Chapter Fourteen
Jealousy
Uploaded on 3/13/07
The next day found Boyd and Sin invited on a rather meandering tour of Paris and the surrounding area. Thierry somehow managed to acquire a limousine and had his chauffer drive them around for the day. They visited every monument that still existed in the area, stopped at a beautiful park that managed to survive the bombs, and then he brought them to Le Marais, the old Jewish quarter that had since become the concentrated center of some of the wealthiest shops in the city. Part of that demographic existed prior to the bombs, but it only grew after nearby areas were decimated in the bombs. Hotel De Ville (which had previously worked as a sort of unofficial city hall) and the huge art collection in Centre Pompidou were completely gone, taking out part of Le Marais with it.
Thierry insisted that they go shopping, stating that he intended to invite them to dinner again that night but that because he did not warn them before they left home he would understand if they had only one outfit. "Especially Sinful," he said, looking Sin up and down lingeringly. "While the new outfit is amazing, I am certain we can do better." He ignored the withering look Sin sent his way and led them from store to store, holding up shirts and pants to Boyd and Sin equally while chatting about nothing in particular.
He bought Sin another button-up shirt, this one a deep green that Boyd had to admit brought out his eye color stunningly. Sin stared at Thierry blankly the entire time, seeming on the verge of losing his patience. Boyd had to breathe an inward sigh of relief when Sin continued to say nothing. For Boyd, Thierry chose a long-sleeved, button-up shirt that was a very pale white. While it was not translucent, it was of a light enough fabric that Boyd discovered when he was silhouetted against the light, his body shape could be seen through it. He did not particularly relish the idea of wearing that into the dining area; Boyd was particularly aware of his torso and often tried to hide it. Even so, he supposed it was no different than wearing a very tight shirt that would not even need light to show the contours of his body, so he smiled and thanked Thierry and did not show at all that it made him a little uncomfortable.
Thierry spoke to Boyd in French quite a bit, switching smoothly between asking questions about him and chatting about nothing in particular. When he spoke in English, it was to either flatter or annoy Sin or inform them of some particular history of the area. They spent hours going around the city, and Boyd was starting to feel a little wearied by having to constantly be smiling and smooth, amiable and flattering. He had always found things like smiling to take the most energy unless he truly meant it, and while he found Thierry to be a relatively interesting person, Boyd would have preferred to spend the day with Sin's silence.
At one point they stopped at another park and Thierry told Boyd that his hair shown beautifully in even the pale rays of sunlight that managed to break through the clouds. Boyd smiled and told him he was too kind, and Thierry started to say something else when his phone rang. He excused himself, wandering far enough away that he could not be heard and turned away from them both.
Sin watched Thierry with an intense, unreadable expression in his pale green eyes and said casually to Boyd, "He wants you."
Boyd watched Thierry for a moment, the way he turned and smiled at them briefly before turning away again. He looked sidelong at Sin and said calmly, "Perhaps."
Sin gave Boyd a long look and said nothing else.
Although Boyd thought Sin was correct, he did not think it was pertinent information. All he wanted to do was get through with this mission, get the information from Thierry, and go back to America. That was all he would think about and it would be his only goal.
Thierry dropped them off at the suite, finally, several hours later, though he gave them a few hours before they would have to be ready for the dinner. He once again enthused how wonderful they would look in their new outfits and insisted that today Boyd leave his hair down. As the time for dinner was upon them, Boyd changed into the white shirt Thierry bought him and because he thought Thierry may prefer it, he did not wear his jacket. Why else buy him a shirt that shows a silhouette if he did not want to see it?
Sin's door opened and Boyd turned around, not even sure if he was surprised to see Sin in his fatigue pants and a ratty t-shirt, with the new green shirt unbuttoned over it. He stared at him for a moment, then turned back to the mirror and fixed his tie. He spoke calmly, a little absently, as he stared at himself in the mirror. "I will say to you, 'Sin, you really should wear the slacks and at least button your shirt,' to which you will say, 'No,' and then we will argue. So instead, I will say that Thierry will likely find some way to tease or ridicule you about that outfit, and you will draw extra attention to us, and I do not believe it is a good course of action to take."
Sin shrugged. "Does that mean I can stay here?"
Boyd turned to look at Sin for a long moment, thinking about how awkward the night before was, and how uncomfortable it must have been for Sin. He turned back to the mirror again and said softly, "I will tell Thierry you feel ill. I suppose there's no need for you to waste your night there."
Sin stood there for a long moment and looked at Boyd; watched the way he fixed his tie and his hair. Sin's mouth thinned into a tight line. "Heh." He stripped off the green shirt and tossed it on the floor. "Have fun," he said flatly and disappeared into his room.
Boyd went down to the dining room alone, straightening his tie one last time before he left the elevator. In a way it was best that Sin stayed behind; the night before and all that day Boyd kept waiting for him to say something insulting or offensive and for it all to spiral down from there. Sin had kept his cool and it went relatively well but he knew it was only a matter of time. On the other hand, Sin was a nice distraction for Thierry; it kept him from focusing all his attention on Boyd and doing nothing but flattering him all night. However, this way at least he knew ahead of time what to expect and Sin wouldn't be sitting there demeaned and alienated all night; he got enough of that back at the Agency. He would probably appreciate having a night where he didn't have to be around anyone and where there were no cameras watching his every move.
Seeing Thierry standing at the entrance of the dining area, Boyd walked toward him. Thierry smiled brightly to see Boyd in the new shirt, although he did look behind him as if searching for Sin. "Good evening, Thierry. Sin was feeling under the weather," Boyd said as he got within speaking distance. "I hope it is not too much of an inconvenience if it is just me tonight. If you wish, we could reschedule for another day?"
Thierry raised both of his eyebrows. "Feeling under the weather? Him?" It was obvious that he didn't believe it and he gazed at Boyd for a moment as if scrutinizing him, but he seemed pleased with whatever he saw. "Since it is just the two of us tonight," He began with a smile. "How would you like to visit my home?"
"I would be honored," Boyd said with a smile.
He did not even give himself the chance to consider; if that was what Thierry wanted, that was what Thierry got. And though going to his home could end in exactly what Sin was implying, there was the chance it would not. Besides, he was actually curious about where Thierry lived; no doubt it was as decadent as the hotel he had built in his name.
"Excellent," Thierry said softly. He gazed at Boyd for another moment, lips playing in a pleased smile. "I live across the city from the hotel. You might want to inform your partner that you might be... late returning, so that he won't tear apart the hotel thinking that I kidnapped you."
