(OOC: the story starts a week after the Neb arrived at Zion to bury Dozer,
Mouse, Apoc, Switch and Cypher)
"How are you today?" the medic asked Tank on entering the surgery at Zion medical center. A week ago, when they had arrived at Zion Tank had been here too. But he did not remember anything: he had been too badly wounded on body and soul. Meanwhile he had started to recover.
He looked at the medic: a tall man with black hair and blue eyes. The bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Like most caucasian people with dark hair he had a slightly tanned skin.
"Much better, thank you, Dr. Nijman." Shake-hands. Firm grip, slim hands with long fingers. The medic went to the terminal to call Tank's file. After a short moment he had read it and turned back to the patient: "OK. Take off your shirt, please. - I'll take off the protective tissue now. Since that's rather painful I'd like to apply a local anesthesia. Your file mentions no allergies. Is that correct?" Tank watched the medic preparing a syringe.
"Yes." Tank looked away, "Man, I hate needles!"
"So do I!" the medic laughed, glancing up to Tank he said "but if you work here, you get used to them soon! - ", he applied the anesthesia, " - Now this will take some 5 minutes to cause effect. - I heard what happened on the Neb. You get along with that too? Or would you like to meet a psychologist? We have good people here."
A shadow of pain hurried across Tank's face, he nodded. "Thanks. But my sister and me, we're working on it. We have each other, you know? I'm already looking out for guys again." Tank managed a grin.
"Sounds like you're really coping. Good. - Let's see!" Dr. Nijman pushed his finger against the patch on Tank's side, "feel anything?"
"Nope."
"Well, lay down, ok?" Tank complied, stretching out on the bed he shivered when his naked back made contact with the cool antiseptic plastic .The medic started removing the tissue they had applied before to induce the healing of the electric burns. Tank looked the other way intently.
"So you're gay?" the medic asked with the typical voice of someone who is doing small talk while he concentrates on something else.
"Yup. 150%." Tank grinned.
"Doesn't that cause problems, to state that so frankly?" the doctor kept his eyes on his work.
"You're not too long around here. No, that's not really a problem. I heard about the discrimination in the matrix: must be hard to be gay in there."
"Hmm..." the medic fell silent while he covered the wound again, " - OK, turn around, please."
***
MD Patrick Nijman fought hard to keep his focus on his work. This warrior was an amazing person: for sure damn tough - 6 years out there wasn't something a sissy would survive. But then again neither embarrassed to admit his grieving nor shy about his being gay. And gorgeous!
Patrick blinked. '...hard to be gay in there.' ? he had no idea! It had been hell. It had been so bad, he still tried to fight his bent, to deny it to himself as well as to others.
He finished the treatment and finally sent Tank off with some instructions. The rest of his shift he spent rather confused, again and again thinking of honey-brown skin and brown eyes. Before he left the hospital he loaded Tank's file again, writing down the address.
*** An older part of Zion on the second level. In these aisles low houses where carved into the rock, metal was only used for doors or where walls had crashed. The alleys were smoothed by generations of feet walking them. Cables and hoses were hooked up at the ceiling. It was a noisy quarter, the pipes in need of repair, pneumatic hammers at work in several places. The sewers here were rather new. It looked like they had just put tubes into the grooves that had simply been covered by grates and this way served as sewers.
Everywhere kids playing on the street, some old-timers sitting on chairs, watching, talking.
Most people living here were of Amerindian or African-American origin. And a lot of them - not just the kids - were freeborn people. Some of them curiously eyed the pale man who was obviously looking for a certain address. A difficult task since only a few doors had numbers. The people who lived here were mostly born at exactly the same place, they never had the need to know numbers, they just knew everybody else around.
He stopped at an old man who was sitting there, a friendly face that consisted of nothing but wrinkles, the thinning white hair in two plaits.
"Excuse me, Sir: can you tell me where to find no. 38?" The old man answered in a language he did not understand. "Umm, sorry Sir, I don't understand." From inside the house a younger male voice called, speaking the same strange language, sounding a bit angry. A young man appeared in the doorway: tall with long black hair. Unlike most people at Zion he wore long pants and heavy boots like the fighters did on the ships. An unusual sight at such a warm place like Zion. It seemed like he argued with the old- timer. But when the elder answered him, the younger Amerindian seemed to shrink, his eyes looked down. Obviously he had been reprimanded.
