Fractured Time- Chapter II: The Tether

⚠️CONTENT WARNING: 18+

This chapter contains explicit depictions of sexual intimacy between consenting adults, as well as scenes of violence and peril. Reader discretion is advised.

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Mason’s hand knew where to find him even in sleep. In the silence of the night, when the city had already gone to bed, his fingers crept up Adrian’s stomach, under the pajamas, over the warm skin. Adrian wasn’t sleeping. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling. Mason’s movement stirred his body—a deep, physical desire that always lurked there, like a second breath.

“You awake?” whispered Mason, his voice deep, sleepy into the pillow.

“Always,” replied Adrian, and turned onto his other side to face his husband. Mason’s face was soft in the gloom, his eyes two dark, calm pools. Adrian reached forward and pressed his lips to Mason’s. The kiss was slow, searching. His tongue slipped into Mason’s mouth, tasting of night, milk, and him. Mason groaned, a satisfied sound wedged into sleep. His hand slid down Adrian’s back, fingers digging between the pajamas and skin. He pulled him closer.

Their bodies came together—thigh to thigh, stomach to stomach. Adrian felt Mason’s hard cock against his own thigh. A familiar, certain pressure.

“I love you,” Mason said between kisses.

“Me too,” Adrian whispered back, but the words were stones in his throat.

Mason’s hand slid down to the waistband of the pajama pants, working the button. Adrian helped, pulling down the pants, then Mason’s. The air was cool on their skin. Mason reached over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and took out the lube. The drip of the liquid was loud in the silence. Mason poured some onto his palm.

“Turn over,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with want.

Adrian obeyed. He rolled onto his stomach. Mason’s hand found his ass. First he just caressed the two mounds, then his fingers parted and found the tight, closed opening. The tip of his oiled finger circled it, then paused at the entrance without pressure.

“Relax,” Mason said softly.

Adrian breathed, and let his body loosen. The tip of Mason’s finger pressed inward. The inner ring resisted, then gave way. One finger slipped in. The inside was warm, tight. Adrian buried his face in the pillow. The pain was only a moment, then melted into warmth.

“Good?” Mason asked.

“Yes,” Adrian panted. “More.”

The second finger went in easier. Mason circled, stretched. Adrian heard the wet, squelching sound. His body opened, ready to receive. He knew this was the last time. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to remember every detail.

“Ready?” Mason asked.

Adrian nodded, wordless.

Mason pulled his fingers out. Adrian heard him applying more lube, this time to his own cock. Then Mason’s body pressed against Adrian’s back. The hard, oiled head of his cock touched Adrian’s opening. Pressed. The inner ring resisted again.

“Relax, darling,” Mason whispered into his ear. “Let me in.”

Adrian surrendered. The tension peaked, then suddenly gave way. Mason’s cock slid inside. The sensation of being stretched was hot, pressing, infinitely intimate. Adrian cried out—a short, startled sound. Mason remained motionless, fully sheathed.

“God…” Mason groaned. “You’re… you’re so tight.”

Then he began to move. At first just a little, pulling back, then pushing forward again. Every thrust was a farewell. Mason’s hips slapped against Adrian’s ass, the sound of skin on skin wet, muffled. His hand was on Adrian’s shoulder, fingers digging into the flesh.

“Faster,” Adrian panted. “Please…”

Mason obeyed. His hips swung quicker, the penetration deeper, more forceful. The room filled with the sounds of bodies: panting, moans, the bed creaking, the soft slap of wet meeting. Adrian’s face was buried in the pillow. Mason leaned down and kissed his neck, his shoulder. His body covered Adrian’s, dominated it.

“Look at me,” Adrian begged, half-turning. “Now. Exactly now.”

Mason slowed. He opened his eyes. They glittered in the dark, full of adoration. “I always look at you.”

Adrian’s hand slid down his own stomach and grabbed his hard, wet cock. He began to stroke in rhythm with Mason’s thrusts. The tension built inside him, a hot, inevitable wave.

“Together…” he gasped. “Please, Mason… together…”

“With you…” Mason groaned back. “With you, darling… now…”

Then it came. Adrian’s body tensed, then went limp in long, trembling waves. The cry that tore from his throat was half moan, half sob. He felt his seed erupt, spilling warm over his hand, onto the pillow. His vision blurred. Mason followed only seconds later, his body shuddering over Adrian’s back, a long, deep groan that finally choked on his husband’s name: “Adrian…” His cock pulsed inside Adrian, and Adrian felt the fresh, warm gush of cum filling him.

For a minute they lay motionless, tangled, sweaty. Mason slowly pulled out. Some of the warm cum trickled out and ran down Adrian’s thigh. Mason lay down beside him and pulled him into an embrace.

“God…” Mason panted. “It’s always… always like it’s the first time.”

Adrian didn’t answer. He buried his face in Mason’s chest and listened to his heartbeat—fast, strong, alive. That sound. That was the sound he wanted to preserve. At any cost.

