One more note: in the end, I did absolutely NO editing for content.
Chapter 19: Awakening
Le'tay and Reneri stop just on the top ridge overlooking a small valley that is encircled with trees and flowers. The trees seem to be vibrant and healthy, though the flowers look a bit wilted as if they have not received enough water or sunshine. Their subdued tangerine and scarlet blooms dip towards the ground as if weeping. John had noticed small things such as the wilting flowers all along their ride through the forest. Overhead, the sky is still a crisp blue and the light blue sun seems to never waver from its low position on its zenith.
John pats the neck of his mount and gently shifts himself as he dismounts. Sherlock is just as quick, if not as a graceful, finally ending up standing on the ground with his tail still lying across the direhorse's back. John grins a little and moves around to help with the minor predicament. He holds Sherlock's tail in one hand and waves off the Na'vi couple with the other. The now-riderless direhorses dip their heads towards the men and turn away to follow the others, twelve legs kicking up minute clouds of dust on the well-worn trail. In unison, they reach up and tap the power button on their ear pieces to off.
"Where are we, John?" Sherlock asks, allowing a slight edge to come through his voice.
John fiddles with the tuft of hair at the end of Sherlock's tail, enjoying the silky feeling of it against his fingertips. "Can you give me a few moments?"
"Alright." Sherlock twitches his tail and fights the smile breaking across his face when John's fingers tickle the smooth skin on the appendage.
"Good, then, follow me." John drops Sherlock's tail and begins moving farther down the ridge.
When they finally stop, John spreads his hands wide as if opening a curtain on the sight before them. The grass is long and sways gently in the breeze that cuts across the clearing, seed heads seeming to dance. In the center of the clearing stands a gnarled tree; its bark dark gray in color and branches twisted in a thousand shapes. The branches are covered in long, flowering stalks, almost like a white weeping willow back on Earth. John actually sucks in a deep breath, as even with knowing what this is he still cannot help but be moved by the beauty of it all. Sherlock grabs his hand and squeezes it in acknowledgement of the splendor before him, almost racing over to the tree, pulling John in his wake.
"May I touch it?" Sherlock reaches out towards the gray bark with his fingers outspread, then looks over his shoulder. John is completely taken in by those gold eyes that are so different yet contain the same searing, penetrating gaze he has learned to not only live with but simply adore.
"I think so." He answers. During their discussion, Le'tay only told him what the tree is and what it does, he made no mention of what they could not do to it.
Sherlock strokes the warm bark tenderly, his full attention captured by the tree. John steps up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, enjoying the swell of his muscular rear end against his own rapidly filling arousal. John moves his hips slightly and Sherlock's gasp almost breaks out from between closed lips.
The humming pulse around them has become the echoes of thousands of voices singing through the history of Pandora, of this place; is it a comfort rather than a distraction. He turns in John's arms until they are standing chest to chest with Sherlock's spine against the trunk. The branches swoop down around them as if to hide them from prying eyes. When their lips press against each other, the warm thrumming melody kicks up a notch and Sherlock pulls back, absolutely amazed. He could not only feel the press of his lips against John's but he could also feel his own lips through John's own mouth.
"Is that what Le'tay means when he says I see you, John?" He asks in a mesmerized tone of voice as he reaches with both hands to John's shoulders.
"Aye, captain." John whispers against the azure skin of Sherlock's neck that he is happily pressing kisses against.
"Hmmm…." Sherlock closes his eyes and simply listens. With each press of John's lips against his skin, he feels thousands of eyes upon them; eyes that are watching with interest; eyes that are not judging, but then the sound changes and the feeling of being watched disappears. The song changes to one of joy, a celebration of life and John falls to his knees. He slowly unties the loincloth from about Sherlock's hips and presses more kisses against the well-defined muscles of the avatar.
