Title: Lost In Darkness
Author: callisto24
Fandom: 24 / Renegades
Genre: drama, m/m slash
Theme: After Season6, Jack Bauer meets Hank Storm.
Characters: Jack, Hank, Chase...
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Unbetaed, not my native language, drug abuse, violence, graphic scenes...
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, no money made.

* * * * *
Apologies for mistakes and errors, all mine. This story is nothing but pure fantasy.
It had been written with deepest respect for the Native American Culture and is in no way meant to mirror reality. Everything is made up. Nothing should be taken seriously.

* * * * *

Hank pulled him up and close, held the shivering form against his broad and sweaty chest.
He had searched the trance again, started another attempt to drift into the world of spirits for a second time, when he suddenly had noticed the difference.
The doorgate slowly had opened, he had felt the presence of the grandfathers, suddenly heard the drums and chants and melodies the ghost dancers had performed long times ago returning to him. But they weren’t returning to him alone, they were calling to both of them, to Jack and himself, enchanting, warning, pointing them to a still hidden mystery.
And they were calling him into action, admonishing him to hurry, to leave their world just when he had come close to enter it, but instead to face reality again.
The eagle sank down to earth, his wings getting heavy, their movements slow, caught by the sight of the snake down there, answering the questions he wasn’t asking.
And before he had known what he was doing, he felt himself running, away from the hotness of the fire, into the coldness of the night, where he found Jack. Jack whose body and mind had been caught by a power the white man hadn’t known existing, he couldn’t be able to understand, but he experienced yet, strangely, magically, regardless of the life he had lived ‘til this very moment.
Hank drew him closer, and he saw what Jack saw, knew what Jack knew, the combining of two creatures, born from earth and air, against all resistances, joined by fate.
He stood still, waited for the trembling to stop, longed for the Wasichu’s soul to calm down.
A cloud covered the faint light of the silver moon, the slight breeze welcomed them back together, when deep darkness enveloped the two bodies standing close, touching, holding, parted only by the thin fabric of their clothes, rubbing against their skins.
Silence comforted them, sealed them together, when their thoughts were tumbling, mixing, constructing fragile buildings without reasons or basements.

Jack’s confusion faded away the longer he felt himself encircled, caught by strong wings, carried along. The musky scent he remembered without being able to tell where the memory’s cause had its origin again filled his nostrils, numbed his senses.
His breathing slowed down, accustomed to the regular movements of the body behind him, the body holding him tight. The trembling had stopped, the snake remained quiet, saved and secure.

* * *

Step by step Jack sensed himself melting, recognized the force of the new created emotions overpowering him.
Hank’s strength, his smell, his pure presence wrapped itself around Jack’s broken being, his damaged soul, repairing, connecting, healing the wounds life had inflicted on Jack as well as on Hank too.
Come with me”, Hank whispered, not knowing for sure to whom he had adressed his plea.
No need to receive an answer.
Jack’s agreement became obvious with the complete relaxation of the smaller shape in Hanks arms.
Gently he turned the blond around without losing his firm grip on him, and started to direct him back to the building with perfect tenderness.
None of them knew how they had managed to enter the building again,
relishing, but not knowing how they did it, the slowly forming bond between them, which appeared strong but tender at the same time, a new experienced mystery to both of them.
Suddenly they found themselves standing face to face in the narrow hallway, the door obviously closed by invisible hands for none of them could remember having done it.
Hank held the other man loosely, his hold more a promise than support.
The fingers of his right hand touched the slender ones of Jack’s left.
Hanks remaining hand rested tenderly on the smaller man’s lower arm, bounding them together in a fragile circle.
Barriers became blurred, confused thoughts mixed. He couldn’t tell where one of them would start and end or the other man begin. The connection between them seemed to be soft and ready to be smashed by the slightest of all breezes.
Careful as his nature told him to behave, when confronted with a new and unexperienced territory, Hank doubted the fact that Jack might feel the same like himself, considered the possibility that his mind would play tricks on him, that unexpressed wishes and needs gave him the impressions he longed to receive. He knew nothing about Jack, the only thing he could be sure of was his own loneliness and the visions which came to him unclear and indistinct, always overshadowed by the grief for his lost love.
And yet he had seen the snake arching up to him, recognizing the essence of his soul like he had recognized its own.
The connection could never be denied, it was obvious, like it had been when he had discovered the totem Buster’s inner being had been linked to, more clearly and directly than it showed itself by most people.
Ages ago as it seemed, in another world, at another time, when he had tried to save the cop’s life for a lot of unknown reasons, when he had combined his father’s powers with his own, Hank had seen the wounded stag for the first time crying out for help.

And then he had helped, joined him in his fight for survival, joined him later in much more than that, sensed their unity growing stronger each day. From the first moment on, he had felt attracted, connected to the man, a feeling which sometimes had been overwhelming, had made each try to escape its presence impossible.
He had felt the same way he felt now for Jack, had seen air and earth melting into each other, ignoring, destroying the difficulties easily, which had attempted to stop their slow but inevitable approach to each other.
Eyes, black shimmering opals found deep blue ones, when Jack finally looked up to him, when at last Hank discovered a response in its depths.
* * * * *

