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FIC: Tetrahedron (3/4)
Title: Tetrahedron [part 3 of 4]
Crossover: The Island/Eastern Promises
Pairing: Merrick/Luzhin
Rating: NC-17 overall
Author: Alex
Warning: Issues of consent
Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
seans_50 July film challenge.
Beta: the most excellent![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kimberlite.
Disclaimer: Merrick and Luzhin are not my property. Written for love alone.
part 1
part 2
*
Not even the opulence of his office could surpass Merrick’s home for style and splendor. It perched on the edge of the desert, half built into the hills, set nearly a mile back from the road, and scarcely noticeable from the air. The staff was superbly efficient and invisible, coming and going while he was at the office, and well-paid for their skill and discretion. His favorite foods were always in the kitchen and pantry, his clothes were always scrupulously organized, and the house itself a paragon of cleanliness and order. Every long Italian leather sofa, polished Boulle cabinet, Schiele drawing, copper-bottomed pot, creamy bath soap, and Egyptian cotton pillowcase was a study in luxury and comfort.
He turned over in the pool, backstroking lazily toward the edge, reveling in the cool silkiness of the water. Dimmed lights set into the pool threw shimmering turquoise wavelets across the glassy surface. The roof overhead was retracted to display the brilliance of the night sky. There was so little light pollution out here that the stars looked like a careless spray of diamonds across a bolt of jeweler’s velvet. He relaxed, floating, letting the water carry him closer and closer to the edge.
At last he climbed out of the pool and padded across the rough tile floor to the shower. He peeled off his wet swimsuit and stood naked beneath the warm spray. The day’s little headaches had finally begun to evaporate. The Defense Department was beginning to press for faster production, and it had taken Merrick most of the day to persuade them that faster production naturally demanded faster payment. Government ministries, like most exceedingly wealthy clients, preferred to pay on their own schedule, when they paid at all. The undersecretary who’d come to lean on Merrick Biotech had intimated that at least part of his services should be gratis. Merrick had done him the courtesy of not laughing in his face. In the end, it had worked out to everyone’s ostensible satisfaction. The DOD had promised to pay on time, though not going so far as to make a deposit, and Merrick had promised to promote the priority of DOD agnates. Neither party was altogether sincere, but that was business, after all.
Merrick tilted his head to rinse the chlorine from his hair and heard a buzzing. He shut the spray off, frowning. The buzzing sounded again. He strode naked to his intercom system and hit the call button. “Yes?” He clicked on the video feed, annoyed. It had to be Jerome Fisher, that little toady, or someone on his auxiliary team; Merrick’s address was unknown to most of the Biotech staff, and Fisher was incapable of giving Merrick the two days’ peace he needed. By all rights he should leave him out there to squirm.
The silhouetted figure in the car – a late-model American car, perfectly ordinary-looking – didn’t look like Fisher. Merrick scowled harder and leaned close to the call mic. “Turn your overhead light on, please.” He wasn’t afraid of intruders. The cattle grid and wiring that fenced off his property was electrified, there were tire spikes embedded in the road that could be switched on by thumbing a button, and he could defend himself if necessary – but still, he valued his privacy and disliked having it violated.
The overhead light went on, illuminating the sharp features of Nikolai Luzhin.
Well, well, well. Merrick hit the call button again. “Mr. Luzhin, this is an unexpected pleasure.” There was no point in asking how he’d been found. Luzhin was FSB, after all.
“May I speak with you?”
Merrick had to admire the man – he came right to the point. “Since you’ve clearly driven all this way, certainly. Just stay on the path, please.” He pushed the cattle grid release, watched as the light went off, then went to a chair to retrieve his toweling robe. He thought about hurrying to dress, then decided not to. Luzhin could take him as he found him. He slipped on the robe, found his glasses in his pocket, and put them on. He ran a comb through his hair, tied the belt of the robe, and strolled to the front door in time to see Luzhin’s car, tires crunching through the gravel, rolling to a stop.
