Wired

Shay Sheridan

Written for the remixredux III challenge, and based on Adrenaline by Lynnmonster.
Thanks to Lynn, and to Justacat for beta.


Ass to the wall, you are, your partner behind you, and the villains are coming around the bend, Christ, they'll see you! and there's three of them, not two like you thought and Bodie, oh damn you, where are you, Bodie, not behind you where he was a minute ago -- damn, okay, there he is, and he's saluting, the berk, so you flash him a two-fingered one in return and suddenly bang! there's a blast, chips flying off the wall, Christ! a burning trail across your cheek, O'Reilly's got a shotgun or something larger, duck! gunshot off to the right, ow, shit! it's cut your shirt, cut your arm, dammit, you liked that jacket and it's just a crease but it burns, it really bloody burns but there's no time, no time, and Bodie, where's he got to, ah, Bodie, where the fuck--
--and there's O'Reilly and shit, shit, he's right in front of you, You're. Dead. Mate. nowhere to go, and surprise, surprise, your life isn't flashing, it's just ending, you can see it ending, but Bodie's come out of nowhere, shoving you out of the way, and you're falling, rolling, coming up shooting, and Bodie's down Bodie's down, but now you're in it, it's shoot or be shot, no time to check if Bodie's got a pulse, and that spins your brain right round, pulls red across your vision, and you're shooting, shooting, and O'Reilly's falling, all fall down, all over, all done, filled with holes, damn, he's still alive, you should be covering him, but you don't wait, you can't, you're turning back to where Bodie fell, calling for him, shouting for him and you don't know whether to laugh, cry or shoot him, too, because he's all right, he's all right, just got the wind knocked out of him, didn't he, but he's all in one piece, the bastard, you'll kill him for scaring you like that, making your heart stop as dead as you thought he was, so you shout at him and glare daggers and cuff him and you're relieved, you're more than relieved, you feel wetness on your face, it's blood, it must be blood, wipe it on your sleeve, point your gun at the wounded man, but the gun's twitching, the shaking's started and there's nothing you can do about it, there never is when the shaking grabs hold of you, which is nearly always, every fucking time, because it's life, death, near miss, isn't it? it's death of a partner--
--no, no, he didn't die, don't think that, don't ever, don't put those words out into the universe or Someone might hear you think it--
--but he could have died, he nearly did, you both nearly died, didn't you? stop! no point in thinking about that, mustn't tease the fates, so you hold still, as still as you can, waiting for the questions and the duty to be over so you can. . . so you can what? so you can do what, puke your guts out, cry yourself silly, drink yourself into oblivion, get yourself fucked somewhere wrong by somebody wrong, not the one you want fucking you, the one you dream about endlessly but who you'll never have, not really, not in the way you want him, and ah, shit, shit, the shakes start up again and they won't stop, Bodie you could have died, died--
--but he's got you now, saying something you don't understand about the car, about it being too small, dragging you around the farmhouse, and your head is still back with the shooting and the blood and the pain and the almost dying, both of you almost dying, but he jerks you along until you snap back to reality and when you look around you realize how far gone you are, because Murph, Cowley and what's his name, the new bloke, they must've all left with the prisoners, it's just the two of you still there, Bodie staring a hole through your forehead, asking no questions, just pulling you along, his hand wrapped around your arm, pulling you, dragging you, shoving you against the rough stone, breath slamming out of your lungs with the shock and you want to belt him for that, and how did he get on his knees, and why is he tugging at your zip, and oh, hell, that's why, Christ, ah, Bodie, that mouth is on you, Bodie's mouth is on you, and your hands are knotted in his hair, and the words of protest die in your throat because it's what you need, and it's what you want, it's what you always want, but not this way, Bodie, and still you can't let go, because the jitters won't stop, and the shakes keep on, but now it's shakes of a different sort, as the boiling begins in your balls and rolls up up up oh Bodie, Bodie, ah! it's up and out of you and you're coming into his mouth, so wet, between those soft/hard lips, down his throat, watching his eyes close as he spills himself into his own hand, dear God, so beautiful, and you come even harder at the sight, so very hard until you're sucked dry of adrenaline and fear and machismo and terror and you've nothing left, you're stripped bare, nothing left inside you except the truth, the part of you he'll never know, even after, as you smile and cuff him and lie, in easy banter and the usual jokes, no, he'll never know that thrumming through you the whole time are the words you'll never say aloud: ah, Bodie, not just this way, not just this way, when I'm all strung out and wired and you're doing me a favor, but when we're just the two of us alone, and it's not for adrenaline but for love, and not just now but forever, Bodie, forever forever forever


redchance @ aol.com
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