Curly bright eyelashes trembled.
The shadows they painted across the pale face flickered.
Jack couldn’t tell where the light came from which prevented them from standing in the darkness. Its origin remained a mystery to him, just like the magic these enchanting eyes were doing each time they rested on his.
Even if he had closed his own eyes he could feel them penetrating the air, the walls, all kinds of solid material threatening to separate him from the man, he started to recognize as his other half, as the one soul on earth which might complete him, for which he had longed all his life without knowing that he did.
Since the first moment they had locked with his,
this blurred instant they had woken him from his trip to hell, bored through the drug-induced nightmare, which had been supposed to free him finally, they had stayed with him, held him, fixed him, watched him, offered no escape.
And for the first time Jack discovered that he felt no need to escape anymore, that Hanks glance on him was different from everything he had experienced, from each try to imprison, to possess him, he had faced during his life.
It owned no threat, just simple and careful tenderness, the need to beware and to secure.
Fear left when he was captured in the dark stare.
He was drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into its comforting blackness, until he meant to see golden sparks dancing on the bottomless grounds, welcoming him out from a place he could never reach.
A whimpering sound escaped his trembling lips when he sensed the other man reacting, when the loose grip tightened slightly, the expressive features showed quickly changing emotions, an unusual sight of a face always in control.
Hank’s sensitive mouth opened slightly.
He drank in the sights and sounds of Jack’s stirring mind, of his soul fighting for his pride, but finally losing the battle, opening up to him, receiving an unidentified gift from a stranger.
Jack shivered, the movement causing his fingers to lose touch, to break the circle. But just for a moment, less than a second.

Like a revelation he felt the strike.
His eyes which had involuntarily went down, looking out for the wound that caused the sudden pain when they had parted, shot up again, searched for his counterparts.
His hand reached out blindly, found bronze skin, smooth under sensitive fingertips.
They dug into the hard, muscular surface, renewed the circle, bored into it with sudden, unexpected strength.
Surroundings wavered when the black gaze melt into his own blue one, when Jack absorbed the feelings Hank couldn’t lock anymore inside him.
And then he couldn’t hold back any longer, couldn’t resist the irresistable pull drawing him closer, the magical force making him wrapping his arms around the firm body, leaning with all his length against the man in front of him, burying his head in the broad chest, clinging to the hard shape, nestling himself into its warmth.
And slowly, fighting the last resistances Hank’s strong arms came around him, too, encircled Jack, embraced the blond. Carefully, tenderly, his motions filled with disbelief and hesitation.
But when he sensed Jack staying in his embrace, even snuggling closer, holding on for dear life, a movement demonstrating his longing for the long-missed touch of a human being better than each word could do, Hank responded to him, taking him into his arms properly, pressing the skinny body of the smaller man against his, offering love and sympathy on a deeper level than he ever had expected to reach again.
He stroke the muscular back through the fabric, felt the bones sticking out, the shudders running through Jack’s shape when the smaller man sensed the caress.
No words were spoken, when Hank bent his neck, when his mouth found the soft place between Jack’s throat and shoulder, when he kissed him there through the thin material of the shirt.

* * * * *

Legs entwined.
Hank’s groin swollen against Jack’s flat stomach, rubbing, demanding.
Hank’s lips moved upwards, along the white skin until they found the earlobe, enclosed it, licked the small, hidden place behind, caused Jack to take in a shuddering breath.
The sound of it made Hank stir, wince and stop at once.
He withdrew quickly, more shocked than embarrassed with his own behaviour.

No way he would allow his weakness to force himself on a man whose perception on reality was seemingly limited.
No way to abuse a situation or the defenselessness of a man, who already meant so much to him, who might become still more confused by his approach than he already was.
In almost slow motion Hank sensed the gap between them enlarging when he pulled back, yet still holding him, but loosening the grip, leaving the sweet, damp skin and its seductive scent alone.
But suddenly, unexpectedly, he was pushed back, slammed rather violently against the wall, and before he could gasp, Jack had closed the distance, flung himself against him, imprisoning the lean body between the rough wall and his own glowing, hard shape, his hands running up and down Hank’s torso, his bare sides, sending shivers down his spine.
Jack arched up, his body straightening towards Hank, his fingers searching for the fullness of his hair, digging into its thick strands, trying to force the mouth down just as he had missed the wetness it had left on his neck.
No chance for a fair fight, no chance to decline the offer.
Hank’s lips found the hungry mouth beneath his own, locked with Jack’s like their eyes had done before.
Jack opened up to him, drinking, sucking in Hanks breath as if his life depended on its sweet taste.
And Hank gave freely, fed the soft, delicate lips with the desire he had built up during the past, long years.
His own skin stood in flames wherever Jack had touched him, his arms came around the smaller man’s back, pressing him even closer, feeling the hardening bulge against his loose clothed legs.
His kiss devoured the blond, robbed him of his remaining defences, left him trembling, when it stopped as abruptly as it had begun.
Another sigh left Jack’s lips when they weren’t covered anymore, when the Lakota’s mouth went down to the chin, trailed their way up the slightly stubbly cheeks.
“Hank!”, Jack whispered.
One syllable only, but telling the dark - haired all he needed to know.


He came back to the delicate curved lips for a second kiss which sent sparks through his nerves, electrified the air around. them.
Hank got lost in the sensations, in the taste he absorbed.
Jack’s lips were sweetest honey, soft milk and vanilla cream, all in one.
They tasted like family, meant home to him.
His heart jumped when he felt Jack open his mouth even more, demonstrating his agreement, his wish for more.
His tongue slipped into the wet cavern, probed, explored, found Jack’s one welcoming him.
Jack’s body began to shake, when the careful invasion started,
when the caress of his lips, his teeth, skin and tongue set him in flames.
He leaned against the taller man, snuggled closer, tried to feel his warmth, his strength, wherever possible, to touch whatever part of the shape he could reach.

