations of flight. Now if he could just silence that dreadful buzzing that had impinged on his solitary journey... Damn. The alarm clock. He rubbed his eyes and stumbled out of bed, glancing blearily at the digital alarm clock. 6:30 in the morning, it shouted redly at him. He groaned. How he hated Mondays! It was always hard to get out of bed, and he inevitably had a bad day on every Monday. Either an experiment went wrong, or one of his superiors was out of sorts and looking for someone to take it out on, or even something like a two-hour fire drill in the middle of a blizzard would invariably happen. He staggered into the shower, dousing himself with freezing water first to wake himself up. Teeth chattering but finally fully alert, he gratefully turned the water to as hot as he could stand. When he'd finally filled the whole room with steam, he regretfully turned the water off and snagged a towel to dry himself. Rubbing his long, raven-black hair vigorously, he stepped back into his bedroom and strode over to his closet. He halted abruptly in front of the mirrored doors and examined himself critically. He was tall, towering over most average people at 6'4", but despite his lanky height, he wasn't the string bean that most other tall men tended to be. His bronze body still had its swimmer's physique - broad shoulders, hairless muscular torso and limbs without being grotesquely muscle-bound. His damp, arrow-straight black hair was thick and hung slightly past his shoulders. His face reflected his Native American heritage, sharp, angular features with high, proud cheekbones, noble forehead, a narrow blade of a nose, and a strong chin. His eyes were large and deep black. Altogether a pleasing face, all things considered. His gaze drifted downward toward the juncture of his thighs. Rather on the large size in this department, he admitted to himself, flushing slightly, but then, he was a big man, and everything was more or less proportionate. He sighed. Overall, he supposed he was a fairly attractive man, though this wasn't something he ever dwelt on. Why then, hadn't he found someone to share his life with? It would be one thing to be alone at age 29 if he were less than pleasing to look at, but he wasn't. He certainly attracted his share of female attention, but nothing ever panned out. He always lost interest once the women revealed by their actions that they were only interested in him for his looks. Wolf shook himself out of his reverie and silently blamed his mother for bringing on this morbid self-examination. He'd gone to Sunday dinner at his parents' home as usual, and his mother had started in immediately. Did he have a girlfriend? Why hadn't he stayed with that last young lady? Why didn't he choose a young woman from the Tribe? When was he going to get married, settle down, and start giving her grandchildren? He sighed again. He loved his mother dearly, but he wished she'd let him live his own life! He glanced at the clock again. Cripes! 7:15, it read. He had 15 minutes to get himself ready and get out of the house if he wanted to be in lab on time. He threw open the closet door, grabbed chinos and a black, collarless dress shirt, then detoured by the chest of drawers for boxers and socks and threw on his clothes. He hunted under the bed for his black leather shoes, then raced to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, thanked the Great Spirit that he didn't have to shave, grabbed his car keys and jacket, and dashed out the door. He roared out of the apartment complex parking garage in his black Jeep and sped off for the Genetech research complex. He was lucky, he mused, as he headed south on the interstate. He had a good job in one of the most prestigious genetics research facilities in the world, and he was working on one its most unusual and top-secret projects. Strangely enough, it involved feathers. They were huge, white feathers that had long been kept preserved by his people. Legend had it that one of the Spirits, perhaps the Great Spirit himself, had visited the Tribe in physical form hundreds of years ago. The warriors had first been afraid and attacked the creature, tearing out a handful of feathers from its magnificent wings. Its peacefulness had prevailed, however, and his people had learned much from it before it departed. The feathers had been preserved to remind the Tribe that knowledge and peace were often more useful than violence. As a graduate student, Wolf had been curious as to the kind of bird the huge white feathers had come from. It certainly wasn't any he knew at first sight. He'd done some very rudimentary studies, mostly just visual comparisons with known samples, but he never found a match. The "Spirit's" wings had to have been made from the feathers of some large bird, but the identity of said bird remained a mystery. Intrigued, he'd presented the problem as a research proposal to Genetech after he'd earned his doctorate in biochemistry. If his instincts were right, he claimed, they were looking at a bird larger and more powerful than any in North America, perhaps even the world. If they could identify it, perhaps clone it, they might be saving an incredibly rare species, or perhaps even resurrect one from extinction. It wasn't the sort of work Genetech usually did, but the research board had to admit that the idea had considerable merit. Despite their honorable motives and meticulous attention to bioethics, public outcry against genetically modified organisms and food was running high, thanks to the mistakes of other biotech companies. A project like Wolf's would make great strides towards convincing the average Joe that genetics wasn't at all about sinister "Frankenfoods," but could actually save the environment that humanity was so swiftly destroying. So the project had been approved and given substantial funds, and Wolf Falconer had joined a research staff that included some of the world's best geneticists. He'd worked on his project for two years already. First, he'd carefully taken tiny samples from the feathers with the Tribe's permission, a few shavings from the spines, some wisps of down, and most especially, samples of the remarkably well-preserved bits of flesh that clung to the feathers after their violent removal from the creature's wings. He'd been careful, so the feathers appeared to have been left untouched, even after he finished with them. After months of painstaking extraction and purification procedures, he'd at last obtained usable DNA samples. Months more, and he'd roughly sketched out about a third of the genetic sequence. He'd already begun running computer-driven matching protocols, trying to align what sequences he had with all known avian species. He had a handful of potential matches, all exceedingly rare, and was already looking into these with more detail. Overall, the research board was pleased with his progress and hinted that more funds were in the offing. What Wolf hadn't told the board, or even his supervisors, was that the DNA from the feathers was beginning to look suspiciously humanoid. When he'd first seen the correlations, he'd dismissed them as coincidence. Humans, after all, do not have feathers. But lately, the similarities were becoming too pronounced to ignore. Accordingly, Wolf clammed up when it came to new findings, keeping his reports focused on sequencing and matching to known and projected avian gene sequences. Anything this big had to be checked and rechecked and re-rechecked before he dared go out on a limb and report it. Though he wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself, part of him hoped that the genetic material was humanoid. It would go a long way towards vindicating the religious traditions of his Tribe, and