Zion

Zion

Rating: R for male-male sexual situations

Pairing: Neo/Tank

Disclaimer: The Matrix, with its associated characters and themes, does not belong to me. I make no money from this venture.

Dedication: This slashfic is for Ewan McGregor.

Wherein Tank is a symbol; Neo likens himself to a toaster; and Trinity clarifies the purpose of lubricant.

Neo knew that it was far from over. The Matrix was firmly in place. They'd done little more than nothing thus far.

Was he the Chosen One? Was there a Chosen One? He'd been told one thing, Morpheus another, Trinity a third. Morpheus claimed that they'd been told what they needed to hear. Therefore, none of it necessarily meant anything.

Did Trinity actually love him? Did she merely need to think that she loved him to save him? Did he love her? Should he love her?

He was weak, too weak. In the Matrix, he worked from a different body, but if his corporeal form in this existence were worthless, he wouldn't survive in any existence. Therefore, he needed to strengthen his body as he strengthened his mind and understanding. While Morpheus taught him and Trinity explained things, Tank trained with him, in the Matrix and out of it. In the Matrix, he could beat Morpheus, Agent Smith, everyone. In reality, he was no match for anyone. Tank kicked his butt with an enthusiastic grin.

Tank's enthusiasm was infectious. It kept him buoyed while he was frustrated with Trinity and more frustrated with Morpheus. It was hard to be the One sometimes, because too much was counting on him, too many were relying on him.

When he wasn't training and learning, he was sleeping. He ate Mouse's "Tasty Wheat" and dressed in worn, cast-off clothing. He tried to build some muscle mass, so that his pitiful strength wasn't overtaxed by his sessions in the Matrix.

Tank was the only one who didn't rub him the wrong way. It was hard to spend all of his time, day after week, in close quarters with the same people. It was a hard time anyway, with betrayal and death still in the air. But Tank was so nice, and so friendly, and so encouraging, that he could relax. He felt at ease with Tank, who accepted him. Morpheus and Trinity had assumptions, and from their assumptions grew expectations, and he felt as though he was under too much pressure. Tank pushed him but wasn't as demanding as Morpheus and Trinity. With Tank, he pushed himself. With Morpheus and Trinity, he struggled not to feel resentful.

He found himself staring at Tank. Not just at Tank's smile, or eyes, or skin, or muscles. He did look at all of that, often. But what he stared at the most was Tank's wholeness. Tank didn't have holes or jacks. He found himself wanting to touch Tank, to run his hands over the nape of Tank's neck, just to prove to himself that such a person existed.

One evening, he left Trinity, saying that he was tired and wanted to go to bed. Growing restless, he turned from his room and walked out to the main room. Tank was there, at the main computer.

Tank tossed a smile over his shoulder, turning back to the monitors. "Hey, Neo."

"Hey." He looked over Tank's shoulder. He could read the Matrix now, where before it had been nonsense. His eyes dropped to Tank's hands, resting on the desktop. His gaze ran along those unmarked, untouched arms to the elbows. What was it like, to be separate from the Matrix, never to have been a part of it, always to have been oneself? Tank was, to Neo, another species entirely, a creature from another world. How inaccurate was that assessment, really? He said, softly, the request he made only of Tank, the words he never voiced to Trinity or even to Morpheus. "Tell me about Zion."

Tank had told him about Zion before, had been telling him for weeks. By now, Neo could recite the story to himself. But Tank never protested, never seemed reluctant. Best of all, Tank never said it automatically, never went through the points by rote. It was fresh and new each time, and Tank's cheerful enthusiasm never waned in recounting the legends. Tank never questioned, mocked, or really even mentioned Neo's infinite interest in Zion.

Two days later, as they were sitting on the gym floor sweating, Tank told Neo about Zion all over again. In the midst of the tale, Tank pulled off his shirts, and for the first time Neo saw Tank's naked torso. Young, and firm, and well-defined, and hairless, and covered with rich-toned skin, and, best of all, whole. No jacks or plugs or interference, just...

Tank kept talking as Neo moved around behind him. His spine was similarly free of machinery. "Someday we'll go," Tank said. "You'll see it for yourself."

"Don't you ever get tired of someday?" Neo asked.

"It's what we have," Tank said. "It gives us hope. We may not have a date set, but we'll go."

Neo reached out trembling fingers, his heart filled with a painful hope. A part of him was afraid, was certain, that if he touched Tank, the young man would disappear before his very eyes, would turn into something else, wouldn't be this way any longer. People in the Matrix turned into agents all of the time. What if it happened here and now? But he had to know.

His fingers brushed smooth skin, warm, alive, like silk, with a sheen of sweat. He slid his fingers over and over Tank's nape, marvelling. Then his touch moved down, traced from vertebrae to vertebrae.

"Neo."

Neo's head snapped up, hand jerking back reflexively. God, that had scared him. "Yeah?" Trinity was in the archway, glaring at him.