The kiss intensified, Hank couldn’t help but dip deeper into the inviting softness, devour the freely offered present with growing desire.
He drank from the man who pressed closer the more his mouth was ravished, whose hands flew over his own already trembling, tickling body. Electricity ran through his veins, drove him wild, made him grip the smaller man harder and rougher, squeezing the air from his lungs he sucked in greedily, craved, longed for more.
And Jack gave what he could give willingly, sneaking against the slender shape, unable to come close enough, wishing to melt into the touch, to become one with the man embracing him.
But the need for air drove them apart, ended the kiss before his wish could be granted, and Jack sighed for the loss of the strong mouth on his, the demanding tongue dancing, demanding, staking its claim.
Hank gave him no time to pause, to think. He pushed back from the wall, Jack had driven him against, taking the other man with him, holding him, turning him slightly, until he stood behind him, naked chest to shirt - covered back. His arms sneaked around the slender figure, pulling the shirt out of his jeans, seeking for the sensation of skin touching skin, of fingers moving over the scarred, pale surface, wandering to hard pecs, encircling the chest. Again the face was buried into Jack’s neck and slowly he moved the blond forward, never stopping to caress his upper body. Jack closed his eyes and moaned silently, let himself led forward without knowing, without caring where their journey might end.
“Jack!” Soft breath at his ear, butterfly kisses in his hair, at his throat.
“I want you, Jack...”
A whisper only. The words just a breeze.
“I shouldn’t... I know...”
“No.”
The answer even less audible.
“Take me, Hank. Give me peace.”
The taller man guessed the pleading more than he could hear it, but Jack’s body expressed his longing in perfection, when he reached back, turned his head and led their mouths together again for a short, breathless contact.
Their hearts were beating like drums in a quick, excited rhythm, pounding wildly, irregularly, but in unison.
Lips parted, sighs escaped.
Hands ran over fabric, found sensitive parts.
A hard groin pressed into Jacks back, long fingers moved to lean thighs, squeezing, pushing, telling about the intentions of their owners.
Jack pushed back, loving the feeling of the growing manhood against his body.
His head fell back against Hanks shoulder, when he rubbed up and down the swelling length promising fulfillement.
He gasped when his own package was cupped by slender fingers, stroked carefully, brought to life after it had been dead and useless for eternities.
Jack couldn’t believe the speed his cock awoke, the heat he felt between his trembling legs when it filled with blood, throbbed with need, pushed against the cage of his clothes.
And then he was turned again, his mouth captured, his body held in another passionate embrace. Hank moved him backwards now, his own feet reacting to his unspoken commands, moving with him, urging to their common aim.
A door opened, the sound stiffled with the boiling fluids running through their veins.
Few steps, stumbling, falling, landing softly on a single mattress, arms and legs a bundle of mixed limbs, arranging quickly, automatically, finding their positions.
Jacks shirt was ripped unceremoniously from his chest, when he arched his back against the ground. Covered by Hanks length, held firmly by the Lakota’s weight who placed a trail of tender kisses down to his nipples, sucked them in, one after the other, causing Jack to moan audibly and grab the other man’s head, not knowing if he tried to keep him away from him or if he wished to press him closer.
Hank licked down the pale chest, paying special attention to each scar he sensed, making Jack shudder and tremble even more.
His skilled hands worked the buttons, opened them while this lips continued to drive the man beneath him crazy. Fingers slipped in, freed the throbbing shaft from its prison, rubbed lovingly down its rising length.
“Oh God!”
Jack’s head fell back, his hands lost their grips, searched the air for a hold.
Hank’s tongue dipped into Jack’s navel, his hands reached around the firm buttocks, pulled down the trousers in one swift movement. He came up, raised Jack’s legs with him and stripped them off the rough material.
Black hair caressed the insides of the smaller man’s thighs when Hank worked his way back to the erect penis until he enclosed the purple mushroom cap with hungry lips.
Jack sucked in his breath, his head moved violently from the left to the right side. He moaned. His hands found Hank’s hair again, when his cock was engulfed by an experted mouth, encouraging him though he needed no encouragement.
Hank took him in as far as he could, carried away by the need he felt in Jack, by the memories of moments of pleasure he had shared in his past with another man of similar looks.
He played around the still growing shaft, pulled back, nibbled the tip, licked up and down the prominent veins, followed their paths and took him in again completely, sucked violently and carefully in changing rhythms, driving Jack higher and higher until he exploded, spilled his seed deep into Hank’s throat who drank it all, sucked him dry, until Jack lay in front of him, motionless and spent. * * * * *


Hank took in the beauty of the sight, the glistening sweat covering the lean body, the closed eyes, the slightly opened mouth, the heaving chest. Fingers curled around the edges of the mattress, damp strands sticked to the flushed face which showed all signs of exhaustion. Eyelashes dark and wet, delicate lips, seducing, irresistable in their shining, unmistakable curves.
“Jack...”, Hank whispered, unable to fully comprehend what had happened.

And then the blue eyes opened, only a slit, sending shivers and flashes through his blood with their silver stare. Eyelids fluttered, saved him from fainting in the depths of the hypnotizing pools.
Unable to resist he came back down, covered Jack’s length with his own, found his lips in another kiss, sharing the salty taste of the former release. And Jack kissed him back, his tongue danced around the Lakota’s lips, opened them insitantly, met teeth and tongue of the other man, enlarging their closeness.
He wasn’t new to this, that much Hank could tell.
The unexpected approach flattered him, brought his own erection back into his thoughts painfully. Involuntarily he moved his hips, pushed them down to meet the naked body beneath him.
Jack sighed against mouth, his arms came up to touch broad shoulders, to run up and down along the dark skin and finally to embrace the other man, dig his fingers into the solid back.
Hank left the delicious mouth to create a wet trace across the face, to wander up and kiss the closed lids, the damp forehead, the cheekbones until he reached the ear. Carefully he nibbled the earlobe, brushed over tender skin before he dared to speak again, low and hoarsely. “Would you...”
He stopped, embarrassed about his unhidden desire, his shaft poking in undeniable clearness against lean thighs.
Jack gasped.
Eyes flew open, sent sparkles into the night.
“Oh god, yes”, he breathed.
“I want you to take me, long and hard...”

