by Kelly Jensen
“Hmm?” His mom glanced up from the cabinet under the stove. Glancing down again, she retrieved the pan she’d been hunting for and placed it on a burner. “That your father wasn’t from this world?”
“Him and Arayu. Lang. Me.”
A new smile creased her face, one of fond nostalgia. Dillon couldn’t remember ever seeing her look that way when talking about his father. She’d always been stoic and silent, the absolute picture of a woman who’d loved and lost, and had been left with a child to raise. But the warmth she’d always shown Dillon shone through now—apparently in remembrance of Roth Fairchild, or as he was known to the clan, Rothkel Jord’Wren.
“With your father, it was after I found out I was pregnant. It was… He didn’t tell me right away. He was too shocked. Too shaken. Apparently, he hadn’t imagined it would be possible for me to conceive. At first, I reacted badly to his surprise. I thought he was upset about the baby, and with me, and it made me so sad. We were in love! Surely a child would only bring us closer. He disappeared for a while after that, as was his way. Always with the disappearing. And when he returned, he told me the truth, only to explain why he couldn’t raise the child with me. He didn’t know when he might be recalled to his homeworld, and if they did call, he would have to go.”
Dillon could picture the conversation. Could feel the heartbreak on both sides—no talent required.
His mom disappeared into the fridge to gather ingredients for her omelet and started lining things up along the counter. Eggs, cheese, mushrooms, spinach… olives?
“Things ended badly, as you know. I told him to leave and never come back.” She reconsidered the olives, returned them to the fridge, and emerged again, holding an onion. “He stayed away until you were nine.”
“Were you freaked out about the alien part? I mean, how did you keep that to yourself for so long? You must have known Lang was clan when you met him.”
Their first lunch together had been all kinds of awkward, but the first time anyone met anyone’s parents was awkward. Call it rule number 178 of being human—even if you only halfway qualified.
“I suspected. But there was no doubt about the way he felt about you and you him. I was scared for you, Dillon. I still am. There is potential for hurt, regardless of who you love. But when I think back to the happiness I’d denied myself by refusing to allow your father to be a part of your life…” She put the onion on the counter. “I’m sorry for that.”
“I had you. It was enough.” Dillon didn’t have to think that one through. Sure, there’d been times when he missed having a dad, but his mother had always been enough. Then he’d had his grandfather.
His mom smiled, her eyes shining brightly.
“But the alien part… You’ve never even seen Star Wars.”
“Your grandmother and I went to the last one! I didn’t enjoy it as much as the one before it, which seemed like it was another version of A New Hope.”
Dillon’s mouth dropped open. “Oh-kay.”
“I remember not believing Roth wasn’t human. Besides a few quirks, he was quite normal. He could be pedantic and had odd fascinations and theories, but that was what made him so interesting. He could gaze out at the stars and imagine worlds, but always with a sense of optimism. He loved being alive.” Tears brightened her eyes again. “He loved being an explorer. I tell myself now that that was a part of why I let him go. So he could keep doing what he loved. But it’s not true. I was young and hurt. That he did get to live his life as he wished makes me happy, though.”
Dillon decided not to mention that Roth would have labored beneath the same constraints governing all clan. But, by all accounts, his father had enjoyed a fair degree of autonomy. He’d been something of a rebel. He’d also been pretty damned human, to Dillon’s eyes, all quirks aside.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me anything?” he asked.
“Would you tell your son he was only half human?”
Dillon couldn’t even imagine.
“If I had known what trouble it would all mean for you, I would have said something,” his mom offered, her tone musing. Then she shook her head. “Or maybe not. You have always been happy as you are.” The smile returned. “You’ve always made me happy, just as you are.”
Dillon hopped off the stool, rounded the counter and pulled his mom into another close hug. “You’re pretty incredible, you know?”
“Of course I am,” she said, laying her cheek against his chest. Her nose wrinkled. “You need a shower. Did you not wash yourself the entire time you were away?”
