The Administration Series (101 page)

"You can leave the drink," Toreth said. "Thanks for giving me the chance to talk to you."

"No, thank you for
your
time, sir," the junior said with immaculate politeness, before he headed away.

Settling back with the fresh drink, Toreth surveyed the crowd. Successes and failures were beginning to settle out, with some faces circulating between groups, moving down the hierarchy of rejection. Some had given up, and clusters of new juniors collected on the fringes, trying unsuccessfully to convince themselves that the pool wasn't such a bad place to start.

The evening's pervasive undercurrent of desperation and the fear of failure had given him a buzz of arousal, sharpening now that the serious business of the night was over. Maybe he should have tried Custer, since he'd changed his mind about Nagra. Too late to go try now, because the man was already talking to another senior, looking as cool and collected as he had done with Toreth. He'd certainly bear watching in future, Toreth thought.

Still, it wasn't so late that Warrick would be tiresome about being woken up — in fact, he'd probably be awake.

"I thought you were busy for the weekend?" Warrick said as he closed the door.

"I was. I am. I was practically passing the door, though, so I thought I'd drop in." A lie, but an easy one.

"I made some coffee not long ago, if you'd like a cup," Warrick said. "I was planning to work late and — "

"Afterwards." Toreth caught him by the arm and steered him into the bedroom, already unfastening his own shirt. "Afterwards, coffee would be great. Now, I want you in here. Strip."

"What the hell brought this on?" Warrick didn't resist, though.

"I'll tell you later." Toreth kicked his way free of his trousers, underwear and socks in one go. "You're still dressed."

He took Warrick's shirt off, to give him a kick in the right direction. Then he banged the bedside drawer open and shut without finding what he was looking for.

"In the bathroom," Warrick said as he finished undressing. "We emptied the last tube and I didn't — "

Toreth was already leaving. "Don't go anywhere except in bed."

The urgency had damped down now he was here and naked. With the prospect of a fuck soon — very soon — his body seemed content to treat this small delay as a pleasant sharpening of anticipation rather than an infuriating stumbling block. He rifled through the bathroom cabinet, whistling happily and making a mess that would annoy the hell out of Warrick when he found it in the morning.

There — got it.

Back in the bedroom, he found Warrick sitting on the bed, with a somewhat wary half smile. In an excess of happy enthusiasm, Toreth bounced onto the bed beside him, making it creak alarmingly.

Warrick laughed. "For God's sake, be careful!"

Toreth contemplated the tube of lubricant, then threw it to him. "Fuck me."

"Don't I get any say in the format of the proceedings?" Warrick asked, although his eyes and his smile and his stirring cock rather took the edge off the question.

"No." Toreth lay down, spine tingling. "Just do what you're told, for once in your life."

"Don't I always?" Warrick asked with an unconvincing sigh, then immediately spoiled the effect by adding, "Turn over."

Toreth had to admit the prospect of easy access to Warrick's mouth appealed, so he obeyed with the absolute minimum of grumbling. Only enough, in fact, to persuade Warrick to shut him up with a kiss which proved what a good idea it had been.

A sigh turned into a hiss of pleasure as slick fingers pressed into him. Arousal peaked again, and it was all he could do to stop himself pulling Warrick down on top of him, just to get the hard contact against his cock.

Despite the urgency, he could wait for a while. Only fair to give Warrick a chance to catch up since — mmm, yeah, just like that — since he was starting from cold. Completely unselfish reason, nothing to do with the fact that Warrick was melting his spine from the inside with every flex of his fingers.

Then, somehow, it was all wrong. The changes were so subtle he would never have been able to put them into words, but when Toreth opened his eyes, Warrick was staring across the room over his head, frowning slightly. Still fingerfucking Toreth, but only his body was on the job. His mind was . . .

"What the hell are you thinking about?" Toreth snapped, meaning:
who
the hell are you thinking about?

"What?" Warrick damn near jumped, then smiled sheepishly. "Still got work on my mind, I'm afraid." His thumb stroked apologetically over the skin behind Toreth's balls. "It's not easy to switch focus mid-stride."