“Are you sure?”

Jack’s head turned to face the other man, his lips looking for the Lakota’s.
Arms moved down the slender body above, fingers tried to slip into disturbing pants, to remove the separating material.
“I am.”
He tried to form the words but found them to difficult to pronounce under the mesmerizing stare of these deep dark eyes fixed on him relentlessly.
The effort turned out to be unnecessary, for there could exist no doubt that Hank understood him perfectly.
He came back down to seal their agreement, kissed the tempting lips with a new and special tenderness, giving silent promise.
Jack moaned against the softness, feeling himself recovering, getting stronger, getting semi-hard again by the weight resting on him, stretching him, covering him, comforting him.
Hank rose on his knees and sat back, leaving the other man panting. Jack opened the formerly shut eyes again, his hands reached out for the warmth of the other body, urged it to return to him.
He sucked in his breath when the faint light of a full and mild shining moon fell into the room and encircled the muscular shape of the Lakota, painted landscapes on dark skin, accentuated muscles and sinews, hardened black nipples on smooth and hairless pecs.
Quickly Hank stripped down his pants, removed them in an elegant, languid motion and threw them aside only to come back to the demanding fingers welcoming him in another embrace.
Hank accepted gratefully, burying his lips and teeth in the hollow of the smaller man’s neck, grounding his hot cock into Jack’s pubic hair.
Jack squirmed under him, forced their rods to meet, to rub against each other, arousing and lengthening even more. He felt Hank’s tool growing to an impossible length when his own shaft refilled again, the second clear erection bouncing up against the muscular man covering him.
Before he was able to notice the change, Hank had taken his wrists from behind and pulled them up, pinning them on the mattress above Jack’s head.
He was firmly in control, using his advantage in each way.
His mouth came down to suck in a nipple before his hands lost grip and brushed past the sides. The other nipple was played with before Hanks lips moved deeper like his body did in a catlike, smooth way.
They passed the navel and searched for the groin, while tender fingers now stroke over the flat, pulsating belly.
Jack sighed and moaned and started a slow rocking which was stilled when Hank held his hips in place, licked the new drops of precum from the tip of his glowing penis.
Strong, bronze hands stroke Jack’s trembling body, went down the creamy insides of his thighs, up again to fondle the balls, making Jack shudder and slightly opening up his legs to grant better access.
Hank’s knowing fingers pushed them apart, moved up and down, up and down, until they carefully raised Jack’s knees upwards.
Their eyes met again through the darkness, filled with lust and desire.
Jack licked his lips, he arched back and lifted his pelvis, an invitation Hank lost no time to accept. He spread the pale legs, kissed and tongued their insides until he reached his goal.
Apprehension and a little fear was shown in Jack’s face when Hank looked at him for a last time before he pulled the man closer to him and started to caress the rim of his asshole with lips and teeth.
Jack threw his head back and gave a yelping sound, when he felt the tall man’s tongue playing at his entrance, licking and stroking in small, vibrating motions.
Jack’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his fists opened and closed, bumped rhythmically on the mattress.
His breathing came in heavy gasps when Hank invaded his hole, loosened him up, prepared him with his skilled tongue.
His mind lost its touch to earth, when the sensations lifted him higher and higher.
Nothing existed anymore, only this tender but demanding mouth caressing his most private parts, freeing his thoughts from the burden he carried with him, allowing him to fly upwards into the sky, carried away by loving ministrations of the most exquisit kind.
He shut his eyes tight, lost himself with the heralds of ecstasy, after Hank had withdrawn, but only to replace his tongue with two of his fingers, rimming the wettened hole carefully, before they slipped in, waited until he had accommodated, until the muscel had been ready to suck them inside.
One of them rubbed with experted certainity across the prostate, causing Jack to emit a little cry and trembled wildly before he unfolded his legs still wider. He couldn’t move much, because Hank’s free hand held him down, when he raised up over the smaller figure, probing, exploring, widening his hole, his eyes meanwhile searching for the expression in Jack’s face giving him the final consent.
“Do it”, Jack gasped and tried desperately to reach the dark shaft he longed to feel inside him.
“Give it to me... now”, he whimpered when his sweet spot was giving attention again.
“Please Hank...”
“Not so fast!” Hank’s breath came in short, audible sounds, his excitement nearly driving him over the edge. Instead he freed his fingers, causing Jack to groan in frustration.
“Don’t wanna hurt you”, Hank whispered and got up nearly soundlessly.
In a moment he was back, fondling with a small jar.
Jack knew what he had done in the instant his fingers were back, spreading some cold substance around his already well-prepared entrance. They returned with a generous amount of the cool cream and worked it into his opening, caressing and stroking the in-and outsides of his hole.
“This isn’t...” Jack stopped and arched back in pleasure when his prostate was hit again.
He hadn’t mind a dry entry,
God knew, he had had them before.

Hank’s gentleness silenced him, drove burning wetness into his eyes.

“Jack, Jack... what is it?”
Concerned look in obsidian eyes.

The smaller man shook his head.
“Nothing, ... it’s... nothing... please Hank... don’t stop!”