“I was busy learning how to feel things with my mind.” Among other stuff.
“Will you miss having that ability?”
No. Yes. “I’m thinking about it.”
“Fair enough.” She pushed him gently away. “Go get cleaned up and wash your hair. Tell Lang I’m making breakfast. I thought we’d go to the planetarium today. Your grandmother wants to know which solar system Lang comes from.”
Oh, lord.
Leaning in, Dillon dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Lang woke to Dillon’s face inches above his. “Morning,” he mumbled as he waited for his repair cells to relinquish their hold on his systems, allowing him to regain control of essential functions such as sitting up and kissing Dillon. He should stop pushing himself to the limit. Maybe try to adopt a semihuman sleep cycle.
“Come shower with me.” Dillon’s lips met his in a soft kiss. “I want my two favorite things together—you and hot water.”
“I thought licorice allsorts were your favorite thing. And that T-shirt.” Thin to the point of transparency and indecently soft, it managed to hold together wash after wash. Lang should investigate the material. “And Peppermint Bark Oreos. Those gel pens Josh found at Blick’s. The corner chair—”
Dillon cut him off with another kiss. “I have lots of favorites, but you’re my best favorite.”
Lang smiled. “I see you are feeling well this morning.”
“Really well, all things considered. C’mon. I need a shower. Mom’s making breakfast.”
“How are those two things related?” His smile grew as Dillon tugged hard enough to pull him up, away from the pillow and halfway across the bed. Lang practiced some self-sufficiency, then, by getting his legs positioned properly for the journey from bed to floor.
Either the long put-off sleep or just having Dillon in his arms melted away the stress of the past few weeks. Being home again, though he’d never really left. The scent of Dillon’s skin, the weight of Dillon’s arms wrapped around him, and the path Dillon was marking across his cheek—little kisses that ended at Lang’s mouth, swallowing anything he might say.
He’d missed this: simple kisses. Touching his lips to those of another person and having it mean so many things. Hi, how are you. I like you. I missed you. I don’t ever want to be so far away from your lips again. Why did clan not kiss? Kissing was wonderful.
Then Dillon was tugging him toward the bathroom and undressing him at the same time. Easily done. Lang’s pants were loose, and he stepped out of them as they dropped from hip to thigh to calf. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss to pull his shirt over his head. Dillon’s bare chest flashed pale and lovely in the morning light, the piercings at his nipples calling to Lang’s tongue. He flicked both before covering one with a thumb so he could concentrate on the other.
Dillon snorted softly, moaned, and grabbed Lang’s hands.
“Shower. Now. We’ll make too much noise out here.”
Right. Hana was making breakfast.
Lang followed Dillon into the bathroom. “Upero, shower setting three.” Enough pressure to get them clean without blasting skin cells from their bodies. While the water heated, Lang dealt with the mildly urgent issue of trying to urinate while half hard. By the time he made it into the shower, the water was warm. Human showers were also wonderful—and something his people should adopt. Might make them less uptight.
Though, in Vagnan�
�s case—
A hand around his cock redirected Lang’s thoughts. He focused his gaze on Dillon.
“There you are,” Dillon said.
“Here I am.” Lang cupped Dillon’s cheek and let his thumb rove upward to touch the glint of metal threaded through one eyebrow. “How are you? Really?”
“Now is so not the time.”
Before Lang could insist that now was a very good time—because what he wanted to do with Dillon wouldn’t be gentle—Dillon’s lips crashed into his, the bite of his piercing sending a thrill through Lang’s skin. He met the invitation of Dillon’s tongue, and the heat of his desire seared through the warmth of the shower.
Dillon continued stroking Lang’s cock, employing a series of tugs as Lang hardened. Lang groaned into Dillon’s mouth and reached around to lift Dillon up and press him against the shower wall. The change of position ended the hand job, but that was okay. Lang needed to be inside Dillon. The sudden weight of Dillon’s legs at Lang’s hips indicated Dillon would be okay with that. One hand braced against Lang’s shoulder, Dillon extended the other toward the recessed shelf where they kept such things as soap, shampoo, and waterproof lube.
