In Wheeler's old life, rules had been in place simply to be broken. Don't steal. Don't cheat. Don't lie. Don't talk back. Before he ever learned the alphabet or how to write his own name, the rules were pounded into him, courtesy of his father's fists. His mother, weak-willed and broken from a lifetime of servitude to her quick-tempered husband, tried a softer approach, looking at Wheeler with blackened and reproachful eyes whenever he forgot to toe the line. But as he got older and more wily, bigger and more rebellious, that line slipped further and further behind Wheeler, and the rules stopped feeling like iron tight regulations and became more like fluid suggestions, so he broke them frequently.
Stealing, lying, cheating, talking back... Wheeler did them all, and almost proudly too, a perfect petty criminal in the making. Trish, to her credit, tried to stop him.
"I don't want to lose you to jail," she lectured him, again and again. "You gotta follow the rules, Wheeler."
But Wheeler, however much he adored Trish, could never bring himself to turn away from his path of ill-repute. Rules were for idiots, he always told Trish. He was too cool for the rules; too street smart and jaded.
"Who needs rules when you could be havin' fun?" He asked her with a shrug. "I'm above the rules, Trish."
"I'm just worried you'll get caught one of these days," Trish replied warily. "You ain't above anythin' Wheeler."
But he'd only grinned at her. "Come over here and let me get above you," he suggested, and Trish had squealed as he'd pulled her into his arms.
Later, when her naked body lay snug against his, Trish ran a finger down Wheeler's cheek.
"I mean it," she whispered to him. "I don't wanna lose you."
"You won't," he promised, and in that moment, he meant every word. "I'm not goin' anywhere. You ain't gonna lose me."
But she did. Not to jail, of course, but a whole different kind of restitution.
Hope Island. A calling. A future. Linka.
But even as a Planeteer, Wheeler played hard and fast with the rules. He was tempestuous and easily fired up, not too great with following either plans or orders. He rushed in and took shortcuts. He occasionally dabbled where he wasn't meant to. And most of the time, it worked. For the first time in his nineteen years, Wheeler found something that suited him, something he enjoyed and was good at. He liked saving the planet. He liked defeating eco-villains. And because he liked it, he was good at it.
But good or not, he still didn't always follow the rules, and that drove the well-meaning Kwame crazy.
"One day you will come up short for this, Wheeler," Kwame warned. "The rules are there to protect us. You cannot keep breaking them without thought or due attention."
Wheeler, feeling unfairly chided, went to Linka to complain about Kwame's lecturing.
"I mean, I did a good job, right?" He seethed. "Bleak didn't see it coming, which he would have if I'd stuck to the original plan. Kwame didn't even acknowledge that... he was all 'you were reckless, Wheeler'—"
"Well you were," Linda interrupted him.
"Yeah, but it worked," Wheeler argued.
Linka nodded. "Yes, but what if next time it does not?"
He stared at her. "What do you mean?"
Linka shrugged. She was wearing her Orioles shirt over her swimsuit, her bare legs long and lean against the sand, and Wheeler reached over absently to stroke the curve of her calf. She sighed at his touch, resting her head on her knees and smiling at him. "What if next time, you are not so lucky? What if rushing in does not help you, but hinders you?" she visibly swallowed. "What if it hurts you?"
"Babe," Wheeler whispered, reaching over to wrap an arm around her waist. "That's not gonna happen."
"You do not know that. I do not know that. And Kwame does not know that, which is why he is harsh with you. We do not want to lose you, Wheeler."
"The team would be fine without me, Gaia would find another fire ring bearer, don't worry about that—"
"I do not want to lose you," Linka interjected firmly. "Not just the team. Me."
He gazed at her, looking into her green eyes for a long time. He brushed a finger under her eye, liking the feel of her skin, soft and smooth, under his.
"You are my best friend in this new world of ours, Yankee," Linka said softly. "If something were to happen to you, I would miss you."
