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“Aleksis is throwing a party,” Frank puts one foot on the lower rung of the balcony guardrail, then the other, hoisting himself up until he towers over Colt. They’re two drinks into their evening ritual and the sun still hasn’t fully set. It looks like fire against the sea.
There will be two more supply barges arriving tomorrow. Much of Frank’s remaining equipment to finish the interior of his studio will be on one of them. So will enough ordinance to defend a nation four times the size of Blackreef, though it’s all for recreation. From here on out, until the Loop takes them all, he’ll be busy making preparations.
Colt has been busy from the start, rushing between the other visionaries, trying to convince them to make appropriate arrangements for their own safety once the Loop begins. Most of them, Frank included, think that he worries too much. But that’s his job as head of security.
“If it were up to Aleksis, he’d throw a party every night,” Colt scoffs, taking another long swig of his drink before setting it down on the flat edge of the railing. “At least, that’s his plan.”
“Aleksis will have his party and Harriet will have her parishioners and Fia will have her paintings,” Frank muses, “and what will you have, Colt?”
Colt doesn’t hesitate, he often knows exactly what he wants, even if he’s not always one to voice it. “Freedom,” He answers. So simple.
Frank likes that Colt has fewer inhibitions when they’re together.
“No man is ever going to lock you up again, brother,” Frank promises, “Not a fucking chance.” It’s something they’ve discussed at length already, Frank’s time in prison, Colt in the asylum. They’re mirrors of each other, in a way. Maybe they both deserved it, for what they did, what they saw. But deserving it doesn’t mean it should have happened to either one of them.
Colt finishes off his drink, then tosses his glass over the side of the building. They both watch as it crashes against the ragged, unfinished path below. Splintering into a million little pieces.
—
Frank arrives at Aleksis’ party alone.
Aleksis has grand dreams of a gala every time the sun sets on the Loop. Wolves and lambs, slaughter and chaos, the order of the world set right. Frank finds the whole thing quite juvenile, though he doesn’t say so out loud.
Much of Aleksis’ mansion is already finished. He, of course, has the financial clout to have his needs tended to first among the visionaries. Then naturally, there are Wenjie’s priorities from a practical standpoint, she is the one to make the anomaly bend to their will. Egor has his own wealth to fund his little dalliances. Fia’s exact backer is obscure perhaps, but Frank has snooped around enough to know that many of her invoices are signed Montague.
While Frank hasn’t been a poor man for a long time, his assets don’t reach the level of the Dorsey family. No, he’s a self-made man, through talent and torture in equal measure. So while Aleksis’ home is almost fully furnished, Frank is still waiting on barstools and turntables.
“You’ll see,” Aleksis is grinning under his ridiculous mask. Frank doesn’t have to see his face to recognize the elation in his voice. “The meat grinder has been installed, come look.”
Frank can only tolerate so much of Aleksis’ enthusiasm. He’d much rather the company of Colt, Wenjie, or Harriet. Now those are people of some…substance. And still just enough style, in their own sort of way.
But Frank can play the good guest when he wants to, and with one last swig of his beer he sets the stein aside. Sticking his hands in the pockets of his slacks, Frank takes up as much room as he can as they wind their way through the crowded dance floor.
Only about half the population Aeon approved have arrived. Enough that they can keep the island running though the final phases of construction without exhausting their food and supplies. Most of the rest of the inhabitants have been selected, but will trickle in over the next few weeks as Wenjie sets her sciences into motion.
Aleksis’ meat grinder is just that. An imposing, metal monster that dominates the front of the room. With great animation Aleksis explains that a stage will be built around it, and a series of switches to drop the unworthy to their deaths, and prepare them for consumption.
“Didn’t Dr. Evans say there would be no bodies? The dead rejoin the Loop in the morning.”
Aleksis shoulders drop, and not for the first time Frank considers that he’s so attached to his fucking mask because otherwise he’s an open book. Can’t conceal what he wants or thinks to save his life.