by extension, other Native American Tribes whose spirituality had long been dismissed as mysticism. He broke away from his musings as he pulled into the Genetech parking garage, thankful that his "auto-pilot" had gotten him to work in one piece. He parked and took the elevator up to his 12th-floor lab and office, stopping to grab a cup of hot water for tea as he passed through the reception area of his department. He reviewed his notes as he brewed, then sipped the herbal tea. It was his own concoction, formulated with the help of the Tribe's medicine man and herbalist. It kept him far more alert than coffee ever could while boosting his memory and keeping him relaxed at the same time. He pulled his hair back into a tail to keep stray strands from contaminating his work and headed out into his laboratory. He'd been in the lab for perhaps two hours, blessedly undisturbed on this Monday morning, when his door opened and his supervisor, Randall Bennett, and another man entered. "Morning, Falconer," he said tersely. "Good morning, Randall. Something I can do for you?" Wolf asked politely. He privately disliked the older man, who obviously had a chip on his shoulder and thought Wolf was too young and inexperienced to get all the funding he did on a seemingly frivolous project. "Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. I'm sure you remember that the board promised you additional funds at your last review," he began. "They've decided that, instead of more money, you needed more help, so they hired you an assistant," Bennett said with a faintly malicious smile. Wolf groaned inwardly. Of all times to get an assistant! Usually, when the board hired you an assistant, it was a mark of status and favorable evaluation. Now, however, it was a nuisance. Just when his research was really getting interesting, and when he wanted to keep it under wraps, he was going to be saddled with a green researcher who would need training, which required time and patience, and who would need to be trustworthy, something Wolf had no way of knowing since he hadn't been in on the hiring process. Bennett pulled his silent companion forward. "This is Flynn O'Malley. He's just come to us from Dublin. He's all yours, Falconer." With that he turned and left. Wolf rolled his eyes. "Sorry about that," Wolf said to his new assistant as he watched his boss leave. "You'll have to get used to Bennett. He's not the most friendly man to work for. I'm Wolf Falconer." His eyes swiveled back to the young man in front of him. He stopped abruptly. And stared. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. The man before him was shorter than he, probably around 5'11" or so, and had the most vivid green eyes Wolf had ever seen. He was very slender, but not effeminate by any means. His most prominent feature was his hair. Rich, shiny, and deep copper in color, it fell in a thick braid all the way to his waist. His features were almost elfin in appearance. His skin was milky pale, almost translucent, but suffused with a rosy glow of good health. Between his huge, widely set green eyes rested a small, almost pert nose, which in turn perched over full, pink lips that spread suddenly into a dazzling smile. His delicate face tapered to a pointed chin, completing the picture. The thought registered distractedly in Wolf's brain that the hiring committee had inadvertently offered the job to fey creature newly emerged from Ireland's bewitched mists. The grinning apparition before him stuck out its hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Falconer. I'm Flynn, though I guess Mr. Bennett already told you that," Flynn said in a lilting Irish brogue, his voice a light, cultured baritone. Wolf snapped out of his trance and shook the young man's hand, noting his strong, confident grip. "Good to meet you, Flynn, but if we're going to work together, you'll need to drop the 'mister.' Mr. Falconer is my father. I'm Wolf." "Wolf, then. I hear you've got a rather interesting project. I'm looking forward to working on it." "Glad to hear it. Why don't we step into my office for a bit. I can familiarize you with the project, and you can tell me more about yourself and any experience you've had. I'm sorry, but Bennett caught me unprepared; I haven't even been forwarded a copy of your résumé." "Not a problem. I've got a copy with me." Flynn slid a two-page document out of a leather portfolio he'd been carrying. "Thanks. I'll read it in more detail later, but you can give me the highlights in the meantime. Please, sit down," he gestured toward the empty desk that sat next to his own. "This will be your desk. These offices are designed for two people, but I've been alone in here ever since they gave me this lab." Flynn sat down at the decently sized desk, new computer sitting dormant on its surface, empty shelves and file drawers waiting to be filled. "Tea?" Wolf offered politely. "Oh, yes please. I'm still jet-lagged, and I could use a bit of a pick-me up." Jet-lagged? Hadn't they given the poor guy a chance to get acclimated to the time difference? "This will pick you up, all right," Wolf laughed, "but it's probably not the sort of tea you're used to." Flynn smiled. "I'll take anything, at this point." Wolf took a clean mug off his top shelf, then snagged a liter-sized Erlenmeyer flask from where it rested on a hot plate atop his filing cabinet. "Don't worry, the flask is clean and has never been used for anything other than to heat water for tea," Wolf assured his fiery-haired officemate. He filled two tea strainers from his jar of dried herbs, placed the strainers in the tea mugs, and then poured hot water over them both. "You make your own tea?" Flynn asked upon seeing the jar of herbs. "Yes. It's my own blend, formulated with the help of the Tribe's medicine man. It's unbelievable stuff. Has a better kick than coffee, but it tastes much better, not to mention being better for you." "Cool!" "So, tell me about yourself - your education, any experience in the field, that sort of thing," Wolf said. The pleasantries would fill the time it would take for the tea to steep. "Well," Flynn said, all business now, "I attended the Dublin Institute of Technology for my undergrad degree, the equivalent of a B.S. in biochemistry, and then I went on to Oxford for graduate school. I studied under David Sherrat, so I'm conversant with all the usual genetics research techniques. I'm familiar with nucleic acid isolation and synthesis, sequencing, recombination, PCR, primer design, gene splicing, and so on. I've had lots of experience with the usual analytical techniques, like electrophoresis, autoradiography, blotting, and the like. From what I've heard of your work, I should fit right in. I hope you don't have to waste too much time training me." Wolf grinned as he removed the tea strainers from the mugs and slid one over to Flynn. "Hey, don't worry about it. An experienced pair of hands and sharp mind is worth far more to me than the few hours I might have to spend bringing you up to speed." Wolf's mind had been working fast while Flynn had outlined his educational background, and he'd come up with the perfect way to both evaluate his new assistant's skills and verify his unusual findings. "I've been thinking just now, and I think I've come up with a good way to introduce you to the project and evaluate your skills at the same time. I'd like you to redo some of the work I've already done. Not only will it let me see how you work, it'll also give me a verification of my results so far." The Irishman nodded and took an experimental sip of the unsweetened tea. "Say! This is pretty good! Even without any cream or sugar. Better than any tea I've had, that's for sure." "Thanks! Glad you like