Flashback

January 1975

He undressed her slowly, the disrobing itself part of the seduction. He could not resist touching her, kissing her, cherishing her as he proceeded, but he kept himself under almost rigid control. He would not rush this.

He would take her with all of the gentility and the gravity that a woman like her deserved. For she *was* the love of his life.

His large hands shaking visibly, he caressed her naked shoulders, brushing a kiss there. “Christ, I haven’t felt like this in years.”

“Good. I want both of us to remember this. Always.” Her voice was whisper-soft, but he could sense the steely determination that lurked just beneath the surface.

The bedroom was just as sparsely furnished as the rest of the apartment. But there was color here. The curtains at the window, the satiny over-sized comforter on the bed. Bright blue. An even brighter red. Splashes here and there. The lamp on the night table was lit, a dim light that illuminated only enough to see shape and shadows. The stereo was on. Strains of Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight” filled the small room, the music, like Walter’s hands on her body, a perfect fit.

She lay on her back, her long dark brown hair spilling across the crisp white pillowcase in striking contrast. Her arms outstretched, she invited him inside, and he came to her with the eagerness of a boy.

He sought the delicate tip of one breast, his teeth lightly grazing it until it stood proud and erect. She arched upwards, her fingers tangling in the long black hair no longer confined by its bandanna. Her unconscious groan stopped him for a moment, but she smiled beatifically in reassurance. “Please don’t stop. It’s wonderful. *You’re* wonderful.”

He chuckled nervously, covering his deeper feelings with an attempt at humor. “Bet you say that to all the boys, Sugar.”

“No.” Her bittersweet chocolate eyes deep and serious, she added, “There has never been anyone else who can touch me this way, Walter. You are the first…and the last.”

“But you’re not a virgin.”

“No,” she answered sadly. “That gift is no longer mine to give, Walter. I wish you had been the one.” Her dark eyes suddenly reflective, she said, “But in every way that counts, you *are*.”

Shivering, partly with anticipation, partly with the weight of emotions he had thought dead long ago, Walter shook his head. “You can still say that to me? After I made you go to *him*?”

Knowing that she could not reveal the truth about what transpired between her and Operations, Lisa searched for a way to allay Walter’s guilt. For that was what kept them apart now. Placing her long, slender fingertips at both temples, she held Walter with an almost-hypnotic gaze. “I will never belong to *him*, Walter. I can’t. I already belong to *you*.”

Her eyes growing hot on his face, she pressed closer, savoring the feel of his chest hair lightly abrading the tips of her breasts. “And once you spill your seed deep inside me, there will be no one else. Ever.”

If Walter were capable of coherent thought at that moment, he would have argued against the merest possibility of having a child. But this woman touched him in a way that made reason fade. The thought of her big with child, big with *his* child, was irresistible.

The wisdom of years and years of experience flew away as if it had never been. His hand slid between her legs, feeling the gathering moisture there. “So wet, so hot. For me.”

“Only for you,” she whispered into his ear.

He thrust smoothly into her waiting depths, her snug channel welcoming him inside. It was like coming home. They fit together. All further thought of foreplay gone, he couldn’t hold onto his control any longer. The slow, languorous lovemaking that was prelude ended with an abruptness that might have startled Lisa if it hadn’t been what she desired most.

To make Walter hers. To make him unleash that iron-clad will of his. To make him lose all control.

He moved inside her like quicksilver, taking her so vigorously that she knew neither one of them could last long. Again and again he pounded her willing flesh, unable to prevent a groan of exultation from escaping his lips. He kissed her, hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses that vibrated her entire being. She wanted to respond, she wanted so desperately to respond in kind, but he was lost in a sensual haze. When the moment of climax hit him, he bit the side of her neck and she cried out.

His lower body undulating wildly, he came with a force that took both of them by surprise. He was filling her. With liquid heat. So intense. So powerful. She couldn’t breathe, and then…her breath caught in her throat as she convulsed beneath him.

He swallowed every startled cry as if he were incapable of doing anything but devouring her.

