Space, Man

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  Sighing, he tossed down the pen and stood. First things first. The rain showed no signs of stopping and, if they were going to spend any length of time together, he would have to coax the young man out of his clothes, make it understood that they needed washing, and quite honestly, as pretty as he was, the stranger needed a shower.

  Alex went in search of his guest, found him exactly where he had left him, combing the internet, and practically had to drag him away from the computer.

  * * * * *

  It took much pointing and hand gestures for Alex to receive a smile as his reward. It completely transformed the man’s face, which had looked perpetually stern and perplexed up until this moment. Alex found he was smiling back, until his expression gave way to one of puzzlement. The young man reached out with his hand and let the spray from the shower run over his fingers. Surely, whatever country this guy came from, they used showers. Maybe he came from somewhere such as Norway or Finland. That would possibly explain the pale features, though the white hair was definitely unusual. Alex had thought it bleached, but now he was not so certain. It looked natural. Well, some people did go grey and even pure white, at quite a young age. Why wear those silly contacts, though?

  As the stranger began to strip -- the suit came off easier than he expected -- heat rose to Alex’s face. “I... Er...” He settled for turning his back, standing politely by, waiting for the garment, which he intended to put in the washing machine. Alex remained the good Samaritan, until only a brief glance had him turning his head, his gaze drawn inexplicably back to that tall, slender frame, each muscle bunching and twisting in statuesque perfection as it came into view.

  Realising he gaped, Alex turned away, only to discover his throat felt unbelievably dry as he tried to swallow. Dear God, the man was beautiful! Firmly muscled, though incredibly, almost obscenely lean; everything looked so tight.

  Moments later, he held a bundle of clothes in his hands and turned back to watch that sculptured Adonis step into the shower, despite knowing he shouldn’t spy. A soft moan came from the man’s lips as the water hit his skin. Alex’s lips parted a little and then he had to snap his teeth together, hard, to keep from copying the sound. He’d explained the idea of shower gel and the stranger certainly seemed to have the hang of it, as having turned full circle to make sure he was wet all over, he now faced the wall, filled his hand with a generous dollop of the coloured gel from the can, and lathered it up in his hands. Alex’s attempt to explain that it would expand into foam and that he need only use a little seemed redundant now; as he watched the thick, white cream spreading to cover every inch of that perfect skin, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat glad of the man’s extravagance.

  His gaze followed those slender hands as they caressed every curve and slope, starting from the neck, moving down to the shoulders, and then to his sides. Muscles in his back rippled; the guy’s backside jumped and jiggled. Water droplets ran in snaking trickles over his skin, joining to form heavier, fuller passages of thick, wet trails.

  The pale man’s hands moved lower, soaping up his thighs. He stood briefly, carefully, as he raised one leg so he could wash one smooth calve all the way down to his ankle. Then he repeated the exercise to wash the other leg. Alex blinked, coming a little back to himself, and he might have left the room then, if the idea that the guy shaved his legs wasn’t so overwhelming. No sooner did he decide this guy was peculiar, than he discovered things were just getting weirder. Those hands moved inwards now -- the stranger obviously paying attention to his groin. At least he would smell better, but the idea of him all squeaky-clean made Alex squeak in other ways.

  As the stranger turned in the shower, Alex received another shock. The guy was completely hairless... everywhere, except for those tumbling white waves that sprouted from the top of his head. How had he failed to notice that? With nothing hidden, Alex received an eyeful.

  Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Alex looked up and met that glittering violet gaze. The lips curved upwards slightly, but the expression was more one of question than invitation.

  Way to go. Caught staring, Alex fumbled for an excuse. “Don’t forget to use the shampoo and wash your hair,” he mumbled. He hurried out of the room, heart pounding. Alas, it wasn’t the only thing throbbing with a wild, uncontrollable rhythm.