And Hank obeyed willingly, not just Jack’s words but the pain in his own throbbing cock told him what he had to do.
After he had lathered up himself quickly, he crawled closer, lifted the smaller man up again, brought his thighs under Jack’s butt cheeks and positioned himself at his entrance.
He then slowly, very slowly pushed forward, burying his length in the welcoming passage, inch for inch, holding perfectly still, giving Jack time to adjust, who involuntarily had tensed a bit.
He stopped when he had passed Jack’s prostate, pulled back and let the head of his cock rub over it again, made it glide over the sensitive spot with unbearable patience until he sensed Jack loosening up again, trembling, squirming, and finally trying to force the shaft inside him deeper.
Hank wouldn’t have been able to hold himself in check any longer.
With a guttural sound he pushed the whole way in, pausing again, panting and sweating, but watching Jack at first taking in his length.
Jack felt the strong rod gliding up his insides, filling him up completely, stretching him to the limit.
He opened his eyes, wanted to assure the other man that he could manage him, that in fact he felt amazing, his hard, pulsating shaft fitting into his passage perfectly, fulfilled him, caressed every sensitive inch of his ass walls, reached depths he doubted that they had ever been reached before.
But when their eyes locked he knew that the other one knew, that their bodies had broken the remaining barriers between them and made them one, united as one at the pelvis.
And slowly and carefully again Hank managed to pull out a few inches, making Jack moan softly, making him indicate his willingness for more by raising his hips towards the retreating shaft.
This time it was Hank who gasped, who shivered, who finally pushed back inside again, traveling towards Jack’s very center.
Jack gulped and writhed under him, welcoming the downwards plowing, gasping for air when he sensed Hank’s manhood hardening and thickening.
He winced when he felt the man retreating, pulling out once more, but only to disappear once again inside him. Jack moaned, struggled to meet him, when Hank pushed down into him, inch for inch.
His head moved, his mouth formed toneless pleas when he urged the man above him to go on, to quicken the pace, to screw him properly until he would be able to forget everything around, to raise up into the sky.
And Hank did so. He started at first a slow and loving pumping, finding each single sensitive part of the man’s passage walls, and providing it with a repeated massage.
Jack cried out in passion when Hank changed the rhythm, stroke for stroke losing his reservation, slamming harder and deeper with every plunge.
Faster and faster he moved, rotating his hips. His hair flipped through the air, when he danced to their shared rhythms, when they were connected in their lust, dark and pale together searching for freedom from the bounds keeping them on the ground.

Jack’s legs were propped on the taller man’s shoulders, their armes moving, entwining, holding tighter, holding on for dear life when their dance went on, when they drifted higher and higher, together, inseparable in calling up redemption by reaching ecstasy.
Deeper and deeper Hank stroke down into the willing flesh, rewarded by grunts and gasps, various sounds of pleasure, driving him mad, encouraging him to ram his toy frantically down, to stroke harder and wilder each time losing his carefulness the more, the stronger Jack met his thrusts, as if Hanks strength would enter him and start to flow through his veins when the dark-haired worked him towards ecstasy.
A strong thrust made Jack scream out in wonder before Hank rested, fully sheated, panting and gasping above the other man.
Eyes met again, exchanged an understanding deeper than words, a love destined to rise above the clouds.
Slow rocking, short strokes, tension built equally in two bodies moving forward in unison towards completion, towards a final release.
Long and hard thrusts, gliding in and out, resting, whirling, rotating.
Touching, soft and tender, demanding and longing.

A series of fast, deep strokes, met by hips beneath.
And then the world held still, and Jack found himself screaming, giving his passion and lust sound like he had never done before.

They exploded simultanuously, Jack spurting his seed all over Hanks chest making it glisten in the moonlight, Hank coming violently, spasm after spasm, flooding Jack’s canal with his hot cum, once, twice, coming again in an endless stream of molton lava, throwing back his head and howling his triumph to the sky.
Stars burnt out.
Hank watched them beneath closed eyes, feeling his cock soften.
He collapsed, found himself caught by pale arms surrounding him, pulling him down to the white man’s chest.
Jack’s breath came raggedly, his heartbeat joined the slowing rhythm of Hank’s, when he pressed the other man closer, reassuring himself of his presence.
He wasn’t sure about what had happened to him, to them, but he knew that he had caught a glimpse into another, unknown world, a world he felt that he belonged to, stronger then he had ever belonged to anything. And he clung to the hope that Hank would show it to him, would allow him to enter his territory, to walk with him towards the golden horizon waiting for them both.
* * * * *


“Hey you!”
Soft word caressed his ears, when he came back to his senses.
Jack blinked, waited for the shadows to fade away before he dared to open his eyes.

Daylight streamed into the room, stroke his face, tickled the naked skin presented to its shine. The warmth inside of him told Jack that he hadn’t been alone this night, that his companion hadn’t left him after he had fallen asleep.
He blinked again, stretched out on the suddenly scratchy surface he hadn’t noticed before.
Finally he saw Hank next to him, looking down from a half-rising position.
His elbow was supported by one knee, his hand buried in the black hair which still looked as if he had combed it a moment ago. Hank gave him an overwhelming, bright smile, making him beam inside and outside by the pureness of its affection.
“You’re ok?”
The dark voice sounded comforting though it contained the slightest touch of apprehension, Hank tried to hide.
Jack tried an unsure smile back, feeling the corners of his mouth twitching with nervousness. Suddenly he was all too aware of his nakedness, of the unfamiliar situation he had manoevred himself.
He couldn’t remember when he had woken up the last time at the same place, looking at the person he had shared intimacy with. It wasn’t in his nature, never had been. He always had felt the urge to leave, to go after a lovemaking, no matter how good or bad, how much he had longed for it, or had been forced into. And if it hadn’t been him making the first move, then it had been the other person who left, who couldn’t run from him quickly enough, or so it had looked to him.
And now he was there, in this place, together with the man he had allowed, ...no ... he had wanted to explore his last secret, he had given himself without holding back, had allowed full possession of his feelings and his senses, ....... ... and he felt scared, suddenly, inexplicably scared by the power the other one owned over him.
* * * * *

“Yeah, I’m fine!”