He rolled d onto his back, taking her with him, and the feel of him, still half-hard within her, pierced her to the quick. Her body wanted him with a fervor she had never felt before. He kissed her swollen mouth, gently rocking his hips under her. His erection growing impossibly hard again, he surged upwards with more and more force.

This time she could move with him. Throwing her head back, she met each thrust with one of her own. No longer passively participating, she helped them hurtle into the void. Together. His hands slid down her hips, holding her in place for his final assault. His fingers trailed down the cleft of her buttocks, and she came.

The clenching of her inner muscles sent Walter over the edge. With one long, hard thrust, he came inside her, the intensity of this orgasm almost as great as the first. She lay atop him, panting, as some of his hot seed leaked out, coating the wiry black hair in his groin. Dipping a delicate finger there, she tasted their mingled essence. “Mmm….”

“You approve?”

“Oh, yes.” Pause. “Are we going to do this all night long?”

His flaccid length stirring within her, he sighed happily, “I sure hope so, Sugar.”

Present

“Walter?” The older man looked like he was lost in thought. But wherever he was, it had to be pleasant. There was just a trace of a wistful smile on his face, and Birkoff knew that Walter must be remembering something good.

Jerked away from his reveries about Lisa, Walter quickly recovered. Someday he would tell Birkoff more about his mother. But right now, he was concerned that the former Comm Op might be literally overwhelmed by recent events.

“You’re thinking about *her*, aren’t you?” Birkoff prompted. “My mom?”

A tightening of his mouth was the only sign that Walter regretted leaving the past. There were things he had done, things they all had done that could never be erased. It all played on and on, like some endless movie, in his head.

“Yeah.”

“You promised to tell me about her.”

“I will, Seymour. I will.” Suddenly Walter looked old beyond his years, and Birkoff could see just how much of a toll the life that they once lived had taken on him.

“But not today.”

Walter cupped the younger man’s chin affectionately. “Today you should go find that man of yours and hug him as tight as you can. Would you do that for me?”

Birkoff’s lips curved upwards in a slow and easy smile as he contemplated the possibilities inherent in that scenario. “I’ll see what I can do.”

All at once Birkoff’s resemblance to Lisa was so strong, Walter was staggered by the intensity of feeling that surged through his tired old bones. She would have been damn proud of you, Seymour. I know *I* am.

***

Birkoff trailed his fingers along the railing on the way upstairs to the apartment he shared with Declan and their children. Preoccupied, he didn’t register his twin brother’s presence until he nearly bumped into him at the top of the stairway. “Hey!”

His dark eyes abruptly coming into sharper focus, Birkoff asked, “Just what are you doing up here anyway?”

“Wouldn’t y’all like to know?” Jason taunted.

“If you’ve been anywhere near my kids, I swear I—“

Jason shook his head, a smug smile on his handsome face. “Interesting. You thought of your kids first. Wonder what Declan would have to say about *that*?”

Birkoff’s full-lipped mouth thinned out until it was virtually a straight line. “I didn’t have to think of Declan first. Declan can take care of himself.”

“Oh, yes, he can,” Jason said, insinuating his tongue between his teeth.

“Look, if you’ve got something to say, spit it out! Otherwise, get lost!”

Jason cast a studious eye over Birkoff’s body, his look of disdain telegraphing just how badly he found his brother lacking. “You ain’t no competition for me, boy.”

Birkoff snorted, giving his twin a not-so-gentle shove. “Get out of my way.”

Looking back over his shoulder at Birkoff, Jason added, “I just got done servicing your man and all you have to say to me is ‘Get out of my way’?”

Birkoff leaned in close, so close that Jason could feel his breath rasping across his face. “You may be related to me, but you’re sure as hell not part of this family. You’d better get your ass back to where you came from.”

“Yeah? Who’s gonna make me?” Jason returned, nose to nose with his brother.

The door swung open behind the two men, revealing a curiously expressionless Declan. “Is there trouble here?” he inquired politely.

Birkoff shook his head vehemently. “Just putting out some extra trash I ran across.”

Jason glanced at Declan, unconsciously backing up a step. Just as he would have lost his balance and gone completely over the railing, no doubt falling three flights of stairs to his death, Birkoff caught his arm, steadying him.