Then he straightened again, rising to his full 6'4 and addressed the stranger: "I am sorry, but my great-grandfather stopped speaking your language the day he retired from fighting. He understands you quite well, but he refuses to answer you in English. You look for number 38? The Boudreaux-family, right?" "Yes. Michael Boudreaux." The Amerindian pointed out a hand: "You see that house with the bunch of kids in front? That's it." "Thank you." The stranger nodded and headed in the indicated direction.
***
Tank fooled around with one of the toddlers when someone knocked at the door. He was in a good mood: the kids always washed his worries away. With the kid on one arm he arrived at the door. His eyebrows shot upward when he saw the medic standing there. Quite a surprise!
"Hi! Is it so bad that I deserve a home-visit?" Tank asked with mock sorrow.
"Umm, no. I'm not here for any professional reason." Patrick combed his hair with one hand in a self-conscious gesture, "can we talk?"
"Oh, excuse me! Come in.", Tank let him enter. The girl on his arm reached out for the doctor's hair, "Hey, honey! Don't hurt my guest, OK?" Tank's voice full of love and affection for the kid. He gently opened her tiny hand with two fingers, kissed her and put her down on the ground. He had no idea what the guy wanted to talk about, but it seemed something rather personal. Privacy was in this house something very rare.
"Go upstairs, please." They mounted the metal staircase when his sister called after them
"Mike, don't forget to lock your door, OK?" his sister was extremely protective with the kids. Tank loved her a lot, but sometimes she lacked a good timing. How could she compromise him so bluntly?
"Rae!" Tank rolled his eyes. What would the doc think of him?
They reached Tank's room and like never before he realized its extreme simplicity, the worn-out old furniture and the narrowness. An old bed, a table with a frail, ripped-open computer-terminal, a shelf full of books, and a crooked chair - loaded with more books; the walls covered with drawings, most of them yellow with age, no rug covered the bare rock-floor, no curtain at the small window. Altogether it looked rather poor, neglected and messy and there was no other place to sit on but the bed. Well, then...He grabbed his clothes and tossed them into the far corner of his bed, offering the medic a place to sit.
"Take a seat." The man complied and Tank himself occupied the bed's other end, crushing his clothes. Tank was leaning against the cool but rough wall, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting. "I came here because I - errr....I'd like to meet you again. I mean: on a personal basis - if there's nobody else and - of course if you want to..." his voice trailed off.
Tank followed the hasty speech. This guy wasn't too experienced with dating. He smiled.
"Being honest: yeah, I'd love to! But then you should tell me your fist name, or do you want to be called 'doctor Nijman'?" Tank tried to wipe the man's embarrassment away with a joke. And it worked: he could see the other man relaxed, chuckled and told him his name was Patrick.
Patrick told Tank how bad it had been in the matrix, about the hate, the prejudice and the discriminations. Tank was a good listener and he felt that Patrick just needed to get rid of these things before he could do anything else. When he ended Tank got up and patted his shoulder:
"It'll be much better here, Patrick. You'll see. How about going out? Know some cool places around." He was hoping Patrick would agree: in public it would be easier for himself to behave. And this way Patrick could decide if he wanted to start things slow or not. Patrick agreed.
They ended up at Tank's favorite hang-out, a dark bar between his home and the docks where they played tech-house all the time. The drinks were good there and the prices fair - important for Tank who was constantly broke. The air was heavy with pot and the beat seemed to impact their stomachs. Tank knew a lot people around, including the owner, so there were many high- fives and hugs when they arrived.
They found a calmer place in the chill-room where they could talk. The evening was fun. Tank liked Patrick's style and the way he thought about things. Most of the time he either stared into his eyes or at his hands while they gestured. And Patrick seemed to like Tank's humor. They laughed a lot and it ended much too soon for Tank's taste. But Patrick had to work the next day. They parted at Tank's door, where they embraced and Tank put a quick kiss on Patrick's neck. Nothing more. He knew what to do to make the guys ask for more. And Tank wasn't the one to push others. It should be Patrick to decide when and what he wanted. He himself had been single for so long, a few days more or less did not really make a difference.
For a long time Tank couldn't sleep. Laying in his bed, eyes open, his heart still beating fast he recalled the evening on and on. Patrick's gestures, his voice, face, eyes. He was close to get up and try to find his number and call him only to hear his voice again. Nonsense! He behaved like a teen. He buried his face in the cushion and moaned loud. Sleep brought no soothing in the end. Tank was having wild hot dreams and when he finally woke he was covered with sweat, his shorts wet with semen. Mocking himself he crept out of his room for a cold shower. Soaking for five minutes in the icy spray left him shivering cold. That finally helped and he found a few more hours of peaceful sleep.