Boyd followed Thierry to the front of the hotel, but waited while he went to get the car. He pulled out the cell phone and flipped it open, his mind mostly on automatic. It seemed pretty obvious what Thierry's expectations were for the night and Boyd knew there was no way he could say no. If this one mission could change the entire war... The repercussions would be endless and so this mission above all others had to be completely followed through and executed as perfectly as possible; he could not afford to mess up. If he had the chance to affect something so large by some simple actions of his own, then there was absolutely no question what his choice would be. He couldn't imagine returning to America without the information and when Carhart looked at him and demanded an answer, his reply being, 'I didn't feel like it.'
Boyd was not an altruistic person but he was a child of the war. He was born in the year of the first wave of bombs and half his family was taken with the second. He knew what it meant to have the war continue; he knew what could be taken away from those impersonal explosions. Even if he didn't particularly care about other people, he still didn't wish a continuation of this life, a repeat of his or Lou's lives, for anyone in the future. If one night could stop all that...
It was absolutely worth it.
Besides, his was just a body and this was just business. As much as he would have been happier if Thierry had never suggested going to his home, at least Boyd knew how to handle this. It was just like any other mission. Get the enemy (or, in this case, unpredictable ally) on his side, infiltrate the base and successfully complete the mission.
He dialed Sin's number and waited for him to pick up.
"What?"
Sin's voice, even if there was nothing accusatory in it, somehow made it difficult to say what he intended. Boyd paused a moment, holding the phone to his ear and looking out at the street. For some reason, his heart was beating a little fast, but his voice was completely calm when he spoke. "Sin, there has been a... change in plans." He paused briefly, tilted his head down so his hair covered his blank expression and closed his eyes. "I may be back late. I just wanted you to know so you don't worry."
There was silence for a moment. "Why would you be back late? You're downstairs."
Boyd didn't want to answer that. It was stupid, but he just wanted to go back to the room and not have to deal with any of this. Even if he knew what it meant, even if he couldn't possibly say no, even if he didn't want there to be more orphans and ashes for bodies and brilliant red scouring the sky with shockwaves and fire -- Even with all that, there was still part of him that just wanted to go back. But that was completely childish. He absolutely could not do anything but what he was, and Thierry would be back any second. He couldn't afford for Thierry to see him looking down at the ground, seemingly unhappy. Looking back up at the street, he affected a calm expression. "Ah." There was little emotion in his voice. "He... invited me to tour his home."
The silence lasted twice as long this time and when Sin spoke, his voice was low and thick with some unknown emotion. "Boyd." He was silent again, then softly, "What are you doing?"
Boyd stared at the lights, and if his sight was a little blurry, it was probably only because the lights were bright. He drew in a soft breath, and said after a long moment, his voice emotionless, "My job."
There was no response for a long time and then his voice came across the line heavy with disgust and anger. "Fine."
The phone cut off.
Boyd stared at the cell phone for a long moment, blinking a few times to get the blurriness away. Then he flipped it closed and slipped it into his pocket. When Thierry arrived in the car, Boyd's only expression was a smile and in French he said that the car was beautiful.
Thierry murmured in French to Boyd the entire way to his home, nonsense conversation that Boyd nonetheless smiled and replied to. He told Boyd that he wished he wasn't an agent, and maybe Boyd could visit him again, and Boyd only looked out the window with an unreadable smile and said that in the end fate would do what it wished. Thierry touched Boyd lightly, on the thigh, on the face; he was gentle and well-spoken and when he was not watching the road he studied Boyd with smoldering looks.
Thierry cooked Boyd dinner, and it was as beautiful to behold as it was delicious to taste. Boyd actually enjoyed himself some, because Thierry was a decent man when he was not getting lost in his own whims and although he seemed conceited more than anything, he still had some intelligent things to say. As the dinner wore on, Thierry moved closer, started touching Boyd more and Boyd made himself lean into it every time.
In French, he whispered into Boyd's ear, "Would you like to spend the night with me?"
Boyd whispered, "Yes," and responded when Thierry kissed him.
Boyd was a little surprised when Thierry led him over to the warm rug lying in front of the fireplace instead of the bedroom, but he did not let his confusion show on his face too much. He just followed along and smiled whenever Thierry looked over at him.
Thierry's lips trailed over Boyd's jaw and down to his neck, licking and sucking his neck softly as his hand slid down into his lap. "I want you so badly," He purred and began to unbutton Boyd's shirt. "I've wanted you since I first saw you."
Boyd leaned into Thierry's touch, letting out a soft sound of pleasure but he brought one of his hands up to stop Thierry's from working on his shirt. "Ah," he murmured, voice low as he leaned down to kiss what he could reach of Thierry. "Can my shirt stay on? It is a strange quirk of mine, but I would love it if you left it..."
A soft, ecstatic exhalation escaped Thierry's lips at the feel of Boyd's mouth on him and his hands dropped without argument as he began undoing his pants instead. "Whatever you want," He uttered and pushed Boyd backwards onto the floor.
Thierry was a very gentle, romantic lover, taking great care in making Boyd feel loved and wanted. He murmured in French to him, kissed him constantly, and when he knew there was something Boyd liked or responded to, he made sure to do it again. He treated Boyd like he was a delicate piece of artwork that may shatter if breathed on just wrong.
Their lovemaking was slow, and Boyd found himself closing his eyes, panting through his mouth and reaching up to occasionally kiss Thierry lingeringly. It was not so much that Boyd felt an emotion that made him want to kiss Thierry as it was that he did not want to spurn him. Although part of him appreciated the care Thierry was taking, he would have preferred it to be less personal. It was more difficult to deal with Thierry so slow and gentle; it would have been easier if it were over with quickly. It was not that Thierry was a bad lover; he was actually very skilled but Boyd kept catching himself with startling thoughts. When Thierry leaned in to suck on his neck with pressure that still remained gentle, Boyd thought of Sin's mouth on his neck and the heat of his breath when he'd stopped himself seconds before he ripped his throat out. When Thierry moved against and inside him, gently and thoroughly, Boyd wondered how different Sin was with Ryan, or any of his previous partners. Was he quicker, harder? Did he even bother running his hands over his lover or did they remain firmly locked in place so he would have better leverage?