As he pushes forward and takes Sherlock's member into his mouth he reflects that even though the avatars are a separate entity when they are not linked, here, and now? This is as much the captain as the man lying comfortably in the psionic machine in the lab many kilometers away. John strokes the captain's thighs slowly, enjoying the feeling of the smooth skin as much as Sherlock is enjoying being pleasured in this manner.
It is amazing. Sherlock presses against the tree and thrusts his hips forwards. John does not quite choke, though he makes a muffled sound and pulls away. He sits down on the ground and grabs Sherlock's hands, asking the other man to join him. Sherlock does and quickly divests John of his own covering. He leans over the ambassador's body, holding himself up on his hands. They kiss again, more deeply this time, the slow slide of tongues against each other is a heady feeling when timed with the humming pulse that wraps about their bodies like an ethereal rope connecting them with each other and every Omaticaya that ever lived.
After a time, John stills his lover, asking him quietly to wait for a moment. He reaches across Sherlock's back and draws his que over his shoulder. Sherlock watches, fascinated, as John brings the tip of his own que towards the tip of Sherlock's que. Tiny sapphire cilia wave in the air for a split second before they meet. Both men moan as suddenly they are seeing through the other's eyes. The thrumming has changed to a heavy drumbeat and the only words going through their minds now are I want.
Sherlock moves upward slightly, switching his weight to one hand while he cups the back of John's neck with the other, bringing their mouths closer in contact. Their heavy, full cocks strain against each other as they rock together. There is not a single thing that matters any more than this. They are caught up in the rocking, grinding, muscles-tensing torment of their ecstasy that it seems they are floating. John's hands are gripping the firm globes of Sherlock's buttocks, pushing him even closer. They are the tide coming in, the roll of the waves of the life-creating waters of the galaxy, the ikrans soaring above and the tiny insects below. For that time, they are everything; a never-ending circle of souls and minds and joy and love.
Images flash through Sherlock's mind: they are memories; specifically John's memories. Powerful, happy memories of his mother's face, his sister's laughter; they are golden honey swirled with butter on a hot scone. They are parts of John they Sherlock has never been able to share in: the memories that are closest to his heart. Sherlock's own face swims to the forefront of all of these memories and he feels like his heart will burst against his ribs if he takes in any more. He opens his eyes for a fraction of a second and judges that by the expression on John's face that he is seeing similar mental pictures.
When one of them finally succumbs to orgasm, the other is close behind; since they are both a single unit, it is unknown to both who actually went first. They do not say the words to each other, though both men feel them. Sherlock rolls to his side and pulls John close to him, his head finally coming to rest against John's chest; their ques still joined rest across John's hips to make an unbroken line between them. Two pairs of golden eyes close and two hearts beat with the rhythm of the life-affirming Tree of Souls.
John and Sherlock sleep on the soft ground for several hours. When at last they stir, John waits to hear what his lover is going to say about what happened to them. He feels euphoric and hopes that Sherlock is in a similar state. He stretches his arms, only slightly uncomfortable with the feeling of their drying orgasms against his skin. With one hand, he strokes Sherlock's back as he feels him slowly coming back into awareness.
"John," says a muffled voice against his chest, warm lips and puffs of breath tickling him slightly, "that was amazing."
"I concur." John can't help the way the devilish grin splits his face. Sherlock rubs his face against John's sternum before looking up at him.
"I think I may be beginning to understand what you attempted to explain earlier."
"Hmmm…."John answers. He is absolutely going to make him say it.
Sherlock actually makes a humpf noise and attempts to wrinkle his Na'vi nose. The action fails epically. John laughs.
"Fine." Sherlock narrows his eyes. "I could hear…something. Do you still feel the pulse?"
John relaxes against the ground for a moment. Mostly what he can feel and hear is Sherlock, possibly because they are still physically as well as mentally connected; however, he can still make out the slight background noise of the hum of the life of Pandora that he misses when he is not inside his avatar. "Yes." He answers honestly.
