Desperate Measures ~ 7/?

[hemrage]

Masterpost for the verse: here.

Chapter 6


Chapter 7

Light flared, his face briefly visible as he lit his cigarette, took the smoke deep into his lungs. It was a moonless night and where he leant against the wall, on the far side of the parking lot, he was able to blend into the shadows.

Insomnia wasn’t a new phenomenon. He’d often suffered from it to varying degrees throughout his life. The longest instance, that he could recall, was just before his mother remarried. Just before Natalia Krushnic became Natalie Collins - the Americanization she’d been striving for, finally complete.

It wasn’t that it had necessarily been a bad thing, bidding the past a not so fond farewell, but it had been his mother’s choice – not his. He’d not been given an alternative.

He had vague memories of his father, Dmitri. A large, affectionate man who, not realizing the exact nature of the temptation he was putting in his wife’s way, agreed to her suggestion that they, as a family, would be better off with her long absent brother. The poverty of Russia, the harshness of northern winters, enough to make him agree that their only child go with her while he stayed behind to tie up loose ends.

Getting into the United States hadn’t been a difficult endeavor as far as his mother was concerned. Even if she hadn’t had a brother who’d managed to make connections in the decade since his arrival, America didn’t say no to obviously fertile women who wanted to live in the country. But for a man alone, trying to follow, it had proved to be a more difficult undertaking.

Within weeks his mother was being courted and his father, who wouldn’t have surrendered his wife or his son easily, had never been seen again. International politics meant he’d been twenty five years old before he’d discovered his father’s fate. The years of alcoholism and grief finally taking its toll, ten years earlier.

He’d been four when he left Russia. By the time he was ten he could no longer speak the language and when he was fifteen he took a new name in honor of the man who he learned to call dad – to please his mother. Though there were still times when she used the name she’d given him at birth, they were rare and were usually symptoms of anger or exasperation. His Russian heritage bore so many negative connotations – and yet there were still times when he wondered.

About his father.

About the life he could’ve had in the poverty his mother escaped. In the land where men were free to live – or die – in the best way they could. Because the land he’d been raised in was anything but free.

Voices drew his attention away from his introspection. Across the lot, unaware or uncaring of possible witnesses, two men were locked in a very physical embrace, vying for dominance with mouths and hands, obviously unable to restrain themselves until they were safely indoors.

Though homosexual relationships were increasingly becoming the norm there were still very many people who found the sight of two men going at it disquieting. Still individuals who struck out violently when confronted by public displays of affection between two men. Hell, he could even count his stepfather amongst their ranks. Him too, once upon a time.

He watched them now. One man taking the other in hand while he nibbled at an exposed neck, whispered filth and perverted promises into his ear. A symphony of gasps, sighs and panted curses reached out across empty space to reawaken his ignored and tormented libido.

A cry and he knew one of the men was coming, only to be forced to his knees between splayed legs to deal with his partner’s arousal.

Mike had had enough.

Not caring if he was seen, he walked back towards his room and entered it quietly, taking care not to disturb the agitated man who was barely asleep on the furthest bed. A man who was responsible for his current bout of sleepness nights.

He leant against the inside of the door, willing his interested cock into submission. Now was not the time to jerk off to fantasies of climbing into bed with the green eyed temptation.

He’d been fucking recognized!

There’d been an implicit risk, coming back to the area the man used to live, but it had been considered negligible. Most people, either through empathy, or simple lack of interest, didn’t even think about contacting the authorities when they saw someone on the ‘most wanted list’. Trust the Ackles family to have a neighbor convinced he was due a reward for his trouble. Some people were so fucking mercenary. Luckily there were benefits to his position in the government, to the connections he possessed, both earned by reputation and awarded through nepotism.

Jensen Ackles was a prize – and no doubt he’d be sent straight back into the breeding program in the fullness of time – but for now he was more valuable, at least to Mike’s superiors, as a connection to the organization responsible for the ‘systematic campaign to subvert government authority’.

When Jensen first introduced himself as Ross Mike’d known the man was lying, but it didn’t take long for it to become obvious that he believed the lie. And that’s how he found himself living with a Gestate who didn’t know he was a Gestate. Travelling with a man who didn’t know who he was but who was regaining a sense of himself by degrees. A man who inspired lust and compassion in equal measure – much to Mike’s disgust.

He was a professional for fuck’s sake.

He needed Jensen to trust him. To confide in him when memories began to resurface. And he couldn’t afford for the man to be picked up by blinkered men who would quote procreation enforcement laws when Mike wasn’t around to protect him.

Couldn’t afford for anyone to bring him in - but him.

Jensen turned on the bed, his brow furrowed, lush lips curled into a grimace.

It was a nightmare tonight then. Mike found them so much easier to bear than the other types of dreams the Gestate had been experiencing. The noises he made much easier to block out.

He rolled his head back on his neck, hearing it click, feeling the pain of tension across his shoulders.

It was time to head to New York. He’d delayed as long as he could. Now he just had to convince Jensen - Ross - that Texas was a dead end. There were a few stops he wanted to fit into their journey. A nice little church en route that would no doubt tempt back lots of wonderful memories.

He stared at his bed and weighed up the possibility that he’d get to sleep any time soon.

As Jensen turned and sighed, a naked leg slipping into view, Mike decided a cold shower would be a little more beneficial.



Next

Comments

[awennra.livejournal.com]

OMG, I knew that this Mike wasn't right at all. I want Jensen to be saved! he cannot suffer anymore!!