A Glint of Light

by J. C. Andrijeski

  He looked up at her.

  Seeing her watch his face, he sighed, still fighting to control the pain coiling through his light. Shifting under her weight in his lap, conscious that he’d just pressed his erection up against her, he turned enough to open the top of the backpack.

  Unzipping it slowly, one-handed, he didn’t look up until he had it open, then he turned, meeting her gaze directly.

  “I didn’t wrap them,” he confessed. “I thought it might raise too many questions.”

  He saw curiosity flicker across her face, right before she shifted deeper into his lap, making him wince and clench his jaw right before he gripped her hip tighter, biting his tongue.

  She had ahold of the backpack by then.

  He watched her open the the top wider so she could peer inside.

  He felt her realize what she was looking at, even as surprise rippled her light again.

  “Comic books?” her voice was incredulous. “You brought me comic books?”

  “Your friends,” he said, still fighting reactions to having her in his lap. “I asked. They told me you liked them. These ones, I mean… these in particular.”

  She turned from the bag, staring at him incredulously.

  Seeing the disbelief there, he shrugged.

  “I can’t bring you a reader,” he explained. “Or anything to watch the feeds on. But I could bring you this. I thought…”

  Meeting her gaze, he felt himself flush, suddenly doubting the choice.

  “I don’t know,” he finished lamely. “I thought you might want to read them.”

  He let his words trail as he glanced up, gesturing vaguely when she continued to stare at his face. When she didn’t speak, he gestured vaguely again.

  “I bought them off some of the humans on board. If they are the wrong kind, tell me. I can perhaps find different ones.”

  She had gone back to the backpack, though.

  He watched her face as she flipped through the stack of covers, moving the backpack around so she could see the contents more clearly.

  He felt pleased surprise on her a few times, enough to know at least some of his choices were things she might have picked for herself. He’d known he might miss with a few of them. But in addition to asking them, he’d read a number of her old human friends, trying to get some sense of what had been of interest to her back when she lived in San Francisco.

  When he glanced up next, she was holding one of the books in her hands, flipping through it as she resettled her butt in his lap.

  He watched her eyes move across the page.

  He glanced at the cake again and then decided fuck it.

  If she didn’t want the cake, she didn’t have to eat it.

  “I want it,” she told him without looking up.

  She turned the page on the book she held, her eyes scanning images and text.

  “I’m trying to decide if I should fuck you for bringing me these before I eat it,” she added.

  She said it casually, almost indifferently.

  Even so, his pain spiked.

  He shook his head though, clicking.

  “I don’t want an exchange, Cass,” he said. “Regardless of what I said. It was a bad joke. It was a really bad joke, and in poor taste, considering there are real issues in what we’re doing here, on my side especially…”

  His words trailed when she resettled her weight on him, that time with her palm firmly pressed against his cock.

  She kept her hand there as she continued to read the book, pulling it off only to turn the pages. She rubbed him there slowly in between. When she didn’t stop, he leaned against the wall, his pain worsening until he couldn’t see.

  “Fuck, Cass.” He let out a low gasp, gripping her wrist in his hand. “Don’t tease me right now. I’m not going to handle it well, and I’m serious about us talking about this, finding some way to negotiate boundaries so that––”

  “Who said anything about teasing?” she cut in, her voice neutral again as her eyes scanned the print.

  She glanced up when he didn’t answer.

  After studying his face for a few seconds more, she set the book down next to his thigh, leaning into his chest. Lowering her face, she kissed his mouth, pulling on him sensually with her light and tongue––more than she should have been able to, given the collar.

  Guilt wormed its way into his brain again, making him think too much about what she’d said, the way she’d insinuated some kind of exchange.

  After a few seconds more, he ended the kiss.

  He felt her noticing the doubt on him, right before she gave him a small smile.

  Climbing off his lap, she sat cross-legged in front of the cake, picking up one of the two forks he’d brought. They were soft, of course, made of plastic.

  He couldn’t ignore all of the protocols, even if some part of him wanted to.

  “Are you going to eat it with me, at least?” she said without turning.

  He looked at her back, then let out a tighter exhale.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Sitting up from the wall, he slid over to the other side of the tray and picked up the second plastic fork. He only glanced at her briefly before he leaned down, carving a piece out of one side with the utensil and putting it in his mouth.

  When he’d closed his lips around it, he glanced up and saw her staring at him incredulously.

  “Did you really just eat the first piece of my cake?” she said, her voice warring between amusement and annoyance.

  “Yes,” he said, surprised. “So?”

  “Dude, that’s a party foul.”

  “Is it?” he retorted. “You weren’t eating it.”

  “I was about to!”

  “How the hell am I to know that?”

  “I just told you I was!”

  Shrugging, he leaned down again, about to dig in another forkful, but she shoved his arm away. “You can’t eat the gold part!” she scolded.

  “Why not?”

  “Another party foul,” she said, her voice exasperated but holding more humor. “You don’t get to eat the fancy part on the cake when it’s someone else’s cake!”