His voice sounded distant in his ears and he forced himself to meet the dark stare scrutinizing him.
“Really?”

Goddamn, the man read him like a book.

“Yeah, really.”

He tried to sound firmly but couldn’t prevent his eyelids from fluttering until he had to look away from the probing stare.
Jack propped himself up, ready to leave the place, when he sensed the other man leaning down. Involuntarily he flinched, not knowing what made him move away. Hank wouldn’t be able to come any closer to him than he already had been.
Hank sensed the hesitation, but he also sensed the doubts, the inexplicable insecurity emanating from the small figure.
“Let me help you”, he said with a twinkle in his eyes and flung his arm around Jack pulling him up carefully.
“I’m alright... I’m...”, he tried to respond harshly but the uninvited touch made him look up. The warmth encasing him was nothing against the warmth in Hank’s dark stare.
Jack bathed in its depths, his breathing stopped with its mysterious shine.

“I’m...”, he tried again, but stilled when Hank raised him up and supported him against his own, lean shape.
“I know”, he said, or maybe Jack just thought he’d heard him, for the next thing he felt where his own arms coming up, encircling the bronze body, holding on for dear life. He absorbed the warmth of the man, sucked in his presence in the cool morning sun which usually was supposed to reveal what never should be revealed, to destroy illusions which should have remained undestroyed.
But Hank wasn’t an illusion. He still was here with him and answering his embrace by flinging his long arms around the pale body, by holding him tight and lowering his head to Jack’s shoulder where he placed a soft kiss on the white skin.
“I’m glad you are”, he whispered dreamily.
“I hadn’t intended to... to get so carried away.”

He kissed him again, this time on his neck.
“It just had been so long since... since...”

“I know.” It was Jack’s turn to speak now.
“It was... I needed it ... and...”

He didn’t know what made him feel that strange, like whatever he might do or say was more important than he would ever imagine it to be.
“Needed you”, Jack whispered at last.

The next thing he felt where warm teardrops on his skin and he snuggled closer, stroke the suddenly trembling body with all the care he could offer.
“Hank”, he breathed, taking comfort from the name alone, before he raised his head seeking a reason to trust in the other man’s strong features.
What he got was the tightening of Hank’s embrace and the vision of a burning flame on the bottom of these black eyes when they found his.
Their lips locked, heat arouse wherever they met.
Hank devoured the welcoming mouth passionately, giving what he felt Jack wanted deep inside but never would admit to him in words.
The tingling in his body increased when he fed from the soft lips, when his cock gained length and thickness by rubbing along the tender skin, seeking touch wherever possible.
Jack’s breathing increased and Hank sensed his own growing desire materialized in the already rock-hard shaft poking against the taller man’s belly.
Chest to chest they heard their heartbeats quickening when tongues entangled, explored soft caverns, tasted the meaning of being together, of forgetting the loneliness of the past years.
Fingers glided along hard curves, made them soft and giving, caused bodies to melt against each other.

A hoarse and nearly painful sigh escaped Jack’s throat when he sensed Hank startling suddenly, when the Lakota pulled back in an instant.
Big, blue eyes met dark ones, suddenly filled with tension.
The openly showed hurt in them grabbed Hanks heart and squeezed it brutally.
He winced, yet pulled away the slightest bit rising his head, losing the other man’s searching gaze.
“Listen!”
He whispered, his fingers still stroking unconsciously Jack’s shoulder.
With a heavy intake of breath he moved backwards, fled the warmth of the now smaller seeming figure and stood up. He caught Jack’s hands and pulled him on his feet.

“Time will tell”, he breathed leaning down to the other man’s cheek and sensed him shivering in the coolness of the early hour which came back to him in a rush.
He brushed a blond strand out of Jack’s face before he stepped away, bent down to lift their clothes from the floor.
“Someone is coming”, he mentioned, not giving away a sign of the dark feelings reaching out for him.

* * * * *


Each bone in his body screamed in pain. He should have preferred to skip sleeping instead of taking a far to short nap in the uncomfortable and far to small car.
With the first grey stream of light he had returned to the road, proceeding his fruitless search which appeared to become more useless with each mile he spent in exploring the landscape in vague circles.
He had followed the hints he had received, but found nothing proving their correctness. Though he felt that he had to come closer to his aim, the traces blurred the farther he went.
Obviously Jack - if it had been Jack - had left nothing, lived nowhere, appeared and disappeared like a ghost.
Chase had crossed the reservation before.
The scrutinizing glances and the obvious poverty of the region went straightly to his heart and he squirmed with the thought what the people there would answer when he asked them for a missing Federal Agent.
He had bitten his tongue and looked into the other direction, surficially convinced that there never existed a reason for Jack to stay here, neither a reason for the Lakota people to invite a man like him.
But intuition hardly could be denied, and so he had found himself turning the wheels again and heading back to Pine Ridge for risking a second look.
Despite the darkness which still had rested in the corners between the buildings, he had noticed some kids using the sunrise to start their first games, kicking stones or scratching patterns into the earth in front of them.
They ignored him, and part of him was glad that they had been taught carefulness, but another part of him felt the strange sensation to be close. He sensed it in the air, despite everything else, Jack seemed to be not far from here, and he had to know, had to find him.
Though a feeling of threat told him not to, he slowed down the car until it finally stopped its ride.
Invisible eyes followed him, when he left it, yawned and stretched out casually before walking quietly into the direction of the playing children.
He kept a distance but stopped in front of them, who had stopped her games watching his approach.
Chase cleared his throat.
“Hey kids. I could use your help.”
They weren’t answering, simply staring at him.
Chase dared to step closer and suddenly he knew where the sense of danger had its origin.
Two tall men, their long black hair bound together, hanging down their backs, showed up almost instantly.
“What do you want, White Eye?”, one of them asked harshly, when they passed the children.
“Stay away from our kids, Fed”, the other one added angrily.
“I’m not...”
Chase gave up the attempt to defend himself looking into the furious eyes of both of them. He knew this fury which was created by the necessity to defend yourself and your loved ones over and over again. He couldn’t imagine them to offer him some help, but at least he had to try at any costs.
Some strange sensation told him that this was the right path.

