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Chapter twenty-two

What’s Underneath

The next day, Niko and Elliott were both up early to prepare for the mission ahead.

As usual, Elliott wanted to make haste in taking down their next target.

This time, knowing the full context of what Hesaakan had contributed to, Niko was fully on board with moving things along as rapidly as possible.

After breakfast with the others, he suited up and spent the morning in the hangar, tightening and changing out some of the Sonadora’s parts with spare tools he kept in the ship’s cabin.

Maintaining the ship had once been one of the greatest joys of his life.

Bounty hunting had paid quite well, especially with the caliber of targets he regularly brought in.

But he’d chosen to stay in a tiny apartment with cheap furniture—something Zann had relentlessly complained about—pouring most of his income back into modding and keeping his beloved ship in pristine condition, instead.

It was fun and nostalgic to do it all again now. And it helped keep his thoughts both off the mission they were about to embark on in just a matter of hours, and fantasizing how much he wanted to choke the life out of Yerudu Hesaakan.

Satisfied the ship was in good shape after all the abuse they’d put her through lately, he stood and decided to check in on Elliott. If Niko was this enraged whenever he thought about Hesaakan, he could only imagine how the other man was feeling.

The shooting range and lounges were all empty, as was the Murder Room. Zann only shrugged when Niko questioned if he’d seen him. Finally, he checked their bedroom and found him perched on the edge of their bed.

Elliott’s slender back greeted him. His hair was a rich, deep honey gold, damp from a recent shower and hanging in heavy waves. A navy-blue t-shirt of Niko’s hung off his frame, too big for him. The sight of it made Niko’s breath catch in his throat.

Elliott had his earbuds in. Niko could barely hear his music from the doorway, and his heart ached. Time and again, Elliott had said—and shown—that he turned to the comforts of music when his anxiety was eating him alive.

He crossed the room and sank down slowly on the edge of the bed, next to Elliott.

The other man looked over at him, lovely green eyes hiding their depths away.

Elliott gave him the ghost of a smile, and Niko gladly returned it.

Niko reached out and brushed back a few golden curls, and gently plucked an earbud from his ear.

Then he put it in his own, a rich and vibrant ocean of sound washing over him now, glistening vocals buoyed by layers of reverb and a dream-haze of pop guitar.

“ Baby, I’ll be your shelter.

When the meteors come,

You can hide in me.

We’ll watch the stars fall together,

Until you’ll see

Everything that scared you can be

Beautiful, beautiful,

You’re so beautiful.

Just open up your heart to me.”

They sat side by side for a while, Kuliedi Taan—or was it Hayura?

Niko honestly couldn’t discern the difference between their music—singing a lullaby of comfort to them both.

He wondered if either of the singers had any idea the effect they had on Elliott Kestrel, the very assassin who’d crashed their duet concert debut.

That they brought him a unique sort of comfort in the dark, in the quiet.

Elliott leaned over and rested his head against Niko’s thick, armored shoulder pad.

Something about the gesture hurt—he found himself wishing he could feel and bear the weight of his touch fully, could feel the connection of skin against skin without boundaries.

He wished, above all, that he could give Elliott that comfort, too.

Eventually, the song ended and the music melted away into silence, whatever playlist or album Elliott had chosen concluded. After a moment, Niko finally spoke. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s different this time.”

“Yeah? Talk to me, babe. You can tell me.”

Elliott hesitated. He pulled out his remaining earbud, and Niko did too, setting them on the bedside table. Whatever lay within the other man was swallowed deep, struggling to get out. “I’m…” His voice quieted to barely above a whisper. “Niko, I’m terrified.”

“I’m here.”

“I hate that I’m scared. It enrages me to fear this—” He bit off his words, clearly not wanting to say ‘person’. “Creature.”

Niko opened his mouth to speak, but Elliott continued on, right over him.

He’d obviously summoned something inside himself that lay tangled, caustic, and indigestible, one of those things that if you didn’t expel it, it would burn you alive from the inside out. Niko had seen him in this mood before.