Luzhin emerged from the car, neatly dressed in a deep grey suit and tie in defiance of the heat that hadn’t yet bled from the day. He was without his dark glasses, but his eyes were as opaque as marble. He stopped a short distance from Merrick and nodded. “Good evening, Dr. Merrick.”
Merrick found himself smiling at the man’s formality. “Good evening, Mr. Luzhin.”
Luzhin hesitated, taking in Merrick’s dishabille. “I am disturbing you, it seems.”
Merrick’s smile tilted. “Mr. Luzhin, I could not fail to offer hospitality to someone who’s made such a strenuous effort to find me.” Luzhin’s face changed for a split second – he looked saddened, could that possibly be? – and Merrick felt a pang at the slip in his self-control. “You’re not disturbing me at all, as it happens. Please come in.” He stood aside, noting Luzhin’s cautious footsteps, the way his gaze swept the room without seeming obvious or rude. Perhaps it was an occupational trick, or perhaps Nikolai Luzhin was a kindred spirit, one of those who observed and calculated before acting.
Merrick walked ahead of Luzhin, leaving him to stay behind or follow as he pleased. Luzhin followed at a slower pace. “I was just about to have a drink, Mr. Luzhin. May I offer you one?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Any preference?” Merrick opened the freezer and pulled out a bottle of Rodnik.
Luzhin eyed the vodka appreciatively. “That will be fine.”
Merrick threw cracked ice into two glasses and poured. He offered Luzhin one glass and held up his own. “Na zdorovie.”
“Na zdorovie,” Luzhin replied. Their glasses touched, a crystalline shiver of sound, and they drank.
Merrick savored the smooth, syrupy liquid as it trickled over his tongue and down his throat. “Your Directorate presented this vodka to me as a gift last year. I’ve become something of a devotee.”
“The Directorate understands the importance of valuable gifts.”
“Which, I suppose, is the reason you’re here.” Merrick took another swallow and moved out of the kitchen. “Come along, Mr. Luzhin.” He led Luzhin into his study, indicated a comfortable chair, and waited until Luzhin was settled until he sat himself. “Mr. Luzhin, before we embark upon a weighty discussion, I must tell you that the FSB does not provide every agent with an agnate. Nor is every recipient informed that he is a sponsor. Therefore I feel it’s my duty to impress upon you the honor of the position you hold.”
“An honor.”
“That’s correct. The directorate prizes you highly enough to want to keep you alive and healthy for a long, long time. Now – I’m sure you have questions, concerns. I understand that this is the sort of revelation that can take some time to sink in.” Merrick sat back, gazing at Luzhin’s still, composed figure. Three-Alpha had a quality of stillness about him, almost untapped, but present nonetheless. He had the same serene blue-grey gaze, when he wasn’t smiling. Luzhin’s spare, almost austere frame was a contrast to Three-Alpha’s youthful muscularity, but the length of limb was the same, the fine, high cheekbones, the straight nose. How alike they were, naturally...and how different. The entire issue of environment versus heredity seemed delicately balanced in Luzhin and his agnate.
Were there other similarities?
Abruptly, Merrick stood. The fleeting notion of Nikolai Luzhin naked on his bed made him uncomfortably aware that his cock was stirring – had been, in fact, since the moment he’d recognized Luzhin’s face. Could Luzhin tell? He turned away to hide the flush that crept up his neck and fingered a dustless volume of Mondrian plates. The man’s silence was unsettling. “You’re a man of few words, Mr. Luzhin. Have you no questions at all?”
“No, Dr. Merrick. No questions. I came to determine for myself what sort of man you are.”
“Well. That can hardly be determined in a single evening, can it?” Merrick laughed uneasily. “Or on a single visit? Still, if you want to know anything, you have only to ask.”