it." "Good idea you've got, by the way. I agree with you. That will be a good way to start off. So I hear you're trying to identify a mysterious bird..." And they were off and running. Two hours later, Wolf had outlined the details of the project, minus his recent, surprising results, with Flynn asking keen, pointed questions along the way. Though he'd yet to see the young Irishman in action, Wolf was already impressed. They appeared to think alike, which would make them a formidable team in the lab, but with just enough difference that they'd catch each other's mistakes, another advantage. At length, Wolf yawned and stretched and glanced at the clock. "Wow, where'd the time go?" he blurted. It was already noon. "Feel like some lunch?" he asked Flynn. "Yes, actually, I'm famished! I haven't really had a full meal since the flight over, and that wasn't really a meal. Bloody long trip, that, from Heathrow to San Francisco." "You haven't eaten since your flight?" Wolf was taken aback. "When the hell did you get here?" "'Bout a day and half ago, I think." "No wonder you're still dealing with the jet lag! Didn't they give you a chance to get settled in?" Flynn looked uncomfortable. "Well, there was supposed to be a bit of lag, but there were some complications with my degree, and I wound up staying at Oxford longer than I planned." He shrugged. "I'll get caught up with myself eventually." They approached one of Wolf's favorite Thai restaurants. "How does Thai food sound?" "Never had it before," Flynn answered. "Is it any good?" "I think so. You like spicy food?" Flynn grinned wickedly. Wolf laughed. "In that case, leave the ordering to me." "I'll try anything once," the smaller man said with bravado. Wolf glanced at him speculatively. "Within reason," Flynn amended hastily, much to Wolf's amusement. They sat down to bowls of spicy Basil Chicken over steamed rice. Flynn munched experimentally on the unfamiliar dish. "Say, this is pretty good!" he enthused as the chili peppers in the dish made his fair skin flush bright red. Wolf grinned. "Glad you like it. One of the best things about being next door to UC Berkeley is that you get all the benefits of a university town. It's a pretty diverse campus, and you can find almost any kind of cuisine that strikes your fancy. I think there's even a reasonably authentic pub somewhere around here if you're interested." "Mm." Flynn made a noncommittal noise as he ate his lunch quickly and neatly. They chatted for awhile longer, and Wolf learned that Flynn was young for a Ph.D., only 25, and this was his first time out of the UK. He was an avid soccer fan and soccer player, was a fan of classical and folk music, and was the adventurous sort. If he ever had the opportunity, he wanted to try things like skydiving, scuba diving, and hang gliding. Wolf was entranced in spite of himself. His new labmate was a beautiful man, inside and out. Not that men were beautiful, Wolf amended hastily, but if they were, Flynn would certainly qualify. Something they'd discussed briefly earlier returned to nag at Wolf's consciousness. "So where are you staying, Flynn?" "At the moment, my trunks and bags are stacked floor to ceiling in a cheap hotel room. Genetech said they'd put me up for a week while I looked for a place." Wolf frowned. "That's pretty rough. You're never going to get a lease on a decent place this time of year. At least, not anywhere close. Since this is a college town, leases begin and end in August. Everything but the really shabby walk-ups will be full now. And believe me, you don't want to live anywhere near any of those. If you want anything else, you'll have to go so far out of town that the buses won't run near you, and that means you'll need a car." Flynn grimaced. "Guess that means a walk-up until I make a bit more money." Wolf looked thoughtful for a moment. "Y'know, I've got a spare bedroom. If you don't mind bunking with your supervisor, you're welcome to stay with me. I live in a great apartment complex - full gym, Olympic-sized pool, the works. It'd sure beat a hotel or cheap walk-up." "You'd be willing to do that for me? Wow. Thanks! I'd be most grateful. I insist on sharing expenses, of course, but boy, am I ever glad you'd let me stay with you!" Wolf wasn't sure exactly why he'd just offered his extra space to his young assistant. He'd always relished his privacy and preferred to live alone. Whatever the reason, though, it appeared he had a roommate. He was happier about the prospect than he thought he'd be, though he wasn't sure exactly why. ~~~~~ Flynn O'Malley was on cloud nine. He'd just been offered a prestigious position in of the premier genetics research facilities in the world right out of graduate school. Even if it meant leaving his beloved Ireland behind and moving to the States, he was excited about the opportunity. A few hang-ups with his thesis defense had kept him at Oxford longer than he'd intended, but that's just the way things worked out. Nothing he could do about it. And so, bleary-eyed and jet-lagged, he'd barely had time to get through customs and immigration, retrieve his trunks and bags, find the seedy hotel that Genetech was paying for, and grab a few hours of exhausted sleep before dragging himself to the research campus. He reported to Randall Bennett, head of research for the American branch. He disliked the man instantly. He saw the way Bennett took in his young, rather casual appearance, especially the long braid, and knew the feeling was mutual. Bennett was middle-aged and seemed faintly offended that the explosion in genetics research had missed the prime of his career, and that just as things were getting exciting, he was relegated to a desk job. Flynn had the impression that the man was constantly sneering down his nose at him. He'd been ushered off to Human Resources to fill out the endless paperwork required of a foreign national new hire, then bundled back to Research where Bennett had hurried him down a white hallway flanked on one side by solid windows and on the other by offices and labs. The Research Director yanked open a door and motioned him inside, tersely indicating that the person who worked here would be his new supervisor. Flynn glanced past his unwilling host and glimpsed his immediate boss for the first time. And just about melted through the floor. God, but the man was gorgeous! He was very tall, probably had a good five or six inches on Flynn, and it was obvious even through the white lab coat that he was very strong. His skin was a dark, cinnamony-bronze color, and his long, straight hair was glossy raven-black. His exotic features proclaimed his non-European heritage; he didn't look Asian, so Flynn guessed that he was some variety of Native American. Flynn wasn't sure which deity to thank, but somebody was looking out for him. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was definitely very much his type. A moment's further appraisal led him to believe that said deity also had a wicked sense of humor. Unless he missed his guess, his new boss was straighter than an arrow. Flynn had developed a rather accurate sense of this sort of thing, and the man didn't register so much as a blip on his internal radar. Flynn sighed. Ah, well, he was certainly nice to look at, even if he couldn't have him. Flynn had realized that something wasn't quite right not long after he hit puberty. All his friends were suddenly terminally interested in girls. They watched girls, talked about them, compared them, and told entirely untrue tales about what they did with them constantly. Flynn was just...indifferent. He'd always figured that he was something of a late bloomer, and interest would come in its own good time. But it never did. When he started fantasizing about some of the more good-looking members of the men's football and swim teams at his school, he began to suspect that something was wrong. He tried dating girls; he certainly wasn't short on female attention. His long, long flaming red hair was something of a novelty, and as a star forward on the football team, he was a popular guy. But even on a date with a girl, he just wasn't...excited. Not even a little. After some long and painful soul searching, he finally admitted to himself that was probably homosexual. He then set about making sure no one, but no one ever found out. His family was very Irish Catholic, and he was sure his father would disown him, probably beat him to death if he ever knew. So he kept up appearances, dated girls, talked the talk, walked the walk. In fact, he had the reputation of being quite the ladies' man. None of his relationships lasted beyond the first few dates, which was when they usually figured out that he wasn't interested in the physical aspects of a relationship, nor did he have any intention of committing to anyone. He'd gone off to Dublin Tech for his undergraduate degree, his parents tickled to death that one of their sons was getting a big-time education, though they wondered at his choice of major. What possible use was biochemistry, they wondered. Why not engineering? Flynn had politely, tactfully told them that he wasn't interested in engineering, and it was his life and his career, thank you very much. It was while he was away at school that he'd first met other gay students. He was way too shy at the time to consider a relationship with any of them, but he was glad to finally know that he wasn't totally alone. He was at a (very secret) get-together for gay students when he met Namsoo, a lanky giant of a Korean who quickly became his closest friend once they decided that neither had any romantic interest in the other. Flynn was a top-flight student in college, had a perfect GPA and was selected as one of a few undergraduates to participate in a research program. During his senior year, he was invited to attend Oxford University with a full Fellowship - all expenses paid plus a stipend besides. Ecstatic, he'd phoned home at once to tell them he was planning on going on to graduate school to earn his doctorate. His parents were slightly less enthusiastic this time round, wondering when their 'bookish' son would get his head out of the Ivory Tower and into the real world, but they couldn't really protest since it wouldn't cost them anything. It was on graduation day, the happiest day of Flynn's collegiate life, that disaster struck. After the ceremony, he and Namsoo had walked back to the flat they shared to change clothes before heading out to a pub with Flynn's parents. Unbeknownst to either of them, Mr. and Mrs. O'Malley had taken it upon themselves to wait in the apartment for their son's return. When the two young men entered, Namsoo had swept his friend into his arms and kissed him soundly on the lips. And Flynn's father had seen. The older man flew into a rage, beating Flynn and Namsoo unmercifully. The Korean managed to dive out a window to safety, but Flynn was not so lucky. The last thing he heard before falling into unconsciousness was his father's voice telling him that he was never to come back to his childhood home, and that Flynn wasn't any son of his. More hateful things were said, but Flynn didn't hear, swallowed by the blessed blackness of oblivion. He awoke in a hospital, to which Namsoo had managed to drag him, and was there for a week or more while he recovered from the more serious injuries. That was one of the reasons why he'd left Ireland. It held too many painful memories, and he just could not imagine going back after he'd finished at Oxford. The Genetech position held the lure of taking him far, far away from his unhappy past. So here he was in San Francisco, ready to embark upon his future, for better or worse. And Heaven help him, he had a crush on his boss. Of all the infantile things for him to do! And then the guy had to go and offer to let him move in! Flynn could already see where this was heading - sheer torture. But he couldn't bring himself to refuse, not when Wolf had been so kind in offering his hospitality. So he took the gorgeous man up on his offer, willing his traitorous body to refrain from giving him away. They finished their lunch finally and headed back to the lab. Wolf sent Flynn to the stockroom with instructions to purchase whatever he needed - lab coat, gloves, solvent bottles, stock chemicals, file folders, pens, pencils, the whole nine yards. Flynn entered the cavernous storeroom and was immediately pounced upon by Marjorie Gillman, the sixty-something woman who monitored the dispensation of goods during business hours. "Something I can do for you, dearie?" she asked the angelic young man who appeared at her desk with an empty cart and a lost expression. "Yes, ma'am. At least, I hope so, ma'am. It's my first day in the lab, and I need to stock up on a few basics." Marjorie nodded sagely. "Ah, yes. You must be the new lad in Wolf's lab. I've been expecting you. Don't you worry; Margie'll take care of you." She patted his pale cheek encouragingly. Flynn blinked. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting at the storeroom, but Marjorie sure wasn't it. She seemed determined to mother him, though, so he let her. She dragged him up and down the aisles, loading his cart with everything from handsoap to scotch tape. She eyed him critically when they reached the lab coats. "Hmmm. I think a medium will do for you, young man, but I expect you to put some more meat on those bones, hear?" "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." He accepted the lab coat, both impressed and amused that she'd pegged his size right off the bat. "Such a nice change to have a polite young man these days!" She patted his cheek again. Flynn did his best to look bashful, which he was, and naïve, which he wasn't, not really. He knew that the stockroom supervisor was an indispensable ally, no matter where one worked. If Marjorie wanted to play grandmother, he was happy to go along with it to stay in her good graces. "Now, you'll have to sort out your chemicals yourself; they're across the hall. You seem like a trustworthy young man, so I'll issue you a key to both storerooms. You'll probably think of other things you need after I've gone home, and I want you to be able to get them. Just note down what you get - we work on the honor system." "Thank you ma'am. You've been most helpful." "Oh, and you'll have to go to Central Document Processing in the basement for a lab notebook." "Thank you again, ma'am. Have a pleasant afternoon." "Such a nice boy!" she exclaimed as he trundled his laden cart down the hall towards his lab. ~~~~~ Flynn maneuvered the cart into the lab. Lab-coated and bespectacled again, Wolf turned around when the door opened. His eyes widened at the mountain of stuff on the cart. "I see you've met Marjorie," he said, a sardonic smile quirking the corner of his mouth. "Aye, I did! She even gave me keys!" Wolf's jaw dropped. "Keys? On your first day? What the hell did you say to her? It took me a year to get keys!" Flynn grinned lopsidedly. "I was just polite, I guess, plus she was obviously feeling grandmotherly, or something. Kept fussing over me. I suppose that looking like I'm about 12 has its advantages after all." Wolf chuckled. "I don't know about 12, but Margie does have a soft spot for young people." Flynn was already unloading his cart, stocking up the empty bench space. He dumped his office supplies in a pile on his desk, then was out the door again, heading for the basement and a lab notebook. The