Collision Course

Space waystations, Goujun was dismayed to note, were apparently uniformly foul-smelling. He knew the reasons, intellectually - water was at a premium on spaceships, and wipe-cleans inevitably smelled like some variation on unpleasantly synthetic cologne, unpleasantly synthetic perfume, or unpleasantly synthetic baby powder. Add the ever-present metal-oil reek of the mech assembly stations and those who worked on them, the sweaty frustration and fatigue of long-haul travellers, most of whom were currently refugees from the front, and the over-perfumed planet-hoppers who needed everyone to know they weren't like the sweaty, tired long-haul travellers, and Goujun's nose was even more heartily tired of this pointless quest than the rest of him. Four space stations, two planets, a moon and three asteroids into his chase, his bank balance was even more depressingly depleted than his list of potential contacts, and no one, not a single one, would tell him anything about Kenren. He'd encountered one woman on Corinth, in fact, who'd threatened to beat his ass, despite being half his size and violently he'd pointed that out, she'd said she'd use her oxygen tank to beat him, then, if he wanted to do any harm to 'that sweet boy'.

The worst of it was that he hadn't expected anything else. Not really. He knew Kenren's ability to inspire loyalty - it was, after all, why Goujun was now in line to buy a ticket to Parnassus, which (despite its name) everyone knew to be one of the most famously miserable asteroids in the galaxy - and he knew Kenren's abilities better than most. Not to mention his motivation. The sheer volume of trumped-up charges the military police had unloaded on Kenren - including, but not limited to, desertion, attacking a superior officer, destruction of government property, theft of government resources, theft of classified information, theft of alien materials - left Goujun quite certain that going back was at least as terrible an option for Kenren as continuing to run. In fact, given the chaos of the war, the fact that the mechs were increasingly proving ineffective against alien attacks, and the loss of two of their best mining colonies in the last week meant that a deserter was the least of their worries. Or at least, he should have been. Goujun's military contacts had made it clear, however, that there was still an active manhunt out for Kenren, and on a scale that frankly baffled Goujun. And worried him. If he'd been able to track Kenren more successfully, he might have worried that he was accidentally leading them to him, but his search had been too completely disastrous for him to need to fear that. It was probably the most dismally gaunt silver lining he'd found in his life.

No, he hadn't hoped to be able to convince someone if they thought he was there to turn on Kenren, but he'd somehow hoped that they would...understand, perhaps. Somehow sense that he wasn't trying to endanger Kenren, that he wasn't going to cause him harm, and just tell him what he needed to know, so he could meet Kenren again and-

And. Well. That was part of the problem, wasn't it? He had absolutely no idea what meeting Kenren would actually entail or accomplish. He didn't know what he was going to say to him, beyond asking him why in Earth's name he'd decided to up and vanish. Even that question wasn't exactly free of the baggage of Goujun's own...connection, and history, with Kenren. He didn't even really, if he felt like admitting it to himself, know what he was going to do once he'd found him. Largely because he didn't know what he was going to do about what he'd done before he'd lost him.

He hadn't intended to get drunk, exactly. It hadn't been a plan when he'd bought the extra bottle of wine along with the scotch for Kenren; just more of a….possibility. He certainly hadn't intended to drink almost all of the bottle beforehand. It had simply seemed like a good idea, at the time, to have a glass of wine, perhaps, and consider whether or not he was violating the spirit, if not the letter, of some particularly niche law in taking a bottle of scotch to a subordinate's private quarters with the specific intent of getting mind-blowingly drunk and possibly discussing the further concealment of sensitive information from their superiors. Ultimately, though, he couldn't bring himself to care. There had been an exhaustion to Kenren's expression when he'd reported in this afternoon that had caught Goujun's attention, tension at the corners of his mouth and none of that usual gentle humour in his gaze, fatigue in the line of his shoulders. He hadn't seen him look like that before. Kenren, he'd learned, was someone who used outrage as fuel, who only shone brighter in his fury at the brokenness of the world, but this….he'd simply looked weary, today, drained, and it had hurt, in some indefinable way, to see it. So here he was, pre-empting Kenren's inevitable seeking out of a good drunk or a good fight. And since when had he known so well that that would be what he headed for?

