This choice: Take one of the twins as an alias • Go Back...Chapter #50Bare Moments Between Masks by: Seuzz   Victor nods after you've told him your choice. Still, you have to ask, "Is that alright with you, honey?"
"They're all okay with me," he says, and he puts his hands on your hips. "As long as you're with me, Will. God!" He closes his eyes and draws in a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm so lucky—I'm so fucking lucky—that I found you. Is there anyone else who'd—?"
He finishes that thought, and you answer his question, by trying to suck the tongues out of each other's mouths.
Not even the sound of Alec coughing theatrically behind you can cause you to break off.
* * * * *
Eric and Alec took the trouble to lay the twins out on the bottom-most of the bunk beds that they sleep in, and you and Victor survey the pair with your arms clasped about each other's waist as Alec busily sets about stripping them of their jeans and shirts and underthings.
"Which one do you want?" Victor asks.
"They're basically the same."
"Pff. Twelve years, and you haven't picked up the little differences between them?"
You punch him lightly in the shoulder. Actually, there are some temperamental differences between them; you just mean that they're not great enough to really worry about. They're not like the differences (aside from age) between the sober, officer-in-training Carter; the diffident, too-tough-to-be-bothered-with-shit Eric; and the snoot-cocking, frustrated-middle-child Alec.
But Riker is the slightly dominant of the pair, the one with the brighter eyes and the shiftier grin, and the one who is imitated by his brother more often than he imitates him. Not that Micah meekly follows his twins' lead; Heather has the impression that Micah comes up with more of the plans, and he's a bit more of a show-off. Riker, when he relaxes, strikes more of a cool and superior pose; Micah, more hooded and watchful, looks readier to cause and receive trouble.
"Flip a coin, hon," you tell Victor.
It comes up in a way that will give Riker to Sydney, which somehow seems appropriate to you, and once that is decided you pull Victor back into the bedroom, where he peels off his boots and fatigues and underwear and lays out on the bed. You stretch over him, give him a last kiss, and spread your hand over his face. You pull, and a moment later, it's the slim, golden form of Sydney McGlynn laying there. She's extraordinarily beautiful, and you're struck again at how, if she's lucky to have found you, you're even luckier to have found her. But Heather mutters Succubus in the back of your head. "Oh, hush," you mutter to yourself.
The mask is already treated with the stuff that will turn any wearer but Sydney into a pedisequos, so as soon as the masks come out of the twins, you are ready to bring Victor back into the world. Gingerly you lift the masks from the boys' faces and lay them on the floor. You hesitate when you realize that Micah is the twin nearest the edge of the bed, then reflect that it doesn't matter which boy gets which mask. So you set Victor's mask on Micah's face, and the naked, grown-up body of Victor Brown unfolds next to the slim and hairless body of one of his sons. He opens his eyes and blinks up at you. "What?" he says. "Am I—?"
"Shh, hon." You put a finger to your lips. "Try to get up without waking Riker."
He looks over, startled, then carefully slides himself off the bed and to his feet.
"Come on." You take him by the hand and tug him toward the doorway. It gives you a queer thrill to be with this lean, naked man who just a few moments ago was inhabited by the mind and will of your girlfriend, but who is now—you quietly hope—a converted reproduction of the original major.
"Your clothes are in there," you tell him as you point him toward the bedroom doorway. "Get dressed and don't bother the girl." He gives you a worried look, but complies.
Back in the twins' bedroom you study the remaining boy with worry. You have to get Heather's mask off of yourself and onto him, and you've only got a few minutes to do it in. But removing the mask will knock yourself out.
But a movement in the corner of your eye brings you the solution: Alec, looking in from the hallway.
"You know that bag of stuff you used on your brother and your dad?" you whisper to him. He nods and fetches it, laying it on the twins' desk. You draw out the plastic tub containing the sealant that will turn a mask-wearer into one of your slaves, and with a brush you apply it to the inner surface of Micah's mask. The boy himself is still breathing quietly when you bend over him and place it on his face.
It seems to sink into him, and his eyes flutter open. He gives you a frankly bewildered look. "Mom?" he says, and he sits up. He starts when he finds himself naked, and he scrambles back on the bed when he sees Alec looking down at him.