He tried to keep his mind on Thierry, made sure to whisper his name, partially so Thierry knew he was there with him and partially so he could remind himself but in the slow, languid draw of the night, his mind drifted repeatedly to Sin. His intense eyes, not at all like the loving, gentle ones Thierry turned on him just then. The way Sin gripped him, not at all like the feather-soft whisper of fingertips along his skin. And when Thierry kissed him, it was thorough and deep, but without any sense of urgency, or strength. The gentler Thierry was, the longer he took, the edgier something in Boyd became. He didn't think he wanted it like this, didn't even know if he particularly wanted this at all, but it was his and he was here and so he took it.
The last time he was intimate with anyone was when Lou was still alive and that was also completely different. Lou was energetic, full of laughter; he teased Boyd and treated him as an equal rather than an art piece. Thierry acted as though Boyd was beautiful, delicate, but Boyd did not think he was. Boyd was scarred; from life, from training, from missions. Thierry lightly kissed or ran his fingers over every scar he found on the skin Boyd would allow bared, which basically equated to his hips and below. Even with their heated skin, he never opened his shirt more, never even rolled his sleeves up. Thierry whispered againt that he wished Boyd was not an agent, told him he was always welcome here if he left. Boyd stopped answering to much of the flattery, disguising his silence with panting breath and the occasional soft moan. But in truth, his stomach was twisting in confusion.
If he accepted, what would Thierry do with Boyd except keep him as another pretty little trinket to show off his wealth and charm? Boyd believed that would happen but that Thierry would not do this maliciously; rather, it would be only because that was how he thought. He called Boyd 'beautiful' and compared him to angels, but Boyd could not help thinking that only showed how little he knew him. Boyd felt that the only 'angel' he could be was a snow angel, cold and one-dimensional, and there was nothing beautiful in the dead-eyed body he showed to the world.
Thierry's flowery words and constant praise only emphasized that he thought the world was moved by smooth words and a handsome smile but Boyd was not delicate, he was not weak. While Thierry touched him with the whisper of fingertips, Sin repeatedly let him walk straight into a bunker full of enemies and he did not blink. Sin treated him like he was competent, and strong, and even his blank expression seemed to somehow say that he expected Boyd to make it through without having to bother moving.
Thierry, Boyd felt, thought of Boyd in terms of ideals. He saw him through his physical looks, the tilt of his smile, the manners and smooth flattery he exuded since they met. But those things were not Boyd, not really. Boyd's true smile was far different than the one he had been flashing Thierry the last two days. His recent laughter was fake, even if Thierry would not know it from what it truly should be. Boyd was this way because this was the way he needed to be for his job and it was this partial construct Boyd had created that Thierry liked.
Sin, though... He knew Boyd, knew what he was capable of and who he was. Sin reached into Boyd's past and killed Jared, who killed Boyd's life even if he failed at the time in killing his body. Sin was strong where Thierry was soft, rough where Thierry was gentle.
It was not that Boyd enjoyed being thrown around by Sin, but it did not bother him as much as it should. This was a body, just a body, and it had not housed even a soul for so long. He could sleep with Thierry because it was just sex, the interaction of one human being with another on a highly intimate scale, and even if it felt good, it did not mean Boyd had to feel anything deeper than automatic emotional responses to physical reactions. It was not to say that he did not respond, but that even if he leaned into Thierry's touch and released soft sounds of encouragement, it was not, in his mind, due to Thierry being the one doing it so much as the fact that it was simply done at all. Boyd wondered if that would be different if it were pale green eyes that stared at him intensely other than hazel, if it were stronger fingers that gripped his hips, or a rougher mouth that grazed his skin.
He hadn't expected to think of Sin so much, but there it was. Callously, he compared them both, and with a feeling of being lost and confused, he knew it was Sin he preferred.
Boyd did not think this way yet continue to have sex with Thierry to be cruel to him, but he did know that he would not be lying half-naked on the floor with him if this weren't for a job, if he weren't being paid in the form of information that Carhart had emphasized the extreme importance of, and if Thierry were not the same man that Carhart said they could not possibly afford to lose as a contact.
How could Boyd possibly jeopardize so much just to protect something that needed no preserving? Boyd was not a virgin, and he had killed people; he did not need to protect the morality of what he did with this body. High morals did not get the job done and by ingratiating himself to Thierry he could possibly even strengthen their ties with him in the future. He could even potentially protect those around him from another wave of war, bombs, of the sky turning even darker and the power structure of the world jarring and tilting chaotically. If all it took for so much gain was a single night of gentle sex, then he rather thought he and the Agency were getting off easy. He thought these things clinically, yet there was still a part of him that wanted to shy away from the fact that he was doing this and another part that wanted to lean into Thierry's sincerely gentle care, because he had felt so little of it in his life.
That was what was really getting to him, probably. There were so few people in Boyd's life that had been this close to him physically; that had touched him at all, and even more startlingly, in such a gentle manner. Thierry, for all that he could not possibly understand who Boyd really was, still treated him as someone to be treasured. Someone important. It almost... hurt. It was a bittersweet sensation, because the people he really wanted to treat him that way seemed to be the coldest, the roughest, sometimes the cruelest. Yet from this complete stranger he was able to get the things that he should have been able to have by default: respect, affection, gentle touch and kind words. But the people he knew so well, the people who he cared about, the people who should care about him... They hurt him repeatedly, whether they meant to or not, and... There, that night, with fingertips and lips loving a body he had long ago discarded as useless... With the intimacy of Thierry moving in and out of him, a slow burning warmth, the contrariness nearly overwhelmed Boyd. A stranger who loved his body more than he did himself, more than those who were close to him would.
His heart sped at the thought, and when he finally came, when Thierry did inside him shortly afterward, Boyd felt his eyes burn as if tears wanted to form but could not quite make it. Sliding his eyes closed to hide the brightness, he stayed still for a moment and just breathed, tried to concentrate on the pounding of his heart and the tingling of his skin. Thierry pulled out of him and leaned down to kiss him slowly. Boyd responded to the kiss, sliding his eyes open just enough to peer through his eyelashes, and for a moment Thierry just watched him. A smile played at his lips. "Beautiful," he murmured in French.
Boyd tried to speak but couldn't at first; had to clear his throat before he could manage softly, still a little overwhelmed, "Thank you." He didn't even notice he had answered the French in English and Thierry did not seem to care.