  “Why not?” he said again.

  “Because I won’t fuck you if you do,” she said, laughing. “How’s that for an answer? Since you seers seem to have no regard for tradition––”

  “Not true,” he protested. “Patently not true! Ask anyone.”

  But she’d already leaned over the cake herself.

  When he tried to do the same, she pushed his hand with the fork away, right before she dug into the gold sword and sun, pulling off most of it in one giant forkful.

  “Why did you invite me to eat with you if you did not mean it?” he grumbled, watching her stuff the whole thing in her mouth.

  She laughed, her mouth full of ice cream and frosting. She fought to chew––then to swallow––laughing again as she came up for air.

  “There are rules, man. You can eat it. Just follow the damned rules.”

  “How can I follow some arbitrary human rules?” he complained, rolling his eyes. “…If I do not know these rules even exist? You will apparently not tell tell them to me until after I’ve already broken them.”

  “I didn’t think I’d have to spell out the obvious stuff. Sheesh.”

  “And now I cannot have any cake at all, apparently?” he grumbled, letting his own humor creep to his voice. “You are very greedy, Cassandra.”

  She grinned, right before she slid over, sitting deliberately in his lap, this time facing outward. He let her, shifting his legs to accommodate her, even as she pressed her round ass firmly into his crotch.

  He sucked in a light breath, then let his voice turn into another grumble.

  “A seating arrangement clearly designed to put yourself between me and the cake,” he muttered, reaching around her to stab at one green branch of the frosting-covered tree.

  She laughed, looking back at him as he stuffed the forkful into his mouth before she cou
ld smack his hand away again.

  He felt his pain worsen when he saw the smile reach her eyes.

  He was still looking at her face when he spoke, impulsively that time.

  “You are gorgeous,” he told her. “Absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

  He saw her pale.

  She stared at him, looking like he’d slapped her.

  He felt fear ripple her light, what might have been panic.

  Unthinking, he wrapped his arms around her, still holding the fork in one hand. He flooded her with his light, closing his eyes as he pressed his face to her shoulder, holding her tightly against his chest.

  “Gaos,” he murmured. “…Trust me. Please.”

  She didn’t answer.

  He felt her confusion worsen.

  He fought to speak again, trying to decide what to say.

  In the end he remained silent, watching as she wiped her face angrily, right before she leaned forward and dug the fork viciously into the ice cream cake. He watched, still not speaking, still holding her, as she shoved the whole chunk into her mouth. She took another bite, and another, and he couldn’t even tell if she was chewing at that point.

  “Don’t you have brain freeze?” he said finally.

  It was almost a real question by then.

  She let out an involuntary-sounding laugh, nearly choking on her current mouthful.

  He was still holding her around the waist when she turned fluidly in his lap, wrapping her legs around him. She started taking off his shirt and his pain spiked. Yanking his shirt out of his pants, she unhooked his belt and undid the fasteners, freeing his cock.

  She got off him long enough to shed her pants, then she was back in his lap, maneuvering over him while he groaned.

  He was inside her seconds later.

  Pain shot through him when she ground down on him, blanking his mind.

  She shoved his hands off when he tried to help her, then she shoved at his chest, pushing him to his back. He lay there, his knees up, if only to avoid stepping in the cake, and watched her face as her body undulated against his. He let out a groan when she did it again, reaching for her hips, but she slapped his hands away.

  She brought him inexorably to an orgasm.

  He didn’t even try to slow it down. He let her control everything.

  She held him off a few times anyway, and he felt her experimenting with his light, pulling on him and changing angles until he told her which things he liked.

  When he finally came, he let out a low, thick cry, a near yell.

  He bucked up against her as she held his wrists, losing touch with the room.

  When he could see again, she was looking at him, hair sweated to her neck, her eyes glassy as she gazed down at his face. Seeing the softer look that briefly touched her expression, he leaned up towards her, bringing his mouth to hers, but she turned away before he could reach her lips.

  He was still fighting to recover when she climbed off him, leaving him lying there, half undressed and in more pain than he had been before they started.

  When he finally managed to pull himself back up to a seated position, she was back to leaning against the wall, her arms folded across her chest.

  She glared at him as he fought to control a second erection, pulling his shirt around to cover it when he couldn’t. Once he was more or less dressed, he slid over next to her again, leaning against the wall.

  He watched her face, but she wouldn’t look at him.

  He watched her clench her jaw and exhaled in a sigh.

  “Do you want to work some more tonight?” he said. “On the jumps?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He felt his own jaw harden, but nodded. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  He flinched but controlled his light.

  He started to pull himself off the wall when she turned, glaring right into his face.

  “What the fuck are you doing, ‘Dori?” she snapped. “What the fuck is this?”

  He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean!” She gestured sharply over the half-melted cake, taking in the backpack and the comic book on the floor in the same sweep of her arm. “What am I, ‘Dor? Am I your girlfriend now? Is your bed really that empty without Yarli in it?”