  * * * * *

  “You’re the host, you’re the host, you’re the host. You don’t fuck the unexpected guest!” Alex paced, running his fingers through his hair. He so didn’t need this involvement. Hell, he didn’t even need a one-night stand right now. He cast a glance towards the other room where his work awaited his attention, and let out a sharp cry as a ghost-like apparition moved at his right side. He practically leapt back as the stranger appeared at his side, wearing nothing but a towel.

  He was about to ask the guy if he was cold when he realised that he must be. Those small nipples stood out like small, delicate, flower petals with a hard stamen at the centre. They were the only rosy things in all that pale skin. The sight led his gaze down to those sculptured abs.

  “I’m sorry,” Alex said. The stranger’s clothes were on a long cycle in the washing machine, and although Alex had provided towels, he’d completely forgotten about supplying the man with something to wear. Not intentionally, of course. Definitely not intentionally. “Come with me, and I’ll get you some clothes.”

  “Ser...sorry,” the stranger stuttered.

  Alex stopped in his tracks. “You can talk.” The other man frowned. “English, I mean. I thought you didn’t know the language.”

  His guest gave him an odd smile, the long, damp tendrils of his just-washed hair hanging around his face. Alex caught a whiff of shampoo and shower gel; it almost caused him to close his eyes and swoon. He recognised the scent, for they were his products that he used every day, but somehow they smelled so much nicer on the stranger. They certainly hadn’t smelled that nice on Bray.

  “I... d-did not know... until... learned.” The words emerged sounding awkward, as though the man needed to think over and sound out each word.

  “Hum, right, yeah,” Alex said. “Let’s get you those clothes, and dry your hair.”

  Moments later, Alex hunted out a pair of jeans and a shirt. “I... er... guess you can use my underwear as well. I mean, it’s clean, and it should fit you.” He looked the man over, his gaze flickering up and down the taut muscle, and other things barely concealed by the small towel draped around that so slender waist. No guy had a right to have a waist like that with hips you could claw your fingers into and...

  Alex gave himself a mental shake. Then it occurred to him that he hadn’t put any underwear in with the washing. Did the young man not bother to wear any? It appeared he didn’t, as he dropped the towel and tugged the jeans on, shaking his head at Alex, so that he shut the drawer containing his underwear. The clothes would do, though in truth they sat on that slim frame just a little loose. If the guy stuck around, they would have to see about getting him some clothes. Of course, if he stuck around, maybe he wouldn’t need many, or any...

  Stop it. What is wrong with you? This is exactly the type of guy you’ve been trying to avoid.

  “Mmm, here. You’d better get your hair dried. It’s too cold to be going around with wet hair.” He held out the hairdryer. Those violet eyes disappeared behind a sweep of thick, yet pale lashes for a second, as the stranger blinked. What would it be like to have those lashes flutter against his skin? Alex took in a deep breath that threatened to make him shudder. When his visitor just stood there frowning at the hairdryer, Alex sighed. “You do know what a hairdryer is, how to use one?”

  “I understand the... words, but I have not... covered the subject yet. Your in...ter...net is most helpful though. Your language proved easy.”

  Oh, brother!

  Alex gave the stranger a thin-lipped smile, hoping it concealed his thoughts. “I’ll just do this for you then, shall I?” He bent, plugged in the equipment, and moved behind the guy... who turned with him, f
ollowing his every action, gaze flickering from the hairdryer, to Alex’s face, and to the brush, which he now held in the other hand. “No. Look, you have to turn around.”

  Certain the stranger was just taking the piss, still Alex manoeuvred him into position. Even that small reposition, which caused Alex to stand close, nearly drew a groan from his throat.

  “So, what’s your name?” Alex eased the brush through the pale skeins of hair. He tried to ignore the desire to run his fingers through it.

  “I don’t have one,” the stranger responded. “Not one you could pronounce, anyway. I am not from around here.”

  “Ohhh-kay,” Alex said, gently, but stretching the word out. “I’ll play along,” he said on a laugh, to let the other man know he was no fool.