"Morpheus wants you," she said. "Let's go."

Someone was in a pissy mood today. He wiped the sweat from his face and paused. That wasn't sweat. He'd been crying. When had he been crying? No, it had to be sweat. As he stood, wondering, he looked down. Tank was looking up at him, and those soft brown eyes held understanding, compassion, sadness. Pity? He couldn't tell. Why had he been crying? And why was Trinity angry at him? Or was he making too much of nothing?

When he and Trinity were in the hallway, he said, "Was I crying?"

She looked at him, frowning. "Yes. How could you not know if you're crying, Neo? Are you that divorced from reality?"

"Am I? Divorced from reality?"

"You're still obsessed with life as you knew it in the Matrix. That's over, Neo. It never existed."

"Forgive me for not getting over it immediately," he said. "The entire world as I lived it all of my life was nothing but a sham, a lie, a fiction, I get that. It's just a little hard not to wish that some of it had been true."

"Like what? I don't mean the good food, or your favorite computer game. I mean what's missing here that was so great there?"

"Peace love and understanding."

"We have those here."

"We're taking away everything that everyone's ever known, and what do we offer them in return?"

"The truth."

"Where is it getting us? Are you so much happier here than you were there?"

"If Morpheus asked me all over again, I'd still choose this over the Matrix." She grabbed his arm. "Would you?"

"Yes."

"Why?" She looked into his face. "Why? What are you thinking?"

He should have been thinking of the power of One Great Truth. He should have remembered Morpheus' strength and courage and self-sacrifice and overwhelming belief. He should have thought of those that had died for this cause. Instead, he was thinking of one bead of sweat making its path down Tank's naked back.

"Go see Morpheus," she said, frustrated, leaving him.

Tank was a symbol. Of the future. Of real humanity. Of the courage and compassion and energy of unblemished people, what people could be without the Matrix. Tank was fun and intelligent and giving and beautiful. Tank was love.

The holes on Neo's body were healing, but they'd never heal over entirely. They'd always be there. And the jack at the base of his skull, that had to be there, that was his link to the Matrix. Without it, he'd never be able to accomplish what he needed to accomplish.

Tank couldn't join the Matrix. Couldn't be a part of it, couldn't experience it, never had lived in it. Tank's life was dedicated to ending the Matrix, and Tank's life was ruled by the existence of the Matrix, and Tank's brother had died because of it, and Tank had killed because of it, but Tank would never be a part of it.

Neo began to understand why he'd cried. He'd cried for what he'd lost, what the Matrix had taken from him, and what still could be. The beauty in perfection of an unmarred form.

Neo stood behind Tank at the console again, and this time as he watched the Matrix his hand came up to cup Tank's neck, his thumb rubbing idly over the bottom edges of Tank's hair.

Then, for the first time, he realized what he was doing. And he realized that he'd never once considered what Tank thought of his staring, his touching. He removed his hand, dropping it to his side.

When they worked out the next day, they took turns at a punching bag that Dozer had assembled. Neo, exhausted, fell to the ground. Tank stretched, and in leaning down to the floor from an erect position, his shirt slid forward. Neo's eyes forced themselves elsewhere. Then Tank was sitting down, close, practically in Neo's personal space.

"Neo," Tank said, smiling, "you can look if you want. I know it's different, seeing someone without plugs."

"I keep wanting to ask you what it's like," Neo said. "But I knew, once. I used to be like you. Only I wasn't, not really."

"You were," Tank said. "In the Matrix, you were, and that's all that you had."

"You've never been there."

"Can't say that I want to go," Tank admitted. "May I?"

Neo didn't know what Tank wanted, but nodded anyway. Tank's fingers passed over Neo's chest through Neo's worn cotton shirt, feeling down the row of plugs. Then Tank's hand came around behind Neo, as Tank leaned closer, and Neo felt Tank's fingers tracing the edge of the jack at the base of his skull.

"Power source," Neo said.

"No," Tank said, "your power source is you. This is just your link to the Matrix. You're the one who's going to save the world; this is just a tool." Tank removed his hand. "I keep wanting to ask you what it's like," Tank said, "but I can see for myself."

"What what's like?"

"Being the One."

"Am I?"

"I think so. Trinity thinks so. Morpheus says so, and whatever Morpheus says I take as gospel, you know that."

"Why isn't Morpheus the one?"

"Maybe he is, too." Tank chuckled. "Two. Hey, and Trinity can be three. That seems appropriate."

"What about you?"

"Me? I'm coming along for the ride."

"It's more than that."

"You're going to be late for Morpheus if you hang around here talking to me. Come on, I'm supposed to plug you in."

"Like a toaster," Neo muttered, rising. "A curling iron."

"Hey, you may be the One, but that doesn't mean that you can go around feeling sorry for yourself," Tank said. "You don't think that Jesus Christ went around feeling sorry for himself, do you?"