Thierry murmured something about cleaning them up and stood while Boyd just dropped his head against the ground and stared at the ceiling, then tilted his head to stare at the fire. It was a constant warmth against one side of his body, lulling him into a further state of quiet. When Thierry returned, Boyd was half-asleep from exhaustion and was little help when Thierry moved him around to clean them both up. When he finished, Thierry dropped down next to him on the rug and buried his face in Boyd's hair, breathed in deeply of his scent and murmured again how beautiful and wonderful Boyd was, that the night was fantastic, that they should have more like this. Boyd whispered answers that were neutral but diplomatic, that distracted from the questions until he was just murmuring syllables at random, his eyelids heavy and closed.
He fell asleep to Thierry gently running his hands down his hair, a motion that was comforting enough that it lulled him into deep dreams. It was still dark out when Boyd woke suddenly, realizing that although the fire was still going, Thierry was nowhere to be seen. He sat up slowly, looking around. The room was empty and the space next to him was cool; Thierry had been gone for awhile. A little sore from the night and lying on the ground, Boyd blinked slowly then groped around for his clothes. His shirt was completely wrinkled and smelled like Thierry's clove cigarettes and sex, but he had managed to keep it clean and he was glad. Pulling his clothes on with slightly clumsy movements, he noticed a small disc and sheet of paper on the table nearby. He padded over on socked feet and picked both up slowly.
The note was mostly hopeful, a little sad. Thierry thanked Boyd for the night and said he would love to see him again. He was called away, but he told the driver out front to take Boyd back to the hotel when he woke up and was ready. He left a private cell phone number in case Boyd was ever in the area or wanted to see him. The disc contained all the information Boyd wanted, but it was heavily coded. 'Trust me,' it said at the end in his elegant script and ended with his simple signature.
Boyd stared at the note for a long moment, his gaze shifting to the disc before he slipped them both into his pocket. He looked around for a piece of scrap paper, then found a pen. Even if he had successfully gained the information, he still had to keep Thierry as a contact with the Agency. He didn't want to leave on bad terms and if Thierry continued to like Boyd then he could serve as the messenger in the future for any other requests. Besides, Thierry was not a bad person; he seemed sincere enough in his own way, and it was that which prompted Boyd to write him a reply.
'Thank you for everything,' he wrote on a sheet of paper, and signed it just 'Boyd.' He left it near the phone, where he hoped Thierry would see it. He stared sightlessly at his reply for a few moments, lost in his thoughts. After that night... After those comparisons he hadn't expected to appear and didn't entirely make sense... He couldn't deny that he wanted to know what it would feel like to be that close to Sin. It was a form of curiosity that started with those sudden thoughts and, he knew, would only grow. He should be listening to Carhart's words, but it was difficult; his logic and emotions did not always coincide, much like neither did his mind and body, or even mind and heart.
He didn't have a coat to grab so he just held his arms across his chest as he stepped out into the cold and almost ran right into the driver. He pulled his hair behind his ears and looked at him with a tilt of his head, feeling a little embarrassed even though the driver did not change his expression at all. When Boyd made it back to the hotel, he was cold and tired, and very ready to get home. He didn't know what Sin had been doing all night, but he was sort of hoping he could just slip into his bed and not have to see him before the morning when he would be able to think more clearly.
Boyd swiped the keycard and stepped into the dark room, looking at the door as he closed it quietly.
There was no warning whatsoever.
So suddenly that Boyd could not even react, Sin's presence appeared at his side; he grabbed him with hands that felt like they were trying to grip through his skin and touch bone. Twisting Boyd around, he slammed him violently into the wall face-first, so hard that Boyd saw stars for a second and almost couldn't breathe. Sin was behind him immediately, reeking of alcohol and shoving Boyd into the wall with his body, his breath ragged and near his ear though he didn't say anything at first.
Boyd grimaced and tried experimentally to push away, saying in a soft, pained voice, "Sin..." He was still reeling from the night, from everything that had happened; he was tired and just wanted to not have to think.
Sin shuddered against him, fingers digging into him violently, breath hitching strangely. "Did you have fun?" He asked softly, his voice raw with emotion.
Boyd tried to push Sin away again, but he was completely pinned against the wall. "Sin," Boyd said softly, a little helplessly. Sin's voice, despite the raw quality, sounded like the Sin he was used to, not any of the crazed tones he could think of. His heart hammered in his chest and his stomach clenched, but it had nothing to do with being held in place. "Let me go," he whispered, his face resting against the wall.
"I said--" Sin's voice rose dangerously. "Did you have fun?" He leaned in close, speaking against his ear.
"Stop it," Boyd murmured a little louder, his voice growing an indefinable emotion. "Let me go!" He tried to push Sin away again.
"Shut the fuck up," Sin growled and tightened his grip. He buried his face in Boyd's hair, taking a deep, shaky breath.
The smell of alcohol practically saturated Sin's breath. Boyd closed his eyes when he felt Sin's face in his hair, and he drew his own shaky breath, his heart thundering. Sin was not acting like himself at all, and though he should be scared, more than anything he felt confused, upset, and strangely regretful. "Sin, you're drunk," he said softly.
"You smell like him," Sin muttered softly. "Like his cigarettes and his cologne." His fingers dug in harder and he pressed his mouth against Boyd's ear. "You smell like sex."
His arms burned where Sin held him, the muscles protesting Sin's grip but that was not what caught his attention most. Boyd shivered at the feel of Sin's mouth so close to him, and he felt a desperate, sad sort of longing that reared abruptly and made it hard for him to breathe for a second. He wanted Sin to smile at him again; he wanted him to come close and touch him and be with him. But this was not the time and maybe it was just that which made his heart wrench. He would not lie to Sin about what happened; it was obvious from his wrinkled shirt alone.
"What do you expect?" Boyd whispered finally. "This information, keeping Thierry as a contact... A one night stand is nothing compared to that."
"You--" He broke off and wrenched Boyd around, slamming his back against the wall instead. Boyd let out an exhalation of pain, his eyes narrowing, but he otherwise just stared at Sin. Green eyes burned in the darkness, staring into his with a frightening intensity. Sin's mouth twisted and a low chuckle escaped his throat. "Information?" He asked mockingly, voice a low growl. He slammed Boyd against the wall again. "I thought you were different but you just whore yourself for Carhart and your fucking mother."
Sin was holding him so hard that Boyd was starting to lose circulation in his hands and his head slammed against the wall the second time Sin shoved him. His shirt slipped a little as Sin pushed him, and he realized that he never fully buttoned it again after Thierry started to take it off.
In the moonlight, he could see that Sin's eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. Seeing that made Boyd's heart jump a beat and something inside him twisted painfully. There was something about Sin right there, at that moment, that made Boyd feel like something was starting to tilt out of control. Sin's words cut into him, slid under his skin and played with the part of him that wanted to pretend he would not so easily do what he did.