basement turned out to be a labyrinth of boiler rooms, fan rooms, storage cages, and labs that housed incredibly sensitive equipment that would've been unstable above the ground. He was hopelessly lost within seconds. As he stood in a corridor, trying to get his bearings, he was nearly bowled over by a teenager with a mail cart as the kid came sailing around the corner. "Whoa! Sorry dude. You lost?" "Er, yes, I think so. I'm looking for Central Document Processing." "Oh, you're not far off. Central Docs is back that way, through the double doors, then take your first left. You can't miss it." "Thanks, boyo!" The kid quirked an eyebrow. Boy? "Uh, sure dude. Glad I could help." Flynn grinned. "Sorry, lad. I just got off the boat, I guess you'd say. I meant no offense." The kid picked up on Flynn's Irish accent at last and smiled. "No problem, man. Good luck!" Flynn turned and headed for Central Docs. When he finally found it, he was very impressed. The whole place was lined floor to ceiling with file drawers, and a huge vault stood open at one end of the room. It was lined with smaller locked boxes, each containing several stacks of computer disks and laboratory notebooks. His waist-length red braid flopped over his shoulder and hung down his front as he went into the climate-controlled archives. He stepped to the desk, and a young woman stood up from her workstation. She brought her disinterested eyes up to his, finally, and blinked. Her eyes widened as she took in the extraordinarily good looking young man in front of her. She immediately pasted an appealing smile on her face. "May I help you?" she asked in honeyed tones. "I hope so, miss. I need to acquire a laboratory notebook." "Sure thing, handsome. What name should I sign it out under?" Flynn colored, abashed. "Er, the name's Flynn O'Malley." She made a few notes in a log book, then reached under the counter for a hardbound black book. "Well, Flynn O'Malley, you get notebook number 4582. Use it up quick so you can come back and see me for another!" She tossed him a flirtatious glance. "Er, yes, er, thank you." Flynn escaped gratefully. He found his way back upstairs without too much trouble and spent a few moments organizing his office supplies. He had a few boxes of books stashed in his hotel room that he'd have to bring in to populate his empty shelves. He set up the mail and internet accounts on his computer as the department secretary had instructed, then read the obligatory welcome-to-the-company-computer-network emails before standing back up and stretching. He yawned cavernously just as Wolf came back into the office, stripping off his safety glasses in the progress. "Oh, man, Flynn, you must be exhausted!" Flynn chuckled wearily. "Yeah, you could say that. I'm not going to be much good for the rest of the day, I'm afraid." Wolf glanced at his watch. It read 3:00 pm. "I'm at a stopping point. Let's stop by the secretary's office and I'll take the rest of the afternoon off. They should give you the time anyhow since you haven't moved into your own place yet and are practically asleep on your feet. C'mon." Flynn followed him gratefully. Wolf pulled the leather thong out of his hair, releasing it from its queue. He poked his head into the department office. "Hi, Annie. I'm going to take a couple hours off this afternoon and help get my new labmate settled. He's still jet-lagged from a trans-Atlantic flight, too. They really didn't give him any time to acclimate." Annie Spinetti, a gregarious Italian woman of about 35, looked sympathetic. In her accented English, she said, "Take the poor young man home, gorgeous. Bennett will never learn it from me!" "Thanks, Annie, you're a real sweetheart!" Wolf steered Flynn out of the building. "I'll drive you to your hotel, and we'll load up the Jeep with as much stuff as we possibly can." "Sounds good." He yawned again. "I hope that spare room of yours has a bed in it. Or I may just go unconscious on the floor." Wolf grinned. "Not to worry. We'll get you loaded up and checked out, then you can sleep yourself out at home." True to his word, it only took an hour to make the two trips necessary to get all of Flynn's stuff back to Wolf's apartment. No sooner did they have the trunks and boxes in Wolf's spare room than Flynn collapsed onto the bed and was out in seconds. Wolf smiled softly and decided to let him sleep. Wolf puttered around in his apartment for awhile, making room in the bathroom for Flynn's shaving kit, clearing some space in the bookshelves and CD racks for any books or music he might have brought. He'd been storing some of his own clothes in the spare closet, so he tiptoed into the room to remove them. On his way out, he stopped and looked at the sleeping man on the bed. Flynn looked disconcertingly young and innocent, his face beautiful and open in his sleep, the long red braid coiled over one shoulder, chest rising and falling gently. A curiously soft smile crossed Wolf's face. He wondered at the unfamiliar tender feelings that bloomed within him. Maybe it was because he felt bad for Flynn, hurried across the Atlantic into an unfamiliar land with no chance to stop and think before he was hustled off to work. Maybe. After moving his clothes, Wolf went out into the kitchen to make dinner, preferably something that took a long time to cook. He figured Flynn would be out of it for awhile. Chili was probably a safe bet, then. Two hours would be long enough for it to cook sufficiently, but it would only improve with longer simmering. He could put together some cornbread and bake it after Flynn awoke. Satisfied with his solution, Wolf set to work browning meat and chopping vegetables. He had the chili assembled and simmering in no time, then settled in to read the daily newspaper while waiting for Flynn to wake. It was some time later by the look of the sun when he was roused from a light doze by the delicious aroma of simmering chili. He glanced at his watch. And blinked. 7:00 pm already? He stretched and got to his feet. Moving silently, he peeked into Flynn's room in time to see him stir and stretch, but he didn't open his eyes yet. Flynn sniffed the air. Something smelled absolutely divine. His stomach growled and told him in no uncertain terms that he'd better go in search of whatever was producing those delicious aromas. He rolled out of bed and turned towards the door. Not expecting to see anyone, he jumped nearly three feet into the air when he realized Wolf was standing there. "Bloody hell!" he swore. Wolf winced. "Sorry, Flynn. I was just looking in to see if you were still asleep. Dinner's ready if you're interested." Flynn laughed. "Interested? My stomach is ready to rebel if I don't fill it in a hurry. What smells so good?" Wolf grinned. "My own secret recipe for chili." "I feel like I could eat the whole bloody pot!" "I just need about 15 minutes to bake the cornbread." Flynn looked faintly distressed. "But you can get started on the chili, if you'd like," Wolf laughed. The went out to the kitchen, where Flynn's stomach snarled alarmingly again. Wolf handed him a full bowl of chili sprinkled with grated cheese, then threw a pan of cornbread batter into the oven and dished out a bowl of chili for himself. They sat on bar stools at the "breakfast" bar, which Wolf used for all meals. Flynn took a bite of the chili and sighed contentedly. "Mm. This is fabulous!" he said around his mouthful. "If you do everything like you do this chili, Wolf, you've got to teach me to cook. I'm a nightmare in the kitchen." "Thanks, Flynn. Glad you enjoy it. My mother was perpetually worried that I'd go hungry once I moved away from home, so she made sure she taught me how to cook. I've gotten reasonably good at it. I'll teach you