Kenren's expression, when he opened the door to Goujun's tentative knock, suggested that Goujun's instincts had been entirely correct. He wasn't quite as tired-looking as he had been when he'd just reported in, but it was still lingering in the lines of his face, somewhere, that bleakness that felt so entirely wrong it screamed in Goujun's senses. He was also, to Goujun's surprise, shirtless, a pair of sweatpants clinging precariously low on remarkably shapely hips, before Goujun tore his gaze away from it and returned it to Kenren's face, registering that he'd in fact said "bit early, aren't you?"

"Ah, I beg your pardon." It was really quite difficult to tear his gaze from Kenren's chest, which was much more hairless than he'd suspected, but every bit as defined. "I simply felt this might be a quieter place to drink than the bar, since you seemed somewhat exhausted earlier."

Kenren flashed him a quick grin, not as bright as his usual ones, but relieved, nonetheless. "Sounds perfect. Come on in." He turned away to go put on a shirt, which left Goujun with an excellent view of his back instead. "You know where the glasses are, right?"

"Of course," Goujun responded, on autopilot, heading for the tiny cabinet where Kenren stored those things. The quarters were cramped at best, and the scent of his soap was everywhere. He must have just showered. The man really was distraction incarnate.

By the time he made himself turn back and sit down, Kenren was already studying the bottle of scotch, a low sound of appreciation for it, giving Goujun a lazy, genuine grin, one eye closed against his smoke. "You're getting sharp."

There was no reason for the compliment to burrow under his skin like that, spark warm and comforting against his belly, but it did. "Am I? I hadn't noticed."

"Yeah, you caught me before I could get out in public." Kenren's voice was light and his hand was steady as he poured each of them a generous amount of scotch, and months earlier, Goujun wouldn't have noticed the strain in him - or his clear pleasure at Goujun's noticing it, for that matter. "It was never going to be pretty, tonight."

Goujun nodded, privately pleased he'd read it right. "It seemed that way from your expression." He studied Kenren, careful, trying not to stare too overtly. "Are you all right?"

Kenren sighed, scrubbing distractedly at his hair with one large hand. "Tell you the truth, I don't know. Being out there makes it hard to be hopeful about any of this shit. They're all gung-ho and just fucking spoiling. And coming from me, that's saying something."

"It's wearing on you more and more. Even I can see it." The words were a risk - if Goujun knew anything about Kenren by now, it was that he was surprisingly private for being so gregarious - but it didn't misfire, luckily enough.

"I'll manage, though. Might need a bigger break soon." Kenren exhaled a cloud of smoke, drank, looking a little more comfortable already for the routine. "Blow off some steam."

"I'll do my best to arrange it speedily," Goujun offered quietly. "You've more than earned the time off. It's simply that things have been...tumultuous, lately."

Kenren shook his head. "At the end of the next run, earliest. I've got some promising leads, but they're tender, yet. Going to need some time to tease them out."

"Any further information on what the smugglers are aiming to acquire from the battleground around Station VII?"

"Military's looking for spinal-involved, but there's a soft inquiry about something that looks like the gallbladder in humans. The usual bullshit about the other bits for snake oils...but the gallbladder thing looks a bit weird."

Goujun nodded and tucked the information away, took a sip of scotch, the alcohol burning pleasantly down his throat and settling comfortably on top of the wine. It was a little difficult to focus, with the alcohol and Kenren so recently shirtless and now very proximate, and it was getting more and more difficult to talk himself out of staring at Kenren's collarbone, which was still bare to his sight and looking offensively edible. "Gallbladders," he said, in the tones of one who'd definitely been musing exclusively on the possibilities of smuggling body parts from alien creatures the size of large spaceships. "That is strange, particularly when…I thought much of the research was on reverse-engineering toxins or bioweapons."

Kenren frowned, looking like someone who had actually been thinking about the problem at hand. "Only thing I can think is forward-engineering an effective acid, and a resistance for our mechs."

"I'm no scientist," said Goujun, who was currently feeling like no military man, either, "but it seems logical." He sighed, and added, a touch irritably, "Is a bit of patriotism too much to ask for, at times like these?"

Kenren gave him a sharp look, which reminded Goujun of the fact that the smugglers were as likely to be supplying independent militiae who were also fighting the aliens as they were septuagenarians who thought ground-up alien parts would send their wives into swooning ecstasy. "Patriotism, huh? Seems to me like that bunch's got way too much."

"Perspective, then," Goujun accepted. "Why can't anyone have a proper balance of both?"

Kenren hunched over his drink, that haunted look slipping back over his face, just enough that Goujun couldn't help but notice, and he was watching Goujun with an odd sort of intensity. "You fucking got me."