Sin was disappointed in him, he could feel it, and that dug even deeper into Boyd. He felt caught in circumstances; he slept with Thierry because it fulfilled so many expectations, because it was the best course of action that he saw for the most successful conclusion of the mission, because he couldn't say no. Even if it was mostly a business transaction to him, it didn't mean others saw it that way. What did Thierry think about it? And now... He could see what Sin thought. In not disappointing Carhart or Thierry or the Agency he ended up here, with Sin's fingers digging into his arms as he called him a whore. Boyd stared at him, his expression slowly changing, and when he saw only the same cruel glint in Sin's eyes he could not stay quiet.
"What do you want from me?" Boyd yelled suddenly, emotion cracking his voice and making his eyes shine. "We have a fucking job, I'm just doing it! Carhart said we had to do anything so I did!"
Sin's eyes narrowed and his lips parted to say something but then suddenly, for some reason, his gaze dropped on Boyd's neck. Rage filled his expression, wild fury filled his eyes. There was a low, primal sound deep in his throat and his hand curled into a fist, rearing back and flying towards Boyd's pale face.
Boyd winced and leaned against the wall but Sin's fist stopped just short of hitting him, his knuckles white and hand shaking. Staring with widening eyes, Boyd looked past it to Sin's eyes. The fury was there, making them almost glow in the dim light. Boyd didn't even know what to say, he just shakily breathed and stared with eyes burning as if tears wanted to gather. He knew Sin was angry and for some reason it seemed that seeing Lou's necklace dangling at his throat was making it worse. It was as confusing as everything else but he didn't have time to think or figure anything out.
Sin grit his teeth and slammed his fist into the wall instead, frustration evident in his face. The wall cracked beside Boyd's head, little spiderweb lines racing out from Sin's knuckles. "I wish I could kill you," He whispered. "I wish I could rip you limb from limb."
"Well, why don't you?" Boyd demanded with bright eyes, his voice low and quaking with emotion.
Boyd was starting to feel overwhelmed by the situation. He did what he had to but now Sin was there, calling him a whore and saying he wished he was dead. The same fucking person he couldn't get out of his mind when he was just trying to do his job, the same person that kept capturing his attention when he didn't want it, who made Boyd stupidly want to see him smile, who could easily talk about things Boyd loved like old classic books -- the same fucking person he wanted to treat him just once like Thierry did -- was now watching him with such cruel green eyes.
He was angry that Sin was acting this way, was treating him like this after he did what he had to for that information when Sin wasn't even willing to be polite at a stupid dinner date. Maybe if Sin had been kinder then it would not have been necessary to take such drastic measures as seducing Thierry with smooth smiles and pleasant conversation, or even being seduced himself. Even if to some extent he enjoyed himself with Thierry, it's not like he wanted to. He didn't want to have to sleep with someone just for his job. He would, but it wasn't his wish. Added to that, he was confused, and frustrated, and that wrenching feeling would not leave, only got worse at Sin's words. And he was hurt... Something about all of this really, deeply hurt.
Boyd shook his head just a little and his eyes narrowed. He hadn't given Sin a chance to respond; the thoughts flew through his mind as quick as their misunderstandings. "Why don't you rip my fucking throat out and go back to your stupid box if it's so hard to be around me?" he demanded, cruelly and recklessly. "You can do it, Sin. Why don't you just fucking kill me already?"
Sin released him abruptly and stared at him, shaking, seething. He yanked something out of his pocket and hurled it at Boyd, red rimmed eyes shining strangely in the moonlight.
Boyd looked down at the ground; whatever hit him was hard and sharp. He felt his heart skip when he saw the new remote lying at his feet. He looked back up at Sin immediately, his eyes wide and surprised, with an indefinable emotion making them intense. Suddenly, his words seemed especially cruel. "Sin," he started, shaking his head. "I wasn't going to use..." He stopped, his voice going hoarse, and he said a little louder, "I wouldn't use that on you."
"I hate you," Sin hissed softly. "I fucking hate you for doing this to me." He grabbed Boyd, once again pinning him to the wall, staring into his eyes, their faces centimeters apart. "I want to hurt you." An unspoken 'the way you hurt me' rang in the air.
His emotions would not come under control; Boyd felt tilted off-balance, caught up in the current of the moment."What did I do?" he asked helplessly as he stared into Sin's eyes, desperate for some words of kindness, or something that could help him understand what the hell was happening here, even what was happening in his own mind. He didn't struggle against his grip, didn't feel the need to. This close, Sin felt almost hot to the touch, and Boyd was almost overwhelmed by the smell of him beneath the alcohol. Every comparison he made with Thierry earlier came back quickly, and he slowly lifted one hand to put it lightly on Sin's upper arm. "I don't even know what I did..."
Sin yanked his arm away from Boyd as if it had burned him. His breath came out raggedly, lips trembling, face angry and confused. "Don't touch me," Sin muttered. "You let him put his hands on you, let him fuck you and I couldn--" He stopped abruptly, lips still parted. His eyes narrowed and glinted cruelly. "Did it feel good?"
Letting his hand drop, Boyd stared at Sin for a long moment, searching his expression for anything but cruelty. Boyd was tired and emotionally raw, and couldn't understand anything properly. He needed to be alone, needed some time to think. Sin was confused, and drunk, and every time Boyd thought he understood why he was upset he said something that made him think it was something else instead.
What was he angry about? That Boyd slept with Thierry, or that Boyd didn't sleep with him? Was he supposed to just pass himself around to whoever felt like fucking him at the time? Was he angry that Boyd left him alone for the night, or angry that he didn't get first dibs on one of his partners for once? Yet, what? Sin could run around sleeping with Ryan and that was okay, even if it wasn't business, even if it didn't have a logical purpose or a consequence that made it an insignificant payment for services rendered? Sin was such a morally upright citizen that he could ask Boyd such a demeaning, mocking question without repercussions?
Boyd narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "Fuck you," he whispered, his voice shaking with something that may be anger and hurt, his hands loose at his sides.
"Fuck you," Sin growled.
He stood there for a long moment, shaking and angry, his hands balled into tight fists. His eyes bore into Boyd's, his face was a mixture of emotions. His hands closed around Boyd's shoulders again and this time it seemed like he really would hit him. The fury in his eyes was tinged with need, perhaps for violence. He pressed himself against Boyd again, indecisive in his drunkenness, confused in his emotions, and rested his head against Boyd's.