"He probably did, from the sound of it. If I'm Christ, is Morpheus God?"

"Or John the Baptist?" Tank guessed. "I'm a little shaky on my Christian theology."

"I think we already found our Judas," Neo said. "And Trinity, she's, what, one of the Marys?"

"Who am I?" Tank asked.

"John," Neo said.

"Who's John?"

Neo smiled. If he remembered correctly, John was the favored apostle, James' brother.

That evening, Neo had sex with Trinity. They'd made love before, but not regularly; sometimes she didn't feel like it, or he was too tired to be capable of anything but a dead sleep. He wasn't in love with her, and he, to be entirely honest, doubted whether she loved him. But they liked each other, and they needed each other, and physical pleasure and comfort were all the more rare in this existence.

He couldn't help but feel that it was right that he be with her, another person from the Matrix, not one of those Matrix women that Mouse liked, not someone from Zion who was born free. Trinity had plugs and the jack just as he did. He wouldn't feel right being with someone else. She was out of the Matrix, but she plugged in just as he did.

Still, as he held her and touched her and kissed her, he kept encountering those holes, and she felt as alien as he felt, yet as familiar as himself. He could close his eyes and put out his hand and know that he'd encounter those foreign holes. He wondered what it would be like to make love with someone whole, someone pure, someone who wasn't and couldn't be a part of the Matrix that he was trying to end.

Tank.

And he came.

The next day, Neo's eyes opened as Tank unplugged him from the Matrix. "Wow."

"Fun, hunh?" Tank asked, smiling.

"I want more."

"No more for you," Tank chided. "Morpheus doesn't want you overdoing it."

Being plugged in was such a rush sometimes, when he was in one of Tank or Morpheus' "educational" programs, and he was learning something like, that first time, kung fu. He just opened his eyes and he knew kung fu! It was incredible. He'd learned so much, and there was so much more out there...

He was doing better now; the programs didn't drain all of his energy as they once had. His body was stronger than the waste he'd been when he'd originally left the Matrix. He wondered what it would be like for Tank; to be honest, he doubted that anything could deplete Tank's stores of enthusiasm. Was anyone more full of positive energy?

He left his chair and stood behind Tank, reading the Matrix. Tank was wearing that long-sleeved ragged shirt, the one that clung enticingly to every curve of muscle but didn't expose any pure skin and even hung down past Tank's wrists, as though trying to keep everything from Neo's gaze. It only served to remind him that he shouldn't be looking.

Tank cast a look over his shoulder, tossing Neo a quick, innocent smile before turning back to the Matrix. The image remained on Neo's mind: those eyes, quick and deep; that smile, wide and engaging; and that skin, darker than Neo's, richer in tone, making him want to put it against his own so that he could gauge the contrast.

He wanted to touch. His heart was aching, and he'd felt this ache before; he remembered it, now, from before, from the times that he had touched Tank, from the one moment that he'd cried: the first time he'd shed tears since leaving the Matrix.

Neo knew that something was wrong. When he was in bed with Trinity, as he was nightly now, it was different. It was unsatisfactory. He wanted something else, something more. She was lovely and smart and strong, and the sex was good, and there was nothing at all wrong with her. But she wasn't what he wanted. He would come, he would reach orgasm, but his lust wasn't sated. He still craved. But what did he crave?

He asked Morpheus. He didn't want to humiliate or betray Trinity, so he couched his question in other language, but he wanted to know what was missing, why he still felt needy. His eyes, his hands, his heart, his gut, his groin ached and itched with longing. Unfulfilled longing. He wondered whether it was some psychological, Matrix-induced problem, or was it personal, or was it nothing at all and simply exacerbated by these living conditions?

Morpheus listened and seemed to understand, but Morpheus understood everything. Morpheus wouldn't tell him anything, offered no advice, just listened, absorbed, nodded, and changed the subject. Neo knew that Morpheus had heard, had understood; he trusted that Morpheus wasn't being dismissive, just wasn't prepared to solve his every problem for him. He felt better now that he'd told someone, but it didn't fix anything. He still ached, itched, longed.

That evening, Neo laid back on his bed. When the door opened, he sat up, expecting to see Trinity. It was Tank. Neo stood, waiting for Tank to give a reason for being there. Tank, with a small smile, did the last thing he expected: removed that long-sleeved shirt and dropped it to the cold cement floor, standing before Neo naked to the waist.

Neo inhaled. Tank looked up into his eyes, trusting, waiting. Neo's hands settled on broad, warm shoulders. He ran his hands down Tank's muscled arms. Stroked Tank's hands. He felt over Tank's ribcage, traced the ridges of Tank's abdomen, rubbed his thumbs over Tank's pectoral muscles. Everything was so warm, and alive, and silky. And whole, pure, perfection.

The door opened again. Trinity stared at them, anger and accusation and betrayal in her eyes.