And if on cue, Aleksis’ head snaps around at the faintest whisper of a voice. Pinched and reedy and utterly unpleasant, Frank recognizes it immediately as Egor. At least now, perhaps, Aleksis’ attention might turn elsewhere.
Like a dog on a bone Aleksis scampers away. He might think he’s licking his chops, honing in on an easy kill. But that’s only because Aleksis is still young and arrogant. He doesn’t realize the sort of power Egor already holds over him. Infatuation is a dangerous thing. Doesn’t matter how weak and docile your prey may appear.
Frank orders a whisky from the barman. There’s nothing at all here at the party to keep Frank’s attention. He’ll need to find some activity to occupy his evenings once the Loop begins, an easy excuse for when he doesn’t have the patience for the other visionaries' antics.
He’s about ready to put back on his long camel colored overcoat when a flash of brown leather catches his eye in a sea of otherwise bright attire. Just as soon as Frank sees Colt, he’s gone already, slipped right through his fingers.
If Colt is here he must have his reasons. Frank takes his whisky glass with him as he leaves the main hall for the connecting residential quarters. Most of Blackreef’s population must be here tonight, despite Aleksis’ claims of exclusivity.
Climbing the stairs, Frank takes his time looking over Aleksis’ things. Everything is perfectly curated to make him seem like a man of exquisite taste and unbridled cruelty. It would almost be admirable if it wasn’t all pretend. For all his posturing, all the bureaucratic and financial violences Aleksis has committed, he’s never killed. Not with his own hands, never while he was in the room to witness his orders carried out. Not like Frank has killed, or Colt, or even Wenjie.
There aren’t even basic security precautions in place. And perhaps that’s why Colt is here, to fuck up Aleksis’ shit well enough that the little pharmaceutical magnate will have to concede he needs to at least implement some sort of failsafe.
It’s a more likely theory than the idea that Colt actually came because Frank asked.
Rounding the corner to the staircase, Frank heads up another level to the attic floor. At least here Aleksis’ things don’t crowd every corner. For the most part, everything is quiet and dark.
There’s a thin layer of dreck on the floorboards. And while Colt is a clever man, he can’t conceal his footprints.
Frank follows Colt’s steps in the dust, leading him to a corner room. The window is tightly shut and latched from the inside, but there’s no sign of Colt.
Until there’s a big hand wrapped around one of Frank’s hips from behind. Years of actual terror nipping at his heels has made Frank immune to surprise. But he appreciates the thought.
“You didn’t say you were coming?” Frank raises one eyebrow, though Colt probably can’t tell.
“Bored,” Colt admits. “The ships won’t be here until tomorrow.”
Reluctant to break the contact between them, Frank nonetheless turns around so he can at least see Colt’s face. There’s only a little light from the window, and a touch more from the hall. But Frank’s eyes have already adjusted to the darkness.
“So you decided to grace us with your presence?”
Colt gives him a wide smile. “Yeah I did.” Without asking he takes the whiskey glass from Frank’s hand. It’s been hours since sunset, and unless Colt has kept up his drinking since they last parted ways, he must be close to sober. Frank isn’t, but he has plenty of practice feigning competence.
“So we gonna party, or what?” Colt asks.
Frank nearly quips that they should skip the party. Colt can fuck him up against the window if he wants, hard and fast, dust sticking to damp flesh. Though Frank likes the idea of fucking in Aleksis’ bed one floor down even more.
Now, if only he and Colt were actually sleeping together. That would make the plan run more smoothly.
One step at a time, Frank concedes.
He doesn’t try to take back his glass and instead lets Colt finish off the drink as they head back downstairs. Rather than return to the main hall, they hit up the bar in the back room. There’s no bartender currently on duty, though there are plenty of eternalists taking up space on the dance floor. Beautiful men and women dressed in the latest trends, hair perfect, faces immaculate. All of their attractiveness pales in comparison to Colt.
Frank slides in behind the bar, asking Colt what he wants after he’s already started to pour.
