Y is for Yet, part one

Request: Ben vs. Alec, made by anonymous.
Result: M for blood, sex, and violence, made by Seamagik. And lots of cursing. That too.

Two-parter. Sorry for the late posting. It was a combo Sims 3/Star Ocean/too much drinking sort of thing.

Y is for Yet

“Max, is that you?”

Guess he’d heard her after all. Max came around the corner of red wood and Plexiglas, smiling slightly. “Hey, sorry I’m late.” She lifted the wine bottle slightly, that slight smile turning warm and entreating. “I was hoping that maybe this would make up for it?”

Logan took the bottle from her hands, his eyes flicking over the label. It was no age ripened extravaganza from the turn of the century. It was something cheap, affordable, and well within her means. Something she’d picked up a few nights ago at a liquor store on a corner street in an area that Logan would be unlikely to frequent. He pursed his lips, but if he was a wine snob, he attempted to control it for her.

“Well… it is a red, so…”

Maybe some of that wine snob had leaked through because she made a face, reaching for the bottle in a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. “If you don’t want it-“

“No, no,” he waved her hand away, too polite to do anything else. “It’ll be fine.”

Max breathed a sigh of relief, shooting him a quick smile.

“So, haven’t seen you around the last couple of days.” Logan turned, making his way back to the kitchen. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know, this and that.” She meandered her way after him. Dinner was almost done; she could smell the pesto sauce, the vegetables still on the stovetop. “Normal’s been raggin’ on us pretty hard lately.” She crossed the space of the kitchen quickly, lifted a lid and peered into a pot on the stovetop, making a face at all the greenery. Gross. Maybe it was the cat in her, but she’d always preferred meat to veg.

“Keepin’ you busy, huh?” Logan laughed at her disgusted face before turning away. Max moved back to the kitchen island to watch him rummage around in a counter drawer. He finally found what he was looking for and pulled it from the drawer’s contents. The stainless steel of the corkscrew matched his appliances perfectly.

Everything in Logan’s life was so orderly, so structured, so different from her own. For a moment, Max almost… envied him. She shook it away and rolled her eyes, focusing on the conversation once more, easy to do when she got caught up in the exasperation she felt about one Reagan Ronald.

“You have no idea. It’s like nothing I do is good enough for that man. I swear I’ve already gotten fired twice this week.”

Logan laughed; a small thing, full of irony.  “You know, if you’re ever strapped for cash-“

He was brave to bring it up, because that was sort of a sore point between them. “Logan, I already told you. Doesn’t matter how desperate I get, I’m not taking money from you.” She would go back to cat burglary before she did that. Not that she was particularly hurting for cash, now or ever. Logan… just didn’t need to know that.

His smile quirked. “Really, I’m just trying to save you from a life of crime. I’d hate for any other poor loft owning individuals to come up missing a few priceless artifacts.”

Her grin was wicked in response. “I’m sure it won’t be anything they can’t afford to miss.”

He shook his head, a small smile still ghosting around the edges, before he set about popping the cork. Max didn’t even hesitate in reaching for the glass he poured for her. She didn’t take off her black driving gloves, but that was nothing new. He took a small sip from his glass, and if the ruby red wine was bitter, too young for his expensive palate, he was polite and controlled the wince, trying to cover it by making for a barstool and sitting down. Max hardly even noticed the bite, used as she was to it.

The timer on the kitchen showed they still had a good ten minutes until the chicken was done. Now, all they were really doing was playing a waiting game. Max settled onto the stool near Logan, but not too near, and watched the timer tick away. She glanced at him just as he was glancing at her and they both looked away quickly, draining their glasses almost simultaneously. He refilled for them both.

It was funny how they had to fill the silence with alcohol. Seemed like if they didn’t have work to talk about, they didn’t have anything to talk about. Max felt the stirrings of something that felt like guilt and brutally shoved it under with another gulp of wine.  Logan took a measured sip of his own before setting the glass down carefully, watching her with a studied intensity that almost made her uncomfortable.

Something firmed in Logan’s eyes; like he’d come to some sort of decision. Something flagged within Max as Logan stood and faced her fully.

“Max, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a while now.”

