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What Do You Want For Your Birthday?
He’s never had to think of that before. He’s never had a real birthday. But Albert asked, so Lincoln has to think about it. He knows Albert will give him just about anything he asks for, so he wants to ask carefully.
He needs to do research but online research won’t cut it. Problem is, most of his friends are clones. They don’t have birthdays. But Merrick didn’t know he was a clone until fairly recently, so maybe he’s a good person to start with.
Merrick gives him one of those scorn-ridden scowls that make Lincoln think of the original Doctor Merrick. “They used to pretend I had a birthday every year, but it was all a lie.”
“But you didn’t know it was a lie at the time, did you? So what did they give you?”
Merrick closes is eyes and breathes out slowly. “Nothing very personal. I should have realized I wasn’t really her brother from the birthday presents. A boring shirt, a dumb movie, some cheap chocolates. Crap. Things you could give anyone. Things that should have clued me into the truth. I should have realized I wasn’t really her brother, she wasn’t really my sister.” He opens his eyes. “Laurent should know what you want. He shouldn’t have to ask.”
“Well, I’m sure he could give me something I would like very much, but he asked me what I want most. Actually, he asked me what would make me happiest for my birthday.”
Merrick looks interested for a change. “So, he wants to please you.”
Lincoln is pretty sure he doesn’t want to talk about what pleases him. Not with Merrick. It still makes him feel a little funny inside knowing that Merrick spied on him Albert when they were having sex. He leaves Merrick at the computer, where he’s working on the design for an underwater surveillance system for one of Albert’s clients.
MacNeil is upstairs. Maybe she can help.
La La La
MacNeil is cursing out Lincoln for not hiring a replacement cleaner while she was on vacation, and for not cleaning in the very corners of the shower stall. She is meticulous about the corners. “That’s where the filth breeds,” she tells Lincoln when he comes in and sits on the edge of the tub.
“MacNeil, what do you think is a good present?”
MacNeil stops scrubbing. “Is it Christmas already?”
“No, it’s my birthday.”
“Don’t you mean your extraction date?”
“I guess. Albert found it in the records, and he wants to celebrate it.”
“But if it’s your birthday, shouldn’t Albert be buying the present?”
Lincoln thinks about that. “Yeah, I guess. He asked me what I want.”
MacNeil drops the sponge. “He doesn’t know what you want?”
“He knows what I want. He gives me what I want all the time. Like last night—”
MacNeil whips off her rubber gloves and sticks her fingers in her ears. “La la la, not listening!” she chants.
It’s something she picked up from her girlfriend. The graphic designer. MacNeil has picked up a lot of new habits. She does this thing where she flutters her hand in the air and says “Like that, maybe,” which is evidently the catchphrase of some stand-up comic who is very popular at the moment.
“I’m not talking about sex; I’m talking about dinner!”
MacNeil stops chanting. “Isn’t that the same thing with you two?”
Lincoln doesn’t know if MacNeil is being difficult on purpose, or if she just doesn’t want to talk about his birthday present. But she’s obviously not going to be of much help.
Maybe he shouldn’t ask for anything. Maybe he should say he doesn’t want anything for his birthday. It seems a bit greedy to ask for something when he already has this nice place to live and all this stuff and Albert. Most of all he has Albert.
He already has everything he could want.
Laurent Sees
Laurent finds Talia in her kitchen. That might seem a surprising place to find her, but she’s lived alone for a long time, without anyone else. Someone has to do cooking and stuff. She must know how to cook. Most people can cook something.
It doesn’t smell very appetizing. That’s because Talia isn’t cooking food. She’s using the oven to soften pieces of Plexiglas so she can mold them into a custom shield for an exterior camera.
“What’s a good present to give someone for their birthday?” Laurent asks.
Talia tilts her head and stares at Laurent as if he just asked her to give road directions to Mars. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t have one.”
“What do you mean? You don’t have a birthday?”
“I got rid of it.”