“I’m sorry to disturb your peace, gentlemen”, he started and offered a hopefully charming smile. At least one he had been told years ago to be charming. Maybe the past had destroyed his ability appear friendly, maybe the truth had been written into his face without him noticing.
The two Lakotas looked at each other and schook their heads in unison.
“Then you’re free to go”, one of them snapped.
“I doubt you’ve been invited.”

Chase blushed involuntarily.
“I’m really sorry”, he apologized again, feeling stupid and awkward at the same time.

“But it’s important. I... I’m looking for someone, ... for a special person. And... and I’ve been led to this place.”
“Led? By whom?”

The taller man scrutinized him, still carefully, but allowing a bit of curiousity flashing through the question.
Chase shrugged, suddenly fearing to make a mistake, to say something awfully silly or offensive.
“Don’t know”, he answered at last before hesitating again.
“A feeling, a sense of being guided... can’t describe it. I’ve never felt anything like that since I’ve been a child.”
The man, who had spoken took a step closer, looked strictly into Chase’s eyes obviously trying to explore his personality. “And... what was it, you had seen as a child?”
Chase met the dark stare and without being able to explain where the words came from, which long forgotten parts of his memory were opened by this question, he answered: “The spirits”, he whispered. “I’ve felt them.”

Smiling the Lakota leant back.
“I know you did”, he said cryptically. “You’ve been taught a long time ago.”
He closed his eyes, concentrated.
“It’s been forgotten over the years, but it’s still buried deep inside you.”

He turned to his friend who had pressed his lips together in open anger.
“It’s okay”, he said.
“He looks for the Wasichu at Hanks home.”

Chase’s head shot up.
“You know him... he’s here?”, he shouted in disbelief without owning the self-control to keep his words inside.
“You want to show him the way?”
The other man still seemed to be sceptical.
“He’s a Fed, and a haunted one. No use to help him.”

“Mitaku Oyasin. We are all related.”
The answer came quietly but firmly. “He is looking for a part of his soul, and I won’t deny it to him, neither would Hank.”
“What you say.” An eyeroll followed, added by a surrendering smile. “Then listen, man. This is the way.”
* * *

A moment later, Chase hurried to get behind his wheel, his heart bouncing by the thought of what, of whom he finally had found.
* * *



Hank tried to calm down, to put his motions in order.

Maybe he had been too distracted, maybe his memories were too strong, his feelings for Jack too confusing, too overwhelming to leave room for his usual carefulness.
He knew that he should have noticed it before, knew that he had noticed it, had noticed the man from Jack’s past far away, a blurred image in his visions, but had shoved the picture away instead of looking at it closely.
Now he was unprepared, anxious and full of doubts.
A moment ago it had feeled so right to be with Jack, to claim him his own. It had been the fulfillement he had secretly dreamed of, for, what it seemed to be, an eternity.
He had wanted to protect him, to comfort him, to be everything for him, to never let him go. But suddenly he felt unsure about him possessing the right to do so. Suddenly a spirit had appeared from out of nowhere, demanding a piece of the blond’s soul and Hank fought to understand its intentions, to see the truth behind the undeniable urge of a stranger whose longing for Jack had penetrated Hanks consciousness like a knife cutting soft flesh.
* * *


The raven sat still on the ground and watched.

The eagle knew, the eagle was prepared, careful, guarded his prey, guarded the silver snake.

The raven would never be allowed to come close, would be forced to stay in the distance, to watch the animals dance in their own rhythm.

Chase felt the air, the similarity between his soul and another one,
the other one feeling the same way he did, wishing nothing more than to protect a loved one.
* * *



He saw them waiting at the door, waiting for him.

Jack seemed to be smaller, skinnier, older than he remembered.
Grey strands of hair enlightened by the sun, dark shadows enlarging the blue eyes, formerly filled with energy and power despite everything they had seen. Now they seemed to be darker, lifeless, void, a proof of the pain and sorrow their owner had endured.
* * *


No words were spoken, no gestures necessary.
Chase left his car, paused for a moment, took in the sight of the opened door, the blond man standing in its entrance, waiting for him.

‘Jack!’
Chase’s heart stood still when he realized that he finally had found what he had been looking for, finally had reached his aim.

‘Jack’

Whatever he would have to face in the nearest future,
to see him, to know him alive had been worth it.

Chase wished he could call out to him, wished to touch, to keep, to behold,
but suddenly his blood froze when a tall, dark - haired man stepped up beside Jack.