The next day passed without a sign from Patrick. Tank thought about calling him but then didn't. He was so nervous even his sister remarked it. When the com beeped in the evening he nearly flew to pick it up. It was a friend inviting him for a party next evening.
Next noon, finally, Patrick called: "Hi. My shift ends at 4 pm. We could meet at 6 or later. Is that OK?" Patrick asked. "Yeah, great. Gimme your address!" Tank noted it.
They went to the party but they did not really participate: they sat there, talking. A few shy touches they exchanged during the evening. But Patrick was rather shy about exposing himself in public. Tank found it a thrilling game and he enjoyed the delaying tactics. Although it was torturing: he wanted to hold Patrick, to kiss him and to sleep with him. Tank was terribly hungry for love!
They went for a walk, away from the partying crowd when Tank stopped in the dark, getting hold of Patrick's hand. Tank pulled him close, kissing his neck, throat and jaw, before he let his lips slightly brush Patrick's. Gentle like a butterfly's touch. Patrick whispered his name and Tank kissed him again to find Patrick lean into the kiss, opening his mouth for Tank's teasing tongue. Tank moaned and closed his eyes. Faint taste of coffee, Pat's hands on his neck and in his hair - shy but hungry, asking and seeking for more without words.
Tank's hands found a way under the top, feeling the skin on the other man's back, old scars where the spinal plugs once had been, goosebumps all over. Tank broke the kiss, looking into a breathless, disappointed face. With a smile he stripped his top off and then got rid of Patrick's too. Tank stepped behind him, embracing Patrick while he pressed their bodies together. Patrick's head arched backwards while Tank's hands caressed his chest, Tank's lips on Patrick's hot throat felt the fast pulse throbbing in the veins.
It was great! Tank could feel passion wash over him like a giant wave. He wanted Patrick! Here, now. Tank's hands slowly, teasingly went further down, passing the belt until they gently squeezed the swollen penis only to retreat immediately. Both men groaned of lust.
"Tell me you want it!" Tank whispered into Patrick's ear, grinding his hips against his mate's buttocks.
"Oh my god, Tank!" Patrick's hands grabbed Tank's hips, pulling him even closer. Tank's hands went back down, this time opening the pants, impatiently pulling them down with the shorts. While he got rid of his own with one hand, the other one caressed Patrick's penis. Silky hot skin, shimmering in the faint lights, throbbing under his touch. Patrick moaned, whispering Tank's name again and again.
Tank shivered with ecstatic anticipation. He had to close his eyes What a pleasure it was to touch and taste this delicious body! And what a pleasure it would be to take him! Bending his knees Tank pushed gently.
Patrick took a sharp breath, stiffened and withdrew himself.
For a second Tank closed his eyes in frustration. Too hasty! He was just too hasty. Damn! This wasn't one of his experienced lovers, Pat was more or less a virgin and he in his hunger had gone much too fast too far. "I...I can't. I'm sorry." Patrick looked down on the ground. Tank sighed. "It's OK, Pat. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry." The magic had gone. Completely.
They dressed in embarrassing silence. Tank felt stupid, pulling off the unused condom. He cursed himself on and on for destroying such a wonderful evening.
"Maybe this is just not what I want." Patrick murmured. This upset Tank. "Oh, come-on! Your mind is blocked. Your body knows this _is_ what you want." Patrick turned away and Tank reached out to stop him from running. "Pat! You're just traumatized from being in the Matrix. This is not your fault and what you feel is OK! Try to get rid of this perversion-bullshit they pressed into your brain. It's OK to be gay! And it's OK to be horny! Just allow it!" Tank held Patrick's arms, trying to lock his gaze in the dark. But Patrick's eyes went back down to the ground. He went away.
"Goddamn fucking shit!" Tank violently kicked a rock out of his way. After a while Tank started to jog to reach Pat who was already on his way home. He told Pat he would not leave him alone tonight. Pat did not like the idea. "I'm not in the mood, Tank." "Exactly why I think it's a bad idea to let you go home alone. I won't touch you, I promise!" "You're really a friend, Tank!" Patrick managed a smiled. "It's what I try to be, silly!"
***
After that night Tank never tried anything but kissing and embracing. He was too afraid to scare Patrick away and he loved him too much to loose him. Better be close and crave than never see him again. Sometimes it came hard on Tank to break a kiss or an embrace when everything in him screamed for fulfillment. Seldom the sexual tension broke loose in frustration in Tank but most time his optimistic character compensated it. Other than that they were very happy together.