“How did you get rid of your birthday?” Laurent asks, intrigued.
“Believe me, it cost a lot of money, but it was worth every penny.”
“But why? Why get rid of your birthday?”
Talia pulls some plastic out of the oven. “I can’t believe you have to ask that.” Talia slides a hand out of her glove to push her hair off her face. Her fingertips look smooth.
Unnaturally smooth. Frighteningly smooth.
Laurent wonders how much that cost.
He’s never had the guts to ask.
“Who are you?” he asks. “Really.”
Talia looks him in the eye. Her gaze is steely. “Do you trust me?” she asks.
“Of course.”
“Then you don’t need to know,” she says. And then she adds, “Trust me, Laurent. You do not want to know.”
Laurent knows enough to trust her. “The birthday present. For Lincoln,” he says. “I want him to know… I want him to know how lucky I feel.”
“Sort of like giving thanks?”
“Yes,” Laurent says. That’s a good way to put it.
“Then you don’t need to give him anything.”
“But I want to.”
Talia shakes her head. “I think you should get out of this business. You’re too attached. Could be dangerous.”
“I don’t do dangerous things anymore. I promised Lincoln.”
“See what I mean?”
Laurent sees.
Uncommonly Good Looks
Laurent cannot conceive of not working. To stop working would be demeaning. Lincoln has enough money for the both of them to live happy long lives. He’s mentioned it on several occasions. As much as Laurent would like to spend every waking moment, and every sleeping moment, with Lincoln, he knows it would feel wrong. He values his independence too much. He needs to work, to support himself, to be his own person. Everyone needs that. Everyone wants it. Don’t they?
Even MacNeil works, and she could easily get support payments from her sponsor. Jones just got a job, or so MacNeil said. Merrick has taken contracts with Laurent. He really is a genius, and Laurent trusts him to do a good job, as long as he’s kept away form, you know, human beings.
Plus, Laurent has worked so hard to establish this business. It’s going well. He couldn’t abandon it. Surely Lincoln understands that.
Lincoln has never expressed an interest in getting a job or starting a business. There is no need, and beside that, he’s too busy learning. He’s a voracious learner, whether it is by reading or surfing the net or watching documentaries or trying things out for himself. He soaks up the information and sifts through it, not always logically. He’s spent the last six months, since he’s been on his own and with Laurent, gaining all the knowledge and more that he would have if he were really turning thirty-five tomorrow.
Lately, Lincoln’s been researching his past, or rather Tom Lincoln’s past. He’s overcome the guilt he used to feel, even though he never had any reason to feel guilty about killing that bastard, and he’s started to think that he must have more in common with Tom than just his looks.
Good looks, Laurent mentally amends. Uncommonly good looks.
Genetics is only part of the story. There is nurture, and there is chance, and there are all sorts of influences. Lincoln, not having to worry about financial independence, is occupying himself with personal independence. He’s been learning about Tom Lincoln so that he can think of Tom as a totally separate being, even though they share the same DNA. He’s been looking at Tom’s past, his ancestors, his upbringing and schooling, the things he did - his career, his exploits, designing, racing, making money, getting laid.
Laurent snaps his fingers. He has an idea.
Want
“I don’t want anything. I already have everything.”
“No one has everything.”
“But I do. Really. I don’t need anything.”
“It’s not about what you need, honey. It’s about marking time. Every birthday marks a new year, and every year is precious, so you get something special. Don’t you know that?”
Lincoln stares at the manicure girl. Leeza is her name. She’s being incredibly earnest. She’s petite and today she’s wearing her hair in crazy red and black ringlets. They suit her better than the blond ones she used to wear. Lincoln notices that nails are cut very short and are not polished.
“Shouldn’t you have long, fancy nails?” Lincoln asks.
“I can’t do your manicure if my nails get in the way. And I kept getting polish remover on me and messing up the colour. Why did you change the subject?”
Lincoln doesn’t want to tell her this is his fourth birthday, not his thirty-fourth birthday. She might react funny to him being a clone.