Momentarily, Wheeler was rendered uncharacteristically quiet. Taking advantage of his silence, Linka squeezed his hand.
"I do not want to lose you," she said again. "The next time you are tempted to jump in, to break rules, think of me, yes? Try for me. I know you; I know you cannot always control your temper or impetuousness... but try for me. That is all I would ask. That you try."
Wheeler, unaccountably shaken, hauled Linka into his arms, breathing in the smell of coconut from her hair and taking reassurance from the warmth of her body next to his. Her words had struck a chord with him. She was right; she did know him. She knew how he struggled to conform, when he'd spent a lifetime running away from that very idea. She knew that for Wheeler, every rule he broke was a silent rebellion against the still looming shadow of his father. But she also knew that for her he would try. That for her, he would do almost anything.
"You ain't gonna lose me, Babe," he whispered into her ear. "I got tight a hold of you, don't you know?"
He worked hard over the next few years, trying to respect the fastidious Kwame's well laid out plans while also trying to keep to the kind-hearted Ma-Ti's pleas for clemency against their foes. There was also Gi to worry about, for once their relationship — if they could even call it that — had ended, there had been a distance between them that made Wheeler wince. He made a real effort to earn back Gi's trust, all the while trying to keep his promise to Linka. It was a juggling act, and one he worked at. But it was a struggle at times, and a struggle Linka saw first-hand.
Which was why now, with the word 'rules' falling from Wheeler's lips, she gaped at him in surprise.
"You want to talk about the rules?" She asked incredulously. "You?"
"Yeah," Wheeler answered seriously, even as he picked Linka up and threw her softly onto his bed. "I wanna talk about the rules."
"You hate rules," Linka stated, but Wheeler grinned at her, crawling on all fours until he was above her, caging her beneath him.
"Depends on the game I'm playing," he shrugged. "With you, I think I could enjoy the rules."
He dropped his head, intent on kissing her, but Linka turned her head.
"Be serious," she said, and her voice was low but firm. "What do you mean by 'the rules'?"
He stopped immediately, sitting back and staring down at her. "Alright," he nodded. "Look, I meant what I said earlier, about safeguarding our friendship. That's important to me, Babe. Damn important. We've made up our minds that we're gonna do this, and I'm glad, because I want you bad," he spoke honestly, and watched as a blush stole across Linka's cheeks. "But that doesn't mean that I haven't been thinkin' of all the ways this could end our friendship, and that thought, the thought of losin' you, scares the shit outta me."
"You are not going to lose me, Yankee," Linka replied softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. "What did you say to me, all those years ago? That you had tight a hold of me? Well, I have you too. And I will not let go."
She sat forwards, pulling his face towards her own and kissing him softly. Wheeler couldn't help the sigh that escaped his mouth as his lips met hers, just as he couldn't help himself from running his hands into her still wet hair and tilting her head back. He teased her mouth open with his tongue, and when his flesh met hers they fell back onto his bed, suddenly a mass of clutching arms, searching kisses and frantic hands. It was charged and desperate, and he felt Linka's hands running up and down the planes of his bare stomach, before reaching around to grip his back and press him against her. Her legs were open, her thighs tight around his waist, and pleasure lit within him, stoked liberally by the desire he saw within her. She wasn't hiding how much she wanted him. She wasn't pretending. She wasn't being anything other than her beautiful, spirited self.
With effort, Wheeler peeled himself away from her.
"Rule one," he muttered, peppering her neck with kisses. "We do this for fun. If it stops being fun, we stop doing it. Okay?"
Linka nodded, reaching for him again. She kissed him, her mouth warm and searching, and Wheeler lowered himself against her, his hands straying under the fabric of the singlet clinging to her body.
"Rule two," he stuttered between kisses, "we keep this exclusive. While we're with each other, we ain't with anybody else."