Luzhin rose as well, and began to examine Merrick’s bookshelves. “I have often found that a man’s taste in reading reveals much.” He drew a blunt finger across one shelf. “Chekhov. Gogol. Pushkin.” He lifted an eyebrow; his forehead laddered into deep but oddly pleasing lines.
“Every foible of the human condition can be found in Chekhov,” Merrick said. He watched Luzhin’s firm mouth and repressed a shudder of desire. “Read Chekhov and you understand the world. There are no more surprises.”
“Yes?” Luzhin examined more spines. “Michelangelo,” he said softly. “Raphael. Rodin. Velazquez. Durer. Titian.” He looked up at Merrick. “So much art, Dr. Merrick. So many permutations of the human body.”
It felt like a criticism, but the words were as silken as a caress. “Yes. Hundreds of permutations, Mr. Luzhin. Each one beautiful in its own right.”
Luzhin picked up a small photograph and scrutinized it. He glanced at Merrick. “How old are you in this picture, Doctor?”
It was a familiar enough photograph to know by heart, but Merrick stepped close to Luzhin just the same. He inhaled the mingled fragrance of soap and warm skin, and a faint aroma of tobacco. “Five.”
“And this – a brother, yes?”
“A twin.”
“How fortunate you are, to have a twin.”
“He died when we were still children,” Merrick said. Gently, he took the photograph and placed it back on the bookshelf. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here, Mr. Luzhin?” His lips were close to Luzhin’s ear. A half inch closer, and they would be near enough to kiss.
Luzhin turned and, reaching up with both hands, carefully removed Merrick’s glasses. He rested his fingertips against Merrick’s cheek, brushing back and forth, the pads of his fingertips rasping a slow trail down Merrick’s throat. “I think we both know why I’m here.”
Merrick stood quite still as Luzhin set his glasses down, then untied the belt of his robe, parted it, and closed the distance between them. A soft gasp escaped him as his erect cock rubbed against the fine wool of Luzhin’s trousers. Luzhin was as hard as he was.
“Where is your bedroom, Dr. Merrick?”
Merrick barely found the strength to speak. He tilted his head in the general direction of the bedroom. “This way.”
*
It had been years – literal years – since he’d allowed someone else to take the lead in bed. With Nikolai Luzhin, it seemed utterly natural, somehow, to yield, to allow Luzhin to cover his body with kisses and careful nips, to allow himself to be spread out on his back with his thighs sprawled apart, his cock standing to attention as Luzhin traced the tip of his tongue round and round the head until he heard himself begging incoherently, felt himself ready to spill. It seemed completely right to let himself be put to his belly, to have his legs forced open, his arse in the air, and to let Luzhin ride him harder than he’d ever been ridden as he moaned helplessly, biting on a tangle of crumpled sheets. He let himself be used, bent over, filled and stretched and fucked roughly. There were few words between them; Luzhin grunted unintelligible phrases in Russian as he twined his fingers in Merrick’s hair and pulled as if he were curbing a recalcitrant horse. There was justice in it that Luzhin would never understand, and as he drifted off to sleep, he mused wearily on that justice, and on symmetry, and on the hard, lean planes of Nikolai Luzhin’s body, so like Three-Alpha’s, so different.
*
When he awoke, Luzhin was gone.
to be concluded
Crossover: The Island/Eastern Promises
Pairing: Merrick/Luzhin
Rating: NC-17 overall
Author: Alex
Warning: Issues of consent
Written for the
seans_50 July film challenge.Beta: the most excellent
kimberlite.Disclaimer: Merrick and Luzhin are not my property. Written for love alone.
part 1
part 2
*
Not even the opulence of his office could surpass Merrick’s home for style and splendor. It perched on the edge of the desert, half built into the hills, set nearly a mile back from the road, and scarcely noticeable from the air. The staff was superbly efficient and invisible, coming and going while he was at the office, and well-paid for their skill and discretion. His favorite foods were always in the kitchen and pantry, his clothes were always scrupulously organized, and the house itself a paragon of cleanliness and order. Every long Italian leather sofa, polished Boulle cabinet, Schiele drawing, copper-bottomed pot, creamy bath soap, and Egyptian cotton pillowcase was a study in luxury and comfort.