***
Once more they had planned to go out when Patrick called Tank just when he was about to leave the house to pick Patrick up. Patrick told him he had had a hard day and asked Tank if he would mind to stay home with him. Tank agreed right away: maybe this would be the night!
Patrick opened the door of his small apartment, he looked indeed tired. He wore a tank-top and shorts, his cheeks showed a dark shadow from the unshaved stubble. He looked incredibly sexy! They kissed their hello and Tank broke the embrace only reluctantly.
While Tank applied a soothing massage to Patrick's feet Patrick told about his day: two dead kids caused by rocks from a collapsing cavern. And although they had fought hard and long both could not be rescued. "You should take a hot bath." Tank suggested. "I'd fall asleep and drown!" Patrick chuckled. "I wouldn't admit that, you know!" Tank cupped his lover's face with one hand, "I'll watch over you."
Tank got up to prepare a bath. When he returned, he stopped behind Patrick's seat and put his hands on his friend's shoulders, applying a gentle massage. And he could feel Patrick melting under his hands! Patrick leant his head back, his eyes closed.
Tank bowed to kiss Pat's eyelids, the cheeks and those delicious lips while he let his hands find a way under the top. Patrick sighed. Tank inhaled the scent that emerged Patrick's body: male, unmistakably Patrick! The smell of paradise, so close yet completely out of reach. He let his tongue slide across Patrick's lips when he felt them part, inviting his tongue to enter Patrick's mouth. Gripping the shoulders tightly, Tank leant into the kiss. Rare thing that Patrick took the initiative.
Tank broke the kiss, breathless, walking around until he faced Patrick. He could see the desire in his friend's eyes, so Tank stretched out a hand "Come!" "Wait! We need." Patrick looked around, searching for something when Tank reached into his pocket, producing condoms and some lubricant with a broad grin. "You bastard! You planned this!" Patrick smiled. "No. Just like to be prepared." Patrick followed Tank to the bed where Tank gently undressed Patrick, covering his body with light kisses and gentle teasing touches. Feeling and tasting the hot, bitter-salty skin, exploring this body like it was the first time. It felt so good! Then retreating again and again only to make Patrick's want grow, to hear him moan and beg for more.
"Touch me, Patrick!" Tank longed for the shy but sweet touches. But to feel Patrick's hands on his body was now nearly more than he could bear. Tank's body ached and he gritted his teeth. He needed to unite their bodies, he wanted it so badly now! Then again, he still was afraid of asking too much. With skill his touches grew more daring, directing Patrick's want into the desired direction. And although they both wanted it, Tank did not touch Patrick's delicious penis.
Tank played a teasing sensual game of attack and retreat that robbed Patrick nearly his conscience, he moaned loud while Tank sent wave after wave of pleasure across his body. Tank's hands and lips where everywhere.
Finally Patrick surrendered completely to his lust, asking Tank to make love to him, to do whatever he thought was good. Tank closed his eyes - he felt dizzy, the blood rushed in his ears. The want he had held back for so long threatened to rob him off control now.
Tank offered Patrick his body. "Come, take me, love!" Patrick hesitated only for a second. Then, with a deep groan he thrust himself into Tank. A loud moan welcomed him. Tank whimpered while Patrick moved in and out. Then Patrick pulled out and stopped! "Oh my God, Pat! Don't stop now!" Tank pleaded. "I want to know this. Show me!" Pat was serious. "Pat, I.." Tank wasn't sure . "Please, Tank! Show me!" Pat insisted.
Moving Pat into a better position Tank finally took him.
"Whoa!" the penetration robbed Patrick's breath. "Yeeessss." Tank orgasmed instantly and then took up a gentle rhythm, careful not to hurt him, guiding Patrick to an unknown ecstasy. When Patrick reached his climax, he nearly screamed. Tank held the trembling body in his arms. "I..." Patrick's voice failed. "Shhhht. I know." Tank hugged him tight, kissing his neck and shoulders with a satisfied smile on his face. It had been worth all the waiting!
"Tank, I had no idea it would be so...so - I have no words for this." Patrick whispered, still overwhelmed by the experience. Tank was happy. He had wanted it to be perfect for Patrick and it was more than obvious he had liked it. "Glad you liked it a bit." Tank chuckled and shifted a bit into a more comfortable position. "A bit?!" Tank grinned, "Being honest, you got the part I enjoy most, but that's a question of personal taste. And we can switch whenever we feel like."
That night they found no sleep. And as if Patrick had not only lost his virginity, he was suddenly more active, no longer afraid to show his feelings or express his wishes.