Jason blinked at his brother. “I don’t get it. You could have been rid of me if you’d just let me go. How come you didn’t?”

“Guess you just hit on the difference between you and me, Jason. Y’know, once upon a time, I envied you. I thought you were so much better off than me. But now I see that for what it was. Wishful thinking.”

Standing behind Birkoff, Declan leaned on his lover, wrapping his arms around his upper chest before sliding his face alongside his to kiss him. “I missed you, baby.”

To say Birkoff looked triumphant would have been an understatement. With that one quiet declaration, the two of them put a stop to Jason’s machinations to wreak havoc within the family.

Jason could see when he was beaten. He never would have thought his mousy twin brother capable of attracting, much less holding a man of Declan’s obvious attributes.

Evidently, he still had a lot to learn about underestimating the power of love.

Sey pushed the door shut with one hand, keeping his other hand firmly planted in the middle of Declan’s chest. Declan smiled rapaciously, wondering, no, hoping that this was the prelude to something. With a quick shake of his head, he indicated the door. “Don’t you want to know what Jason had to say to me?” he asked with considerable bemusement.

Sey cocked his head, a half-smile creasing the corners of his mouth. His dark eyes gleaming with mischief, he said, “Well, he’s still alive, so it couldn’t have been all *that* interesting.”

“Maybe you’d rather hear what *I* had to say to *him*,” Declan said, pulling Sey into his arms. Sey melted against his body, winding his arms around Declan’s neck. “Did it involve any kind of weaponry?”

Declan pretended to ponder the question seriously. “Hm…no, not really.”

Suddenly he could feel Sey’s fingers in his hair, tugging and tangling the long curly red strands. As his head was drawn down to the smaller man’s, Declan asked huskily, “What do you want, acushla?”

Sey’s breath wafted over his face, coming in erotic little huffs and hitches that tantalized Declan no end. “Want you,” he managed to reply, biting his lip.

Declan’s whisper frayed the very edges of Sey’s control. “You want me to kiss you, baby?”

“Yesss…” he hissed. “Please kiss me.”

Declan claimed his mouth like a victorious warrior seizing his prize. Neither hard nor gentle, the kiss simply was. Nudging Sey’s lips apart with his tongue, he begged entrance and was admitted. Sey’s hands crept up his lover’s cheeks, anchoring him there.

Alternately licking and nibbling Sey’s lips, Declan began unbuttoning his shirt. When the shirt was open, Declan pushed it off one shoulder, exposing the pale skin there. Breaking away from Sey’s mouth, Declan latched onto the flesh of his shoulder, suckling until the area was wet and discolored.

At Sey’s gasp, Declan stopped. “Did I hurt you?”

Sey buried his face against Declan’s neck, where even now a strong, steady pulse beat. “You gave me a love bite,” he said breathlessly, laughter coloring his voice.

“Oh, no, baby, *this* is a love bite,” he corrected, his straight white teeth sinking into Sey’s shoulder.

He could feel Sey grinning, even if he couldn’t see him, and as if to prove it, Sey began to laugh in earnest. Taking a half-step back, he held onto Declan, his arms now encircling his waist. “Make love to me?”

“Sey, if you can’t tell that’s what I’ve been doing, I’d better start over,” Declan said, love shining out of his splendid silver-grey eyes.

Sey’s smile faded as he reached up to kiss Declan, his hand splaying across his right cheek. “Take me to bed,” he whispered against his mouth.

Declan nipped at his lover’s mouth. “You object to the floor?” he asked, his eyes flickering away for a moment to the thick carpeting beneath their feet.

If Declan’s knee hadn’t been pressed tightly against Sey’s groin, he might have missed the answering throb of his arousal. “Where are the kids?” Sey asked, beginning to feel like a debauched angel vibrating at the sound of his new master.

“Out.”

“For how long?”

Declan swooped down on him like a hungry bird of prey, his hands simultaneously holding him steady even as they unbuckled the belt of his jeans. “You ask too many bloody questions,” Declan chuckled.

“But what if--?”