"Trinity," he said, yanking his hands away from Tank.

"Neo."

"I'll let you talk," Tank said, ducking down for the shirt then leaving them alone in the room. Trinity's eyes were accusing Neo, and he knew what she was thinking, or did he? Did he even know what he was thinking? What was he thinking? What had he thought as he'd brushed his fingertips over Tank's strong, smooth chest?

"Why did you bother to pretend?" Trinity asked.

"Pretend?" he repeated.

"You're obsessed with him," she said. "You've been obsessed with him for-"

"With Tank?"

"God, Neo, what kind of fool do you think I am? You stare at him like he's-"

"There are four people here. I have to look at someone. I'm starved for human contact."

"It's not human contact you want, Neo," Trinity said. "It's Tank. Contact with Tank. And you can tell yourself that it's about Zion, about wanting to free humanity, about what Tank represents. But it's Tank, pure and simple, a young buff stud."

"That's shit! You're jealous-"

"Of what? That you prefer Tank? Hell, I prefer Tank, too, Neo. But he's off-limits."

"Off-limits?!"

"He's not one of us."

"He's just as much a part of this cause, of this fight-"

"He's not from the Matrix. He's not-"

"I know that!"

"Neo, listen to me. You're the One, we all know it. Congratulations. You're going to save us all. But Tank has his own destiny. You can't interfere."

"Destiny?"

"Tank's seen the Oracle too, Neo."

"What did she tell him?"

"He never told me."

"Then how do you-"

"Tank's different, Neo, he's special. You know that. Leave him alone." Trinity started to leave.

"Trinity."

She turned in the doorway.

"Have you ever touched him?"

"Well, he never showed up half-naked in my room, so no, I haven't."

"Trinity."

"What?"

"Did Morpheus send him here?"

"Morpheus sent me here." She left; the door closed.

Neo broached the subject (well, one of the subjects) with Tank the next afternoon as he sat in the chair and Tank clamped his feet. "You've seen the Oracle?"

"Yes I have," Tank said. "She's a powerful woman. I must say, it was a great honor to be invited."

"You were invited?" Was that just a way of phrasing it, or had the Oracle actually invited Tank? Neo sort of thought that he, and everyone else, had made an appointment.

"She requested my presence," Tank said. "Morpheus took me to her."

"Why did she want to see you?"

"My charming personality," Tank teased. "Neo, even if I tell you what she said, it doesn't necessarily mean what we think that it does. The Oracle tells what we need to hear; you know it."

"She said I'm not the One."

"But you are."

"Sometimes I think that I might be."

"You are."

"Is what she told you true?"

"We'll see."

"She lied to me. She lied to Trinity."

"Trinity loves you," Tank said. "It's just not a fairy tale romance. She loves you for who you are, just you, and for being the One. Trinity and the Oracle both know that there are different kinds of love, and that some kinds aren't meant to be happily ever after together expensive wedding marriage kids love. Are you ready?"

Neo nodded and closed his eyes. Tank plugged him into the Matrix, and he was alone, and Tank couldn't follow.

That evening, after eating, Neo asked Morpheus about Tank's visit to the Oracle. "She asked to see him?"

"She did," Morpheus said.

"Has she ever asked to see anyone else?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Why did she ask to see Tank? I don't mean what did she tell him, just why ask to see him?"

"She wanted to meet him. She gave him his future as an afterthought. Of more importance was simply to meet Tank."

"Is Tank the One?"

"Neo, you are the One."

"Do you know what she told him?"

"No."

"Do you know why he's special?"

"Is he?"

"Morpheus."

"Tank is who he is."

"Trinity wants me to stay away from him. She thinks that I'm obsessed with him."

"Are you?"

"No."

"Then don't worry about it."

"What if I am?"

"If you're obsessed with him, you must figure out why you've developed the obsession. Is it dangerous to either yourself or Tank? If it's unhealthy, you must end it."

"How do I know if it's unhealthy?"

"Trinity will tell you."

They were trying to recruit more people from the Matrix. They had billions of potential humans out there. Neo sat with Tank before the console, watching the numbers. In the Matrix, Neo was just awesome, but here on the ship he was a mere human, and after too long his vision started to swim. He looked away, rubbing at his eyes.

"Don't fall asleep. We have work to do."

"Tell me about Zion."

"As long as it doesn't put you to sleep." Tank started to talk. Neo watched the Matrix with his mind on Zion, Tank's voice, Tank...

One smooth, square hand rested by the keyboard. Neo stroked his fingers over it. Tank's hand turned palm-up and twined their fingers, palm to palm. Neo's heart was racing.

It was this easy? All he had to do was to touch? Tank was very approachable, never rebuffed him, had already let him touch, let him stand there and cry, came into his room and started to undress, now was holding his hand - - a simple act, but it felt profound and shattering to Neo.