"How are you today?" the medic asked Tank on entering the surgery at Zion medical center. A week ago, when they had arrived at Zion Tank had been here too. But he did not remember anything: he had been too badly wounded on body and soul. Meanwhile he had started to recover.
He looked at the medic: a tall man with black hair and blue eyes. The bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Like most caucasian people with dark hair he had a slightly tanned skin.
"Much better, thank you, Dr. Nijman." Shake-hands. Firm grip, slim hands with long fingers. The medic went to the terminal to call Tank's file. After a short moment he had read it and turned back to the patient: "OK. Take off your shirt, please. - I'll take off the protective tissue now. Since that's rather painful I'd like to apply a local anesthesia. Your file mentions no allergies. Is that correct?" Tank watched the medic preparing a syringe.
"Yes." Tank looked away, "Man, I hate needles!"
"So do I!" the medic laughed, glancing up to Tank he said "but if you work here, you get used to them soon! - ", he applied the anesthesia, " - Now this will take some 5 minutes to cause effect. - I heard what happened on the Neb. You get along with that too? Or would you like to meet a psychologist? We have good people here."
A shadow of pain hurried across Tank's face, he nodded. "Thanks. But my sister and me, we're working on it. We have each other, you know? I'm already looking out for guys again." Tank managed a grin.
"Sounds like you're really coping. Good. - Let's see!" Dr. Nijman pushed his finger against the patch on Tank's side, "feel anything?"
"Nope."
"Well, lay down, ok?" Tank complied, stretching out on the bed he shivered when his naked back made contact with the cool antiseptic plastic .The medic started removing the tissue they had applied before to induce the healing of the electric burns. Tank looked the other way intently.
"So you're gay?" the medic asked with the typical voice of someone who is doing small talk while he concentrates on something else.
"Yup. 150%." Tank grinned.
"Doesn't that cause problems, to state that so frankly?" the doctor kept his eyes on his work.
"You're not too long around here. No, that's not really a problem. I heard about the discrimination in the matrix: must be hard to be gay in there."
"Hmm..." the medic fell silent while he covered the wound again, " - OK, turn around, please."
***
MD Patrick Nijman fought hard to keep his focus on his work. This warrior was an amazing person: for sure damn tough - 6 years out there wasn't something a sissy would survive. But then again neither embarrassed to admit his grieving nor shy about his being gay. And gorgeous!
Patrick blinked. '...hard to be gay in there.' ? he had no idea! It had been hell. It had been so bad, he still tried to fight his bent, to deny it to himself as well as to others.
He finished the treatment and finally sent Tank off with some instructions. The rest of his shift he spent rather confused, again and again thinking of honey-brown skin and brown eyes. Before he left the hospital he loaded Tank's file again, writing down the address.
*** An older part of Zion on the second level. In these aisles low houses where carved into the rock, metal was only used for doors or where walls had crashed. The alleys were smoothed by generations of feet walking them. Cables and hoses were hooked up at the ceiling. It was a noisy quarter, the pipes in need of repair, pneumatic hammers at work in several places. The sewers here were rather new. It looked like they had just put tubes into the grooves that had simply been covered by grates and this way served as sewers.
Everywhere kids playing on the street, some old-timers sitting on chairs, watching, talking.
Most people living here were of Amerindian or African-American origin. And a lot of them - not just the kids - were freeborn people. Some of them curiously eyed the pale man who was obviously looking for a certain address. A difficult task since only a few doors had numbers. The people who lived here were mostly born at exactly the same place, they never had the need to know numbers, they just knew everybody else around.
He stopped at an old man who was sitting there, a friendly face that consisted of nothing but wrinkles, the thinning white hair in two plaits.
"Excuse me, Sir: can you tell me where to find no. 38?" The old man answered in a language he did not understand. "Umm, sorry Sir, I don't understand." From inside the house a younger male voice called, speaking the same strange language, sounding a bit angry. A young man appeared in the doorway: tall with long black hair. Unlike most people at Zion he wore long pants and heavy boots like the fighters did on the ships. An unusual sight at such a warm place like Zion. It seemed like he argued with the old- timer. But when the elder answered him, the younger Amerindian seemed to shrink, his eyes looked down. Obviously he had been reprimanded.
Then he straightened again, rising to his full 6'4 and addressed the stranger: "I am sorry, but my great-grandfather stopped speaking your language the day he retired from fighting. He understands you quite well, but he refuses to answer you in English. You look for number 38? The Boudreaux-family, right?" "Yes. Michael Boudreaux." The Amerindian pointed out a hand: "You see that house with the bunch of kids in front? That's it." "Thank you." The stranger nodded and headed in the indicated direction.