Great. Second place to the bloody sim. If it
was
the sim, and not Girardin or some other . . . Toreth pulled away. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at his wilting cock. "Thanks a fucking bunch."

"I'm sorry." Warrick knelt up, then sat back on his heels. "What can I do to remedy the situation?"

"Forget it. I might as well go home and leave you to it."

"Mm." Warrick climbed off the bed and started collecting his scattered clothes. For a moment, Toreth thought Warrick was simply going to take him at his word and leave him there in bed. Then Warrick added, "Come on."

"Where?"

"Just get dressed and come on."

Toreth lay in bed and watched Warrick dress. Warrick didn't say anything else. Apparently 'come on' was supposed to be enough after ruining a previously great evening. Talk about taking someone for granted. Which, okay, was technically no more than Toreth had done when he'd dragged Warrick into the bedroom in the first place, but if Warrick hadn't wanted to fuck he should have said something. Bastard.

When Warrick had gone, Toreth smacked the bed with both palms, swore aloud, then threw himself out of bed and started hunting for clothes.

He tracked Warrick down in the kitchen, leaning against the work-top and finishing a sandwich.

"Hope you washed your hands," Toreth said.

Warrick snorted. "Of course. Do you want one?" He offered a plate, which held another sandwich.

It took Toreth a moment to identify the smell — banana.

"God, no. Those things are disgusting." Putting fruit in sandwiches wasn't natural to start with, and the fact that Warrick then put
pepper
on them only added another level of unsavoury weirdness.

"I made them before you showed up, so it seemed a shame to waste them," Warrick said through the last mouthful of bread. He put the uneaten sandwich down and brushed his hands together. "I want to show you something."

"What? And where?"

"Not far. It won't take long, if you have plans to be somewhere else."

Toreth had meant to leave and head on to a bar and find someone willing to fuck with more than ten percent of their attention. That wasn't really a plan as such, though, and a few minutes wouldn't make any difference. "What about that coffee?"

Warrick held up a thermos flask. "Reheated, but I put something in to hide that."

"Okay. Lead the way."

They took the lift up to the top floor, and strolled in silence along a deserted corridor until they reached a door. It opened to Warrick's iris scan, revealing a narrow flight of stairs. The sign at the foot of them said,
Roof Garden
.

"I didn't know this place had one," Toreth said as they started to climb.

"Of a kind. It was in the plans — rather elaborate in fact — but it caused too many problems. The weight of wet soil, problems with leaking water and so on. So they closed the thing down. And then . . . well, you'll see."

Another secure access door at the top of the stairs allowed them out onto the roof space.

"There are some lights," Warrick said, "but it's better without."

Once Toreth's eyes adjusted, the moon provided enough light to navigate across the open space — a waxing harvest moon, yellow and heavy in the sky.

The footing proved to be smooth and firm. They picked their way between chairs and tables set out in groups around the entrance. Pots and low troughs held plants, and Toreth could smell flowers. Across the other side of the roof stood a collection of objects he couldn't make out. Most of them were still, showing different shades and textures in the cool moonlight. A few moved in the wind, which was stronger up here than it had felt at street level.

"What's over there?" Toreth asked.

"The sculpture garden. Residents donate a new one from time to time, and they're rearranged as people see fit. I bought something from Cele for it; I'll have to show it to you when it's light. In fact, we should come up to enjoy the sun one afternoon. I don't know why I've never thought of if before. Come over to the side."

Heights didn't bother Toreth and never had, so he followed Warrick without hesitation. A wall ran round the roof at waist height and they walked slowly along beside it. The moonlight couldn't compete with the brilliant artificial lights, which spread out below them from a higher vantage than he'd expected.

The cool September breeze cut through Toreth's shirt, and he wished he'd picked up his jacket. "Fuck, you can see for miles."

"Yes. This area is on a slight hill. You don't notice it on the ground, but it's obvious if you look at a topographical map. That's the University, over there. The grounds aren't well lit, but you can just see the edge of the AERC atrium. I think it's all rather beautiful."