Max had to look away. Oh Lord. Not tonight. Why tonight of all nights? The guilt was an unpleasant aftertaste in her mouth, almost as bitter as the dime store cabernet. Before she could draw away, or try to stall what would undoubtedly be an unpleasant conversation, he reached for her hand, flexing nervously on the kitchen island. His fingertips brushed against skin, that small area below the buckle of a black glove, and Max froze, her eyes swinging up to meet Logan’s. He must not have noticed the contact, but he did notice the way Max wrenched her hand away in horror.

He frowned. “I just wanted to tell you…” He paused, a slight sweat breaking out across his forehead. “To tell you…” He took a deep breath, sitting back down on his stool abruptly. “…To tell you… I don’t feel so good.”

Of course he didn’t feel good. “Logan-“ Her face was concerned. He tried to shake it off, tried to stand, but stumbled instead, his hands grasping at her arms, clutching tightly. Everything was going in slow motion, a strange gray haze suffusing his mind. He was falling to the floor, so slowly, he heard the sound of boots on expensive tile, so distant, watched as Max’s head moved slowly, so mincing, towards the kitchen entrance, her eyes widening in surprise.

She didn’t even get a chance to open her mouth, cry out, no, stop, before the gun lifted, he squeezed the trigger, and a bullet slammed through Logan Cale’s head.

Max could only watch in horror as Logan’s hands slid bonelessly from her arms, as he toppled to the floor, dead well before he hit the ground. She whirled, eyes flaring in rage, her gaze locking with narrowed hazel eyes, staring at her with a calmness that was almost chilling.

“What the fuck, Ben?!”

Ben was sullen. “I don’t like when he touches you.”

“Well he’s touching me right now, genius! I think there’s a piece of him on my boot, for chrissakes.”

Footsteps where heard, Alec having apparently heard the silencer go off. She heard his clip clicking into place as he trotted quickly through the apartment. He reached the kitchen and fell completely still, looking in surprise at the man dead on the floor.

He blinked once, twice. But no, Logan Cale was still unmoving upon the ground, and his head was leaking all over the place. Probably had something to do with that nice shiny bullet hole that was in no way part of the plan. “What the hell happened?” He demanded. 

Ben was still sullen, sulky. “He was touching her.”

Alec wasn’t playing. “Well, whoopdifuckingdoo, genius. That was kind of the whole point of the seduction angle. I meant, why is he dead?”

“What do you mean, why is he dead?” Ben scowled in response. “Tonight was the night.”

“I mean why the hell is his brain on Max’s boot?!” Oh gross, guess that really was a bit of Cale after all. Max made a face and attempted to shake it off as Alec continued. “What happened to the plan? The poison in the wine? The whole point was to make it look like natural causes!”

“It was taking too long.” Ben replied in boredom. Alec made little astonished, frustrated noises in the back of his throat, his jaw working soundlessly, before he finally whirled to Max.

“Will you please talk to him while I try and fix this?”

Alec stalked off, pulling his phone from his pocket and punching in numbers quickly. Max heard him speaking in clipped tones shortly thereafter, but she paid little attention to his words; undoubtedly he was trying to salvage the contract that had called for a quiet death.

“Dead is dead,” Ben said sulkily, like he was trying to convince her. Max just glared at him until he turned away, unable to bear her annoyance.

She waited until he was a good distance away. Max crouched next to the blonde man’s still body as Ben moved around the room, erasing all traces of her visit, all hints that the former heir of Cale Enterprises had been entertaining a guest. As she looked at the cooling corpse, she felt… something… just for a moment. She sighed, and her voice was almost gentle. “I’m sorry. You were a good man, and you… you deserved better than this.”

Ben had stopped what he was doing and watched, his eyes burning and narrowed, and Alec, watching from the doorway suddenly thought he could sense a reason for Ben’s trigger happy zealousness.

Alec frowned, interrupting the disturbing picture. “Max, given the mess Ben has just created, the buyer refuses to carry through on the paycheck. I don’t doubt that he’s calling the police as we speak, spinning up some half-cocked story about a desperate phone call.” And then, when neither she nor Ben started moving with the speed he desired, he added harshly, “We need to go. Now.”