Colt, a good sport, says, “Whatever you’re having.”
What they’re having might technically be called a gimlet, though Frank uses a pint glass and enough gin to strip paint. Only one is sure to get him fucked up, and might make a little dent in Colt too.
Colt glugs down his drink with abandon, the apple of his throat bobbing lewdly as he swallows. Frank can’t look away.
“Fuck me,” Frank exhales, entirely serious. Colt gives him a smile as he wipes at his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
Frank does his best to get through his drink efficiently. Hard though, both in his slacks and in his skull after Colt’s little display. By the time his glass is empty his head is spinning and he’s ravenous.
“Aleksis said something about wolves…” Colt looks around.
Rolling his eyes, Frank explains, “some sort of mega exclusive guest list, once the Loop begins. Custom masks to hide people’s identities.”
“You don’t approve?” Colt asks.
Frank shakes his head, “what’s the point of being the baddest fucker on this rock, if it doesn’t come with the most famous face?”
“Well, you’ve already got the market cornered when it comes to the voice.” Fucking charmer.
“Fuck, I love you.” Frank tilts his head back to finish off his drink. Vaulting over the bar he grabs Colt by the hand, dragging him off to the dance floor.
It’s not the trend of the moment to be too up-close-and-personal, and most of the dancers leave a foot or more of space between them, but Frank is a trendsetter, if nothing else. He’s not about to waste this opportunity to get his hands all over Colt.
Colt’s jacket is already open at the front and Frank slides his palms home, over the center of Colt’s chest and around to his back. Their bodies indecently close together, Colt slips one knee between Frank’s legs. Fucking flyboy knows exactly what he’s doing. His sense of rhythm is good.
“You know,” Frank cocks his head, putting his lips close enough to Colt’s ear to kiss, “we could have been doing this months ago.” The construction of Blackreef feels like an endless Loop itself at this point. Ships and supplies coming in from all over the world, endless destruction and construction, and so few spoils to speak of.
“Not one for the hunt?” Colt asks, bolder than Frank ever fucking dreamed. He presses his closed lips against Frank’s neck. Hot breath and scorching promises, “You more of an instant gratification kind of man?” Colt angles his leg just so the meat of it presses into the start of Frank’s erection.
“Instant, prolonged, delayed, repeated, I just like being gratified, brother.” Frank can feel the eyes of the eternalists on them. Good, let them fucking look. Let them know that he has first dibs on Colt. They’ll have to go through him.
Colt laughs at that. But he’d laugh at Frank’s clever turns even if they’re not up to Frank’s own exacting standards.
They’re obscene at this point. Colt has a fistful of Frank’s button down hiked up to expose his abdomen. The fingers on Colt’s other hand graze gently against Frank’s skin and hair at first, before clutching tight to the bend of his hip. Frank’s no saint himself, with one hand starting to dip below the waistband at the back of Colt’s dark jeans.
“Want to do it right here?” Frank leads, “give everyone a good fucking show?” He’d do it too, let Colt mount him over the bar, on the dance floor, across one of Aleksis expensive chairs. Ruin the upholstery in a way that can’t get fixed before the first day. And every time Frank sees it he’ll remember.
There’s a noise inside Colt’s chest, too quiet to be a roar, but dark and dangerous all the same. Frank can feel it in his bones, stirring up his marrow.
“I have another idea,” Colt offers. Grabbing Frank by the wrist, he directs them towards the staircase. On their way out, Frank snatches the bottle of gin left on the bar top.
With single-minded determination Colt drags Frank through the halls. Their destination is apparent from the start. And fuck, fuck does Frank love him for it. Fucking loves that Colt has the same idea that was bouncing around Frank’s skull earlier. He takes a final glut of gin before throwing the bottle against the wall.
Aleksis’ bedroom door is unlocked, not that it would matter. Colt can get into anything and everything on the island with a little enginuity.