"Fuck you," He whispered again and then suddenly crushed his lips against Boyd's in a kiss that was desperate and full of hunger.
Boyd felt a wrenching somewhere within him; like tectonic plates that shifted and suddenly fell. He craved Sin's touch, his feel, his attention, and though he tried to hesitate, he could not hold himself back. He had needed something, just fucking something to show for all this, something from Sin, and now that he had it he couldn't resist. Making a noise deep in his throat, Boyd leaned forward and returned Sin's kiss by deepening it. His heart hammered in his chest, but all he could think about was Sin, the way he smelled and felt, everything about him -- even the parts that hurt. It all combined into something confusing, a storm he still chased.
The kiss was clumsy but passionate, intense and needy. Sin's tongue was in his mouth and his trembling hands were sliding up over the back of his shirt. He yanked Boyd against him roughly, never ending the kiss and moaned against his mouth when their hips pressed together. Surging up against Sin, Boyd had some vague thought that he was right, Sin was a lot different than Thierry, and definitely more what he preferred. Sin's lips trembled against his and Boyd made a soft, desperate sound from deep in his throat. He breathed heavily and reached up to grip Sin's arms.
Sin pinned his body against Boyd's tightly, rubbing against him and groaning in surprise at the fire that spread through out his body. The kiss grew messy, wet, and he wound up panting raggedly against Boyd's mouth as he fumbled clumsily with the buttons on Boyd's pants.
Boyd's hands shifted, running down Sin's back, then up again beneath his shirt. He could feel hard muscle beneath his fingers, and his hands trembled with need. Sin was being a little rough, but Boyd's mind was spinning dizzily and he couldn't bring himself to care for the moment. He just wanted to be closer to him, to be against him. He barely waited to catch his breath before he kissed Sin again, hungrily, his tongue moving deeply into his mouth. He kept making little noises, barely even realizing he was doing it and clutched at Sin's back.
Sin yanked him away from the wall abruptly and interlocked his leg with Boyd's, sweeping his feet out from under him and violently pinning him against the floor. Boyd's head slammed into the ground when he fell and he drew a ragged breath but didn't get the chance to say anything at first. Sin held Boyd under him, dry humping him with a crazed intensity, mouth pulling away only long enough to slide down so that he could suck on Boyd's bobbing adam's apple.
Sin had become almost painful against him, pressing him so hard into the ground that Boyd could not help making a soft distressed sound. He felt his heart start to speed in panic and something within him twisted as he realized he wasn't sure he could get away if he needed to. "Sin," he whispered, pressing one hand against his shoulder, wanting him to slow down.
Sin ignored the plea, he didn't even seem to hear it as one hand slid down to rip Boyd's pants open, yanking at them in frustration as he continued to pin Boyd to the floor. The smell of vodka was prominent as his breath came faster and harder.
Boyd's heart beat increased dramatically when he realized Sin wasn't listening, wasn't stopping. He could feel the ground pressed against him, Sin pressed on top, he felt powerless and vulnerable and the part in him that started to twist was now panicking. His heartbeat was a thundering staccato in his head, making him nearly dizzy as he found himself breathing quickly in growing fear. Hands holding him down, roughness as his voice wasn't heard, someone right with him but not caring about what he wanted, someone who would take what they wanted and leave him bleeding on the ground-- He could feel his thoughts slipping and jerking, the memory of being held in place, powerless while Lou was killed, and he hated being held down, he hated it, he couldn't stand the ground against one side and someone against another, ignoring his voice as if he couldn't be heard--
"Sin," he said louder, urgent with heightening fear. He shoved roughly at his shoulders, barely keeping his mind in the moment, barely able to keep telling himself it was Sin, it was Sin, it was someone he knew and it was okay, he wasn't about to be killed, he wasn't about to watch someone die. His eyes were wide, unfocused, he was trying to watch Sin to remember that he was fine but the darkness was playing tricks on his eyes, made the black of Sin's hair become the black of Jared's, and for a moment the shadows against the ceiling morphed and turned red. He jerked shoved at Sin again, harder this time, his fingers digging into Sin's skin as he struggled to breathe as evenly as possible, to try to keep himself under control. His voice echoed the alarm that was growing in his mind, however. "Sin, wait..."
A low growl escaped Sin's mouth and he continued to yank Boyd's pants down as his other hand ripped his shirt open, the first few buttons popping off and bouncing across the floor.
The air on his chest almost made Boyd's heart stop. Suddenly, he realized what was happening.
On some level, he was craving Sin's attention, but not like this. He never showed his torso, never took his shirt off, even Thierry agreed to let him keep it on and he was a complete stranger. In the wildness of the moment, even if Boyd could not remember ever explicitly telling Sin that he never went around without his shirt, Sin still certainly never saw him bare-chested. He should have known, the wild thought that raced through his mind like fire was that Sin should have known but he ripped at it anyway. He wasn't listening to Boyd, he didn't care that Boyd was pushing at him, that he was scared and his heart was racing and he couldn't properly breathe and Sin wouldn't get up, wouldn't let him off the fucking ground, he needed to stand up, he needed air-- His pants were pulled down, exposing him to the air, his shirt open at his chest, Sin was heavy and rough, and most of all, Boyd was terrified that he could not get away. Even if he thought of his body as just a body, this wasn't business. This was Sin, this was different, and this petrified him almost as much as it wrenched at something deep inside him.
"Noo," Boyd moaned, and stared wildly into Sin's eyes. They were incredibly intense like they were burning through Boyd's soul, glassy from the alcohol and lust, and overrun with something that Boyd only knew to label as madness. In that moment, time slowed and he became certain that Sin would not stop; he would do whatever he wanted to Boyd, rape or maim or murder him, and maybe not even care. Half-heard screams echoed in his mind, the sort of soul-losing sound that scraped the throat raw and made the taste of blood permeate the mouth... He remembered, he was tired and he couldn't move and he remembered, another time another place but it was the same, he couldn't get away and they weren't listening and the blood was everywhere and was it going to happen again? He couldn't handle it; green eyes like fire in front of his face, intense and intent and not seeing him as a person, seeing him as something to use-- He wouldn't be hurt like that, he wouldn't be hurt, he had to get away, he had to run and get away before they hurt him, before he hurt him, before he was screaming in pain--
Something in Boyd snapped, just broke like a rubber band pulled too tight. Eyes wide with haunted terror, he could not help jerking against the hold. The part of him took over that could not handle being held down, that was scared to death of something attacking or hurting him when he could not fight back. "No," he yelled, and immediately in a desperate panic that slurred his scream and took over his features, "No! No, stop it!" He was trapped, he was caught, he had to get away, anything could happen to him like this and he wouldn't be able to stop it; he was trapped, he was trapped, he couldn't fucking move... Not caring how hard he hit Sin or where in the process, Boyd twisted and squirmed mindlessly to get away.