Declan swallowed Sey’s protest, his mouth drugging him into submission. When Sey could speak again, he met Declan’s eyes with a mixture of desire and affection that was unique to the two of them. “I love you,” he said quite helplessly.

“I love you, too,” Declan responded, a tinge of sadness in his lambent silver eyes. As always, whenever he felt truly intense emotion, Declan felt like he straddled both worlds, a world of pain and a world of joy. It was as if the two could never really be reconciled, for to know one without the other would weaken the feeling somehow. The joy of having always balanced on a knife’s edge by the pain of losing what they had.

In his intuitive way, Sey understood this. It didn’t matter if it made sense to anyone else. It made sense to *them*.

“I want you inside me.”

Declan caught his breath at the sound of his lover’s voice. Deep and throaty with need. And yet full of love.

With a touch of his fingertip, Sey’s jeans slid down his legs to pool around his ankles. With a strange air of obeisance, Declan fell to his knees at Sey’s feet. Leaning forward, he touched him, mouthing his hardness through the thin white cotton boxers. His legs spread apart, Sey threw his head back, his mouth opening involuntarily at the feel of Declan’s warm, wet lips on him.

Declan barely noted that he was still dressed. Keeping his mouth pressed firmly to Sey’s cloth-covered flesh, he stripped. Releasing his lover, Declan slid onto his back, positioning himself between his legs. Sey kicked away his jeans and removed his shirt. Slowly lowering himself to straddle Declan’s body, Sey smiled at the man he loved more than life itself.

Declan ran his hands over every inch of his lover, provoking him to greater and greater heights. “Come for me, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, and Sey’s only answer was a heavy-lidded look and a groan.

He palmed Sey’s flat nipples, which had hardened to sharp peaks, as they thrust towards each other, completion floating just out of range. But finally, oh finally, when it came, it was with such sweetness, it was as if the passion never was.

Sey lay his head on Declan’s chest, and Declan buried his face in Sey’s dark silky hair. “I love you,” he said, exultation warring with tragedy.

Sey pressed a kiss to Declan’s chest and closed his eyes. Sometimes there really were no words.

Michael looked weary, as if sleep had eluded him for far too long. Declan offered him another cup of coffee, but Michael shook his head. His nerve endings were vibrating so finely, he was certain that anyone looking at him could see the tremors.

“Bad night?”

“Long one.”

“Let me guess. Adam?”

Michael barely nodded. “I’m worried, Declan. He’s so angry. So ripe for falling under the wrong influences.”

“Jazz?”

“You must be reading my mind,” Michael said dryly.

“No, it’s just painfully obvious to anyone who looks at the two of them.”

“Declan…you know how I feel about you. You’re the brother I never had. And Birkoff…well, he’s family, too. But I would never wish that on my own son. I couldn’t.”

“I know,” Declan said quietly. “Is it that you object to the idea in general or to Jazz in particular?”

“A little of both.” There was a long, drawn-out pause where the only audible sound was Michael’s harsh breathing. Declan looked at the man he had come to know as well as himself in many ways.

“You want him to be happy.”

“God, yes. But how can he be? Like that?”

Michael’s emotional conflict was written all over his still-handsome face. Declan sighed. “Maybe he’ll grow out of it,” he offered.

If Michael were the type to snort, he would have. “He’s 16.”

“Aye, well, Jazz is too young for him at 14. So there you go.” Declan clenched his mouth shut as if to say, That ends *that* discussion.

Michael shook his head, a somber half-smile on his lips. “You really think that’s going to stop either of them?”

“So put the fear of God into Adam, Michael. You’re his bloody father, for God’s sake. There’s no sense in wailing about it to me. *I* can’t do a goddamn thing.”

Declan sounded almost angry. Was he? Michael paused a moment to consider how Declan might feel about the whole thing. Perhaps he could put it into perspective for him.

“Declan? What if it were Sasha?”

“What if what were Sasha?”

“What if it were Sasha that Adam was…enamored with.”

“That’s an easy one. Sasha’d deck him if he looked at him cross-eyed.” Declan sipped at his coffee, but his silvery eyes never left Michael’s face.

“But suppose Sasha returned his feelings. What would you do?”

Declan chuckled darkly. “Pardon my French, but I’d kill the little bugger.”