Frank is big and heavy enough that he’s not easy to toss around, as much as he fucking loves the feel of it. It’s not exactly easy for Colt to hike his legs up off the ground, but once Frank’s back is pressed against the wall to help bear some of the weight, Colt’s got him exactly where he wants to be.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Frank pants, “yeah, show me those big hands.”
Colt’s mouth is at Frank’s neck, just above the collar of his suit jacket, biting down hard enough on the flesh he finds to leave a bruise. Frank wraps his legs around the bulk of Colt’s hips to keep him pinned, but neither have enough leverage in this position to do much more than slowly grind, sticky heat building between their bodies.
“You play this tune before?” Frank holds tight to Colt’s shoulders, tipping his head back against the wall to give his friend as much access as he wants.
“Close enough,” Colt admits.
With no little strain Colt hauls Frank off the wall, practically tossing him onto Aleksis’ bed. The metal springs groan under the sudden impact.
Colt shucks off his jacket, not seeming to care where it lands. Frank doesn’t give a fuck about his clothes either, but he wants to be the one to unwrap his prize. Getting up to meet Colt, he grabs the front of his friend’s turtleneck, hurrying to pull it up and over Colt’s broad shoulders.
“Beautiful,” Frank whispers. He knew it would be, “Absolutely fucking beautiful, brother.”
Too impatient now to undress each other with any care, Frank starts with the buttons at the front of his shirt before he’s even stripped off his jacket. Colt’s hands are at his waist, opening his belt buckle and flinging the strip of leather across the room. There’s a discernible crash as it breaks something of Aleksis’.
They don’t manage to get Frank’s jacket or shirt off all the way, but he’s naked from the waist down and his chest is exposed to the open air. Colt doesn’t fare much better, though he’s without his shirt and it’s his jeans that are only open enough for his cock to slide against Frank’s.
Colt’s mouth is hot and wet and fierce against Frank’s. And as hard as Frank bites and scratches and whines, Colt pushes back, until he’s got his hand wrapped around Frank’s neck, pinning him to the mattress until he squirms from lack of air.
Once Colt lets up enough for Frank to breathe, Frank takes his opening to use all his strength to switch their positions and climb on top of Colt. “I don’t think you understand,” Frank’s sure he looks a wreck. Because underneath him Colt is breathing heavy, his lip split and eyes wide, sweat clinging to his brow and dripping down his neck. “That if I don’t get your cock in me right now, you’ll never live to see the Loop.”
Colt starts laughing. Frank laughs too. They both know that Frank doesn’t mean it. Oh, Frank is a capable killer, that’s for certain. But he adores Colt too much. And right now it’s easy to believe that Colt will never see him wronged.
Sticking two fingers into Colt’s mouth, Frank urges him to get them wet. Colt’s clever tongue licks between the digits, laving saliva over every inch. When Frank pulls his fingers back, there’s a thread of spit still joining them.
“It won’t be enough,” Colt says, rubbing his hand over Frank’s hip as he lifts up to reach behind himself. He’s right of course. A little bit of spit won’t be enough for Frank to get Colt’s cock inside him. Not the way he wants. But it’s enough for Frank to put on a show.
Maybe Frank should turn around, straddle Colt backwards so he can really watch as he works his fingers inside himself, just starting to open up his hole. But he’s already got one of his own long fingers past the rim, sliding in the second alongside it to feel the familiar stretch. It might not be the best view he can offer Colt, but from the way Colt’s breathing starts to fever, Frank figures his showmanship passes muster.
“Fuck me,” Colt groans, reaching towards his groin to give himself a squeeze. “Where is Aleksis’ fucking lube.” He throws his arm in the direction of the bedside table. Sitting up, Colt keeps his hand on Frank’s hip, trying not to jostle him too much while actually getting into Aleksis’ drawer.
“What end do you think Aleksis is on?” Colt asks far too casually as he pulls a well-used bottle out.
Frank groans, “I’m not about to say there can’t be other names on that dance card of yours, brother. But maybe don’t bring up other men when I’m feeling this tender.”