“How insulting. How humiliating. How absolutely wretched. To fear something is to give it power. Of which he deserves none. He deserves nothing. Why does he get to luxuriate in money and power, while he hurts everyone else? While he films their ruination, and misery, and pain, and death for his fucking entertainment? Why does he get to laugh at it all, just because he was born to a rich family and has wealthy ties? Why do any of them? It’s disgusting. ”

Niko nodded. “I hear you, Elliott. It is disgusting. No one should ever be allowed to do those sorts of things to another person, no matter how powerful they are. And no one should try to defend or hide that shit for them because they can be paid off, either.” He hesitated.

“I’m sorry that any of this is a reminder of what happened.

I should have talked to you about it, first. I wasn’t thinking.

I should have made sure you were okay with it.

But I can’t… I can’t tolerate him living another day.

I can’t, Elliott. Now that I know, I think it’s time this sick animal is put down. ”

“No. You were right. It’s time. It’s long past time, actually. He’ll get what’s coming to him. Though he doesn’t deserve the mercy of a fast death.”

“I see red even thinking about that fucked up asshole. It’s taken everything I have not to just go out there and fuck him up myself.”

A small smile graced Elliott’s lips. “Thank you, Niko. For caring about me. For being angry for me. It’s… nice.”

“It’s okay to be scared. It is. It’s not insulting to be.

These people hurt you. They did more than that.

They changed your entire life, and you’re still recovering.

They took something from you. And they took your sister.

It’s okay to feel any way you need to. There’s no one right way to… to grieve, or to heal, or to process.”

“Most people might argue a galaxy-wide murder-spree isn’t the best coping method,” Elliott deadpanned.

Niko couldn’t help but smile, despite the gravity of the situation. “Okay, yeah, maybe not. But you can’t argue they didn’t have it coming, either.”

“I won’t argue that, no.”

“Elliott, we’re almost done now. We’re going to make it through this.

You got people to finally listen to you and see the truth of the abuse that’s really going on.

Honeybliss can’t hide anymore. And you have friends.

You have allies. More than that, you have a family now.

We’re not going to abandon you, like everyone else did.

We’re going to take care of you. I’m going to take care of you.

“I care about you, Elliott. I care so fucking much. Whatever happens from here on out, it’s the two of us, and I have your back. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. They’ll have to go through me, first.”

Elliott’s smile returned. “Yes, I suppose they will, won’t they? Somehow, after everything, you’re still here.”

“And I’ll always be. The only place I want to be is at your side.”

They stayed like that, simply existing together as the minutes trickled away from them. Niko knew him, knew he was likely spiraling into overthinking. “Let me distract you. Do you want to train for a while?”

Elliott remained silent, his eyes searching Niko’s a moment. Niko could sense the change, the thought behind his gaze. His pupils grew into dark, wide pools, vanquishing away some of the sea-green. The cadence of his breathing grew a little more rapid.

“No, I don’t want to train.”

Before Niko could speak, Elliott leaned in and took up his mouth in a kiss, needy and demanding, molten sugar and spice. Niko emitted a soft, muffled sound, involuntary, greedy.

Elliott pulled back long enough to murmur, breathless, “I want you.”

Niko searched the other man with his gaze, before leaning in and meeting him in another kiss, and then another.

He was delighted to oblige, eager to help distract his boyfriend from everything they were about to face down together, the creeping dark of memories that undoubtedly cut him like shards of broken glass.

Niko couldn’t get enough of him. Elliott cupped his cheek in his hand and stroked his thumb along it.

He climbed into Niko’s lap, straddling him now, and kissed him with a hot passion along his jaw, his neck, sending goosebumps trailing along Niko’s skin beneath the suit. Niko cupped the other man’s ass, but Elliott reached behind himself and removed his gloved hands. He held them in his own.

“Niko,” he breathed, touching their foreheads together. “I want what’s underneath.”

“It’s yours,” Niko said. “It’s all yours. It always has been.”

Elliott began to unlatch the gloves, but Niko stopped him. He removed them himself instead, carefully, slowly, freeing the calloused hands beneath, with their countless stories told through old tattoos.

Niko touched Elliott everywhere, greedy for the connection he could feel with his own bare hands now.

Then he reached up for his shoulder pads, unfastening one, then the other, letting them fall to the floor beside the bed, the weight of them no longer bearing down on him.

Elliott pressed a warm, liquid kiss to his lips, moaning softly into Niko’s mouth. Niko wanted to melt into him.