“Which one?”

Suddenly they both broke into a fit of laughter. Eventually, though, the laughter faded, leaving heartache in its wake.

“Michael, I can’t tell you how to handle this. But I *can* tell you what *not* to do. Don’t tell them not to see each other. They’ll never abide by it. They’ll sneak around, and the fact that it’s forbidden just makes it more fun.”

“But I can’t just ignore it,” Michael protested.

“No, but you can tell them the same thing you’d tell your girls when they get to that age. Save yourself for someone who means something. Wait until you’re old enough to handle the responsibility as well as the consequences of being in a serious relationship.”

Michael’s eyes gleamed wetly. “Would *you* listen to someone who gave you such advice?”

“Listen? I *did* it, Michael. I waited, and God gave me Sey.”

Sey leaned on the kitchen door, regarding his lover for several moments before interrupting. “We were both with other people before we met, Dec.”

Declan turned sharply, his long red hair flaring out around his head like a burst of sunlight. “We were already adults, Sey.”

Sey chuckled. “*You* were, anyway.”

“Oh, come on, love, you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit—“

“Like you’re not giving Adam or Jazz?”

“Michael and I both agree that they’re not ready for a sexual relationship.”

“They haven’t tried to take their friendship further.”

“Yet,” Michael cut in.

Michael looked away from Sey’s apparently all-knowing eyes. “This isn’t about *you* or Declan, Birkoff. It’s about *them*.”

“That’s funny. How come neither one of *them* is involved in this conversation?”

“Because I’m not ready to *have* this conversation with them.” The strain on Michael was all too evident. Adam was one topic that was far too close to his heart for him to be even remotely objective.

There was a moment of complete silence.

All at once the cup that Michael had been holding fell out of his nerveless fingers and splashed across the tablecloth, the coffee’s darkness spilling like blood onto flesh. “It’s my fault,” Michael said numbly.

Declan knew at once what he meant. “No, it’s not,” he said, grabbing a cloth to swipe at the mess.

“Yes, it is,” Michael insisted, raising pain-filled eyes to Declan’s. His fingers fluttering uselessly and restlessly, Michael added, “I should have been there. I should have done something.”

Declan grasped Michael’s wrist and anchored it to the table. “Michael, there’s nothing you could do to change this. It’s not your fault. It just is.”

“But I—“

“You didn’t make him this way.”

“But he was so perfect,” Michael whispered, tears filling his eyes for what might have been and for what might never be.

“Only because you loved him. He’s still the same boy, Michael. No matter who he *becomes*. He’ll always be your son.”

Michael closed his eyes and Declan glanced at his lover as if for approval. Sey nodded gravely.

Declan slowly but surely gathered the older man in his arms, and Michael hid his face against his shoulder, taking comfort from Declan’s strength even as his own ebbed.

Even the strongest person has his limits. That’s what friends are for.

The late-afternoon light filtered in through the blinds, creating a series of sun-dappled spots on the living room carpet of the Samuelle house. Outside, a cold winter wind whipped the long golden-brown strands of Jazz’ hair across one wind-reddened cheek. Sticking his ungloved hands into the pockets of his chocolate brown leather jacket, Jazz contemplated the fact that he was a good twenty minutes early.

Sweeping a hand through his hair, which continued to blow with the breeze, he sighed. Not a sign of anyone yet. A small group of the older children was going into town to see a movie. Faith, Chris, Connor, Sasha…oh, and Adam. Adam was supposed to accompany them.

That is, he had been invited. No one was really sure if he would go. Adam could be as aloof and as unreadable as his father at the best of times.

He stomped his booted feet to keep warm, wondering how long it might be before someone came out to join him. After a few more minutes, he was no longer wondering. It was too cold for him to hang out.

He pushed open the unlocked door, knowing that this meant that people were indeed up and around. Just not in the immediate vicinity. His thoughts wandered to the oldest Samuelle son. Adam. His green eyes sparkled involuntarily even as he intentionally wrenched his mind away from that subject.

He might be young, but he knew what love was. He might not have discovered the difference between love and lust, had it not been for his earlier life on the streets, but then again, his parents, if he could call James and Smoke that, were as loving as they were unorthodox.