He turned over in the pool, backstroking lazily toward the edge, reveling in the cool silkiness of the water. Dimmed lights set into the pool threw shimmering turquoise wavelets across the glassy surface. The roof overhead was retracted to display the brilliance of the night sky. There was so little light pollution out here that the stars looked like a careless spray of diamonds across a bolt of jeweler’s velvet. He relaxed, floating, letting the water carry him closer and closer to the edge.
At last he climbed out of the pool and padded across the rough tile floor to the shower. He peeled off his wet swimsuit and stood naked beneath the warm spray. The day’s little headaches had finally begun to evaporate. The Defense Department was beginning to press for faster production, and it had taken Merrick most of the day to persuade them that faster production naturally demanded faster payment. Government ministries, like most exceedingly wealthy clients, preferred to pay on their own schedule, when they paid at all. The undersecretary who’d come to lean on Merrick Biotech had intimated that at least part of his services should be gratis. Merrick had done him the courtesy of not laughing in his face. In the end, it had worked out to everyone’s ostensible satisfaction. The DOD had promised to pay on time, though not going so far as to make a deposit, and Merrick had promised to promote the priority of DOD agnates. Neither party was altogether sincere, but that was business, after all.
Merrick tilted his head to rinse the chlorine from his hair and heard a buzzing. He shut the spray off, frowning. The buzzing sounded again. He strode naked to his intercom system and hit the call button. “Yes?” He clicked on the video feed, annoyed. It had to be Jerome Fisher, that little toady, or someone on his auxiliary team; Merrick’s address was unknown to most of the Biotech staff, and Fisher was incapable of giving Merrick the two days’ peace he needed. By all rights he should leave him out there to squirm.
The silhouetted figure in the car – a late-model American car, perfectly ordinary-looking – didn’t look like Fisher. Merrick scowled harder and leaned close to the call mic. “Turn your overhead light on, please.” He wasn’t afraid of intruders. The cattle grid and wiring that fenced off his property was electrified, there were tire spikes embedded in the road that could be switched on by thumbing a button, and he could defend himself if necessary – but still, he valued his privacy and disliked having it violated.
The overhead light went on, illuminating the sharp features of Nikolai Luzhin.
Well, well, well. Merrick hit the call button again. “Mr. Luzhin, this is an unexpected pleasure.” There was no point in asking how he’d been found. Luzhin was FSB, after all.
“May I speak with you?”
Merrick had to admire the man – he came right to the point. “Since you’ve clearly driven all this way, certainly. Just stay on the path, please.” He pushed the cattle grid release, watched as the light went off, then went to a chair to retrieve his toweling robe. He thought about hurrying to dress, then decided not to. Luzhin could take him as he found him. He slipped on the robe, found his glasses in his pocket, and put them on. He ran a comb through his hair, tied the belt of the robe, and strolled to the front door in time to see Luzhin’s car, tires crunching through the gravel, rolling to a stop.
Luzhin emerged from the car, neatly dressed in a deep grey suit and tie in defiance of the heat that hadn’t yet bled from the day. He was without his dark glasses, but his eyes were as opaque as marble. He stopped a short distance from Merrick and nodded. “Good evening, Dr. Merrick.”
Merrick found himself smiling at the man’s formality. “Good evening, Mr. Luzhin.”
Luzhin hesitated, taking in Merrick’s dishabille. “I am disturbing you, it seems.”
Merrick’s smile tilted. “Mr. Luzhin, I could not fail to offer hospitality to someone who’s made such a strenuous effort to find me.” Luzhin’s face changed for a split second – he looked saddened, could that possibly be? – and Merrick felt a pang at the slip in his self-control. “You’re not disturbing me at all, as it happens. Please come in.” He stood aside, noting Luzhin’s cautious footsteps, the way his gaze swept the room without seeming obvious or rude. Perhaps it was an occupational trick, or perhaps Nikolai Luzhin was a kindred spirit, one of those who observed and calculated before acting.