Her eyes took in Logan Cale’s unmoving form for just another moment before she stood quickly.

“What about clean-up?” Ben asked. His eyes darted towards Cale’s body. His hand twitched.  

“Clean up?” Alec barked in laughter. His eyes flicked distastefully on blood that had sprayed across the island counter. A red rivulet slid from a wine glass’s rim and mixed with the dark liquid already within. Undoubtedly the police would be pulling a metal slug from the back of Cale’s destroyed microwave in a few short hours. Something on the stovetop was beginning to smoke. If a fire started, it’d be just that much more work for the cops. Fuck it.

“Grab the wine and let’s go.” And, a testament to his annoyance, Alec turned and stalked out, offering them no more direction. Usually he was sort of a control freak, so guess he was serious about the buyer reneging. Max grabbed the wine, the two glasses, dumping the liquid quickly in the sink, and thanked god that Alec and Ben had to come through a skylight while she was distracting Cale, that the penthouse apartment had a private elevator and no nosey neighbors.  

The kitchen timer went off just as they were leaving; the chicken, Logan’s last meal, was done.

“What do you think he did? Who did he piss off?” Max asked as she was changing out of her clothes later that night. Ben was lounging on the bed, little more than an old mattress thrown upon the floor, and he was watching her lazily.

“Who knows.” He shrugged. “That’s Alec’s department.”

Sometimes Max wondered how Ben could be so blasé about the profession that they’d fallen into. Maybe because it suited their skill set so well, their training, their cultured, literally, births. Maybe he thought he was born to do this, so saw little need to question. Maybe he thought his Lady had guided him to it. Max was not so sure. Just knew that money talks and life is what it is… Even if it was starting to get old… even if she didn’t know if her head was in it anymore.

Sometimes she wonders what would have happened if she and Ben hadn’t headed off together, that snowy night in 2009. She wonders what path her life would have taken if, when her Unit had split off in every which direction, she’d partnered her run with Zack or Tinga or Jondy, instead.

What the hell was she thinking? Maybe she was just out of it because she’d actually gotten to know the mark before they’d terminated.

But how had a good man like Cale ended up on somebody’s shit list? She’d have asked Alec, but he wasn’t talking to either of them. He was mad at Ben, hence, he was mad at her by default, since she was always so hell-bent on sticking up for her ‘brother.’ Alec hadn’t even given her a chance to prove that she hadn’t been planning on defending Ben this time, because as soon as they’d made it back to their small, temporary apartment, he’d changed, grabbed his leather jacket and his keys, and stalked out. Max had not doubt that she’d be subjected to the harsh cries of some undeserving female in a few short hours as a sick form of punishment.

“You’re not mad at me, are you Maxie?”

Max pulled herself out of her churning thoughts, glancing at her brother, who was staring mournfully at her. She offered him a tight smile before pulling an oversized sweatshirt over her thin frame, stepped quickly into grey shorts. She didn’t say anything, but she did lie down next to him, and that would have to be enough.

The light clicked off and Ben’s hand found her in the darkness, drawing her back into him. At first she stiffened, but then relaxed. But when he tucked her hair behind her hair and his lips glanced lightly against her throat, so lightly it could have been mistaken for a breath, Max ripped away. 

“I’ll sleep in Alec’s room tonight,” Max muttered, and pretended she couldn’t see through the darkness, couldn’t see the hot flash of jealousy burn through her brother’s eyes.

“What did I do wrong?” Ben asked, practically demanded. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Maxie. You know I love you.”

Max stared at him in distrust for a moment. “Of course,” she muttered after a moment, forcing herself back down to the bed, telling herself that Ben could never think of her that way, all the while secretly vowing that they were never crashing in a two bedroom apartment again. From here on out, three beds, and that was final. She couldn’t wait to get back to Italy, to her own bedroom, her own private living space. He drew her back, but he kept his lips to himself, for which she was thankful.

But his words in the darkness made her frown.

“You like me best, right Maxie?”

She doesn’t even have to ask what the hell he’s talking about; she already knows.