Hopelessly infatuated, that’s what you are, he told himself. Standing around in the cold, waiting anxiously to catch a glimpse of the reclusive Adam. He should be looking for Sasha. Sasha, his best friend. Sasha, who would never deliberately steer him wrong.

Sasha, who thought he could do better.

For someone who had been around the block as many times as Jazz, it was disconcerting to find himself in this position. Why love? He had effortlessly resisted any attempt to become involved with people he met on the streets. Well, maybe effortlessly was the wrong word. He had, as the song said, been looking for love in all the wrong places.

But according to Sasha, Jazz was still looking in the wrong place. Another sigh escaped him, and the sparkle in those green eyes dulled. Living with James and Smoke had given him hope. There *would* be someone for him. Maybe it just wasn’t Adam.

But oh, how he wanted it to be.

***

Instinct told him that he should call out Sasha’s name and make his presence known. But he hesitated a second too long. That’s when he heard it. Michael’s voice.

Making the announcement that would literally change his life.

“They can’t be together. I won’t allow it.”

The conviction in Michael’s voice was compelling. Jazz missed what the other voice said in reply, his mind too preoccupied with trying to make sense of what he overheard.

Then the implications became unmistakable. “I can’t let Adam make such a mistake. He can’t let his feelings rule his life. He doesn’t know any better right now, but someday he will.”

“It’s for their own good.”

Jazz backed up, stunned that he was still aware enough of his surroundings to be silent. He had to leave. Now. He had to get out. Before anyone saw him. Before anyone guessed what he’d been so foolishly dreaming.

Because Jazz never grew up in a traditional family, he had no idea that parents could do things to their children for any other reason but spite or ignorance. He didn’t know that some parents were willing to invoke their children’s wrath to uphold what they believed to be in the children’s best interests.

All he knew was that there would be no happily ever after for him. Not with Adam.

He didn’t have the luxury of time or experience on his side.

So he ran.

***

He ran right into the one person he hoped to avoid. Adam.

“Oof!” Adam exclaimed as Jazz catapulted out the door and into the center of his chest, nearly bowling him over. “What’s your hurry, kid?”

Jazz struggled with Adam, unable to bear the thought of anyone seeing them together, seeing the trembling, all-too-vulnerable smile on Jazz’ face, seeing the hopeless rush of desire that flared briefly in Jazz’ vibrantly colored eyes. “Let me go!”

Adam released him abruptly, as if he hadn’t even realized that he’d been holding the younger man. “You look…upset.” Adam winced, thinking of how close he had come to saying “beautiful”.

“I-I overheard your father—“ Jazz swiped carelessly at his face, knowing that he was moments away from tears, if he allowed himself to think about it. “He doesn’t want us to be together.”

Adam raised an eyebrow and gave Jazz a cool, considering look. “He objects to us going to the movies? Sorry, but I don’t think even *my* father has that big a stick up his ass.”

“N-not the movies. Anywhere. He wants to split us up. You know, because of the way we feel about each other.”

Adam saw it then. A big fat tear hung on Jazz’ eyelashes, vibrating helplessly with the fine tremors that ran through his entire body now. He wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to…touch him. With a conscious effort, Adam deliberately misunderstood what Jazz said.

“What do you mean *we*, kid?” he said derisively, hating the sound of his own voice.

Jazz wrenched his eyes away from Adam’s, unable to stand the scorn he saw there. If a hole in the earth suddenly appeared to swallow him up, it couldn’t happen quickly enough to suit him. Nor could it possibly contain all the hurt and the embarrassment that flooded throughout his being.

His feelings were just that. *His* feelings. He had thought…he had felt…something. But no. Adam felt nothing for him.

He had to get away now.

Turning on his heel, he spun away, a choked but audible sob echoing softly in his wake.

Adam closed his eyes as he felt the all-too-familiar guilt weighing him down. He had hurt someone. Again. Sometimes he thought that it was the only thing he was still capable of.

If he had done the right thing, how come it felt so wrong?

If he had done the right thing, how come it hurt *him*, too?