Sin automatically resisted, automatically overpowered, automatically held tighter, but then Boyd began to scream in terror and something shifted. Awareness came to him all at once, through the drunken lust-filled haze. He became very still, the insane passion gone as confusion set in.
Boyd did not notice that Sin stopped, all he knew was that he was held down even tighter and he couldn't move. Every time he took a breath he could feel his shirt shifting open more, baring further the skin he let no one see, not even himself. Every move he made, he became more aware that his pants were pulled down and he was completely, utterly vulnerable. He thrashed his head back and forth, eyes nearly squeezed shut with tears falling down his cheeks. "No!" His scream was a cracking voice and desperate, heaving breaths. "No, don't touch me! Get away!"
Sin yanked away from Boyd as though he'd been burned, scrambling backwards and staring at him with a hurt, confused look. He shook his head slowly, opening his mouth to say something and then snapping it closed when his eyes fell on the same place on Boyd's neck as before. His mouth trembled; he looked like someone had stabbed him in the heart.
Sin's eyes closed for a moment, breath still coming in harsh pants.
Boyd shoved himself up immediately, curling his knees together and pulling them toward his body. He grabbed his shirt and held it closed, his arms crossed shakily over his chest as he slumped forward and breathed, breathed, tried desperately to get his thoughts together in working order but couldn't quite make it with the memory of hands holding him still and he still felt like he couldn't move, like he was going to be hurt, like he was powerless and had no control and without even realizing where the transition was he slipped into crying. He didn't see Sin's expression; he barely saw anything at all. His hair fell over his face, but his expression was not necessary to know how panicked and upset he was.
It seemed as though a shadow passed over Sin's face, making the hurt and the sadness disappear when he opened his eyes again. His features became completely cold, eyes darkening as he stared at Boyd with a mixture of anger and disgust. "Don't worry," he said softly. "Thierry has you all to himself." He got to his feet and stared down at Boyd for another moment before turning and walking out of the room.
Hunching forward, Boyd just shook his head and held himself tighter, cried a little harder. That wasn't what he meant, it wasn't what he wanted. He didn't even know what he wanted anymore. Even though he primarily thought of sleeping with Thierry as little more than a business transaction, he knew no one else saw it that way. He could tell by the way Thierry treated him and the sad, hopeful note that he truly cared for Boyd. It just made Boyd feel guilty, like he was hurting Thierry, using him for information.
Especially since he realized in the middle of it all that he felt something for Sin.
He wanted to try with Sin, too. After a night spent with someone he didn't care for but had to pretend to, he wanted to be with someone he did. He needed that connection, the knowledge that he was also able to be more than a transaction himself. But even as he tried to be with Sin, everything came crashing down. He didn't remember feeling the same terror and fear when Sin was about to kill him as he did when Sin ripped open his shirt and pulled down his pants. He didn't even bother trying to figure out what the hell that meant; he just knew that he felt shaky and afraid and couldn't understand how everything kept changing so fast. He didn't know for sure what almost happened, but it scared him that Sin almost didn't stop. Boyd was a person used to control and the few times he had lost control of the situation never seemed to bode well. Whenever that control was challenged, whenever he almost lost the tenuous hold he had on everything, it jarred him deeply. Add to that the fact that he was getting what he wanted from Sin at the same time that it came in a manner he didn't want at all, that Sin was disgusted and disappointed with him again, that he could still feel strong hands holding him down and the popping of the buttons resounding in his mind--
He didn't want to be around anyone right now; he didn't want anyone anywhere near him. The feel of even that tiny bit of air working between the fabric and his torso's skin was making him feel sick. He held his shirt closed even tighter and stumbled on shaky legs to his room. There, in the shadows that hid even his own body, he pulled the ruined button-down off and put on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of pants. When he curled underneath all the covers, he still clutched a pillow to his chest and stomach, as if to protect himself from even the air. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his heart, tried to ignore the burning of his eyes as he wanted to cry again. He didn't know why, didn't know what the hell was going through his mind, knew only that he couldn't think and everything was too much to handle right then. His head hurt from where it had hit the ground and the headache that slowly built probably could also be attributed to the way his face felt stiff with the need to cry. His dreams, when they came, were filled with darkness, confusion, heart-stopping moments when he couldn't move, and the feel of a knife piercing his stomach.
Boyd stayed in bed for a long time, keeping his eyes closed even when he realized he was fully awake. At first, he tried to understand what he felt. The morning did not hide from him the events of the previous days, whether he wanted it to or not. As he lay there, his thoughts grew darker, his skin started to crawl, and he could not understand his own thoughts as they rushed through his mind with the same speed of the blood through his body.
He understood quite quickly that the night before was like the riptide of the ocean trying to jerk him down and he could not allow himself to fall into it.
So then he lay there, trying to induce the silence in his mind that he could hear in the room surrounding him. The curtains were heavy and luxurious, but even that could not fully hide the dawning of the light, the strengthening of the day. He felt almost clammy beneath his clothing, but he did not kick off any blankets and only held the pillow harder to his chest. His stomach was protected by the pillow, his arms, the blankets; he was okay, he was fine.
More light from behind his eyelids, and finally, after what felt like a day, he could ignore it no longer. Rolling over, he checked the clock.
3:04.
He stared at it in confusion for a moment, trying to understand how it could possibly be three in the morning when he was fairly certain he stayed at Thierry's until past four. It took a moment for his overtaxed mind to realize that it was actually afternoon.
Sitting up suddenly, Boyd stared into space as his mind processed what that meant. He threw himself out of bed, movements quick. 3:04, that was bad... If they did not hurry, they would miss their flight. He moved around the room quickly, throwing everything back into his bag without looking at it properly. His clothing was wrinkled but he was incredibly thankful that he already changed the night before because he didn't think he could handle thinking about anything right then. He had to think in terms of steps for the day and would not vary from them. A plan would be his protection, the way to ward off the storm that clamored at the horizon.