Then he listened as Mason’s breathing evened out, sinking into deep sleep. Only then did he let the tears finally flow freely. Silently, so as not to wake him.

That’s how he fell asleep—in his husband’s arms, in the warmth of his lover’s body, his soul already on the threshold of hell. The dream didn’t delay. When it finally swallowed him, once again it was smoke, screams, and endless silence. November 2, 2026. 14:17.

And when the dawn light was just graying, Adrian woke in the cold grip of terror. Beside him, Mason slept deeply, peacefully. This was the last morning. Perhaps forever.

He slipped carefully out of bed. The floor was cold under his feet. In the bathroom, he looked in the mirror. The face looking back was a stranger. Pale, dark purple circles under his eyes from sleeplessness. A lying face. A murderer’s face. Because that’s what he would be today. He would kill the plane to save his husband.

He opened the medicine cabinet and took out two white pills—strong painkillers. Swallowed them without water. Then he went back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He placed his hand on Mason’s back.

“I love you,” he whispered so softly he could barely hear it himself. “I will always love you.”

Then he got up and got dressed. Black jeans, gray sweater. Nothing conspicuous. The morning routine: making coffee. When Mason came out, still in his robe, Adrian was already standing at the patio door.

“Breakfast, darling?” Mason asked, wrapping his arms around Adrian’s waist.

“Not hungry. Early meeting at the lab,” Adrian lied, his voice hoarse. “I have to hurry.”

Mason kissed his shoulder. “See you tonight?”

“Sure. Tonight.”

Adrian didn’t dare turn around. He stepped out of the house. His hand was shaking so badly he could barely start the car. In the rearview mirror, he saw Mason standing in the doorway, waving. Adrian didn’t look up. If he looked up, he would fall apart.

The lab was cold and quiet. Elena was already there.

“Morning,” she said, but when she looked at Adrian, her voice died. “Oh my God, Adrian. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Slept badly.”

“This isn’t ‘slept badly.’ You look like a ghost.”

Adrian walked over to the pod—the “Chronosphere”—the small, egg-shaped chamber.

“Is it ready?” he asked.

“Yes. Calibration shows 99.7% accuracy. Adrian…” Elena stood up. “This isn’t a test. You’re going in, aren’t you?”

Adrian nodded.

“And if you don’t come back?”

“Then destroy the prototype. And tell Mason…” Adrian fell silent. “Tell him I was right.”

Tears glistened in Elena’s eyes. “You stupid romantic bastard.”

Adrian stepped into the pod. The door closed behind him. He took off his watch—a silver Breitling Mason had given him. The monogram on the cover: “A & M.” He placed it in a compartment in the pod. A sign. A message.

He entered the date: November 2, 2026. 13:45. Destination: Skyward Aviation Hangar 4, Perth Airport. Thirty-two minutes before the catastrophe.

“Launch, Elena,” he said through the mic.

“Godspeed, Adrian.”

A hum, then a deep vibration. The inside of the pod grew bright, then dark. Adrian had a moment where he felt his body being torn apart, then sudden silence. Calm. The door opened.

The air was cold, full of the smell of jet fuel and oil. Adrian stepped out. Hangar 4. Exactly where he planned. The hangar was huge, half-dark. In the middle stood a Boeing 737-800, the “Spirit of Perth.” Mason’s plane.

Adrian’s heart pounded. Now or never. He pulled out a maintenance uniform, put it on. Then he took out a digital voice modulator, keyed in Mason’s voice sample. He walked to the hangar entrance where a security guard stood.

“Morning, Dave,” Adrian said, and through the modulator, Mason’s voice spoke. “Just a final check on the hydraulics before takeoff.”

The guard looked up. “Oh, Captain Miller. Didn’t see you. Sure, go ahead.”

“Thanks.”

Adrian went in and walked under the plane. He lay down on the ground, opened the panel of the main hydraulic control unit. He selected a valve—the main reservoir for the landing gear. With a special tool, he carefully turned it until it closed completely. Then he screwed it back, but so that the inner seal shifted, leaving a tiny, undetectable leak. The plane would be able to take off. But when the pilot activated the landing gear on descent, the system pressure would slowly bleed away. The plane’s nose would dip, and the gear wouldn’t extend fully. A ground accident. Injuries, but not fatal. At least in theory.

When he finished, he stood up. The job was perfect. No one had seen anything. Then he heard the sound. Laughter. From the other end of the hangar, two men stepped out—one of them was Mason. The other, the co-pilot. Mason wore his pilot’s uniform, chatting cheerfully.

Adrian froze. His heart leapt into his throat. There stood his husband, forty meters away. Alive, healthy, smiling. The sun he wanted to save.

Mason suddenly looked up, as if sensing his gaze. His eyes looked into the darkness where Adrian stood. For a moment, it seemed their gazes might meet. Adrian’s breath caught. Does he see? Does he recognize?