***
Tank fooled around with one of the toddlers when someone knocked at the door. He was in a good mood: the kids always washed his worries away. With the kid on one arm he arrived at the door. His eyebrows shot upward when he saw the medic standing there. Quite a surprise!
"Hi! Is it so bad that I deserve a home-visit?" Tank asked with mock sorrow.
"Umm, no. I'm not here for any professional reason." Patrick combed his hair with one hand in a self-conscious gesture, "can we talk?"
"Oh, excuse me! Come in.", Tank let him enter. The girl on his arm reached out for the doctor's hair, "Hey, honey! Don't hurt my guest, OK?" Tank's voice full of love and affection for the kid. He gently opened her tiny hand with two fingers, kissed her and put her down on the ground. He had no idea what the guy wanted to talk about, but it seemed something rather personal. Privacy was in this house something very rare.
"Go upstairs, please." They mounted the metal staircase when his sister called after them
"Mike, don't forget to lock your door, OK?" his sister was extremely protective with the kids. Tank loved her a lot, but sometimes she lacked a good timing. How could she compromise him so bluntly?
"Rae!" Tank rolled his eyes. What would the doc think of him?
They reached Tank's room and like never before he realized its extreme simplicity, the worn-out old furniture and the narrowness. An old bed, a table with a frail, ripped-open computer-terminal, a shelf full of books, and a crooked chair - loaded with more books; the walls covered with drawings, most of them yellow with age, no rug covered the bare rock-floor, no curtain at the small window. Altogether it looked rather poor, neglected and messy and there was no other place to sit on but the bed. Well, then...He grabbed his clothes and tossed them into the far corner of his bed, offering the medic a place to sit.
"Take a seat." The man complied and Tank himself occupied the bed's other end, crushing his clothes. Tank was leaning against the cool but rough wall, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting. "I came here because I - errr....I'd like to meet you again. I mean: on a personal basis - if there's nobody else and - of course if you want to..." his voice trailed off.
Tank followed the hasty speech. This guy wasn't too experienced with dating. He smiled.
"Being honest: yeah, I'd love to! But then you should tell me your fist name, or do you want to be called 'doctor Nijman'?" Tank tried to wipe the man's embarrassment away with a joke. And it worked: he could see the other man relaxed, chuckled and told him his name was Patrick.
Patrick told Tank how bad it had been in the matrix, about the hate, the prejudice and the discriminations. Tank was a good listener and he felt that Patrick just needed to get rid of these things before he could do anything else. When he ended Tank got up and patted his shoulder:
"It'll be much better here, Patrick. You'll see. How about going out? Know some cool places around." He was hoping Patrick would agree: in public it would be easier for himself to behave. And this way Patrick could decide if he wanted to start things slow or not. Patrick agreed.
They ended up at Tank's favorite hang-out, a dark bar between his home and the docks where they played tech-house all the time. The drinks were good there and the prices fair - important for Tank who was constantly broke. The air was heavy with pot and the beat seemed to impact their stomachs. Tank knew a lot people around, including the owner, so there were many high- fives and hugs when they arrived.
They found a calmer place in the chill-room where they could talk. The evening was fun. Tank liked Patrick's style and the way he thought about things. Most of the time he either stared into his eyes or at his hands while they gestured. And Patrick seemed to like Tank's humor. They laughed a lot and it ended much too soon for Tank's taste. But Patrick had to work the next day. They parted at Tank's door, where they embraced and Tank put a quick kiss on Patrick's neck. Nothing more. He knew what to do to make the guys ask for more. And Tank wasn't the one to push others. It should be Patrick to decide when and what he wanted. He himself had been single for so long, a few days more or less did not really make a difference.
For a long time Tank couldn't sleep. Laying in his bed, eyes open, his heart still beating fast he recalled the evening on and on. Patrick's gestures, his voice, face, eyes. He was close to get up and try to find his number and call him only to hear his voice again. Nonsense! He behaved like a teen. He buried his face in the cushion and moaned loud. Sleep brought no soothing in the end. Tank was having wild hot dreams and when he finally woke he was covered with sweat, his shorts wet with semen. Mocking himself he crept out of his room for a cold shower. Soaking for five minutes in the icy spray left him shivering cold. That finally helped and he found a few more hours of peaceful sleep.