It was nearly 3:15 when Boyd appeared suddenly in the main room, his hair matted and twisted from sweat and sleeping on it and he didn't want to deal with it. He looked around the room expressionlessly, and did not see Sin anywhere. Grabbing a few more items that somehow made their way into the main room he did his best to not think about what had happened the night before.
He strode to Sin's door and knocked on it loudly. "Sin," he called curtly, "Are you awake? We need to go soon or we'll miss the flight."
It took a long moment for any sounds to come from the room, but then there was a sudden clattering and what sounded like a soft swear in Chinese. There were a few more clattering noises, as though things had been knocked down and then finally feet padding across the room. The door opened and Sin looked at him from under a disarray of silky black hair. He was dramatically pale, his eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles. "Give me a minute," He muttered and the door closed abruptly.
As stupid as it was, Boyd felt his heart speed up at the brief sight of Sin, a confusing set of emotions overwhelming him for a second. He was glad that Sin shut the door before he could see Boyd's expression change into one of uncertainty. He didn't have time to think carefully through everything, figure out what it was he did and didn't feel. For most of his life, Boyd dealt with things he didn't understand or couldn't handle by running away from it in his mind. He was quite good at not thinking about something when he didn't want to; he buried it until later, when he was alone and could fully examine it all, and if he broke down at all, then no one would know.
He could not, then, even consider thinking about anything that happened last night. Every time his mind strayed toward even one sentence spoken all day or night, it started to drag him into something else. So he shut it all away and when he turned from Sin's door, his expression was the same remote, dead look that he had when they first met.
While Sin was busy, he packed up the rest of their items, making sure he missed nothing.
When Sin came out of the room again, he was fully dressed in his usual ragged clothing and carrying his bag on one shoulder. His hair was everywhere and he already had the beginnings of stubble on his face. In the light of the main room, his skin looked even pastier; his eyes redder. It was hard to say if he felt the effects of his alcohol binge, the only possible sign was the slight way his eyebrows drew together as though he were suffering from a headache.
Despite this his face was expressionless and his movements gave nothing away. He dropped his bag on the floor and glanced at Boyd. "What time is the flight?"
Boyd looked at Sin, and if his eyes lingered on the paleness of his skin and the red of his eyes, his expression gave nothing away of what he thought. He turned his back on Sin and zipped up the bag. "Six," he said in his neutrally calm voice, "but it will take awhile to get to the airport, and I do not know exactly which gate it is at."
"Okay." Sin stared at Boyd for a moment, eyes lingering longer than they needed to and then he picked up the other bag and waited silently.
Swinging his bag onto his shoulder as he turned toward the door, Boyd felt his arm muscles twinge from where Sin had gripped him and he knew there would be multiple sets of bruises. Even noting that small detail led to a Domino effect in his mind. Now, he noticed that his neck and the back of his head were sore from when Sin was slamming him around, and that made the skin on his stomach crawl as he realized that briefly, even just briefly, his chest had been exposed to sight. Now, from sleeping with Thierry he could feel the soreness of muscles unused to attention, and now, he could not help thinking about the night.
He stood very still, head held high because he was taught from childhood that he needed to look strongest when he was feeling weakest. He hadn't thought of that lesson in so long, but it was there, and it fit, and so he stood up straight with his hands loose at his sides even if he wanted one to rest over his stomach. He was tilted away from Sin and let his hair cover his expression as his eyes caught on the place Sin punched the wall next to his head the night before, the spiderweb cracks in the wall very apparent in the light of the day.
'I fucking hate you for doing this to me,' Sin's voice hissed in his mind as he stared at the dent, 'I want to hurt you... (the way you hurt me).'
"Sin," Boyd said, before he quite knew what he was doing. His voice was calm, and mostly unreadable. "About last night..." He trailed off, wanting Sin to finish the sentence rather than him.
There was a brief silence and then Sin replied, voice full of the sarcasm he used to use on Boyd, the sarcasm he used around people he didn't know or trust. "Yeah, well I figured since I wasn't being watched by cameras and I wasn't adding anything of value to the mission, why not get drunk for the first time." He smirked. "Who knew mental instability and vodka don't go well together. Lesson learned."
Boyd searched Sin's expression for a long moment, but all he saw was blasé sarcasm. "I see," he said neutrally, turning and heading for the door. "It was all a mistake."
Sin's mouth turned down in a frown when Boyd wasn't looking and for a moment he hesitated, but then he shook his head and hoisted up his other bag, expression clear of all emotions once again. "That would be an understatement." He brushed past Boyd and headed out into the hallway, muttering something about being tired of France and not wanting to miss the flight.
Boyd watched Sin sidelong as he passed, his hair mostly covering his face. He felt slighted by Sin's comment, like it was an insult somehow aimed at him, as if Sin was saying that it was such a huge mistake to even bother doing anything with him. Like Sin thought he just didn't put out, or he complained for no reason and made him lose the energy he'd built up while Boyd was gone. Like Boyd wasn't worth the effort. He didn't know exactly what he felt about it, because he didn't know entirely how to interpret Sin's comment, but he knew that he thought Sin meant that as an insult and he wanted Boyd to hear. He let Sin get ahead of him, leaving plenty of distance between them. Slipping his hands into his coat pockets by habit, he watched the ground idly as he walked and said nothing.
Three hours into the flight back, Boyd excused himself to the bathroom. In the little room with the bright lights, he looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in nearly a day. His eyes had dark rings, his face was pale, he looked in general a little sick. As he pulled his hair back to get it out of his face, something on his throat caught his attention. Eyes widening, he leaned toward the mirror and pulled his shirt fully out of the way.
Thierry... had given him a hickey.
How long was he walking around with that perfectly visible? And, Boyd realized with a start, Sin had to have seen it. Was that what he stared at the night before? He thought he remembered Sin staring at Lou's necklace at one point, but it could have been the hickey.
And he couldn't tell Boyd about it so he'd cover it up? Did he just want to embarrass him, or what? And Thierry... leaving it in the first place.
He didn't bother covering it any more than it had been before when he walked down the aisle, since then it would be obvious he didn't know it was there. Sin had his eyes closed, but Boyd highly doubted he was asleep. Although his expression remained neutral, Boyd's movements were a little sharp as he yanked his bag out from beneath his seat and returned to the bathroom. The long-sleeved shirt was replaced quickly with a long-sleeved turtleneck, and this time he did not look in the mirror.
The rest of the flight passed without incident; it was silent, slow-moving, and though separated by inches, Boyd and Sin were so remote from each other that tension could not even grow.
Continue to Ch 15 ~ Katzenjammer