Ben’s always been wary of Alec. Doesn’t matter that they’re clones and, theoretically, should be the same person. Doesn’t matter that the three of them have been together for almost two years now. Since she’d stumbled across 494 in that seedy bar in Kezmekistan and had knocked him out before he could call for back-up.

“Of course,” She says to the wall, her eyes unblinking.

Ben relaxed behind her and she felt rather than saw his eyes shut as he tried to relax, going to his High Place in thought if not in reality. Max is left with thoughts of a more base nature. Even though her mind rejects him, his body is beautiful and his lips across her throat brings a memory unbidden.  

The remembrance of it; she wishes someone would take it away. But, oh God, his hands on her body, his breath on her skin, his taste in her mouth…

Heat is a horrible, unfair thing. If it was going to happen to her, if the cat was going to control her mind, why couldn’t she at least be blessed with a clean memory, a blank slate, a blackness during the loss of human conscience, a void where memory should be when it was all over with. Maybe if she couldn’t remember the Heat, she wouldn’t still want him. Max once used to pride herself on taste. But God knows the cat was not as discriminating as she once was and no longer is, not now that she’s had him. And now, that one time mistake, it has progressed to more than once, though his twin does not know it and would never know it if she had things her way.

Her eyes closed as the memory assaulted her. The way he’d looked when he’d walked in the door. How his lips had parted and he’d stared at her like she was be all and end all of the universe. How his look had thrilled her. How he’d walked to her, slowly, giving her plenty of time to run. How she’d stood, quivering, in the center of that small, crumbling motel room, waiting for him, needing him. How he’d reached for her and breathed her in, and she’d gone sway-kneed to the floor and Alec had followed her down.

As pleasant as it may be, as hot it can heat her body, it is not thoughts she wants to be thinking while sharing a bed out of necessity with her brother; a brother that shares Alec’s face, Alec’s lips, Alec’s body, but not his mind.

Ben has gone completely still behind her.

Max pulled away. “Going to go get some water,” she muttered. If he knew the truth, he kept it to himself and rolled away from her.

It’s not as if she even needs sleep. Neither does Ben, but sometimes he likes to pretend. She can’t, not tonight, not when surprised blue eyes are still burning in her mind, not when Alec’s harsh look of anger as he’d stalked out the door was still sticking with her.

She downed the glass of water and then another and told herself she wasn’t waiting up for him. If she was waiting, which she wasn’t, she didn’t have long to do so. It was just creeping up on one in the morning when Alec rolled in, laughing quietly at the giggling girl tucked under his arm.

He paused in the doorway as he caught her eyes, burning with perfect blandness from the one chair that graced their living room; an old leather contraption that had reached its prime so long ago, not even the ghost of quality was left. His arm retracted slowly from the girl’s shoulders and he stared at her for a long moment before his hand dug into his pocket in a movement that was deceptively lazy. He pulled out a fifty dollar bill scissored between two fingers, and held it beneath the blonde girl’s upturned nose, all without ever looking away from Max. “Go home,” he said simply. The girl started to protest, but Alec was already walking away from her. Let her draw her own conclusions about the dark girl, waiting on the one chair. In the end, money won out and the woman escaped and all that was left was them.

He sank to his knees before her, before that old chair, before the only altar he had ever brought himself to worship at. “Were you waiting on somebody?” His voice isn’t the voice of the supplicant, but of the god. It’s smooth and rich and it makes everything deep within her tighten.

“Ben’s sleeping.” She says simply, but his hearing is as good as hers and the rhythmic breathing in the other room, soft though it is, seems loud for just a moment as transgenic senses rush to confirm it.

It’s an exhale of breath that she can almost feel, even through her heavy sweatshirt. “Ahh.” His hands connected with her knees, slid up the smooth skin of her thighs. His eyes flashed golden in moonlight. “Were you waiting on me, then?” She bit her lip, but his hands went no further than her thighs, and his head bowed before her. Her hands slid through his hair as she slid her body forward on that ghost of a chair.  

For a moment, they’re both brought back to that night, that old motel room, her harsh cries and his ragged breaths.