Merrick walked ahead of Luzhin, leaving him to stay behind or follow as he pleased. Luzhin followed at a slower pace. “I was just about to have a drink, Mr. Luzhin. May I offer you one?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Any preference?” Merrick opened the freezer and pulled out a bottle of Rodnik.
Luzhin eyed the vodka appreciatively. “That will be fine.”
Merrick threw cracked ice into two glasses and poured. He offered Luzhin one glass and held up his own. “Na zdorovie.”
“Na zdorovie,” Luzhin replied. Their glasses touched, a crystalline shiver of sound, and they drank.
Merrick savored the smooth, syrupy liquid as it trickled over his tongue and down his throat. “Your Directorate presented this vodka to me as a gift last year. I’ve become something of a devotee.”
“The Directorate understands the importance of valuable gifts.”
“Which, I suppose, is the reason you’re here.” Merrick took another swallow and moved out of the kitchen. “Come along, Mr. Luzhin.” He led Luzhin into his study, indicated a comfortable chair, and waited until Luzhin was settled until he sat himself. “Mr. Luzhin, before we embark upon a weighty discussion, I must tell you that the FSB does not provide every agent with an agnate. Nor is every recipient informed that he is a sponsor. Therefore I feel it’s my duty to impress upon you the honor of the position you hold.”
“An honor.”
“That’s correct. The directorate prizes you highly enough to want to keep you alive and healthy for a long, long time. Now – I’m sure you have questions, concerns. I understand that this is the sort of revelation that can take some time to sink in.” Merrick sat back, gazing at Luzhin’s still, composed figure. Three-Alpha had a quality of stillness about him, almost untapped, but present nonetheless. He had the same serene blue-grey gaze, when he wasn’t smiling. Luzhin’s spare, almost austere frame was a contrast to Three-Alpha’s youthful muscularity, but the length of limb was the same, the fine, high cheekbones, the straight nose. How alike they were, naturally...and how different. The entire issue of environment versus heredity seemed delicately balanced in Luzhin and his agnate.
Were there other similarities?
Abruptly, Merrick stood. The fleeting notion of Nikolai Luzhin naked on his bed made him uncomfortably aware that his cock was stirring – had been, in fact, since the moment he’d recognized Luzhin’s face. Could Luzhin tell? He turned away to hide the flush that crept up his neck and fingered a dustless volume of Mondrian plates. The man’s silence was unsettling. “You’re a man of few words, Mr. Luzhin. Have you no questions at all?”
“No, Dr. Merrick. No questions. I came to determine for myself what sort of man you are.”
“Well. That can hardly be determined in a single evening, can it?” Merrick laughed uneasily. “Or on a single visit? Still, if you want to know anything, you have only to ask.”
Luzhin rose as well, and began to examine Merrick’s bookshelves. “I have often found that a man’s taste in reading reveals much.” He drew a blunt finger across one shelf. “Chekhov. Gogol. Pushkin.” He lifted an eyebrow; his forehead laddered into deep but oddly pleasing lines.
“Every foible of the human condition can be found in Chekhov,” Merrick said. He watched Luzhin’s firm mouth and repressed a shudder of desire. “Read Chekhov and you understand the world. There are no more surprises.”
“Yes?” Luzhin examined more spines. “Michelangelo,” he said softly. “Raphael. Rodin. Velazquez. Durer. Titian.” He looked up at Merrick. “So much art, Dr. Merrick. So many permutations of the human body.”
It felt like a criticism, but the words were as silken as a caress. “Yes. Hundreds of permutations, Mr. Luzhin. Each one beautiful in its own right.”