He picked up the lube. “This would not be half as fun in a clan shower. Just saying.”
Lang laughed. “I was just thinking that the clan should adopt human showers.”
Grinning, Dillon kissed him. “We need to stop talking about the clan.”
“We do.”
Dillon had the lube open and his fingers slicked. He reached behind and below to prep himself, eyes fluttering shut, a soft moan floating into the warm mist. Lang growled and adjusted his hold, grateful for the superior strength of his custom-designed body as he lifted Dillon slightly and angled him back.
“Tell me when you’re ready.”
“For you?” Dillon grinned again. “Always.”
Though the urgency of his need dictated Lang should get in position and thrust, he paused for another beat. “Are you sure? We could—”
“Fuck me, Lang. Now. With everything you have. I’m right where I want to be. I need you as much as you need me.”
With Dillon’s help, Lang found home and drove forward and up, encountering only brief resistance as Dillon let go and invited him inside. Tight heat enveloped Lang’s cock, and he growled again, all thoughts of clan and home and intimacy shredding before the more primal mindset of: “Stars, you feel so good.”
“So do you,” Dillon said around a moan.
He angled his hips forward, and Lang thrust harder, deeper, higher, wordless sounds echoing off the walls. Dillon flexed his legs, tightening his grip around Lang’s waist. He still had a hand on Lang’s shoulder. The other he braced against the side wall, fingers clinging to the shelf. His chin lifted as his head dropped back, exposing his throat.
Lang wanted to kiss the graceful curve of Dillon’s neck, but his hips were in charge. Closing his eyes, he gave over to the need burning low in his spine. His existence narrowed to the point of their connection—to his cock sliding in and out of Dillon’s ass—but he was aware of everything else that was a part of their lovemaking. The sound of their bodies meeting and their huffed breaths. The thrill and drum of his blood as he raced toward the point of no return. And Dillon, always Dillon. His lover and love. The reason Lang had been able to grow beyond his custom-designed shell and into someone human. Someone worthy.
Dillon gripped his shoulder, short nails digging into Lang’s skin. His hard cock bounced between them, slapping Lang’s ribs. The rush of Lang’s blood reached a crescendo, and he threw his head back and roared. Drove up, drove deep, cut loose and came, the almighty surge of his climax weakening his knees in the best way possible.
Lang tightened his hold on Dillon, pressing him harder into the wall, and let go again, giving his hips free reign to batter forward as his orgasm thundered through him. Time slipped and slid, and then they were on the shower floor in a tangle of limbs, Dillon arching beneath Lang’s hand as he toppled over the edge.
As if they’d lost consciousness, reality trickled in slowly—water rolling from Dillon’s face in long strings and the patter of the shower all around them. The scent of sex and lube and moist heat. It was messy and not at all convenient to be lying on his back, blinded by stinging spray, one knee aching dully—he’d dropped down pretty hard after coming—his back sort of cold against the tile. But Dillon’s hand rested in his, and their breaths followed the same regular pattern.
“Upero, shower off.”
“Not sure I’m clean, yet,” Dillon murmured.
“I was drowning.”
Carefully, Lang rolled his head to the side.
“I’d have saved you,” Dillon said, lips curving into a smile. “Speaking of, I never thanked you for coming after me.”
The past few weeks tugged at Lang’s heart, the pull both painful and melancholy. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too. I thought I was never going to see you again.”
“If Vagnan had had his way, you might not have.”
“He’s not happy, Lang. None of them are.”
Instead of questioning the wisdom of discussing clan well-being while lying in a cooling puddle on the floor of their shower, Lang simply nodded. “I don’t need any emotion sense to agree with that.”
“Duty is fed to you all at such a young age. For some, I think it works. The logical minds and those who need a place.”