  He flinched. He hadn’t told her about Yarli, either.

  Well, he hadn’t told her about the ending part.

  “Of course I know,” she snapped. “Di'lanlente o' kitre-so'h. Did you really think I didn’t know?” Her jaw hardened, right before her voice lowered to a mutter. “Like you’d really cheat on someone. The honorable Adhipan Balidor. Although I bet she wants to kick my ass anyway. More likely, she wants to cut my throat…”

  Balidor just looked at her.

  He honestly didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s not about Yarli,” he said.

  “Bullshit.”

  His voice grew warning. “Cass. You know damned well the opposite is true. She and I broke up because of you. Not the reverse.”

  She stared at him, her eyes holding disbelief.

  “Fuck you. Get the fuck out of here.”

  He felt his face warm.

  Gripping the wall with one hand, he started to get up, when she turned on him again, her voice more venomous than before.

  “Of course, we both know what this is really about,” she said, cold. “I guess if you can’t have Allie, I’m the closest thing, right? Now that Revik’s got his cock in her, you’re pretty much stuck with me. Well, me or Feigran. I just happen to look more like her than––”

  “What?” He stared at her, in full-blown disbelief that time. “What the fuck are you talking about, Cassandra?”

  “You. Pining over Allie.”

  “Pining? Over Alyson?”

  He stared at her, completely at a loss.

  His mouth curled in a harder frown as her words sank in, as the fact that she was serious sank in. His eyes flickered over her in open disbelief as the silence between them deepened. Even after he’d fully absorbed her meaning, as well as what he could feel in her light, he honestly couldn’t decide if she believed a word she’d just said, or if this was some form of screwing with his head, intentionally or not.

  Seeing her eyes, he decided she did believe it, at least in part.

  His eyes still on her face, he clenched his jaw.

  Somewhere in that, his disbelief turned to actual anger.

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he burst out. “You can’t possibly believe that, Cassandra. The idea is ludicrous.”

  She gave him a hard look.

  “How fucking stupid do you think I am?” she said, folding her arms.

  He felt his jaw harden more.

  For a second, he was tempted to give her a real answer.

  Then he stared at the melted cake, clicking under his breath.

  “So this isn’t about me. It’s about you and Allie. I should have realized––”

  “Bullshit!” she snapped, smacking her hand down on the organic floor. “Bullshit, ‘Dor! Do you really think all of us don’t know you’ve been in love with her for years?”

  Again, he could only stare at her.

  Then, seeing the whisper of fear in her eyes, he exhaled, clicking under his breath as he looked away. He found himself staring at the cake again, and her bare feet, which looked strangely small to him suddenly, maybe in part because he still wore his boots.

  “Gaos di'lanlente a' guete, Cassandra.” Shaking his head, he exhaled again. “You hurt me before she did. As for your grand theory as to my motives now… it’s a lot more likely the reverse is true on that, too.”

  She snorted in disbelief.

  Ignoring her, he went on, his voice low, but now as cold as hers.

  “…But you apparently are much smarter than I am, Cassandra. You are apparently several steps ahead of me, as well. Particularly given I was pining over you when I developed my crush on Alyson. Which
I already told you, if you’d been listening to me at all.”

  She gave him another incredulous look.

  When his expression didn’t waver, she refolded her arms, her jaw hard.

  Staring off to the side, she shook her head, muttering under her breath.

  All he heard was, “…Sure you were.”

  He started to get up again, but she leaned towards him, grabbing his arm.

  “Are you going to answer me?” she demanded.

  “About what?” he said, his voice now incredulous. “This ridiculous assertion that I’m somehow seducing you out of my secret love for Alyson?”

  “About this. About what the fuck you’re doing with me?”

  He clicked at her, removing his arm from her grasp.

  “No,” he said, cold. “What would be the point? You have me all figured out, don’t you?”

  She stared at him.

  He watched the disbelief in her eyes turn into anger.

  Right before they filled with tears.

  Shock paralyzed him as he stared at her.

  He felt pain coil off her light, even as images flickered behind his eyes.

  Night after night of jumps, of his being in her light––for hours sometimes, sometimes for the entire night. He’d been cracking inside her light, under the heat of whatever lived over her head. She’d already broken something in him, shorn away some armor he’d worn without knowing he was wearing it. She’d worn him down until he scarcely recognized the adult person he’d been, the one he’d been lying to himself about for years.

  Something about her had opened him.

  Where he had failed with her, she had succeeded with him. Something in her pulled him apart, forcing him to see the truth about himself, forcing him to face it.

  Whatever that something was, it made his light hungry for hers.

  Gaos. More than that.

  He needed her.

  He fucking needed her now.

  Looking at her, watching her cry, for the first time, it occurred to him that she had not been immune to what they’d been doing, either. Her mask hadn’t been any more real than his. The only difference was, she’d seen through his mask.

  He’d been blind to hers.

  Until now.

  Until she took it off for him.

  He felt her mind tilt as some part of her opened under his stare.