Then Mason turned back to the other pilot and made some joking remark. His laughter echoed. Adrian had to run. He ran toward the pod. As he ran, the tears finally flowed freely. He saw his husband, and knew he would never see him like this again.

The pod door closed behind him. Adrian curled up on the floor and sobbed. But there was no time. He entered the return coordinates.

“Return,” he said, and pressed the button.

The pod began to hum again. But this time it was more chaotic. The vibration stronger. The light flickered erratically. The pod shook as if struck by a giant fist. Adrian’s head hit the wall. On the monitor, the dates changed at a mad speed, rolling backward uncontrollably: 2000… 1500… 500… 10,000 BC… 65,000,000 BC…

“No!” Adrian shouted, but the controls didn’t respond. The pod was caught in a temporal vortex.

Then sudden silence. The movement stopped. The door opened.

The air was damp, foul. A sweetish, rotting smell, mixed with fresh earth. Adrian crawled out and vomited. Then he looked up.

The pod had landed on the shore of a shallow, yellow-watered lake. Giant, fern-like plants stood around. The sky was gray and low. The air was warm and heavy. In the distance, some large animal bellowed—a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through the ground.

The Cretaceous. Or early Paleogene.

Part of the pod was sinking into the water. One side was dented, smoke curling from it.

“No,” Adrian whispered. “No, no, no.”

He went over and tried to pull it out. The water came up to his knees. The mud slipped under his feet. Then he felt something move in the water. Not far from him, a large, dark shape glided past—a long, serpentine body. Crocodile? Giant lizard?

On the shore, in the vegetation, something moved. Adrian turned. A figure stood there. A human. Naked, brown-skinned, muscular. His face was painted with red and black pigments. In his hand was a long, carved club. The eyes—sharp, intelligent—stared at Adrian.

Adrian froze. The man approached slowly. He planted his club on the ground and said something—a strange, guttural sound.

“I… I don’t want trouble,” Adrian said, his voice trembling.

The man watched him for a moment, then suddenly turned his head. Then he looked back at Adrian and gave a short, sharp cry. From the vegetation, two more similar figures stepped out—a woman and a younger man.

Adrian backed toward the water. “Please…” he began.

The first man moved quickly. Adrian tried to run, but his foot slipped. He fell into the water. He tried to get up, but then a strong blow hit his head.

The pain was a flash of white light. Then darkness. The last thing he saw was the painted faces leaning over him above the water, their hands reaching out to grab him.

Mason felt a strange unease all day. Adrian didn’t answer. By nine p.m., he couldn’t stand it anymore. He drove to the lab. The gate was open. He knocked, then pushed the door open.

“Adrian?”

The lab was empty. The pod door stood open. On the table lay Adrian’s watch—the Breitling. Mason picked it up. It was cold. Under the monogram was a slip of paper. He tore it off. Adrian’s handwriting: “Sorry.”

He heard a sound. From the back office. He hurried over. Elena sat at the computer, her face in her hands. She was crying.

“Elena? Where’s Adrian?”

Elena looked up. “Mason… Oh God, Mason.”

“Where is he?” Mason’s voice was almost a shout.

“He’s gone… he went back.”

“Where?”

“November 2nd. 2026. He wanted to save… he wanted to save you.”

Mason’s brain couldn’t process it. “Save me? From what?”

Elena stood up and led him to the monitor. “Look.”

On the screen was a complex graph. A red dot for Adrian’s starting point. A green line moving forward to November 2026, then suddenly veering into a huge, chaotic arc backward—far, far into the past. The date at the bottom: “Ca. 65 million BC.”

“Adrian’s pod. Something happened on the return trip. It landed here.” Elena pointed at the Cretaceous. “And here… the signal stopped. It’s not moving.”

Mason stared at the screen. The red dot glowed on the shore of a small lake.

“How much time does he have?” he asked flatly.

“I don’t know. The pod is damaged. Maybe…” Elena trailed off.

“Maybe he’s already dead,” Mason finished.

The words hung in the air, weightless. Mason felt as if the floor were opening beneath him. Only that red dot remained.

“There’s a prototype,” Elena said quietly. “Two-seater. Unstable, but… it works.”

Mason slowly looked up. His eyes held a cold, hardened resolve.

“Get it ready,” he said. “Now.”

“Mason, we don’t know what’s waiting there. It could be that—”

“I don’t care,” Mason cut in. “If he’s there, I’ll be there. If he’s dead… I’ll bring his body home. But I won’t leave him alone. Ever.”

Elena looked at him for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Then let’s go.”

Mason went back to the main lab and put on Adrian’s watch. The metal was cold on his wrist. Then he turned toward the pod.

“Just wait, darling,” he whispered. “I’m coming for you.”

On the monitor, the red dot continued to glow in the ancient darkness. Beneath the graph, a new line began to draw itself—a blue, uncertain line heading toward the red dot. Mason and Elena’s path. The tether that connected them in the depths of time hadn’t snapped yet. But it was stretched terribly taut.

END OF CHAPTER II

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