if you'd like, but you'd probably do better learning from her," Wolf said, grinning. "Yikes, already threatening to turn Mom loose on me!" Flynn ribbed. "Nothing to worry about, man. My Mom would love you to death. She's a real mother hen - every kid in the Tribe is an honorary niece or nephew or grandkid to her." "Tribe? Your family, then, lives on a...whatchmacallit?" "Reservation." "Right." "Yeah. I grew up on a reservation about 150 miles up the coast from here. My parents are still there, and my younger sister, but my brother moved off when he got married." "What was it like?" "Probably not a whole lot different from any other kid's childhood. I just happened to grow up in a small village with a bunch of people that look like me and learned about a culture that most American kids don't hear about until they hit middle school." Flynn ruminated on that for a moment. Wolf was right, he supposed. He just had a romanticized notion of Native American life gleaned, no doubt, from watching too many classic Westerns. The oven timer dinged, and Wolf retrieved the pan of golden cornbread. He dished up large pieces for them both. Flynn bit down into the yellow sweet bread with relish. "Mm. I think I'll keep you," he joked. Wolf snorted. "Glad I meet with your high standards." Flynn laughed merrily, a delightfully boyish sound. "Really, Wolf, I can't tell you how grateful I am to be here and not in a hotel for another night. I'm really thankful for what you're doing for me." "No problem at all, Flynn. I don't know you very well yet, but from what I do know, I think you'd do the same for me" "You're right on that count, boyo." Flynn grinned cheekily. Wolf resisted the urge to tousle his braided hair. "I'm going to take some time to get unpacked, if you don't mind," Flynn said. "Go right ahead; make yourself at home." "I'll help you with the dishes first, though." They settled in at the sink like they'd been living together forever. Flynn washed, Wolf dried and put things away, and they somehow managed to stay out of each other's way. Flynn retired to his room and his unpacking while Wolf settled in to read one of the latest thrillers. It was nearly midnight when he surfaced again, surprised the book had held his attention so long. He headed for his room, first detouring to the bathroom to wash up and braid his hair before bed. Once in his room, Wolf stripped to his boxers and donned a pair of loose sweat shorts for sleep. Just as he was crawling into bed, he paused, sure he'd heard a noise from the other bedroom. It sounded suspiciously like...a whimper? Flynn was probably just dreaming. Wolf was halfway into bed when Flynn's voice suddenly shouted, "NO!! Da, stop please!" Wolf scrambled out of bed and flew across the hall to wake Flynn out of his night terror. He burst into the room just as Flynn cried out again. "Da! You're hurting me!" the young man screamed out in his sleep. "Flynn! Wake up!" Wolf called. He shook Flynn's shoulder vigorously. Flynn screamed again, and his eyes flew open suddenly. His gaze darted around the room, his eyes wild. His heart was pounding, racing like a rabbit's. He'd relived that horrible day when his father had beaten him and was terrified. His eyes finally fell on Wolf's concerned face, and he broke into huge, heaving sobs of relief, unable to help himself. Wolf didn't even think. He simply reached out and pulled the Irishman against his chest, enfolding the younger man in a comforting embrace. He just let him cry, rubbing his back and crooning soothing nonsense into his ear. At length, the terrible wrenching sobs quieted. "You okay, Flynn?" "Yeah, I think so." Sniffle. "Thanks. I'm not quite sure what that was." "You want to talk about it?" Flynn shook his head mutely. Wolf nodded. "Your choice, man. I respect that. My guess, though, is that it's something you've been bottling up for a long time. It'd do you good to get it out. I want you to know I'll listen if you change your mind." Wolf regarded Flynn steadily for a moment, then left. Flynn exhaled in relief. Wolf still didn't know he was gay, and he still had a place to say. Whew. Wolf suddenly came back in and hung a circular webbed medallion with dangling feathers and beads over the headboard of Flynn's bed. "It's a dreamcatcher," Wolf explained. "According to our traditions, bad dreams get caught in the web, and only good dreams escape to grace your sleep. I hope it helps bring you peaceful dreams." Flynn's resistance crumbled. "Wolf?" "Yeah?" "There's something you need to know. About me. I should've told you earlier, but I accepted your hospitality before I thought, and then I admit I didn't want to risk you rescinding your offer. I'm sorry, Wolf." Wolf looked concerned. "Look, Flynn, I'm not sure what you're so worried about, but I wouldn't toss you out unless you confessed an intent to either murder me or clean me out. Don't worry, man, whatever you've got to say isn't going to change anything." Flynn sighed. "I wish I believed you. Just, please, don't hurt me. I'll do whatever you say, but please don't hurt me." Wolf was well and truly alarmed. He sat down on the bed and grasped Flynn by the shoulders. "Flynn, I would never hurt you, not for any reason. Any fool can see that you're a good man. I promise you, whatever it is, you will not come to harm because of it." Flynn swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "I'm gay," he said quietly. Wolf nodded, obviously waiting for Flynn to continue. When he didn't, the big Indian looked confused. "Yes, and...?" Flynn was intently studying his folded hands as they rested on the sheets. "And nothing. Weren't you listening? I'm gay." "So what? That's what had you so worried?" Wolf was incredulous. Flynn nodded miserably. Wolf gave a short bark of laughter. "I hate to rain on your parade, but that makes absolutely no difference to me. It doesn't change the way I look at you, or anything. I mean, you might as well have told me that you dye your hair, or that you have big feet, or something. It's no never mind to me except in the context of how it affects you." Flynn's eyebrows shot towards his hairline. "You mean you're not going to hit me or throw me out or anything?" Wolf's face took on a stricken look. He gripped Flynn's shoulder almost painfully. "Of course not! My God, Flynn, what the hell's happened to you that you think I'd hurt you just because of that?" Flynn sagged visibly with relief. "You're the first straight man I've ever told that hasn't beaten the tar out of me afterward." "Damn, Flynn, I'm sorry. Nobody deserves that." Flynn suddenly threw his head back and laughed. "I did it! I told somebody, and the sky didn't fall! I didn't get hit by lightning! Isn't that grand?" he cried. Wolf couldn't help chuckling at Flynn's sheer joy. He sobered suddenly. "Your nightmare...you called to your...father. Oh, God, don't tell me he..." "Within an inch of my life. I was in the hospital for a week afterwards, wasn't fully recovered for months. Only one other person knows what happened that day. He managed to dive out the window. And you know, we weren't even lovers. We were just friends, but my father beat and disowned me anyway. I've not been back to Ireland since." Wolf felt a heart wrenching pain for Flynn. To be cut off from home and family, spurned by those you love because of something you can't control... He hauled Flynn into his arms again. "I'm so sorry, Flynn. I just so damned sorry. Nobody should have to experience that." Flynn sighed and seemed to deflate a little. "God, it's been so long since anybody hugged me. You'll think I'm a spineless wimp, but it feels so very good." He grimaced suddenly. "I hope I didn't just chase you off. I'm not trying to come on to you or