The next day passed without a sign from Patrick. Tank thought about calling him but then didn't. He was so nervous even his sister remarked it. When the com beeped in the evening he nearly flew to pick it up. It was a friend inviting him for a party next evening.
Next noon, finally, Patrick called: "Hi. My shift ends at 4 pm. We could meet at 6 or later. Is that OK?" Patrick asked. "Yeah, great. Gimme your address!" Tank noted it.
They went to the party but they did not really participate: they sat there, talking. A few shy touches they exchanged during the evening. But Patrick was rather shy about exposing himself in public. Tank found it a thrilling game and he enjoyed the delaying tactics. Although it was torturing: he wanted to hold Patrick, to kiss him and to sleep with him. Tank was terribly hungry for love!
They went for a walk, away from the partying crowd when Tank stopped in the dark, getting hold of Patrick's hand. Tank pulled him close, kissing his neck, throat and jaw, before he let his lips slightly brush Patrick's. Gentle like a butterfly's touch. Patrick whispered his name and Tank kissed him again to find Patrick lean into the kiss, opening his mouth for Tank's teasing tongue. Tank moaned and closed his eyes. Faint taste of coffee, Pat's hands on his neck and in his hair - shy but hungry, asking and seeking for more without words.
Tank's hands found a way under the top, feeling the skin on the other man's back, old scars where the spinal plugs once had been, goosebumps all over. Tank broke the kiss, looking into a breathless, disappointed face. With a smile he stripped his top off and then got rid of Patrick's too. Tank stepped behind him, embracing Patrick while he pressed their bodies together. Patrick's head arched backwards while Tank's hands caressed his chest, Tank's lips on Patrick's hot throat felt the fast pulse throbbing in the veins.
It was great! Tank could feel passion wash over him like a giant wave. He wanted Patrick! Here, now. Tank's hands slowly, teasingly went further down, passing the belt until they gently squeezed the swollen penis only to retreat immediately. Both men groaned of lust.
"Tell me you want it!" Tank whispered into Patrick's ear, grinding his hips against his mate's buttocks.
"Oh my god, Tank!" Patrick's hands grabbed Tank's hips, pulling him even closer. Tank's hands went back down, this time opening the pants, impatiently pulling them down with the shorts. While he got rid of his own with one hand, the other one caressed Patrick's penis. Silky hot skin, shimmering in the faint lights, throbbing under his touch. Patrick moaned, whispering Tank's name again and again.
Tank shivered with ecstatic anticipation. He had to close his eyes What a pleasure it was to touch and taste this delicious body! And what a pleasure it would be to take him! Bending his knees Tank pushed gently.
Patrick took a sharp breath, stiffened and withdrew himself.
For a second Tank closed his eyes in frustration. Too hasty! He was just too hasty. Damn! This wasn't one of his experienced lovers, Pat was more or less a virgin and he in his hunger had gone much too fast too far. "I...I can't. I'm sorry." Patrick looked down on the ground. Tank sighed. "It's OK, Pat. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry." The magic had gone. Completely.
They dressed in embarrassing silence. Tank felt stupid, pulling off the unused condom. He cursed himself on and on for destroying such a wonderful evening.
"Maybe this is just not what I want." Patrick murmured. This upset Tank. "Oh, come-on! Your mind is blocked. Your body knows this _is_ what you want." Patrick turned away and Tank reached out to stop him from running. "Pat! You're just traumatized from being in the Matrix. This is not your fault and what you feel is OK! Try to get rid of this perversion-bullshit they pressed into your brain. It's OK to be gay! And it's OK to be horny! Just allow it!" Tank held Patrick's arms, trying to lock his gaze in the dark. But Patrick's eyes went back down to the ground. He went away.
"Goddamn fucking shit!" Tank violently kicked a rock out of his way. After a while Tank started to jog to reach Pat who was already on his way home. He told Pat he would not leave him alone tonight. Pat did not like the idea. "I'm not in the mood, Tank." "Exactly why I think it's a bad idea to let you go home alone. I won't touch you, I promise!" "You're really a friend, Tank!" Patrick managed a smiled. "It's what I try to be, silly!"
***
After that night Tank never tried anything but kissing and embracing. He was too afraid to scare Patrick away and he loved him too much to loose him. Better be close and crave than never see him again. Sometimes it came hard on Tank to break a kiss or an embrace when everything in him screamed for fulfillment. Seldom the sexual tension broke loose in frustration in Tank but most time his optimistic character compensated it. Other than that they were very happy together.