He kept the contact as long as he could. But then Trinity came and told them to take a rest; she was going to take duty now. So Tank smiled, bid them good night, and left, releasing Neo's hand. Neo felt bereft. He spoke with Trinity briefly and went to his room.

The next day, Neo said, "I want to see the Oracle."

"Again?" Trinity asked.

"You want a second opinion?" Tank asked.

"Neo, she tells you what you need to hear," Trinity said. "You can't go in and demand answers, you can't go back time and time again just hoping to hear the magic words."

"I'll take you there," Morpheus said. "We'll go tomorrow."

The next day, Trinity watched, disapproving, as Tank locked Morpheus and Neo into their chairs. "Ready?" Tank asked.

Neo nodded. "Wish me luck." With that, he was there, and they walked into the Oracle's office. He sat and waited; the room was empty this time. No spoon children. The same long-haired woman came and ushered him to the Oracle in the kitchen.

"Neo," she said, rising. "You've come to see me again."

"I have questions."

"Who has the answers?"

"You."

"Fire away."

"Do you believe in real true romantic love, being in love with someone and having that person be your soul's partner for life?"

"I do."

"Am I going to fall in love like that?"

"You're the One and you've come with these child's questions?" she asked. "You're worse off than I thought."

"Am I?"

"If I tell you, where's the fun of anticipation for you?"

"What can you tell me? You know what I want to know."

"Do you know what you want to know?"

"I have too many questions."

"They're not the right questions."

"What is the right question?"

"Once you figure out what the right question is, you'll have all of the answers, and then you won't need me."

"Have you ever asked to see someone?"

"Once I requested an audience with a young man. I believe that you know him. His name was Tank."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see the person who... Well, that's not my story to tell."

"Who is he?"

"He's Tank. He is who he is."

"Who is he to me?"

"That's up to you. And up to him."

"Do you know?"

"Neo, I know more than you. But, is that saying a whole lot?" She smiled, not meaning it maliciously. "You're asking the wrong questions. You know what you want, Neo. You know what you need."

Asking the wrong questions. What were the right questions? Did he have the vocabulary to ask those questions?

He left the Oracle, and they made phone calls, and he opened his eyes.

"What did you learn?" Trinity asked.

"I'm not very bright," he said.

"She didn't answer your questions?"

"I wasn't asking the right questions. I just wasted her time, and Morpheus'."

"So figure out the right questions," she said. "What did you ask?"

"Am I going to fall in love."

"That is a dumb question," she said. "And I think we all know its answer. What else did you ask?"

"You know the answer?"

"Maybe you aren't the One after all. You should be smarter than this."

"Trinity," Morpheus said. "This is for Neo to discover."

"Everyone knows the answer and I'm still asking the question," Neo said.

"Story of my life," Tank teased.

Their ship had supplies, but those supplies were used very sparingly, because they had no way to restock anything. There was a small store of condoms, but Neo didn't use those. He was having sex with Trinity, but she was disease-free and he was sterile. Did that have some cosmic purpose? Was it a way to ensure that there weren't little baby Ones running around? There were a few tubes of lubricant, too, and he'd assumed that they were for masturbation, or maybe some women needed it for easier sex, but one night in bed with Trinity he figured it out.

He asked her.

She rested her forehead on his shoulder and laughed. Finally she raised her head and, chuckling, said, "Yes, Neo. It's for gay sex."

"You mean...sodomy."

"How straight are you?" she asked. "Never mind. Yes, Neo, it's for anal sex."

"Does anyone... Has it been used?"

"Oh, that's really your business," she said. "No, it hasn't. Not yet."

"Not yet?"

"Well... You seem to be taking my advice, but I don't know how long that'll last."

He thought about that. Her advice? What advice?

Leave him alone.

Was that...did she... Was that the advice that she meant? Did she think that he wanted to, to, to... Well, she'd walked in his bedroom and he'd been touching a half-naked young man, so that was a pretty reasonable indication of... But it wasn't like that, hadn't been like that, he wasn't, he didn't...

In the Matrix, he was capable of anything, he was powerful, he was confident. Here, in this reality, on this ship, he was falling apart. He didn't know anything. He couldn't understand anything. He didn't like feeling this incompetent, surrounded by these strong, intelligent people. Morpheus was just incredible, and Trinity wasn't Morpheus' second for nothing, and Tank...

Leave him alone.

He cupped Tank's strong jaw in his hands, thumbs brushing over Tank's cheeks. His hands were longer than Tank's, and leaner. Tank's impulsive smile was gone now, those dark shining eyes looking up at him with a patient compassion. He slid his right hand down Tank's neck, passing the pulse, fingers tracing Tank's collarbone before his hand moved back to Tank's nape.

He leaned forward, and he met soft lips, and his eyes closed. There was a silken warmth beneath his hands, and his left hand came down to Tank's shoulder, cotton over strength. Tank wasn't as big as Morpheus, but was broad and muscular.