They stayed like that for only a minute, before Alec hardened his thoughts to the future and to the past and only focused on the now. His arms wrapped around her, tightened, and he stood and lifted, and her legs wrapped easily around his waist. He made his way through the darkness, and her head dropped into the curve of his shoulder. He wasn’t paying complete attention and this new place remained a little unfamiliar and his elbow grazed the kitchen bar as he passed. He let out a soft curse and she controlled the low laugh. He’ll pay her back for the throaty laugh later, like he always does, but only when she wouldn’t be expecting it.

Not on the bed, never on the bed. Transgenic noses are sensitive and one small room will cling to the scent of sex long after you’d wished for its dispersal. Ben doesn’t need to know, so apart from that one time, that first time, (first couple of times, actually, because no one said Heat dissipated after the first orgasm) they usually find their way to the bathroom. Usually it’s the shower wall that braces her back against his perfect thrusts. Sometimes, though, if the tub is large enough, the water heater strong enough, if there’s very little rust in the drain, Alec will place her on the bathroom counter and turn to fill the tub with water. And she’ll sit and watch with darkening eyes, her feet kicking slowly. It’s not a girlish gesture; it’s more predatory than anything else. He’ll turn and sit on the tub’s edge, watching her as the tub fills, as steam starts to rise behind his back. And she’ll slide from the countertop, her toes connecting hesitantly with cold tile, before she’ll force her feet flat and lift the sweatshirt from her body. His eyes will darken immediately, they always do, and she’ll bite her lip in desire as he’ll stand slowly, as he’ll shrug out of his jacket and pull his own shirt from his body. A little game. Tit for tat. Her hands slide behind her back, undo the clasp of the bra easily. Having no counterpart, he’ll just continue to watch her, waiting. Her thumbs hook in the material of simple sleep shorts, and satin underneath, as she starts to push them down, baring everything to his gaze.

At this point, his impatience always starts stirring the air, which really only makes it more delicious to prolong it. He’ll fairly jerk his belt free, and sometimes, like tonight, it will be Max that caves, Max that crosses the distance and lets her knuckles rim against the soft skin over his hard abdomen. Who will pull a button free, lower a zipper, and let her fingers catch in denim and cotton, and push his pants down. Still slowly, ‘cuz she hasn’t caved so much that she’s not above a little teasing.

Her teasing always amuses him, though, and his mouth will quirk with that perfect little smile that makes her forget it’s only supposed to be about sex. And like that, that predatory spell is gone, and they’re just human, and they’re just together. Don’t get her wrong, Max loved some hard shower-wall sex just as much as the next girl… but nights like these… they were always the best, somehow.

Alec sank into the hot water with a hiss, and drew her in after him. She landed in his lap and water sloshed over the edge of the crowded bathtub, but she hardly noticed as his lap was such a nice place to be. His teeth grazed slightly at the column of her throat, and the sound that rumbled in the back of her throat was lazy, and warm, and content.

“Did you really think I’d let you get away with bringing a girl home tonight?” Max asked, her head arching backwards, against his shoulder, baring her throat to him. Tonight of all nights when they were both so shaken by the day’s events?

He nips and she shivers.

“Haven’t touched me in over a month,” His voice was a deep bass in response. “Maybe I thought you were tired of me.”

“This apartment is so small, and Ben never leaves.” Max scowled. In truth the only reason she’d even caved tonight was because she didn’t think she could handle listening to another night of some other woman receiving treatment that she was beginning to think should belong exclusively to her.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Alec’s voice is annoyed, just for a moment, and they both step away from the subject. Of a brother that she refused to be honest with, much to his frustration, and a rather unstable man that Alec did not like, much to her annoyance.   

His hand slides under water, across the naked curve of her hip. And then, despite his insistence to avoid the subject, he goes right back to it. “He’s getting worse, Max.”

Max stiffened. He can feel muscles tense under his hand and it stills at her waist, waiting. Waiting to see if she’ll fight back or if she’ll run. She doesn’t do either, and he is unprepared for it.

“He’s my brother.” And that’s all she’ll say. What does he want her to say? What could she possibly do about Ben’s worsening mental state? It’s not like she could kill him. Nor could she abandon him.

He costs him something to say it, but he says it anyway. “I worry about you.”

