Mortal Hearts
By Juli
December 1998
Part 2/9
For disclaimer and warnings, see Part 1.
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Damn, if it hadn't worked!
Nick Boyle even didn't try to stifle his grin of triumph as he watched his lover close his presentation to the thunderous applause of the audience. The young man had told Derek that this stiff, Giroud, was a coward, that the old goat always waited until those with true intelligence had discussed a topic before offering his own opinion.
At Nick's advice, the Dutchman had singled Giroud out at the *beginning* of the question/answer period following the presentation, before Giroud had a chance to hear his colleague's opinions on Derek's research. And with typical Rayne charm, the Precept had done it in such a way that Giroud couldn't refuse. Watching Derek's nemesis stammer through his incomprehensible commentary, it was obvious to all present that the man hadn't even had the wit to grasp Derek's theory on the rise of satanic cultism among young runaway teens, let alone have the intelligence to refute it. It was a victorious moment for Dr. Derek Rayne, not to mention his academic tactician.
Now that the presentation was finally over, Nick found that he was hungry. Post- stress did that to him. The American grinned as he realized that if Alex were there, she'd also remind him that post-exercise, post-sleep, and post-just-about-anything gave him an appetite. The ex-SEAL glanced up at the raised dias where his lover was seated, but found Derek surrounded by his enthusiastic academic associates. The ex-SEAL knew that Derek deserved this moment in the spotlight. Not only for this most recent research, but for all of the outstanding Legacy work that the Precept did. The public would never know of Derek's more supernatural labors, let alone be able to acknowledge them, so the Dutchman deserved every bit of attention that he was getting for this......and then some. Realizing that the Precept might be awhile, Nick quietly exited the lecture hall and went out to the lobby where a buffet had been set up for the conference's morning break. When he was ready, Derek would know to look for him where the food was available.
Nick was glad that the international nature of the conference caused the organizers to have a buffet that catered to all types of tastes. Well, they didn't have oyster omelets, but not everywhere could be as cosmopolitan as San Francisco. The ex- SEAL was balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and a plate of bakery goods in the other when he realized that his name badge had disappeared. Looking around, he spied it on the floor around the far end of the buffet. Blasted thing must have caught on something when he leaned in to get the last scone. Conceding that his sense of equilibrium could not handle a plate and hot cup while bending to retrieve the plastic badge, Nick quickly positioned both of the food items on a nearby chair before going back for his i.d. In the meantime, the next person in line had accidentally kicked the badge so that it was now under the table. Nick grimaced. He wasn't a clotheshorse, but neither was the young American at all pleased about rummaging around on the floor in his new outfit.
While the young man was stooped down and digging around for the badge, he was out of sight of the rest of the conference attendees. A fact for which Nick was profoundly grateful--while the young man didn't mind *Derek* seeing him on his hands and knees, it wasn't exactly a position in which he wanted the rest of the world to see him. Even as he found the wayward badge, the ex-SEAL's ears perked up at hearing his lover's name. Some of the other attendees, not seeing Nick half-way under the table, were discussing Derek. Eavesdropping wasn't a skill taught by the Navy, but Nick's SEAL training had prepared him to use any opportunity that came his way. The young man settled back in his protected spot and listened, hoping to hear some complement about Derek that he could pass on to the Dutchman.
Unfortunately, Nick forgot that concealed listeners sometimes hear things that they'd be better off not knowing.
"Did you see what Rayne brought with him this time?" The man had a French accent, but Nick didn't recognize the voice.
"No, but I'm assuming that you're not talking about his cult research?" This voice had an Italian lilt to it and belonged to a woman.
"A sailor boy!"
"You're kidding!" The woman sounded more amused than shocked.
"No--and he's even younger than the last one." Nick was sure he couldn't have heard that right. The "last one?" How many lovers had Derek brought to these conferences anyway?
"You know 'Randy Rayne,'" the woman's voice had gone from amused to vicious. "Can't keep them off with a stick--not that the man ever tries!"
In shock, Nick settled back to the floor as the voices moved off. "Sailor boy," "the last one," and "Randy Rayne" kept running through his mind, as though the unidentified speakers' words were a poison running through his veins. He'd thought that he was special to Derek--that what he had with the older man was unique.
Wasn't it?
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Derek propped himself up on his elbow and watched the young man next to him feign sleep. As the moonlight fell through their hotel room window, it's cold, pale light illuminated the planes on the ex-SEAL's face. Cold and pale. Derek reflected that those words described Nick's demeanor this afternoon as well as they depicted the moon's beams.