"Yeah. It's not a bad place, is it, New London? From a distance. The lights go on for fucking miles. Far as you can see." Toreth stopped, looking out over the city, judging distances before he pointed to a brighter glow away and to the left. "That must be I&I. Or the closest part of Int-Sec, anyway. Those white buildings. I was over there earlier tonight — the lights don't seem that strong on the ground."

Warrick joined him, slipping between Toreth and the wall. He set the thermos on the wide, flat top of the wall, and poured coffee into the single cup. He passed it back and Toreth drank, the coffee deliciously hot, and with a hefty dose of brandy to make up for the reheated flavour.

"You were at I&I? This late?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah."

"New case? You didn't mention anything important in progress."

"No." Toreth wrapped his hands round the cup. "I was at the cattle market — recruiting bash for this year's trainees."

"I see." Warrick's tone didn't change. "And does that always make you chronically horny?"

Toreth choked on a mouthful of coffee, then said, "Actually, yeah. The juniors are all so fucking desperate. I&I recruits them competitive to start with and there are always too many of them and not enough seniors looking. Half of them would do
anything
to get a place. They all want it so much, even the good ones who're bound to find someone." Just talking about it was turning him on again. Maybe the fresh air would clear SimTech from Warrick's mind. "You can taste it. If you're a senior with an empty slot, it's a fantastic place to get laid."

Warrick leaned on the wall, peering downwards, which gave Toreth some interesting ideas which would have to wait for a warmer night.

"I'm deeply grateful I never had to go through anything of that kind," Warrick said in a cool, distant voice. A reaction to the mention of I&I, was Toreth's first guess, until he reviewed what he'd said.

'Fantastic place to get laid.'

Since the skiing trip — since Girardin — Toreth had made an effort to keep his casual fucks beneath Warrick's radar. Previously he'd enjoyed winding Warrick up with them, but the fantastic make-up sex wasn't fantastic enough to risk another evening like the one at the conference. Discretion made for an easier life all round.

But, for God's sake, it wasn't as if he
had
fucked anyone at I&I tonight. Maybe he hadn't said so, but the state he'd arrived in should've been a clue. He might have a highish sex drive, but he wasn't superhuman. He was wondering whether to say something when Warrick surprised him with a question.

"I assume you found a senior without any difficulty when you qualified?"

"No. Or rather, it wasn't like that in my year. They were still setting the Division up, so it hadn't been running long enough to develop traditions like the market. Pity, really. It's a fun evening if you get picked early by a good senior. Plus, I was already an interrogator when I did the conversion course. That's not the same as being a fresh trainee."

Warrick didn't comment again. No doubt the mention of interrogation had been too much. Toreth looked out over the city towards I&I. The hard-core drinkers and those drowning their sorrows would still be there. He lifted the cup to his lips again, letting the steam warm his face, and the lights of Int-Sec starred and swam as the brandy vapour stung his eyes.

"They really light the place up, don't they?" he said.

"Yes. And it's on a hill." Warrick straightened. "Quite deliberate, I'm sure."

"Huh?"

Warrick took the cup, refilled it and drank. "A deliberate part of its placement when they built it, no doubt. As a constant reminder of the presence of our guardians. Or oppressors, as some people would say."

"That's sedition."

Warrick leaned back against him, the scent of coffee and brandy drifting back with him. "No one's listening."

Toreth rested his hands on Warrick's shoulders, feeling a hint of warmth through Warrick's jumper. "I am."

"And are you going to hand me in?" Warrick sounded amused.

"For fuck's sake . . . "

He didn't give a shit about the sentiment. What bothered him was the faintly sickening thought of Warrick saying something like that when there was some bored idiot nearby who'd report him. Corporate or not, some things weren't sensible. But he couldn't think of how to say it in a way Warrick would take seriously.

The tension must have communicated itself through his hands, because Warrick said, "Rest assured I wouldn't dream of saying any such thing anywhere I might be overheard."