Tank's mouth was hot, and wet, and sweet. He lost himself in delicious heat. Tank's hands were on his waist, and with each twist and swipe of his tongue they tightened spasmodically. He sucked Tank's tongue into his mouth, wanting to merge with this humble glory as best he could.

Merge. Join.

Tank's mouth was gone, and Tank was pushing him back gently. His eyes snapped open in surprise.

"I'm sorry, Neo," Tank said.

"What the fuck did I just do?" Neo asked, sucking in air in hope that it would give him some measure of sanity.

"You kissed me, and I encouraged you. I'm sorry. I know that it isn't what you want."

"What do I want?" Neo asked. "Tank. What do you want?" Maybe if he knew what Tank wanted, he might be able to figure out what he wanted.

"Ask me what I want," Trinity said, walking over to them. "Neo."

"I kissed Tank," Neo said.

"First it was just looking at him, just looking, nothing wrong with that. Then you started to touch him, trail your fingers here, brush your hand there, a little harmless touching. Then you were touching a little longer, a little more, new places, just out of curiosity, nothing wrong with it, right? And now you're kissing him."

"It's my fault," Tank said. "I should have stopped it, I should..."

"It's not up to you to control Neo's impulses," Trinity said. "Neo's a big boy now."

"Why didn't you stop me?" Neo asked Tank.

He would have sworn that Tank blushed. "I'm sorry, Neo. I'm attracted to you."

God, he'd asked one of the right questions there, hadn't he? "You're...me? You're...gay?"

"You didn't know?" Tank asked.

"You're ogling him and pawing him and undressing him with your eyes and sticking your tongue in his mouth and you don't know that he's gay?" Trinity asked.

"I never stopped to think about any of this from Tank's side," Neo said. "I was too wrapped up in my own problems."

"Problems. Like how to get him under your hands."

"No, I... It's not about sex."

"So you don't want him in your bed?"

"Trinity," Tank said.

"Right. This is between the two of you, or not, it's up to you. I'll tell you one thing, Neo, I don't think I'll be in your bed any longer."

"I'm sorry, Trinity."

"It was just a matter of time," she said. "I've seen this coming since you first got here."

"You have?"

"You're transparent," she told Neo.

"It's not about sex," Neo insisted. Trinity kissed him and left. He looked at Tank. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, I let this go too far," Tank said. "You were just interested in the only Matrix-free, jack-free person on board. I understand your interest. I'm what you always imagined yourself to be."

"You're beautiful," Neo said.

"You kiss really well," Tank said. "I had no idea that it could be like that. I have to tell you, it was a whole new experience for me. I've never been with anyone."

"You're...a virgin. You've never kissed anyone?"

"You're my first. Thank you. It was quite exciting."

"You kiss like you've been doing it for years. I don't mean that the way it sounds, I mean I do, I just..." He shook his head, frustrated. "That was supposed to be a compliment."

Tank was smiling. "Thank you."

That should have ended it. He'd kissed Tank, gone too far, and now could reel himself back and return to sanity. But it wasn't over. It couldn't be over, not with this hunger gnawing at him, eating away at his heart, feeding the ache in his groin. He'd kissed Tank, put his hands on Tank one more time, and it only served to make him realize how much more he wanted. It was his biggest taste of Tank yet, and it only whetted his appetite.

Now Neo found himself even more distracted than before the kiss. He kept staring at Tank, watching Tank, no matter what he was doing. Only in the Matrix could he concentrate on other matters, so he went into the Matrix more and more often, to escape Tank, to focus himself. But as soon as he left the Matrix and opened his eyes to Tank's face, his heart lurched in his chest. He masturbated daily and nightly, thinking of Tank.

He remembered Tank's mouth opening under his, that luscious heat, that slow, deep merging. Those hands, steady on him, steadying him. He'd kept a distance between their bodies, and now he imagined if he hadn't, pretended that he'd moved closer, that their bodies had met, that he might have been held against that strong chest, could have slipped his hand under Tank's shirt to feel that muscle definition, that he might have felt...have felt...so hard...god, yes...so...good...

Neo wanted to touch Tank now more than ever, and he didn't dare. Before, it had been innocent. Now, it had turned into something else, and he didn't want to turn it into something more, into what it couldn't be. That wasn't fair to Tank. Because for him, it wasn't sex, it wasn't an orgasm quest. It was simpler than that, yet more complex; it was more innocent. Wasn't it?

Ask the right questions, Neo. Stop wasting time with the wrong questions. Ask the right questions. Ask what you want, what you're searching for, why it's all Tank. What did you feel when you touched him? Why do you want to touch him again? Why did that one kiss send your joints tingling and your cock into a burn? Your eyelashes were on fire and you know it. And why not do it again? He wants you, he said so himself. All you have to do is take him.

Take him.