“No reason. I just wondered.”
“Stay on topic. You asked my opinion, so I’m going to give it to you. I’ve been doing Albert’s nails for a while, and he’s never been happier. He loves you so much and he wants to show you in some way other than just, you know… oh, God,” she mutters, “the sex must be soooo hot.”
Lincoln pretends he didn’t just hear that.
“Let him give you a nice big, gorgeous present. It’ll make him happy.”
Albert comes out of the massage room. His skin is glowing and he looks relaxed and excited at the same time. He’s got a beautiful smile on his beautiful face.
If Lincoln were to stand up he’d fall right over.
The only nice big, gorgeous present Lincoln wants from Albert is Albert.
Leave the Present for Tomorrow
Laurent can’t help feeling nervous as he leads Lincoln into the garage. What if he doesn’t like the idea? What if he rejects Laurent?
Lincoln squeezes Laurent’s hand.
Lincoln would never reject Laurent.
Then he reaches out to grab Laurent’s elbow. He must be nervous about the blindfold.
Actually, Laurent is a bit nervous about the blindfold. The blindfold is making it hard for him to concentrate on the giving the gift. It’s meant to add to the surprise, but instead it’s making Laurent think he should leave the present for tomorrow and take Lincoln to straight to bed, because the idea of Lincoln naked except for a blindfold is very tempting.
No. They’re here. They’ll do the surprise. Stick to the plan.
He positions Lincoln in front of the surprise and runs his fingers along the edge of the blindfold. Lincoln shivers.
“So, you like the idea of lying on the bed naked and blindfolded too?” Laurent can’t help asking.
“Can we do that later?” Lincoln asks. And he sounds enthusiastic.
As if Laurent would say ‘no’ to that. Ha.
Laurent unties the scarf and it falls from Lincoln’s face.
“Oh!” Lincoln says and stares.
They’re old. Not too old, only about twenty years, but beautifully maintained.
“They’re beautiful,” Lincoln says.
Damn right they are. And they cost a fortune, too. No one makes them like this anymore, but Laurent knew exactly what he wanted.
“I didn’t want hoverbikes,” he explains. “And I didn’t want the newer suspension systems. I want us to be able to feel the road beneath us. It’ll take a bit of getting used to, because you’ll feel every mile for the first little while.” He lets his hand slide down to Lincoln’s ass. “But I’ll make sure you’re good and relaxed before you go to sleep every night.”
Lincoln pushes his ass back into Laurent’s palm. “Mmm, yes, please.” He wriggles, and Laurent feels the blood rushing to his cock.
Laurent thinks about Lincoln naked, blindfolded, and saying ‘please’.
He slaps the thought down and concentrates on the motorcycles. “They’ve been outfitted with extra panniers and all the gear we’ll need – GPS, tents, sleeping bags, cooking gear, warm clothes, maps, first aid kit. We’ve got an appointment to get new, padded leathers tomorrow morning, and some lighter weight gear as well.”
Lincoln runs over to the first bike and runs his hand over the seat. “Extra padding,” he murmurs.
“I want to feel every mile, but I don’t want to be tortured,” Laurent admits.
“They’re amazing. I love them.” He touches the gleaming black tank, the shining manifold, the curve of the hand grip. “Beautiful.”
Yes. Lincoln is going to look extra beautiful on one of these.
“Try it.”
Lincoln grins and swings a leg over the bike. He leans back in the seat, wriggles his ass, runs his hand down his own thigh and then up the handlebar. “Mmmmmm,” he purrs.
Laurent hopes Lincoln will choose leathers with a bit of colour in them. Maybe some red. Red would look good. Or yellow. Yellow and black. Laurent likes that idea a lot. But it’s up to Lincoln. It’s his journey.
Lincoln looks up from the bike, eyes shining with delight. “I love the bikes,” he says.
Laurent knew he would.
“Bear,” Lincoln asks eagerly, “where are we going?”