anything." But I wish I could, he thought privately. Wolf chuckled and tightened his hold. "Hugs don't have a sexual orientation. Everyone in the Tribe helps raise the kids. I've got a whole village of aunts and uncles and cousins, and none of us are shy about showing affection. It doesn't bother me at all." Wolf pulled back a little and grinned at his houseguest. "You ever need a hug, let me know. I promise not to breathe a word to anybody else. And your other secret is safe with me too. I won't tell a soul unless you give the word." "Thanks, Wolf. I appreciate that. On both counts." "Don't mention it. You going to be okay now? We need to be at work in," he glanced at the clock, "seven hours. You going to make it?" Flynn smiled shyly. "Yeah. Thanks again, Wolf." "Good night, Flynn." "'Night, Wolf." Wolf returned to his room and quickly fell into a troubled sleep. All too soon, he was awakened by the sound of water in the shower. He glanced at the clock and groaned. Six o'clock am. He burrowed back under his pillow. But then his curiosity got the better of him. What was Flynn doing in the shower at six to be at work by eight? He rolled out of bed and headed out of his room. The balcony doors were open, and a freshly showered Flynn was standing outside, looking at the view over San Francisco Bay from his 12th floor balcony. Wolf suddenly understood why Flynn had been up so early. His magnificent hair was unbound, falling in damp, deep red waves past his hips, and blowing gently in the wind as it dried. For the moment, Flynn wore only black silk boxers in the warm September morning. Wolf stood transfixed. Flynn stood proud, a glorious vision of pale flesh and rippling fiery hair. He shook his head vigorously. He was a man. He wasn't supposed to find other men attractive. He was pretty sure he wasn't...like Flynn. But by all the gods, Flynn was a beautiful man. The young man suddenly spread his arms and let out a jubilant cry, clearly glad to be alive and well. Wolf was mortified to discover that he was getting hard. He hurriedly escaped to the bathroom and jumped into the shower, glaring down at his arousal and willing it to deflate. It happily ignored him. He turned the water to freezing cold, shivering as he watched it shrink with a certain amount of satisfaction. So there! Flynn stood out on the balcony and inhaled deeply as he let his hair dry in the early morning breeze. It wasn't as sweet as the air in his native Ireland, but there was a certain sense of freedom in standing 12 stories above the ground. He felt a little like a bird. His heart was light, knowing that he'd finally been honest with himself and his roommate. Out loud. He crowed his exhileration to the dawn skies. As he turned to go inside, he was almost positive he saw Wolf leaving the living room on the way to the bathroom. He donned khakis and a shirt for work, then set about brushing out his long, long red hair. Wolf emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, and saw what Flynn was doing. "I'll braid it for you if you wish; it'll go faster." "You know how?" Flynn was somewhat surprised. "Sure. I did my grandfather's all the time when I was a kid, and I used to wear braids, myself, until I went to college." Flynn grinned sheepishly, having forgotten that Wolf's heritage would've necessitated his learning to braid hair at a very early age, indeed. "Go ahead, if you like. I certainly don't mind." "One braid, I presume? I could do two if you wanted." Flynn snorted. "One'll be fine. I'd rather not have pigtails if it's all the same to you." Wolf chuckled. "No problem." He plucked the brush from Flynn's hand and made quick work of any remaining knots. His large hands surprisingly nimble, he wove a long plait rapidly and secured it with one of his own leather thongs. "You know, the young ladies in the Tribe would kill for hair like yours." Flynn snorted. "I made a bet with a friend when we were ten - he thought I couldn't stand to go without cutting it until I graduated from high school; I told him he was full of it. As far as I know, the bet's still on, with interest. If I ever see him again, I imagine I'll collect a tidy sum." He grinned. Wolf tugged his braid affectionately. "C'mon. We've enough time to stop for breakfast on the way in. I know a place that makes waffles that are right out of this world." Flynn's stomach growled noisily, and he flushed. "Sounds great." And so the two men settled into a comfortable routine during their first week as labmates and roommates. They were a great team in the lab, and they got on famously outside of work. Flynn settled easily into Wolf's home and his life, and Wolf came to wonder how he'd lived without being bored to death before the boyish, effervescent Irishman came into his life. They were eating dinner on that Friday night, a traditional Irish affair that Flynn had concocted, when Flynn finally worked up the nerve to ask Wolf a question that had been niggling at him for nearly a week. "Say, Wolf," he said around a mouthful of corned beef, "if you don't mind my asking, I'm curious as to why you accepted it so easily when I told you I was gay." Wolf swallowed. "Well, first off, I know what it's like to be the 'misfit,' to be hated for something you can't control. There are no schools on the reservation, so I went to a public school. Some of the students hated me because I am not white. So I can definitely empathize. But also, and I think perhaps more importantly, homosexuality used to be an accepted part of life in my Tribe. Hundreds of years ago, it was entirely normal for warriors on extended sentry duty, or those away from the village for long periods of time, to take a lover from among the men who accompanied him. Warrior-love, it was called. It was also believed that shamans would lose their powers if they laid with women, so they almost always had a constant male lover. My culture and upbringing does not abhor it. Even though it is rarer today, I was not brought up to view it with unreasoning hatred." Flynn nodded thoughtfully. "That's really interesting, Wolf. I'd like to learn more about your people, if I could. They sound like they've had an interesting history and an intriguing system of beliefs." They were interrupted by the telephone. Wolf answered it. "Hello? Oh, hello, Mother." Pause. "What? That's this Saturday? I'd completely forgotten." Pause. "Yes, I know, I know, I need to be more connected to the Tribe. Yes, Mother." Pause. "Yes, Mother." Pause. "Yes, Mother. Certainly, Mother. Do you have room to house an extra? Good. I may be bringing a guest." Pause. Wolf rolled his eyes. "No, mother, not a lady friend. I have a new roommate, and if he wants to come, I'll bring him along. Yes. No. Yes, Mother. Fine. Fine. Yes, we'll be there by ten. Yes, Mother. I love you, too, Mom. Goodbye." Wolf finally hung up the phone with a sigh of relief. "Dare I ask?" "Oh, just my mother, being my mother hen, as usual. I'd forgotten that the annual tribal festival is tomorrow. I definitely should be there; I want to be there. I haven't missed one ever. You want to come along?" "Are you kidding? I'd love to!" Wolf grinned. "Fantastic! I haven't brought an ok'rian to the Festival since high school!" "What's an ok'rian?" Flynn asked, confused. "Sorry. It's a word from my people's language that approximately means 'one not from the Tribe who wishes to learn of our people and be welcomed in friendship.'" Flynn blinked. "I can see why you used the original rather than the translation." They finished dinner while making travel plans for the next day, then did the dishes. Wolf took his mail and the paper and sprawled comfortably on the living room couch to relax. Flynn took his mail to his room. A few minutes later, he