She turned her face to him then, fixing him with a slight, twisted smile. “Ben won’t hurt me.”

“Not yet,” He replies solemnly and it makes a slight tremble trip down her spine, like a premonition of things to come. He notices, but he’s smart enough, he wants her enough, that he’s not willing to say anything out loud and end the evening’s activities prematurely with a fight.

His hands find the soap, find her breasts, and just for a little while, they pretend that he doesn’t have a twin sleeping just a few rooms away. And if it was wrong to arch back into him, to let his hands find her hips and guide her gently… wrong to gasp when he finally, finally (god, like she even laughed that much about his stupid elbow blunder. Alec was a mean, dirty old tease) slid into her, started moving within her, well, who would ever know? If they did anything wrong, the proof of it went swirling down the drain with the rest of the water, where it could do no harm.

Her damp hair curled wetly at the shoulders of her sweatshirt and she really did try to sneak away, out of the dark bedroom, but Alec caught her hand and pulled her back into the room, into his naked chest.

“Stay with me.” His hand slid down the side of her face, his eyes found hers.

“I can’t.”

Sometimes a statement like that would piss him off, make him blow up, but tonight he remains soft, his gaze remains gentle. “Can’t, or won’t?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off. “It’s just one night, Max. It won’t hurt anything.”

She shifted from one foot to the other, knowing she should go, desperately wanting to stay. Maybe it was because she hadn’t had him for a month prior; maybe she’d missed the feel of his skin under her fingertips. Maybe she was pissed at Ben. Whatever it was, finally, she compromised with herself. “Just for a few hours…” She gave him a warning look to back it up. “But you have to promise, no funny business.”

He crossed his heart with one fingertip. “I promise. Cross my heart and hope to-”

He didn’t finish the sentence, because one slim finger had pressed to his lips, hushing him. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”

He rolled his eyes, pushing her hand away. “It’s just a saying, Max. Stop freaking out.” He turned from her, walking away, all but falling into bed. She hovered in the doorway just for a moment, knowing she should leave, before following him and letting herself sink into bed next to him. He didn’t reach for her, so it was with a huff that she wrapped around him. She pretended she couldn’t feel his slight smirk in the dark room.

Morning always comes too soon.

Her eyes opened slowly. Early summer sunshine was glancing across her face, warming her skin. She’d stayed too long, like she always did. Ben hadn’t wised up yet, though, so surely her brother’s feelings would be spared another day. She glanced at Alec, still sleeping. They’d twisted in the night and his arm was across her torso, his face relaxed, and the small smile quirking her traitorous lips couldn’t be helped. Until she glanced up and her body went cold, her blood freezing in her veins, as her brown eyes connected with sharp hazel.

“Ben.”

Ben’s face in the doorway was made of steel. “I missed you last night.”

Max started to scramble from the bed, but an arm, as steely as Ben’s face, tightened around her. Alec spoke into his pillow. “She was with me.” His voice was muffled and sleepy, but the hint of amusement was hard to miss. “Don’t worry brother Ben, I didn’t ravage your sister.”

Much.

Max was mortified. Ben scowled, but finally he looked down and away, muttering, “I don’t like when he touches you.” Max froze all over again. Alec, very calmly, without opening his eyes or even looking up, finally released Max, but only so he could lift his arm and flip off his clone.

Ben turned white, then red, then white again, and finally just spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Max swatted Alec across the shoulder and scrambled from the bed. Alec didn’t follow, because fighting with Max took too much effort, and it was too early in the morning to start pretending that he didn’t want her next to him every morning.

When he does finally get out of bed, he’s cheerful enough… until Max’s dark mood started to eat at him. Was she so embarrassed that brother Ben had caught them sleeping in the same bed? His cheerful demeanor turned into something moody and caged, and when she snapped at him, again, he snarled back, before finally grabbing for his jacket and stomping out.

Alec’s not back that night, and Max doesn’t worry about it, because they all have bad days. They all escape from time to time, but they always make their way back to each other. Or, more accurately, Ben and Alec come back to Max, and Max… well, there was a point in which she only came back for Ben. Now… Now… who’s to say what she wants.