At first, Derek thought Nick's mood had soured because the older man had been mobbed after completing his presentation. Certainly the American had been all smiles as Derek was taking his bows. But by the time Derek had broken free of his crowd of admirers and rejoined the ex-SEAL, the young man had been quiet and withdrawn. Derek had apologized profusely for abandoning his lover, but Nick had just shrugged it off.
Thinking that the normally active man might be tired of all of the stodgy academic talk, Derek had then suggested that Nick blow off the rest of the afternoon's program and get some fresh air. Nick had shrugged off that suggestion as well. The Dutchman's pleasure at having the young man at his side diminished as he realized that his lover was present physically, but mentally, the American was a million miles away. Unease turned to worry when the ex-SEAL only picked at his lunch. It was for good reason that Nick's Legacy colleagues teased him about his voracious appetite. An un-hungry Nick usually spelled trouble.
Since neither of them were sleeping, the Precept decided he might as well try to figure out what was troubling the younger man. "What's wrong, love?"
Nick opened one eye and glared at him. "Can't you see I'm sleepin' here?"
"Oh, I see you all right. I've seen you sleep before too and, trust me, you're not even close. Nick, please, we've always been able to talk before....."
Nick bit his lip, looking at the moment much younger than his 25 years. "Derek, you come to these conferences a lot, don't you?"
"Yes. As often as Legacy work permits."
The young man turned to his side as well, so that the two lovers were face-to-face. "Why did you want me to come with you this time?"
"Simple, love. Because I wanted to spend time with you."
"That's all?"
Derek was tempted to make a light-hearted answer, but something in Nick's tone warned the older man that this was an important question. "'That's *all*?' Don't dismiss it so quickly, Nick! I enjoy being with you, as often as I can, any*where* I can. I simply couldn't contemplate being separated from you for a week, not right now."
As Derek spoke, Nick had been intently staring into the Dutchman's eyes. Apparently satisfied at what he saw there, the young man crept forward to close the distance between them and allowed his lover to enfold him into an embrace.
"I'm sorry." With his face pressed against Derek's chest, Nick's voice came out unusually small and muffled.
"What for?" Now! Maybe they'd finally get to the bottom of this mess.
"For listening to those asses in the first place......" Derek became more horrified by the moment as Nick's described the conversation he'd overheard. Great. This was precisely what Nick did *not* need to happen at this stage of their relationship--to made out as a pretty "toy boy."
When Nick's story was complete, Derek simply held him a moment before asking, "If you heard their voices again, would you recognize them?"
"Yeah, I suppose. Why?"
"Because you and I are going to spend the rest of the conference tracking those two gossip-mongers down......."
Nick lifted his head from where it had been resting on Derek's shoulder. "And then what?"
"Then I'm going to beat the crap out of them."
The ex-SEAL's eyes bugged out. This was *Derek* talking?! The Precept took in his lover's surprise calmly. "What did you think I was going to do to someone who spoke about you that way? Kiss them?"
Slowly, Nick's surprise turned to satisfaction. "Well, when you put it that way......" His mood considerably lighter, Nick leaned up to engage Derek's mouth in a hungry kiss. The Dutchman responded in kind and the kisses soon lead to amorous caresses.
Things were proceeding nicely until Derek started to laugh. Trying to decide if he wanted to laugh along with his lover or throttle him for interrupting their tryst, Nick finally asked, "What's so funny?"
"I just realized who they were talking about."
"Run that by me again?"
"Our anonymous slanderers. When he said that you were 'younger than the last one.'" I figured out who he was referring to....."
When he realized that his lover wasn't going to continue without prompting, Nick slapped Derek on the shoulder. "Okay, I give. Who?"
"Philip."
"Wha--! Phillip?"
"Don't you remember? Last year the conference was held in Rome. Phillip was doing some upper level training in Vatican City at the time, so he met me at the conference for a day or two. He said the Vatican was getting too stuffy for him and an academic meeting would be 'a breath of fresh air.' As I recall, he didn't even dress as a priest......"
Nick's grin turned into a chuckle as he imagined Phillip's chagrin when he learned that he'd been mistaken for Derek's lover. "I can't wait to tell him."
"Nick, don't you dare--Phillip has enough on his plate right now!"
"Gimme a reason not to," the ex-SEAL challenged, the mischievous sparkle back in his eye.
Which Derek did--no less than three times that night, not only sealing Nick's silence with regard's to Father Callaghan's dignity, but also insuring that the Precept wouldn't be the only one with a tender bottom for the next day or two.
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In the end, Derek didn't really beat up the two gossips. He did worse--he took away their funding. The Luna Foundation endowed a lot of sociological and archeology-related research. After Nick identified the two he'd overheard (researchers of middling talents, but whose spheres of study tangentially touched on areas of interest to the Legacy), it was child's play to contact Alex and stop all future funding for the guilty parties. As a private organization, the Luna Foundation didn't *have* to give a reason for refusing all future funding requests, but if these two ever had the gall to ask, they would get an earful from the Precept. Derek knew it was petty, but then, when you got right down to it, so was prejudice.