emerged, pale and shaking. "Wolf?" "Mm?" Wolf acknowledged without looking up. When Flynn didn't say anything, Wolf raised his head. "My God, Flynn, what happened?" he blurted, seeing Flynn's sickly white hue, his stricken, haunted eyes. "I got a letter," Flynn whispered raggedly. "Forwarded from my Oxford address. A legal notice. He made it official, Wolf. My father legally disinherited me and renounced his parentage of me." Tears were streaming down his cheeks now. Wolf sat, frozen, stunned. "Wolf, if you wouldn't mind," Flynn said brokenly, "I think I rather need to take you up on that offer of a hug." Wolf launched to his feet and enfolded Flynn in his huge embrace just as the smaller man's knees gave out. He sagged, sobbing, in Wolf's arms. Wolf lowered himself to the sofa again, pulling Flynn with him. He crooned soothingly into the distraught young man's ear. "Shhhh, Flynn. You're safe here, with me. Your family doesn't deserve you, you know. They don't even recognize what they've tossed away. You're a good man, and I'd be proud to call you my brother." He trailed off, lost in thought even as he stroked Flynn's back. "Come be a part of my family, Flynn. The Tribe will welcome you as my blood brother." Flynn's head came up from where it rested against Wolf's chest. He regarded the big Indian with great green eyes swimming with tears. "What do you mean?" "Tomorrow, at the Festival. If you're willing, I'll ask the Tribe's shaman to conduct the ceremony that recognizes us as blood brothers and you as a member of the Tribe. Will you let me make you my brother?" A glimmer of hope came back to Flynn's eyes. "You would...do that for me?" Wolf gave him a squeeze. "Of course I would. I'd be honored. Will you?" he repeated. A sweet smile broke over Flynn's face. "Aye, I will. Thank you, Wolf." Wolf smiled fit to crack his face in two. He didn't need to think. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to lean forward and brush his lips against Flynn's. He wasn't prepared for the electric charge that rocketed through him. From the startled look in Flynn's eyes, he'd felt it, too. "What...?" Flynn whispered. Wolf silenced him with a shake of his head, looking just as confused as he. He tried to convey an invitation with his eyes, unable to speak. Somehow, Flynn understood and crawled up Wolf's body to seal their mouths together. Surprised by Flynn's intensity, Wolf's lips parted unconsciously. Flynn took advantage of the opportunity and dove right in. Wolf groaned. Flynn tasted so sweet! He'd never kissed a man before, never even really gave it any thought. But this...this felt so...right! Flynn pressed closer, and Wolf's heart rate skyrocketed. Of their own accord, his hands reached down and grasped a double handful of Flynn's tight, muscular ass. He ground their hips together, gasping at the sensation even as Flynn moaned his approval against Wolf's lips. Flynn wrenched his head away for a moment. "Are you sure?" he rasped. In answer, Wolf pulled him down for another searing kiss. Flynn shifted, and his arousal rubbed against Wolf. He whimpered, an astonishingly and embarrassingly needy sound, but forgot to be ashamed when it was answered by a low groan that rumbled from somewhere deep in Wolf's chest. Wolf couldn't believe how hot Flynn was making him. He hadn't been this aroused, ever, not even the first time he'd made love to a woman. He instinctively increased the pace as he thrust against Flynn's hips. Flynn moaned, and words began tumbling out of his mouth in a language Wolf didn't know. "Oh, mo chroi, mo mhuirin, mo leannan...Faol, ta gra agam ort!" With a final, wordless cry, Flynn stiffened, then jerked helplessly in Wolf's arms. Flynn's headlong plunge into ecstasy pulled Wolf over the edge, as well. He roared as he came violently, stunned by the force of his release. He collapsed backward onto the sofa, Flynn's body following limply after. Flynn recovered first. "Oh, God! Wolf..." Wolf's voice was strangely husky. "Damn, Flynn! That was...that was...unreal!" Flynn chuckled. "I take it you're not offended?" Wolf gripped the Irishman's shoulders and held him away for a moment to look incredulously into his eyes. "You're kidding, right? I mean, shit, O'Malley! I haven't come in my freaking pants since I was sixteen! And you think I'd be offended after you gave me the best orgasm of my life?!" Flynn started laughing uncontrollably. "Your face!" he wheezed. He sobered suddenly and held Wolf's eyes in an intense gaze. "Bloody hell, Wolf, that was so damned good!" "You can say that again, a'shera." "What's that mean?" "Mm?" "You said 'a'shera'. What's that mean?" "Oh, that. Sorry if I'm being a bit presumptive. It means something between "warrior lover" and "soul's companion" in my people's tongue." Flynn's eyes misted over briefly, and he squeezed Wolf's sweat-damp body tighter. "Wolf, mo leannan...," he breathed. Wolf hugged him gently. "My turn. What's that mean? You said that and a lot of other things while we were...uh..." Flynn pulled back. "Making love?" he finished, his eyes gone soft. Wolf nodded bashfully. "What else did I say?" Wolf gave him his best phonetic approximation. Flynn flushed, and his face glowed brighter with each word Wolf uttered. "Well," he began, "first you have to promise not to kill me and not to hate me for being such an overly romantic sop." Wolf grinned. "No problem." "Mo chroi, that's Gaelic for 'my heart.'" Wolf's grin broadened. "Mo mhuirin, that means 'my darling,' approximately. It can also mean 'my beloved.'" Wolf's grin broadened further. "Mo leannan means 'my sweetheart,' or 'my lover.'" Wolf chuckled affectionately, stroking Flynn's fine cheekbone with his thumb. "As for the rest, Faol is 'Wolf' in Gaelic, and 'ta gra agam ort' means...well, it means 'I love you.'" Flynn flushed and lowered his eyes. Wolf cupped the other man's face and brought his gaze upward. "Do you mean that, a'shera?" Flynn was silent for a moment. "Yes," he blurted, the word almost a sob. "God, Wolf, I lost my heart to you that first day when Bennett dragged me into your lab." Wolf pulled him close for another deep kiss. "I'll be very careful with it, a'shera, even as you must be careful with mine, since you stole it away when I wasn't looking." "I will, leannan, for as long as you'll let me hold it." "I have a feeling it'll be for a good long while. You okay with that?" "I imagine I'll muddle through," Flynn kidded. "But not until after a shower. Yuck!" Wolf shifted and grimaced at the clammy feeling in his groin. "Excellent idea. Join me?" "Don't mind if I do." They somehow managed to get their satiated bodies off the couch and stumbled into the bathroom. Flynn reached for his shirt buttons, but Wolf grasped his wrists. "Let me?" Flynn acquiesced, his eyes wide. It only took him a minute to catch on and start unbuttoning Wolf's shirt, himself. Flynn suddenly found himself in a powerful hurry, and Wolf's shirt was on the floor in seconds. Unable to help himself, he ran his hands over Wolf's chiseled pecs and abs, making the big man groan. "Sweet Mary, Wolf, you're gorgeous!!" Wolf flashed him a sexy grin, turning Flynn's bones to water as he continued his unhurried unbuttoning. Flynn suddenly saw the advantages to taking his time as Wolf drove him crazy with anticipation. Wolf finally slipped Flynn's shirt off his shoulders and bent to nibble at the sweet flesh between his roommate's neck and shoulder. "Mmmmmmm," he purred deeply against Flynn's pale skin. "Oh, God," Flynn breathed as he arched helplessly against Wolf. His fingers scrabbled at Wolf's fly, suddenly desperate to get his pants off. Wolf complied hastily and loosened his lover's trousers
as well, eager to feel Flynn's skin against his own. TBC |