Goujun shrugged a little, giving him a tentative smile. "Sometimes I feel you're the only sane person I know."

"'S 'cause you're pretty much right," Kenren shot back immediately.

Goujun laughed a little, for the speed of the response, and the rightness of it - and when had it become such a truth? "I should go back in time and tell myself that."

Kenren grinned at him, bright and sharp and entirely too inviting. "Yeah? How far back?"

Goujun smiled back, taking a generous gulp of the scotch, basking in the lingering burn of it, so different from the wine he'd already had. "Perhaps to when I was reading your file."

Kenren chuckled. "What, and miss having gotten off on such a good foot?"

Goujun laughed, too, leaning in a little closer, feeling Kenren's cologne burn through his senses in much the same way his scotch had, sparking in his belly with aching want. "Is that what we got off on?"

Kenren grinned, slow and warm, his gaze lingering on Goujun, a restrained sort of heat to it, and perhaps it was the effect or the wine, or the scotch he hadn't had nearly enough of, but he couldn't help the start of awareness in his spine, trickling bright sparks along to his mouth. "Close enough for official company."

"Is that so?" Goujun smiled at him, entirely helplessly. He'd never smiled so much in his life, before Kenren.

Kenren clicked his tongue, still giving him that slow grin that made Goujun think of a thousand things he could do to provoke that grin, or with that mouth, in general. "Better be."

The space between them had never seemed so simultaneously insignificant and so tight with electric potential, and Goujun found he had to steady his hand before he could take another drink. Finishing the tumbler seemed only right, even if he knew he was drinking too fast, reckless. "Are we in official company right now, do you think?"

"You tell me," Kenren said, pouring him more, the movement as deliberate as the way he paused before adding, "Sir."

That pause - it was invitation, tease and taunt, it was a challenge if Goujun wanted to take it, and at this moment, he couldn't imagine refusing, couldn't imagine how to, gathering his courage quickly and reaching for him. The skin was startlingly soft on the back of Kenren's neck, smooth and warm and utterly inviting, and it seemed only natural, only right to pull him in, slow enough he could have resisted, dizzying relief that he didn't. And then Kenren's mouth was on his, a hint of a smile and the taste of scotch and smoke and oh, he was responding, clearly pleased, clearly willing, and how long had he been waiting? How long had Goujun been waiting? But it didn't matter, because here they were, here Kenren was, kissing him back and shifting closer and licking at his mouth with that entirely too clever tongue. Goujun gave in to himself as much as to Kenren, opening his mouth to him and pulling him closer, holding that pretty neck tighter, losing himself in the taste and feel of him. "Guess that's a 'no', then," Kenren murmured against his mouth.

Goujun could feel and hear the smile even more keenly like this, that warm amusement that always sparked in those bright eyes, and he had to kiss him again for it, pulling him close, Kenren's body pressed against his, a long moment before he realised he'd actually said something that needed responding to. "Hm?" he said distractedly, gaze still fixed on his mouth. "Yes. No." One of those was bound to be the right answer, he thought vaguely, and this way, he could kiss him again, wind his hands into the intimacy of still-damp hair, let Kenren nip at his lip, lick heat all down his spine with that skilled mouth of his…

Kenren chuckled against his mouth for that, tugging his hair gently to get his attention, pulling back and away. "Okay?" he said, and there was a quiet warmth in his voice, concern colouring it, sending shivers of pleasure through Goujun, even as it warmed his heart.

He was checking in on Goujun, as if he were the one who needed it, and he couldn't help but smile for it, stroking Kenren's hair, liking the way he purred encouragement for the touch. "You're oddly chivalrous." He tugged him closer, standing up so he could hold him and feel him, press against him and feed his own hunger even as he sated it.

Kenren moved with him easily, grinning a little, though he still kept away just enough to speak. "Well, I've got to make sure I don't get anyone hurt, so….did you have anything to drink before you came here?"

Goujun blinked at him, startled by the care, the fact of it as much as its implications, the part of him that had such dangerous things as hope and desire aching for it, the sensation of something opening up under him, dangerous possibilities. "It was just a bit of wine. I'm fine. I want you." The words fell from him as easily as if he'd been thinking about saying them forever, as if he'd been wanting them for years and had simply found the right place to put them down, as if they weren't shocking him on the way out, as if he were simply in the habit of asking for what he wanted.