Luzhin picked up a small photograph and scrutinized it. He glanced at Merrick. “How old are you in this picture, Doctor?”
It was a familiar enough photograph to know by heart, but Merrick stepped close to Luzhin just the same. He inhaled the mingled fragrance of soap and warm skin, and a faint aroma of tobacco. “Five.”
“And this – a brother, yes?”
“A twin.”
“How fortunate you are, to have a twin.”
“He died when we were still children,” Merrick said. Gently, he took the photograph and placed it back on the bookshelf. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here, Mr. Luzhin?” His lips were close to Luzhin’s ear. A half inch closer, and they would be near enough to kiss.
Luzhin turned and, reaching up with both hands, carefully removed Merrick’s glasses. He rested his fingertips against Merrick’s cheek, brushing back and forth, the pads of his fingertips rasping a slow trail down Merrick’s throat. “I think we both know why I’m here.”
Merrick stood quite still as Luzhin set his glasses down, then untied the belt of his robe, parted it, and closed the distance between them. A soft gasp escaped him as his erect cock rubbed against the fine wool of Luzhin’s trousers. Luzhin was as hard as he was.
“Where is your bedroom, Dr. Merrick?”
Merrick barely found the strength to speak. He tilted his head in the general direction of the bedroom. “This way.”
*
It had been years – literal years – since he’d allowed someone else to take the lead in bed. With Nikolai Luzhin, it seemed utterly natural, somehow, to yield, to allow Luzhin to cover his body with kisses and careful nips, to allow himself to be spread out on his back with his thighs sprawled apart, his cock standing to attention as Luzhin traced the tip of his tongue round and round the head until he heard himself begging incoherently, felt himself ready to spill. It seemed completely right to let himself be put to his belly, to have his legs forced open, his arse in the air, and to let Luzhin ride him harder than he’d ever been ridden as he moaned helplessly, biting on a tangle of crumpled sheets. He let himself be used, bent over, filled and stretched and fucked roughly. There were few words between them; Luzhin grunted unintelligible phrases in Russian as he twined his fingers in Merrick’s hair and pulled as if he were curbing a recalcitrant horse. There was justice in it that Luzhin would never understand, and as he drifted off to sleep, he mused wearily on that justice, and on symmetry, and on the hard, lean planes of Nikolai Luzhin’s body, so like Three-Alpha’s, so different.
*
When he awoke, Luzhin was gone.
to be concluded
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Hell, I wouldn't mind having Sean Bean in a library with nothing but a pair of glasses and a robe. LOL
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Hell, I wouldn't mind having Sean Bean in a library with nothing but a pair of glasses and a robe. LOL
Gosh, neither would I. :D
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Can't wait for more!
*hugs*
WN
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xoxo
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There were few words between them; Luzhin grunted unintelligible phrases in Russian as he twined his fingers in Merrick’s hair and pulled as if he were curbing a recalcitrant horse. *fans herself*
Great, thank you for sharing.
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Frisson
Re: Frisson
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“Where is your bedroom, Dr. Merrick?”
... I honestly have liked to ask this Question myself!!!! :P
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http://answers.polldaddy.com/poll/1150843/
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And i really love this line:
There was so little light pollution out here that the stars looked like a careless spray of diamonds across a bolt of jeweler’s velvet. Perfection!
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And i really love this line:
It always makes me happy when people point out the things they liked particularly. Thanks very much indeed. :)
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I love this description. It's evocative of a hundred different things one line and sexy as hell.
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This ties it together so perfectly. The buildup is beautifully done; you can taste the heat between them.
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I'm thrilled you enjoyed it! Merrick is such an enigma; it was tough, but enjoyable to try to get into his head. I'm delighted you liked the contrast to the clone, also. Thank you, thank you very much indeed!
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in defiance of the heat that hadn’t yet bled from the day
Their glasses touched, a crystalline shiver of sound
his forehead laddered into deep but oddly pleasing lines
this is fantastic. *speechless*
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