Snickering, Colt supplies, “I’m not that fucked in the head. Just making conversation.”
“Well, I’m kind of focused on conversing with your dick here…” Though, now that Frank has had a moment to think about it, “That man hasn’t given anyone anything his whole life. In any context. He’s a taker.”
“Let me do that for you,” Colt tugs at Frank’s arm gently, encouraging him
to pull his fingers back out.
Frank has no interest in putting his back against the mattress, at least not this time. So they maneuver until Colt can slick his thick fingers up into Frank while he’s still straddling Colt’s hips. Now that’s more fucking like it. Frank arches his back, fucking back onto Colt’s hand until two fingers become three, and then three is not enough. Colt’s cock will probably still be too much, but that’s half the fun.
It’s Frank’s turn to bat Colt’s hand away. Planting his palms firmly on Colt’s chest, Frank starts to lower himself on that delicious dick. It stretches him out plenty, makes him work for it, thighs tensing as he pushes past his own resistance. Colt’s eyes are closed. So are his hands, nails digging into the extra flesh that started gathering around Frank’s hips after he turned thirty.
Frank fucking loves this. The way that sex makes him feel close to someone else. Desired and dismantled, like this is the only thing that matters. Outside of this moment, Frank knows there are many important things to be had, like power and control and wealth. Dictating who lives and when you die. But that doesn’t stop Frank from knowing how to enjoy this, Colt so deep in his guts he thinks he can feel it in his throat. The blanket of Colt’s affection wrapping around his body and making him feel wanted in a way that’s almost as good as the crowd chanting his name, begging for another tune.
But it’s Frank who’s begging right now, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He takes his hands off Colt’s chest, grabbing the headboard of Aleksis’ circular bed instead, giving himself more leverage to throw himself down on Colt’s dick. The banging of the headboard against the wall crushes his fingers over and over. Frank doesn’t give a fuck. The pain feels good, mingling in with the force of their fucking, the building pleasure at the base of his spine.
Colt’s hand is clumsy, trying to jerk Frank off while he rides. It doesn’t matter if there’s skill there or not, though Frank is dimly aware in the heat of the room that while Colt clearly knows how to work over someone’s ass, he doesn’t know what to do with Frank’s cock. Frank will have to show him, next time.
Frank’s about at his limit, blood speckling from his knuckles against the wall, staining Aleksis’ custom paint, the pressure and heat and want radiating from Colt’s body below him. It’s all so much, too much, and Frank comes hard enough that his whole body is trembling after, Colt still fucking him with a brutal pace, Frank’s hands still bleeding out.
Frank’s soft dick gets mildly interested as Colt keeps going. But the last wave of pleasure is short lived as Colt finishes inside of him. They’re both breathing heavily enough that mostly all that Frank can hear is the afterglow as he tries to get his knees out from underneath himself.
“You about done?” Aleksis sneers from the doorway. His mask is off, a deep bruise circling one eye.
If Wenjie’s Loop was up and working, there’s no doubt in Frank’s mind that Aleksis would have put a bullet through the both of them. But Frank is right in his assessment. Aleksis is too much a coward to kill someone for keeps.
Frank makes it out of bed first, his flaccid dick swinging between his legs, Colt’s cum running down his thigh. He opens up his jacket, reaching into the inside pocket. Aleksis flinches, like he thinks Frank has got a piece in there. But he’s only looking for his cigarettes and lighter. He lights two sticks, one after the other. He hands one to Colt, once his friend is decent, his pants zipped up and turtleneck back on. Frank still isn’t wearing any pants. And Aleksis still hasn’t grown a pair.
“Great party, kid,” Frank grabs his slacks and shoes from the floor, but doesn’t bother to put them on. On their way out the door, Frank slaps Aleksis on the back.
“We’re the same age, asshole!” Aleksis shouts, once Colt and Frank are in the hallway.
Colt shakes his head, “Are you really going downstairs with your dick out?”
Snickering, Frank admits, “no, but let Aleksis think I am. Wait up while I get these back on.”