He felt Linka pause beneath him, and he caught her face in his hands, cupping her cheeks softly. "Babe," he said seriously. "This isn't about Gregor—"
"Or Trish," she added quietly.
"Or Trish," Wheeler agreed. "This is because nothin' — and I mean nothin'— will make you feel cheaper than jumpin' from bed to bed, Babe. Trust me."
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and thoughtful. "You did that?" She asked him quietly.
"Yeah," he admitted. "And I'm not proud of it. Made me feel like shit, if I'm entirely honest. There was no pleasure in it."
"Who?" Linka asked him, and he sighed.
"Just these girls... right after I became a Planeteer."
"Gi?" Linka spoke warily, and Wheeler flushed.
"No. Before Gi. I wouldn't have done that to her," he replied immediately, before he reddened harder. "Not physically, anyway."
"What do you mean?" Linka asked curiously.
He allowed one of his hands to trail back to Linka's stomach, tracing the curve of her waist and pushing up under the fabric of her shirt.
"I would be lyin'," he began slowly, "if I said I didn't think of you, here in my bed like this, when we became friends. It always felt wrong, but I couldn't stop myself. You were like a virus, getting in under my skin."
"You imagined us...?" Linka gestured to the bed around them, and Wheeler nodded.
"Yeah."
"What did you picture?" Linka asked softly, kissing his neck, and he groaned into her skin.
"You. Naked," he admitted. "And me... doin' things to you."
"What things?" She whispered, and she sat up, straddling his waist and pressing her lips once again to his.
"Lin," he whispered back, his confidence suddenly failing him, just as she seemed to gain hers.
With one quick, clean swipe of her hands, she peeled her singlet up over her head, throwing it to the floor beside them.
Wheeler's mind went blank but for one thought: Linka was half-naked in his arms, asking him what he wanted to do with her.
"What things?" Linka asked him again, and he exhaled through a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. "Yankee," she whispered, looping her arms around his neck and kissing him, her naked breasts suddenly pressed against his bare chest. "I asked you what things?"
He cleared his throat. "Well... this is, uh, a pretty good start..."
Linka nodded, kissing him for a moment, her mouth driving him almost as crazy as her naked body. After a minute she pulled away, licking her lips. "You can touch me," she told him. "I was told most men like to play with..." she blushed prettily, gesturing to her chest, her words trailing away.
But Wheeler didn't move, looking into her eyes seriously. "Yeah, Babe, most men like to do that," he agreed. "But do you like it?"
She stared at him, almost uncomprehending. "What do you mean?" She asked him.
He disentangled her arms from his neck, pushing her softly onto his bed. He stared down at her, taking in her hair, drying in soft golden curls on his pillow, and the peach of her skin, smooth and infinitely kissable. He allowed his eyes to linger on her breasts, soft and tempting, her nipples pink and suckable.
He took a deep, steadying breath. "Rule three," he told her, reaching out to cup one of her breasts, watching with satisfaction as she inhaled sharply. "We gotta be honest with each other. If we like somethin', we say so. If we don't like somethin'? Well, same goes. Honesty is key here, Lin."
She nodded, her head rolling back as he lightly stroked her. "I do not know what I like," she told him honestly. "Not yet, I have never..." she trailed away, and Wheeler thought he understood.
"Let me help you find out," he suggested. Slowly, he ran both hands down Linka's chest, cupping her breasts and brushing his thumbs over the hard pebbles of her nipples. She made a small noise of pleasure, and Wheeler, encouraged, kissed a line from her shoulder to her left breast.
"You can tell me to stop, at any time," he whispered. "One word and I'll do it."
"Please do not stop," Linka pleaded. "Please, keep going."
Without hesitation, Wheeler ran his tongue over her breast, before swirling it around her nipple. Linka cried out, her hand reaching down and running through his hair. She gripped his head, holding him to her, and he responded by worrying her nipple in his teeth, biting down ever-so-slightly and hearing her gasp in response.