Sherlock sits up and crosses his legs. John joins him. Sherlock takes their ques in his hand and studies the connection between them closely. "What is this?"
"Le'tay calls it tsaheylu. It is the connection with all life." John gestures about them, his movements taking in the tree, the ground, the sky and Sherlock.
"Is this like the psionic connection?" Sherlock peers closer at the ques.
"I think so. Do you remember all the images that passed through your mind, my memories?" John queries.
"Yes." Sherlock's eyes shift from the ques to John's. He nods.
"It is something deeper, Sherlock. For once, I do believe this is more than what we can understand."
"Will we still feel this way when we are apart?" Sherlock closes his eyes as if asking the question is painful for him.
"From what I understand, yes."
"What about when we return to the lab?"
"Captain, I'm not sure if I can answer that. As far as Le'tay knew, this" John reaches out and grasps the two silky braids, "has never been done. I have always felt connected to you, almost from the beginning; I wanted to show you something more."
Sherlock closes his eyes and leans against the tree. He reaches out to John and pulls him against his chest and just holds him for a while. The sun slips lower towards the horizon as the daytime rhythm changes to the quieter one of the twilight.
"We need to be getting back." John states.
Sherlock sighs but does not answer right away.
"Sherlock?" John turns to face him.
"You have shown me so much, John, I want…" Sherlock's mouth snaps shut.
"What?" John prods.
"I want to stay out longer, there is so much ground I need to cover again. With this new knowledge, I may finally be able to understand what is happening here." It is Sherlock's turn to gesture around them.
"Sherlock, we need to rest. You almost collapsed the last time…" John frowns and crosses his strong avatar arms across his chest.
Sherlock sighs again, closes his eyes and hangs his head, shaking it back and forth.
"Sherlock, I wanted to be with you tonight." John offers, hoping his lover will reconsider.
"You said that it will still last, even if we are apart."
"Yes, but…"
"No, John. I have work to do. The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner we can get back to our ship…"
"Sherlock, you need to rest…both bodies. You can't keep pushing yourself like this." John stands up, hoping the distance will make Sherlock come to his senses.
"I can, John, and I will. You know how I…" Sherlock frowns as he moves up beside John. "You know." He lays one hand against John's shoulder. John does not step into it, though he does not move away, either.
"Yes, Sherlock. I do. It does not overshadow the good sense of…"
"No, John. I am going to stay out here and I am going to get the data I need. You go back to the lab. Let them know I am doing fine, I will stop and rest at some point…"
"No you won't." John counters.
Sherlock stops talking. John is right and he knows it. The only acknowledgement John is going to get is a pause in Sherlock's thinking. He knows that as well. "John, please."
"Fine, Sherlock. Come with me tonight and tomorrow…" John offers, hoping for a compromise.
"I need to do this alone." Sherlock says, looking down at the ground now and away from John's face. He spreads his legs apart, effectively holding his ground.
"Is this really what you want…even after…after all of this?" John asks him, point-blank.
Sherlock is silent for several heartbeats. John feels like a heavy wave is crashing over him, threatening to yank him down and drown him. When Sherlock answers a defiant "yes," John feels the damn break.
"Maybe you can do all of this better on your own." John shouts, giving into his anger riding so closely on the heels of an endorphin rush.
The captain turns away, his long que swinging around his shoulders to slowly wave back and forth just above his buttocks. When he speaks, his voice is a burring whisper. "Maybe I can."
John stares for a few moments, shocked. He gathers up his loincloth and slowly walks away, determination in his steps, his avatar tail moving in irritated arcs like an angry feline. When he stops below what seems a reasonably protected grove of trees, he slumps down and instantly closes his eyes. He taps the button on his ear piece, turning the power back on and says in a tone that brooks no argument. "I'm coming home. Alone." There is absolutely no reply from the lab, though John would not have heard it anyway, he is already waking up in the psionic machine before his avatar pitches sideways and slumps to the ground, a machine devoid of its driver.