Neo wrapped his hand around the back of Tank's neck and dove in for a kiss, possessing Tank's mouth, thrusting deep, his left hand on Tank's elbow to keep the young man close. He swallowed Tank's startled sound and pulled Tank closer, against his body, felt Tank on him from nipple to thigh. His left hand moved to Tank's hip, inched beneath Tank's shirt, slid up Tank's warm naked side.

"Neo," Tank gasped.

"Fuck you," Neo said, and pulled up Tank's shirt, dropping to his knees, pressing his face to Tank's abdomen, licking over the ridges of Tank's six-pack. A moment later Tank was kneeling, too, in front of him, kissing him. He lowered Tank's back to the floor, pushed up Tank's shirt farther, slithered down to kiss Tank's navel. Tank removed the shirt and he kissed his way up Tank. He liked his mouth, his tongue, on Tank's nipples. He liked Tank's body, so muscular, so tight, so hard, so masculine.

"Neo."

Morpheus' voice. Oh god, they were still in the control room. He was on the floor in front of the chairs. He buried his face in Tank's neck and closed his eyes and wished himself invisible.

"Neo."

Neo's eyes shot open. He sat up, bewildered. A dream? That had all been a fucking dream? What kind of psycho world was this? Morpheus was standing by his bed. He pulled up his knees in a futile effort to hide his erection.

"It's late," Morpheus said. "Eat and come to see me." Morpheus left. Neo curled up on his side, closing his eyes. Life sucked.

Neo avoided Tank. It was difficult to do so, since there were only four of them on the ship, and since Tank was the one who plugged him in and played operator. He tried to work out on his own, going out of his way to avoid Tank's exercise times. When he was near Tank, he kept his eyes averted. He didn't want to look at Tank, all of that human masculine perfection. He continued to masturbate regularly.

Neo wasn't sure what was happening, himself. He wanted to ask Morpheus, because Morpheus probably knew, or at least could answer some of his questions; but he didn't ask, and Morpheus didn't acknowledge or hint at any problems. Trinity was being nice, and they were friends again, though completely non-sexual. And Tank, well, Tank finally came to him one day, pulled him back from the Matrix and spoke when he opened his eyes.

"Neo, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"I was attracted to you, and you were just curious about me because of my non-Matrix status, and I... I know that you aren't attracted to me, not in that way, and when you kissed me I should have stopped you, and I'm sorry. I wish that we could put it behind us. We're living together and working together, and we will be for a long time, so - - I want you to know that I won't make any advances. You're straight and I'm cool with that, you know? I'm not going to come on to you-"

"Wait," Neo said, shaking his head a little, putting up a hand. "You think that I'm avoiding you because I'm upset about kissing you? That I'm embarrassed and that I'm afraid that you're going to make a move on me?"

"You aren't?"

"I never thought you'd come on to me."

"Then what is it, Neo? What's wrong? Talk to me. You've been avoiding me like I'm diseased and highly contagious."

"It's not your fault. It's me, I've been sort of...confused lately."

"About what?"

"You."

"So it is me." Tank's smile was back. Neo felt better.

"Yeah, but no."

"You're confused about me. What about me? I'm just Tank."

"But who is Tank?"

"We all have our own prophecies to fulfill, Neo. You're the One. I'm Tank."

"Are you still attracted to me?"

Tank grinned. "Yeah, but don't let it go to your head."

"Why me? Is it just because I'm the One?"

Tank laughed. "I'm not a groupie. I just like you."

"It's that easy?"

"Sure."

And it was easy, after that. Neo started to spend a lot of time with Tank. Whenever he wasn't with Morpheus or Trinity on official business, he was with Tank. And when he was alone, in bed, he'd close his eyes and think about Tank while he jerked off. He could keep it separate, his friend Tank and his fantasy Tank. They were remarkably similar people, in temperament and everything else, except that fantasy Tank was naked and rubbing against him.

He found himself, one day, skating his fingertips over Tank's nape again. Tank turned, facing him, but didn't dislodge his fingers. Then they were facing each other, his fingers still on Tank's skin. It was a perfect kissing position. He'd kissed Tank once. Only once in reality. With tongue. His tongue, Tank's tongue-

There it was, Tank's tongue, and he sucked on it, and he did what he'd missed last time, put his hands beneath Tank's shirt, pulled Tank's body closer, slid his hands up along Tank's sides to feel over skin and bone and muscle, felt Tank's hard-on at his hip, slid his hands up and felt for Tank's nipples, backed Tank against the console. He was feeling pure human masculinity, strong and hard, no Matrix influence, no plugs and jacks, just the perfection of the human form, heat and muscle.

Very different from Trinity, who was softer and had curves and had plugs. She was a female from the Matrix; Tank was a male from Zion.

He tongue-fucked Tank, rubbed his left thumb over Tank's right nipple while his right hand reached down and opened Tank's jeans.

"Whoa." Tank was pushing him back, giving a startled laugh, tugging clothes into position. "What are you doing?"