"Good?" He asked her, and when she frantically nodded, he lowered his head once more, lavishing his attention on her other breast.
This was, without a doubt, one of the best experiences of Wheeler's life. He'd assumed, of course, that he'd get pleasure out of this. It was sex, after all, and sex with Linka, who had always been a secret and long-held fantasy of his. But he'd also told himself that because of her inexperience, he needed to temper down his expectations. He'd needed and wanted to make this more about her than about him, and he'd told himself sternly that he needed to take things slow, to build up to every moment, to set an easy pace.
But this... this was good. A little too good, and Wheeler found himself moving faster against her, holding her tightly, his mouth moving frantically over her breasts, his fingers digging into her skin. Linka seemed equally aroused, writhing beneath his grip, soft sounds emanating from her mouth. When he sucked one nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over it again and again, he heard her say something in Russian, a dazed and amazed noise, soft and breathy. He pulled away from her briefly, looking into her eyes and pushing a stray tendril of hair from her face.
"You're beautiful," he said honestly and completely without guile, unsure as to why he'd even spoken, but wanting her to know exactly what was running through his mind at that moment. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Her cheeks turned an adorable pink, and Wheeler bent his head, kissing her lips and returning his hands to her body. He was hard, almost unbelievably so, and he rocked his hips against her, unable to contain a growl of pleasure as he did so.
He needed to slow this down, his mind reminded him. He needed to put the brakes on this before he stripped Linka of her remaining clothes and her virginity became as redundant a concept as the last threads of his common sense. With effort, he sat up, taking a deep breath and running a hand over his face.
"We gotta stop, Babe," he said regretfully. "We gotta slow this right down."
Linka looked up at him, irritation written over her features. "Why?" she demanded.
"I told myself I would take this slow... I don't wanna overwhelm you."
She chewed on her lip, clearly annoyed. "Do I not get a say in this?"
"Well, yeah, of course, but—"
"Then I say we are not done," Linka replied. "Rule four," she added. "We treat each other with respect. I am not some poor little thing you need to help with your rampant masculinity. I am not the fifteen year old girl plucked from a Russian village who could hardly say two words in front of you anymore. I am a grown woman, Wheeler. I ask that you treat me with respect, not kid gloves."
He looked at her, another bolt of desire running through him as she spoke. He'd always loved it when Linka used that tone of voice with him, like a Russian empress addressing an errant knight. He loved it when she showed all facets of the storm he alone knew lay under her calm and collected exterior. She was the living embodiment of the wind, Linka. Calm and easy and warm... until the storms built and the wind whipped over you out of nowhere. Wheeler loved that about her.
He grabbed her hands in response, pinning them beside her and staring into her eyes. "You wanna keep going?" he asked her, and she nodded, her eyes darting away from his to look at a spot over his shoulder.
"Yes," she whispered back. "I want to keep going."
With a grin, Wheeler abruptly hauled Linka up, pulling her into his lap before pushing her against the headboard of his bed. He ducked his head back to her breasts, squeezing and licking and kissing until she was a panting mess in front of him, and he kissed a trail to her shoulders, before finally laying claim to her lips.
"Let me make you come," he whispered. "Let me do that for you."
She nodded blindly, clutching his face in her hands and kissing him hard. He returned her kiss, distracting her with his mouth while his hand traced down her body. He pushed it gently beneath the fabric of her shorts, searching out the warm and soft centre of her, feeling her body still and a sigh issue from her lips when his fingers caressed and then pressed inside of her.
"Is this okay?" he asked her, and she nodded.
"Yes, it is more than okay."
"Good," he replied gently, pulling his fingers out, before pushing them back in. He stopped there, using his thumb to search out for the small bud he knew would bring Linka pleasure. When he found it, brushing over it gently, he felt Linka shake a little in his arms. "I'm gonna fuck you with my fingers tonight," he told her, his voice low. "Just my fingers."
She nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as he moved his thumb slowly.
"You're perfect, you know," he carried on, lowering his mouth to her breast again. "So perfect, and I have wanted to do this to you for so long. I can't believe you're letting me touch you like this. Can't believe you're letting me fuck you like this," he moved his fingers again, shaking his head in disbelief. "Just like I can't believe you're letting me suck on your breasts like this."
He returned his mouth to a nipple while moving his hand, his thumb working in increasingly heavier circles. Linka's breath was coming in ragged pants now, and Wheeler took note of how she brought her hand to her other breast, watching her pinch and pull at her nipple, learning how she liked to be touched.
It was perfect and left him wanting all at once, this moment. He was desperate to see her come, desperate to feel her fall apart in his arms, while all at once wanting this night to never end. He wanted to push her onto his bed and slide inside of her, wanted to fuck her hard, wanted to use his mouth on her. He wanted so much, all the while knowing this moment was wonderful, and perfect the way it was. He moved his hand faster, feeling the tension in Linka's body, and when at last she came, when she cried out, arching away from him, pulsing around his fingers, a rush of satisfaction ran through him.
He pulled away from her, giving her a moment. He watched as she took a deep breath, watched as she turned to him, a half-smile on her lips.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Linka shook her head, reaching over to kiss him gently.
"Thank you," she whispered, kissing him again. "Thank you, Yankee."
Something odd happened inside of Wheeler. A rush of something else, something that felt a little like warmth and affection and desire and jealousy all at once, went through him, and he paused, suddenly confused. He masked the feeling by bundling Linka into his arms, pulling her down to the bed and wrapping the covers over them both. He still remembered the other night, recalling how she shivered after she came. He didn't want her to be cold. He wanted to keep her warm.
"What about you?" Linka asked, running a hand over the noticeable bulge in his shorts. But Wheeler shook his head.
"Not tonight," he told her. "Another time, Babe."
She hesitated. "I do not wish to be selfish—"
He laughed, hugging her to him. "Don't you worry about that. I'm gonna get my pleasure with you soon enough, trust me."
"I always trust you," she answered simply, nuzzling into him, and there it was again, that odd rush of feeling through him.
He frowned. "Look, Babe, there is one more rule we need to talk about."
She looked up at him curiously. "Another one?"
"It's kinda important," he said, tracing a pattern on her arm with his fingertips.
"Okay," she nodded. "Tell me."
"I know it's not likely to happen... and I'm probably over-thinkin' things here... but this has to be just an arrangement, you know? If either one of us... well, if we let feelings get in the middle of all this... it probably won't end well."
Linka laughed, a high and merry sound that under normal circumstances Wheeler loved, but right now, made him feel sick.
"I am not going to go falling in love with you, Yankee," she teased him. "We are not like that, you and I."
"You're right," he agreed, trying to push a rise of nausea down. "I told you, I'm probably just over-thinkin' things."
"We are friends exploring a chemistry between us," Linka reassured him. "That is all. Love... feelings... that is not going to happen. We love each other as friends... nothing more, nothing less."
"Good," Wheeler replied, a little too sharply. He cleared his throat. "I just wanted to make sure I put it out there. If one of us develops romantic feelings in this, we stop. End of."
Linka nodded. "It will not happen, but I agree." She sighed in his arms. "I enjoy being with you, Yankee, in every way, it seems."
Wheeler felt his throat constrict slightly as affection for her coursed through him. "Yeah," he said, squeezing her to him. "I felt it too."
"I am glad we are doing this," Linka continued, "I am glad it is you. I will even stick to your rules," she teased him. "If you keep making me feel this good."
He smiled tiredly. "Gotta stick to the rules," he said softly. He looked down at her, at the mop of blonde hair on his arm, at the deep green of her eyes, at the small smile on her lips. He felt, inexplicably, a stab of grief. "I don't wanna lose you, Babe. I can't," he gripped her harder. "I won't."