As the Dutchman watched his American lover finish packing his duffle bag, he noted the paleness of Nick's face and the hint of dark circles under his eyes. Damn. After identifying the two he'd overheard, Nick had done his best to convince Derek that he'd put the hateful words behind him, that he wasn't bothered by how his lover's "esteemed colleagues" had described him. But even without his gift of special sight, Derek was sensitive enough to the young man's moods to know that Nick was still deeply troubled. The Precept was doubly glad that, when he'd called to make arrangements with Alex about the gossipers' funding, he'd made additional arrangements for Nick and himself.
"Well, I think that about does it." Even as he uttered the words, Nick was looking around to make sure that they hadn't forgotten something. "What time does the plane leave?"
Derek looked at his watch. "If it was on schedule, about five minutes ago."
"What?"
"Since we weren't going to be using the plane right away, Sloan recalled it back in London. The Legacy only has so many jets, you know." Derek thought the confusion now in Nick's face was better than the pensive expression he'd been wearing for the past couple of days.
"Why aren't *we* using it? I mean, aren't we going back to San Francisco?"
"Well, yes, eventually.........."
"Oh, great! What happen--did Sloan find an assignment that we just *had* to take on while we were here? The Loch Ness monster show up or something?" After the roller coaster of emotions attending this conference had caused, Nick was prepared for the worst and his mood abruptly went from pensive to pissy.
Derek held up his hands in mock surrender, acknowledging Nick's sudden anger. "It's not that at all. It's just that I thought, as long as we're in the area anyway, we could drive down the coast to Glasmonadh. One of my old classmates at Oxford was telling me about a new discovery there. An archeology professor on holiday stumbled on to something and I thought you might enjoy checking it out."
Upon hearing that the manipulative Sloan wasn't behind this delay, Nick calmed down a bit but remained suspicious. "Is this thing outside?"
"Well, yes....."
"Derek, it's Scotland. It's January. It *rains* in Scotland in January. How much fun would tramping around in the cold be?"
"Ah-hah!" Derek's bemused smile turned into a grin. "Did I mention the cottage that I've rented? A *private* cottage?"
Nick snorted, not at all impressed, and went to check the bathroom for any items that might have missed being packed.
"Did I mention it has a featherbed *and* a fireplace?"
"Featherbed?" Nick popped his head out of the bathroom, suddenly a lot more interested in Derek's proposition.
The Precept's grin turned absolutely lecherous. Nick didn't have many weaknesses, Jonathan Boyle and the Navy had seen to that, but Derek knew them all. His young love was a sucker for a soft bed and the Dutchman was eagerly looking forward to sucking his lover *on* a soft bed....... Wrapped up in his mental imagery, Derek became distracted--a potentially fatal mistake with a fully trained SEAL in the room.
Whomp!
Nick had taken advantage of Derek's momentary lapse and ambushed his lover. The two landed on the hotel bed, with Nick on top and planted firmly on Derek's body. The ex-SEAL used his tactical advantage to pin the Dutchman's arms above his head.
"Did you say something about a featherbed?"
"Oh, I think the caretaker might have said *something* about it. Who knows, if the weather's *too* wet, we might not be able to venture outside the cottage at all." Derek opened his eyes extra wide and batted his eyelashes, giving Nick his best innocent expression. The American wasn't fooled for a minute.
"You sadist! You had this planned all along!" Nick began tickling Derek, proving that the older man wasn't the only one who knew his lover's weaknesses. "I'll teach you to make me think we were gonna have to do Legacy business out in this mucky weather!"
Laughing, Derek twisted and suddenly the ex-SEAL was the one pinned. Both men grinned at each other for a moment, reveling in this rare romp. As Nick's tickling strokes along Derek's side became firmer and more lingering, the bigger man leaned in for a passionate kiss. Soon both bodies were twisting and intertwining on the bed.
The two were so engrossed in one another that they didn't hear the polite knock on the door or even notice when it was opened by a member of the hotel's housekeeping staff. The mature, rather stout, woman who entered was treated to quite an eyeful. Entranced by the sight of the lovers pleasuring one another, she watched for a heartbeat or two before tip-toeing out the door and softly closing it behind her. Digging around in her cart of cleaning supplies, the maid found an extra "Do Not Disturb" sign. She took a moment to fan her flushed face with the cardboard placard before placing it on the knob of the door she had just exited. Smiling from ear to ear and shaking her head fondly, she pushed her cart to the next room down the hall.
And her friends wondered why she kept this job!
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