"I want to fuck you." He slammed back to earth. "Damn it. I didn't mean that. I didn't mean it that way. I meant, I want you. I'm sorry. I'm not... I don't want you. I mean-"

"Whether you want me or not, in the future, try to remember that you do have a bedroom, and that this is not the most appropriate place to start making out with someone."

"I'm sorry."

"That I believe. Could you please not grab me and grope me again unless you mean it? I take this seriously."

"I'm sorry. Do you believe in love?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe that you're going to fall in love with someone? That you're meant to be with someone for life?"

"I do," Tank said.

"Do you think that I'll get that? Or since I'm the One, do I not get that?" He was sterile; maybe he wasn't supposed to love at all.

"You'll have the love of a lifetime, Neo. I'm sure that you will."

Three nights later, Neo slipped into Tank's room. Tank was asleep barefoot but otherwise fully dressed on the bunk. There was a dark blue blanket spread over Tank, who was lying on one side facing Neo. Neo watched him sleep.

The night after that, he came back. The night after that night, Tank's eyes opened. "Neo?" Tank sat up, looking at him.

"Hi," he said, not having anything else to say.

"Do you need something?"

"Yeah."

Tank pushed the blanket to one side, pulled off his shirt, and settled flat on his back.

Neo inhaled, exhaled, and got on the bunk, kneeling astride Tank's thighs. He slid his hands up Tank from waist to shoulders and down again. Warm and silky. Swell and ridge of bone, of muscle. He stroked over Tank's body, traced paths along Tank's ribs, tried to memorize every dip and plane. Then, without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Tank's neck. He kissed Tank's shoulders, licked Tank's collarbone, kissed and licked his way down, over Tank's pecs, paused for a leisurely exploration of Tank's nipples. Moved down, over Tank's ribs, licked at Tank's sternum, licked at Tank's navel.

Tank turned over.

He started at the top again, stroked and kissed Tank from the top of the spine to the base. Not a plug to be seen.

Tank rolled back. Neo kissed his mouth, that sweet hot wet mouth. Tank wasn't smiling anymore, but judging from the kisses Tank hadn't lost any of his natural enthuasiasm.

Neo had a strong, whole, vibrant young man in his arms. He kept himself busy touching Tank, making sure that he was really feeling what he was feeling, making sure that the body under his hands was real. He kissed Tank, jealous of the pauses for air. He wanted to keep himself permanently latched onto Tank's mouth, wanted to make sure that he could keep a hand on Tank always.

Tank's hands were clutching the edge of the bunk in a death grip.

"Touch me," he said.

"Neo-"

"Touch me," he said again.

"What do you want from me?" Tank asked. The question wasn't one of censure but one of respect and curiosity, asking what Neo expected, what Tank could do to help.

"I want to fuck you," Neo said.

"No you don't," Tank said, and a strong wide hand smoothed down Neo's back through cotton, which served to remind Neo that he was still dressed.

"I don't?"

"No. What do you want from me?" Tank tried again.

Neo felt Tank's touch between his shoulderblades, looked down into lovely dark eyes, felt his soul opening. "I want to make love with you." Those words should have sounded ridiculous - - two young men didn't make love, making love was for trashy romance novels, men had sex, fucked, got off, shot their wads. But he was in love, infatuated, obsessed, entranced, in love. And Tank was love.

"Tomorrow night," Tank promised him, and kissed him.

"And tonight?" Neo asked.

"Tonight I'll tell you who Tank is."

"The Oracle," Neo said. "What did she tell you? Why are you important?"

"Everyone is important, Neo. You know that."

"Tell me who you are."

Tank sat up, pushing Neo up too. Then they were sitting on the bed, still close; Neo couldn't move away, not now. Tank's strong wide hands gathered his. "I am Tank. You're Neo, the One, and you will free the people from the Matrix. I have two purposes in this life. One is to lead the people of Zion. I am from them, I am one of them, I know their needs and I know their feelings. I can help them, and you, in this quest."

Zion.

"What's your other purpose?" Neo asked.

"To love the One. To help him, to be loved by him, to be his partner in this life, in this love."

"Me," Neo said.

"Yes."

"You... We're meant to be together? We're meant to be together."

"Yes."

"You knew?"

"I couldn't tell you, Neo. I had to let you understand it for yourself. You do understand it, now."

"Are you sure that we have to wait until tomorrow night?"

"We're going to be together, Neo. All of our lives."

"I have waited all of this time."

"I've waited since you first came on this ship and started making eyes at Trinity."

"I can go get the lube out of storage."

Tank smiled and kissed him. "I have some here. I wanted to be prepared in case you ever came to your senses."

"We're meant to be together. We were made for each other."

"We'll stop the Matrix, Neo. We'll stop the Agents. We'll free the people. Together."

matthew@matthewtime.com
Other slash page
Home

MatthewHaldemanTime.com