"Shh, honey," you tell him. "Everything's alright."
"But—!" He gulps and jabs an accusing finger at his brother. "Alec! He—!"
"It's alright, Micah. Quiet. Don't talk, just be still."
He shuts his mouth, and glares between you and Alec with a look of bewilderment—and no little fear.
You take a second tub from the box: the one with Sydney's name written on the label. This goop you apply to the inside of Riker's mask. As you work, you glance back to see that the now-dressed major has returned. He stands at ease in the doorway and watches with undisguised interest. "Excuse me, sweetheart," you tell him after you're done, and brush past him into the hallway.
You shut yourself inside the Browns' bedroom, and Sydney stirs as you sit on the bed beside her. She pries her eyes open, and looks up at you. For a moment she frowns with no look of recognition in her eyes; then she gasps and sits up smartly. "Oh, jiminy!" she gasps, and pales.
"Sydney?"
She gapes at you like a landed fish, then with a groan covers her face with her hands. "Will," she says from behind them, in a weak voice. "Oh my God."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she says, and drops her hands. But she is still pale. "I just— It took me a moment to—" She swallows. "For a moment I thought it was, um, really Heather Brown. You scared the shit out of me, sitting there like that!"
"I'm sorry. Here." You hold out the new mask. "Maybe this'll make you feel better?"
She stares at it with a look of veiled loathing, then carefully takes it from you and gazes down into it, where the name blazes out. "If it's all the same, Will," she says, raising her face but looking away from you, "I'd like to catch my breath first."
"You sure there's nothing wrong?"
"No, really, I'm fine. I felt like this the other two times, after taking off Alec's mask and Eric's." She swallows. "I told you last night I didn't feel comfortable in the major's—" She breaks off. "Where is the major?"
"Outside. I should get back to him. Him and Micah." You furrow your brow at her. "I really need you on your feet, helping."
"I can do that," she says, and sits up.
That's when she notices that she's naked.
That she doesn't instantly shriek and try to cover herself—
That she only looks at you with a mild expression of embarrassment—
Well, that even more than the sex play with Alec and the major, tells you that she completely accepts you as her boyfriend. A warm glow of affection shoots all through you. "Lemme get you a housecoat," you tell her with a smile.
* * * * *
Once Sydney is on her feet, the rest goes off easily. She orders Victor and Alec out of the bedroom where Micah still cowers, then closes you and herself and the boy inside the bedroom. She opens the door to the walk-in closet (a necessity in a room shared by two boys) and pushes you inside. There you disrobe and lay on the floor. She bends over you, gives you a wry smile, and places her hand on your brow. You close your eyes, and allow her to rip Heather Brown's face and form from off your frame.
She's still in her own skin and in Heather's housecoat when you wake and put your head out of the closet to find her sitting at the twins' desk, frowning with a distracted expression. You try to be more discreet about flaunting your nakedness than she did, and sit up on your knees with your hands arranged delicately over your lap. "Hey," you grunt when she doesn't move.
"Oh," she says, and turns toward you. "You're awake."
"Sort of." You grip your head between your hands and try to twist the top off it so that the headache can fly out. "Jesus, I see what you mean about wanting to catch your breath."
"Uh huh," she says. "It's like coming up for air after being underwater for a really long time."
It's true, and a strong sense of Heather Brown's mind and personality still lingers inside your brain, like a heavy smog. "So how'd the rest of it go?" you ask.
"Went fine," she says. "I took the mask off Micah and put Heather's onto him."
"You have any problems with her?"
"No. I think you did a good job 'converting' her. Though I think she kind of gave me a dirty look. Does she call girls she doesn't like 'hussies'? Because I think that's what she wanted to call me."
"Maybe," you grunt.
"Anyway, I told her to get dressed, then went downstairs with her to give her and everyone else their orders. Well, the men their orders. For her, I think it was just a suggestion that she get started on supper."
You nod.
She nods too, then reaches behind her to pick a mask up off the desk. She extends it to you. The mask of MICAH REUBEN BROWN. You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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