Black eyes scrutinized him, when he came closer,
filled with suspicion and doubts, but yet aware of the fact that his intentions meant no real danger to him, at least no danger he had to fear physically.
“Jack”, he whispered, sensing the sound of the name deep inside.
He was still too far away to be heard, but Jack’s eyes fixed on his face, told him, that he had noticed him yet.
They waited for him to arrive, Hank suddenly placing his hand on Jack’s shoulder in a possessive gesture.
With his throat turning into a sandy desert, Chase climbed the two, low stairs in front of the house, stopped for a moment, sensing the closeness to Jack, smelling the overpowering, exotic scent emanating from the lean Lakota mixing with heavy incense smoke crawling up from the insides of the rooms in front of him, which held a mystery he couldn’t grab.
Both men, Hank and Jack, stepped aside, inviting him wordlessly, in silent understanding.
Hank closed the door behind, nodding to Jack, who spoke his first words after he had cleared his throat.
“What are you doing here?”, he asked tonelessly, avoiding the eyes of the younger man, rubbing his sweaty hands against his trousers.
“Looking for you, couldn’t help”, Chase answered nearly apologizing.
“Why?”
Jack looked at him, eyes wide, lips slightly opened, his attitude making him younger than Chase ever remembered having seen him before. Decades vanished when they recognized each other fully again.
Years passed in a rush, leaving them changed and new.

The scent enveloped Chase, brought back long forgotten memories he couldn’t identify,
memories connected with this environment, the way of living he found here.

Images of Jack which haunted him for years faded away, memories of his cold, sweaty body lying in his arms, shivering from withdrawal though Jack would never had admitted his pain to anyone. Stolen moments when weakness had overcome the older man, when the prize he had to pay in order to stay in this job, to fulfil his duty, had become turned out to be too high for him, when he had needed a partner,
when he had needed someone to share more than the troubles at work,
a shoulder to lean on, a body to touch,
the closeness of a person who was strong enough to recognize that there wasn’t anything behind. Chase had been strong enough, but physical, meaningless needs.

He knew that Jack hadn’t seen more in him than a collegue, that he even hadn’t trusted him fully. He had been aware of the fact that Jack wasn’t proud of his weaknesses, that he had felt ashamed of the breakdowns forcing him to show another side of the invincible agent, a side he hid carefully, he would never have allowed to be shown.
No connection between them, no promises.
No explanations, no talking.

Chase had found him in a bar, a few days before Jack had left for Salazar, sick from fear, but hiding it desperately. He had seen the marks on his arms for the first time during this night, after he had followed Jack to his place, knowing in perfect clearness that the other man wasn’t ready to stay alone. He had noticed them when kissing his way down the almost consciousless body, when he had intended to calm the storm created by their explosive, mind blowing sex, and never lost a word about.
But he hadn’t seen then that during this night another addiction had been born, and that it lasted years for him to recognize that there wasn’t a way for him to run from it.
He wanted Jack, and neither his attempts to discover a life for himself and Kim, nor the small encounters they still shared after Mexico, even when he visited him in Washington, had been enough to stifle the desire.

Chase couldn’t bear the sight of the face in front of him. He turned his head, his eyes met the black ones of Hank who had moved, already had left the doorway and stood in the doorframe to another part of the home.
Chase looked at him, suddenly feeling ashamed about his intrusion,
knowing he had lost,
knowing he should have stayed away,
knowing that he couldn’t give Jack what he needed, that he never did, never would be able to. And a sorrow grew inside of him, filling his heart with darkness and pain, leaving him hollow , a shell ready to be destroyed by the slightest of all strokes.
He remembered the question Jack had asked, still heard the sound of this gravelly, beloved voice ringing in his ears but he wasn’t able to answer, stayed banned by the glance of black shining, obsidian eyes following him everywhere he tried to turn.
Chase gulped, made a move, tried to flee but stumbled when somebody blocked his attempt.
Jack held him, brought his hands up to Chase’s sides and stopped his escape.
The dark, deep, mysterious eyes still caught him, kept him immobilized.
But slowly, very slowly they directed his attention to the blond, back to the person Chase was here for.
“I hadn’t intended to...”
He paused, tried to get away from the touch of the man who had hunted him in his dreams.
A wall stopped him, a book fell from the loose shelves his shoulders collided with.
Before he recognized what he did, before becoming aware of the arms having left his body, he bent down to lift up what had fallen.
A photograph slipped from the sides, a picture of two young men, two dark-haired Lakotas smiling to the camera. Hanks eyes sparkled when he, still almost a boy, looked up to the other one whose features revealed him as a brother, at least as a very close relative.
But it wasn’t the similarity between these two which made Chase shudder inwardly.
It was him, the man he had thought about during the past days more often than he had ever done since his childhood, since he had left him and his mother, since the last one who had tried to help him like a father would do, had vanished without leaving a trace.
Silently, graciously Hank closed the distance between them, his fingers touched Chase’s when he took the picture from his hands.
“My brother”, he mumbled under his breath, his voice sick from suppressed emotions.
“He had been killed... long time ago... taken from life just as... just as... “
Jack joined them, looking up to the Lakota.
“Just as Buster McHenry had been killed?”
Hank nodded.
“They were killed by the same people, killed by those who can’t endure a change, can’t stand a person speaking the truth. Buster had been such a person... and... and...”

His eyes dropped again to the photograph and a small smile played around his lips.
“The last thing he had told me before he went to town with Buster, before they were trapped and ... “, he stopped again, the grief lowering his voice to a whisper.
“He had planned to marry, he had planned to end his travelling, wanted to settle down, told me about a boy he wanted to teach, a boy who would become his son, a boy whose spirit animal had shown itself before he had asked for it.”
Hank looked at Chase, watched the younger mans eyes filling with tears.
“A raven it had been, a raven like yours...”
Chase closed his eyes.
“I remember”, he breathed.
“Thought he had forgotten, thought he had left us... left me...”
“No... he hadn’t.”
Hanks voice shook with emotion.
“He would never have...”

The tall Lakota laid the picture back on the shelves, took Jack’s hand into his own, offered his other hand to Chase.
“You’ve found what you had looked for, my friend. Stay with us. This is your home, just like it’s ours.”