“That’s all of us, Dillon. We don’t have a family structure to support us the way you do. At one point, that seemed enlightened. Years ago, when my mission was fresh. Entanglement and emotion could be a liability. But now that I have experience of love, I can’t imagine living any other way.” Lang swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “I told you about Rehonen.”
“Your teammate. Yeah. Did you love him?”
“I think I did in the only way I knew how. He was as a brother to me, but more. It’s difficult to explain. But it’s different with you. You…”
With effort, Lang dragged a hand from the shower floor and traced the line of Dillon’s pierced eyebrow. He touched the ring through Dillon’s nose, and the other at Dillon’s lip. Leaned in and kissed him.
“I did not feel as tender toward him as I do you. We were friends. Very close friends. You are infinitely more.”
Dillon’s smile changed the long lines of his face from pensiveness to a glowing sort of happiness. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. I have for a long time. Since shortly after we met. But I didn’t know how to verbalize what I felt.”
“You showed me. Every day.”
“As did you.” Lang propped himself up on an elbow. “Would you like to marry, legally, here on Earth, and connect ourselves forever?”
Dillon’s smile grew wider. He nodded jerkily. “Yeah. I would.”
The setting could have been better, but Lang never doubted for a moment that Dillon’s answer would be the same, regardless. He kissed Dillon again, their lips barely meeting before Dillon laughed and clapped his hands together.
“My mom is going to love this! She might even stop being mad about us apparently going to her funeral.”
Laughter bubbled up inside Lang and burst free almost without thought, and it felt good. Real. Human.
Dillon quickly burst the bubble, though, his expression turning pensive. “Do you think they’ll leave us alone now? The clan?”
“We have Arayu on our side.”
“Vagnan is the clan chief’s brother, though.”
Lang chuckled again. “Genetically, yes. Arayu has always been a favorite, though. It is why she holds such a high office. But we’re not going to talk about her now. Or anyone else but you and me. We’re going to kiss and make love again. I want you on your knees. I want to taste you. I want—”
“Dillon? Lang?” Hana Lee knocked on the bathroom door. “Boys? Your breakfast is getting cold.”
Dillon flopped onto his back and laughed, leaving Lang to make an a
nswer. It was not so onerous a duty—being one that belonged uniquely to him and Dillon, and Dillon’s family, who would soon be his family. He would have a mother. A real one. And a partner for life.
His mission might have changed in ways that should have remained a predictive codicil in the instruction manual for scout life, but in that moment—his back pressed to a rapidly cooling tile floor, Dillon’s laughter a fountain beside him, and his future mother-in-law’s sharp knock repeating against the door—Lang felt more light, more free, and yet more purposeful than he ever had before.
Epilogue
Three months later
“See how the sun makes the walls glow?” Dillon gestured between the floor to ceiling windows and the bright yellow splash of sunlight on the near wall. “It makes the space feel super cozy, even in winter.”
“It’s lovely,” his mom murmured before wandering closer to the wall to admire the various projects pinned in a wavering line. “Which class did these?”
“They’re from all my classes.” Dillon tapped the closest. “That one is an elephant named Spike.”
“Spike?”
“Yep.”
“Mrs. Lee!” Josh reached the top of the stairs and held his arms out for a hug.
Dillon’s mom moved into Josh’s embrace and kissed his cheek. “Joshua, you look well.”
“And you look very not dead.” Josh’s eyes sparkled.
Dillon couldn’t quite remember who he and Lang had sacrificed in order to clear up the confusion of his three-week hiatus in February—they’d left the funeral story intact, but had changed the victim to either a cousin or a great aunt. Thankfully, the details were all fuzzy now, and something he didn’t need to remember. The mistake had been blamed on Lang. He’d always had a reputation for being a little eccentric. Add in a chain of articles about his supposed plans for the apocalypse and his sudden decision to retire from Skovgaard Enterprises, and details could be like confetti at a wedding—which was why his mom was in the city. They were having lunch with Lang so they could start to plan. Or listen as Hana Lee told them both how it would all be.
