Disturbed

DarkSlayer84

Disclaimer: This is slash. That means two men having sex. With each other. You have been warned. Also, characters are not mine, they belong to the Wachowski Brothers. I'm just toying with them.

The name he never spoke poured out of him, a confession, and an appeal:

"Neo..."

Everything happened at the same time. Anderson moaned, gripped Smith's shoulders tightly and drove down hard, exactly once. It was quick and savage, a lot like being stabbed. Only no blade could ever fit so tightly, exactly as if it had always belonged there. And nothing, absolutely nothing else could ever have made him say that name.

Smith's knees buckled, collided sharply with the dresser. And it was done. Finished.

Why should he feel like this? What bizarre malfunction gave him such pleasure in being violated?

Did it truly matter?

Everything shook; everything trembled with released tension, greased with cooling sweat.

There were bits of him, of his clothing, draped about the room--meticulously organized, for a human, but it was reckless disarray for a machine. Anderson's clothes were everywhere, as well. Little scraps of Thomas, his Thomas, inside him still.

Neo gave a soft sound, a half-gasp of effort, and pulled free of Smith's insistent clutching flesh.

That hurt. A lot. Much more than it had going in. Smith hissed in surprise, in pain, in betrayal. Neo's mouth--that soft, incredible mouth--flatlined, then pulled down sharply at the corners.

"I should leave." It was not a question.

"Stay." It was not a request.

Two sets of eyes narrowed, met, and stared each other down. Vicious icicle blue and bottomless walnut darkness locked in silent war. There could be no winners, and there would be no mercy.

They were too much the same, now.

Neo blinked, but it was Smith who looked away.

"Go." His lip twisted. The familiar hatred was raw in his bruised throat. "Hurry."

"I didn't mean--" Neo began, and stopped short at the fury in Smith's naked blue eyes. He'd almost said it, the cheapest, the worst of human platitudes: 'I didn't mean it.'

I didn't mean what I said. I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't mean for it to hurt so much.

But it did. Oh, yes, it did. Smith simply stared at him, eyes narrowed, hands clenched. Breath went into and out of him with that same hiss, like a steam drill. His tongue peeked out and fluttered over his lips.

"I should get dressed," was all he said.

Neo sighed, pulled his sunglasses off the dresser, and slipped them on.

"Me, too."

-END-