Do It Again
Lincoln traces the line on the map. He’s lying on his stomach on the bed. Albert has marked the route with a red marker, and Lincoln feels giddy just watching it curve its way south.
Then he feels a different kind of giddy. Albert’s hand is cupping one side of his ass, gently rubbing in circles.
The map is fascinating, but Lincoln wants his pants off right away. “Take my pants off, Bear.”
“Don’t you want to study the route?”
“What’s to study? You bought the plane tickets, shipping for the bikes is arranged, we fly on Monday morning, we get on the bikes, we ride. You’ve got it all handled. Except my pants are still on.”
“So roll over.”
The map goes flying as Lincoln flips over and Albert’s hands unzip him.
“You’re excited,” Albert says.
“I’m excited, and horny, and you figured out the best birthday present ever!” Lincoln says gleefully. He’s gleeful about the present, but he’s also gleeful about the hands pulling his pants down and the way Albert leans down to swipe his tongue over the head of his cock.
It’s definitely a cock. Lincoln is so hard he’s gleefully hard.
He didn’t think he could get so excited about an extended road trip, but then he realizes that’s not what he’s excited about. He’s excited about the idea of months with Albert, no work, no worries, just riding and camping - although he’s never camped before but Albert is an experienced survivalist, so he’s not worried – and sleeping with Albert in a tent and fucking Albert in a tent and taking breaks to go swimming with Albert – although he’s not that experienced at swimming but they probably won’t go into the deep water anyway, although the idea of Albert fucking him in the water where it’s deep enough for Albert to stand but not for Lincoln makes Lincoln want Albert’s pants off as well – and just hanging out with Albert.
“Best present ever.”
Albert throws Lincoln’s pants on the floor and unbuckles his own belt. “Don’t say that. Then I’ll never be able to give you a better present, and there are so many birthdays to come.”
Coming and birthdays go together so nicely, Lincoln thinks. Albert’s pushing his pants down over his hips and his penis has grown into a cock too and Lincoln has so many ideas about what they could do to make themselves feel even better he gets dizzy. “I want you to fuck me. And I want to fuck you,” he says. “I’m going to fuck you in a tent,” he says.
“Every night, if I’m lucky,” Albert lies down next to Lincoln.
“But I want you to fuck me in the tent, too!”
“I will. I promise.”
“And I want to do everything. But I want to just lie together sometimes.”
“Every night, guaranteed.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“I can’t believe we’re talking about this when we could be—”
Lincoln agrees. Albert can’t finish the sentence because Lincoln kisses him.
There is a tangle of limbs and then Lincoln ends up on top with his hands on Albert’s chest. The muscles under his fingers grow tense and then soften.
“Do it again,” he whispers. Albert flexes and Lincolns sighs. “Nice, big gorgeous present,” Lincoln says. He leans down and licks across Albert’s lips. He knows he’ll never get tired of that. He’ll never get tired of Albert. He might get tired of biking, but they can always stay in a hotel for a while, or find a secluded spot for extended camping. There is no plan, no schedule. It’s all up to chance and whim and the weather.
Albert moans and spreads his legs. Lincoln wants them wrapped around his waist. He shimmies down and Albert brings his legs up over Lincoln’s ass. Their cocks get squashed together.
Nobody is fucking anybody tonight. Lincoln just wants to rub against Albert and be hugged by his arms and his legs and he hopes they can both come like this because it would be perfect birthday sex. He puts his head on Albert’s chest and listens to the steady beat of his heart.
“You’re sure you can leave your work behind.”
“Talia can handle everything.”
“But you’ll worry.”
“No, I won’t.”
“But you will.”
“Yes, I will, but you’ll keep me distracted.”
“I don’t want to be a distraction.”
“You’re not. You’re the main attraction. Shift just a bit. No, the other way… ahhh.”
Ahhh is right. This is fucking perfect. Lincoln likes the thought so much he says it out loud. “This is fucking perfect!”