Kenren shook his head a little, though he didn't move away, didn't resist Goujun's touch, the tentative slide of his fingers down the curve of his spine. If anything, he moved into it, an almost-unconscious little arch that pressed him against Goujun's body, sent lightning through him. "Not my ass in a sling, if we get caught. Mostly."

The remark startled Goujun into laughter, his thumb smoothing over Kenren's neck, affection and wonder and...fondness, almost - fondness with teeth, perhaps - and he hadn't known he could feel like this, this quiet contentment wrapped around aching desire, so caught in the press of Kenren's body to his, the touch of his mouth, the care in his cautioning Goujun, even when he could clearly feel the desire restrained in his body."I think we can manage to make discretion work."

Kenren relaxed perceptibly for that, a loosening of his body that Goujun only noticed when it went away. "Integrity," he breathed, and kissed Goujun so fiercely his thoughts scattered before he could even begin to frame a question about it. Not that he cared, not at all, with Kenren here, in his arms, finally his, if only for a little while, and he couldn't stop himself from pushing back harder, holding him tight and pushing for control, wanting to feel him, take him. Kenren fell back after a moment, letting Goujun have him, just like he wanted, needed, a low moan of appreciation in that voice that was exactly how he'd imagined Kenren would sound, rough and pleased, like something only half-tamed and never to be held entirely.

It was, he discovered, something like an attempt to hold liquid lightning in his bare hands. Kenren was ridiculously limber, wrapping his leg around Goujun's hip and arching against him in a smooth filthy movement when Goujun pinned him to the wall, shocking pleasure down his spine and over his skin, bright sparks of sensation from each little bite he left as he nibbled down Goujun's neck, and oh, gods, undid his collar button with his teeth, as if that was something people even did, leaving Goujun a trembling mess before he had even so much as got his hands on Kenren properly. Everything about him was electric, swift precise movement and sinuous grace, rocking against Goujun until he was half mindless with need, sliding his hand into Goujun's pants before he'd even really noticed he was moving, touching, stroking, teasing, maddening him. It felt like retaliation as much as desire to do the same, to curl his hand around Kenren's gratifyingly hard cock, but he didn't respond as if it was, writhed fluidly against him and into his grip instead, licking at the rim of Goujun's ear and murmuring filthy promises on hot breath against wet skin, as if he weren't already breaking Goujun apart with pleasure from what he was already doing. He slipped to his knees as if Goujun hadn't been restraining him at all, breaking the illusion long enough to trail his tongue along Goujun's cock through his pants, so he barely noticed Kenren pulling them off him, caught entirely in the wet-hot slip of his tongue, the promise of that lovely mouth, rocking forward in pure instinct and rewarded by a moan from Kenren that was half surprise, half delight, all pleasure, the tight heat of his mouth around him, Kenren's hair thick and soft in his hand. He was both pliant and oddly, completely, out of Goujun's control, sucking him and taking him apart with it, and all with that warm laughter in his eyes, affection curled around desire and making it his own, making Goujun-

But that was just wishful thinking; he knew Kenren and his penchant for one-night stands, after all, and this was probably all he'd have, but by fuck, he'd have it, have all of him. Not that Kenren minded, by the way he squirmed back against Goujun eagerly when he pushed him to the bed and pinned him there with his body, the soft chuckle that melted into a moan when Goujun pressed slick fingers to his entrance, pushed his way into wet, willing heat, the catch of his breath and the quicker rhythm of it, the way he bent himself to stretch out a leg and hook an ankle over Goujun's shoulder and dragged him in, insistent and filthy, every bit as eager as Goujun himself was. It was intoxicating, feeling him bend to Goujun's control and give himself over to his demands so easily, pain and pleasure catching at the edges of his moans, as easily entwined as if he sought them both, and of course, Goujun thought, somewhat dazedly, curling his fingers to make him cry out, pinning him in that same aching demand to have some part of this man all for his own. Of course he did; of course Kenren, who lived so intensely, who laughed while fighting and smiled when in pain, would want all of it, all tangled together, like life itself, summarised and consummated at once. He cried out when Goujun drove into him, clenched around him as if every muscle were hungry for him, fierce grin on his lips as he shredded Goujun's control and then his mind, driving him to mindless need and beyond, until everything was a blazing rush of sensation and the friction of their bodies, sparking electric up his spine and into his mouth and into his mind with the realisation that he'd never ever been in control here after all, a sharp cry tearing from him as he lost himself in him, in the delicious too-much of it all, and only Kenren there to catch him….