***
Once more they had planned to go out when Patrick called Tank just when he was about to leave the house to pick Patrick up. Patrick told him he had had a hard day and asked Tank if he would mind to stay home with him. Tank agreed right away: maybe this would be the night!
Patrick opened the door of his small apartment, he looked indeed tired. He wore a tank-top and shorts, his cheeks showed a dark shadow from the unshaved stubble. He looked incredibly sexy! They kissed their hello and Tank broke the embrace only reluctantly.
While Tank applied a soothing massage to Patrick's feet Patrick told about his day: two dead kids caused by rocks from a collapsing cavern. And although they had fought hard and long both could not be rescued. "You should take a hot bath." Tank suggested. "I'd fall asleep and drown!" Patrick chuckled. "I wouldn't admit that, you know!" Tank cupped his lover's face with one hand, "I'll watch over you."
Tank got up to prepare a bath. When he returned, he stopped behind Patrick's seat and put his hands on his friend's shoulders, applying a gentle massage. And he could feel Patrick melting under his hands! Patrick leant his head back, his eyes closed.
Tank bowed to kiss Pat's eyelids, the cheeks and those delicious lips while he let his hands find a way under the top. Patrick sighed. Tank inhaled the scent that emerged Patrick's body: male, unmistakably Patrick! The smell of paradise, so close yet completely out of reach. He let his tongue slide across Patrick's lips when he felt them part, inviting his tongue to enter Patrick's mouth. Gripping the shoulders tightly, Tank leant into the kiss. Rare thing that Patrick took the initiative.
Tank broke the kiss, breathless, walking around until he faced Patrick. He could see the desire in his friend's eyes, so Tank stretched out a hand "Come!" "Wait! We need." Patrick looked around, searching for something when Tank reached into his pocket, producing condoms and some lubricant with a broad grin. "You bastard! You planned this!" Patrick smiled. "No. Just like to be prepared." Patrick followed Tank to the bed where Tank gently undressed Patrick, covering his body with light kisses and gentle teasing touches. Feeling and tasting the hot, bitter-salty skin, exploring this body like it was the first time. It felt so good! Then retreating again and again only to make Patrick's want grow, to hear him moan and beg for more.
"Touch me, Patrick!" Tank longed for the shy but sweet touches. But to feel Patrick's hands on his body was now nearly more than he could bear. Tank's body ached and he gritted his teeth. He needed to unite their bodies, he wanted it so badly now! Then again, he still was afraid of asking too much. With skill his touches grew more daring, directing Patrick's want into the desired direction. And although they both wanted it, Tank did not touch Patrick's delicious penis.
Tank played a teasing sensual game of attack and retreat that robbed Patrick nearly his conscience, he moaned loud while Tank sent wave after wave of pleasure across his body. Tank's hands and lips where everywhere.
Finally Patrick surrendered completely to his lust, asking Tank to make love to him, to do whatever he thought was good. Tank closed his eyes - he felt dizzy, the blood rushed in his ears. The want he had held back for so long threatened to rob him off control now.
Tank offered Patrick his body. "Come, take me, love!" Patrick hesitated only for a second. Then, with a deep groan he thrust himself into Tank. A loud moan welcomed him. Tank whimpered while Patrick moved in and out. Then Patrick pulled out and stopped! "Oh my God, Pat! Don't stop now!" Tank pleaded. "I want to know this. Show me!" Pat was serious. "Pat, I.." Tank wasn't sure . "Please, Tank! Show me!" Pat insisted.
Moving Pat into a better position Tank finally took him.
"Whoa!" the penetration robbed Patrick's breath. "Yeeessss." Tank orgasmed instantly and then took up a gentle rhythm, careful not to hurt him, guiding Patrick to an unknown ecstasy. When Patrick reached his climax, he nearly screamed. Tank held the trembling body in his arms. "I..." Patrick's voice failed. "Shhhht. I know." Tank hugged him tight, kissing his neck and shoulders with a satisfied smile on his face. It had been worth all the waiting!
"Tank, I had no idea it would be so...so - I have no words for this." Patrick whispered, still overwhelmed by the experience. Tank was happy. He had wanted it to be perfect for Patrick and it was more than obvious he had liked it. "Glad you liked it a bit." Tank chuckled and shifted a bit into a more comfortable position. "A bit?!" Tank grinned, "Being honest, you got the part I enjoy most, but that's a question of personal taste. And we can switch whenever we feel like."
That night they found no sleep. And as if Patrick had not only lost his virginity, he was suddenly more active, no longer afraid to show his feelings or express his wishes.