“Mmmm.”
“Can I move?”
“If you don’t, I might die.”
Lincoln puts his hands on Albert’s shoulders and pulls himself up a tiny bit. The friction is marvellous. He slides back down and they both groan.
“Ah, that’s so good,” Albert says, unnecessarily.
Lincoln wriggles.
“No, up and down.”
Lincoln hauls himself up Albert’s torso. Sweat makes them slide together, and the texture of Lincoln’s chest hair is almost audible. He slides back down and the head of his cock catches against the head of Albert’s cock and it would hurt if it wasn’t so good.
“Do it again,” Albert groans.
Lincoln does it again and again. It isn’t going to be a matter of ‘if’ they come like this. It’s when. Because they both want to come. There was a lot of teasing over dinner. Albert kept brushing his hands over Lincoln’s hands, and touching Lincoln’s calf with his foot. Then after dinner he pinned Lincoln to the wall with his body and kissed him until Lincoln’s knees turned to mush. And then there was the blindfolding part, which was unaccountably exciting, Lincoln suspects for both of them. And then the surprise.
One reason they are so perfect together is that they get equally excited by motorbikes.
Fucking is not necessary. Fucking is wonderful, but this is wonderful too. It’s amazing how the simplest things can be so perfect. They didn’t fuck the first time they did it. They didn’t have to. Lincoln had been close to coming from the moment Albert took his clothes off. The feel of all that skin on his skin is always so brilliant.
It was cruel, what was done to the clones at the Institute. Proximity warnings are evil. How could this be bad? How could anyone object to this? This pleasure, this warmth, this safety, this thrill.
And now Lincoln is ready to come. Albert’s legs are hot, his skin smooth, his cock leaking, his hands spread on Lincoln’s ass, his voice low and growly. Lincoln is shaking all over and close to desperate. Albert arches his back and the lifting sensation combined with the pressure makes Lincoln even more ready.
“Come with me,” Albert moans.
“Perfect,” Lincoln whispers.
Lincoln feels it all over his body when he comes. He also feels Albert all over his body, under him and around him. He breathes deep and there is the scent of both of them, sweat and come and skin. Albert shudders under him and gasps. Lincoln drags himself up Albert’s body, spreading the wetness between them. His cheek slides on Albert’s sweaty shoulder.
“Wow. That’s almost like the first time we did it, only better.”
“Better?” Albert asks hoarsely.
“Because this time I know we’re going to do it again.”
Albert squeezes him with his arms and his legs.
“And again and again,” Lincoln adds.
Later, after they’ve cleaned up and sprawled on the bed again, Albert fishes the map back up off the floor.
“The red star,” he says, “is Tom Lincoln’s birthplace. It’s a town called John o’ Groats. His parents ran a hostel there. We’ll ride south from there, down through Scotland, and then—”
“I can read the map, Bear, and I know where Tom was born.”
“I know. I’m just saying it again because I like to.”
“You just like that you had such a good idea.”
“Don’t you?”
“I love it. But why are we riding all the way down to here?” Lincoln points at the red star at the southern tip of Africa. “That’s not where you’re from.”
“The place I’m from doesn’t exist anymore.” He points to a spot on the map that is much further north. Near the west coast. “My village was here, but was destroyed. I can take you to the area, though. Maybe it’s been rebuilt. You never know. It could never be the same, but there some people fled to the mountains. They could have returned. I’ve… I’ve never felt strong enough to return.”
“And you’re strong enough now?”
“With you I am.”
“I’d like to go there.”
“Okay, and then we can keep going and visit lots of places on the way. If we’re going to ride all the way there, we might as well keep going all the way down.”
“I want to go as far as we can together,” Lincoln says.
“It’ll take a long time,” Albert warns. “At least a few months.”
“A few months of just the two of us, and the bikes and the road.’
“And if we like it, we can always do it again.”
“And again and again,” Lincoln says.
So they do it again.
The End
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