  The stranger tilted his head, and even standing behind him, Alex could see he looked puzzled. He was about to lose patience, but chose that moment to switch on the hairdryer. The sudden noise made the pale man flinch back, and he was either a good actor, or the man truly felt startled.

  “It’s okay. It’s just warm air,” Alex said, demonstrating that it was harmless by turning it towards him first. Hesitant, the pale stranger moved back into position and Alex directed the nozzle of the hairdryer towards him. A moment later, and the other man appeared satisfied that the gadget represented no danger. Alas, Alex soon discovered that the urge to sink his fingers into that white hair grew worse as the strands dried and turned warm and soft in his hands. He needed a distraction. Frowning now, Alex said, “I have to call you something. I shall call you Mani.”

  “What is this, Mani?”

  “It’s a Teutonic myth,” Alex said, then cursed, as illegal immigrant or not, not many people would know any of this. “Odin is the god of Norse legend.” He almost snorted. If this man was from Norway or somewhere like it, he should at least know that bit. “One of his rivals had two beautiful children. One he called Mani, meaning Moon. The other was Sol.”

  “Sun,” the strange man interrupted, sounding pleased with his understanding.

  “Correct. Long story short, due to their father’s audacity, the other gods took the children away and set them to drive the chariots of the gods. Mani was a handsome youth. He carries a bundle of thorns, from which men who do evil must suffer pain.”

  “You think me a handsome youth?”

  Some amusement existed in that voice and, now, Alex was certain the young man must be teasing him in some way, although whatever agenda caused him to play this game remained lost to Alex for now.

  “I’d be lying if I said no. I think your hair is dry enough.” Alex turned off the gadget and set it aside. When he looked back, those violet eyes regarded him.

  “You are not a...” the man searched for the appropriate words, or appeared to, “world leader?”

  Alex laughed. “No. I’m no one important. I’m nothing. If you’re about to say take me to your leader, I warn you, rain or not, I’ll kick you out on your ear.”

  The frown deepened between those violet eyes, making the young man look austere. “I do not know this kicking out on an ear, but I do know one thing.” The frown softened, the eyes sparkled. “You are not nobody, or nothing. You are a very nice man, and a very attractive one.”

  Despite the bad grammar, the fact that someone was taking him for some kind of odd ride, and the fact that he had promised himself countless times over not to get involved with another beach bum, Alex’s heart fluttered. He couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to kiss those soft, pouty lips, and he hated himself for it. He hated the stranger even more.

  * * * * *

  “Please, don’t do this. Please, don’t throw me out. Please. I like you. I like it here.”

  Mani’s panic was evident as he chased after Alex through the cottage into the kitchen. Alex paused only once, to stoop to pick up a couple of garments that he’d dropped on the way. The few things he’d bought or given to the stranger lay bundled up in his arms.

  “I don’t care. You can keep the clothes. I’ll give you some money. I just want you out of here.” Another two days had passed and Alex was at the end of whatever tether currently held his temper in restraint and his cock from bursting out of his trousers at the seams. In the last two days, Mani’s English developed admirably, so well, in fact, that Alex didn’t believe for a minute that the guy was some foreigner lost in a storm. The new arrival surely bleached his hair, he surely glued those bloody contacts to his eyeballs, he was surely the most delectable man ever to drift into Alex’s life, and Alex didn’t care. It was the middle of the night, and Mani had just tried to crawl into bed with him. That Alex could not stand. His heart couldn’t stand it. His libido couldn’t stand it. His resolve certainly couldn’t withstand the temptation for another night.

  “I came into your room because it is cold. I thought we could share warmth. Please. It is dark. I do not like the dark outside. We do not have this night where I come from.”

  The thought that low temperature rather than desire chased Mani into his bed somehow made what Alex felt worse. The bullshit that went with it just plain hurt. “Yeah, right. Next thing you’ll be telling me you come from Mars.”

  “No. Much further than that. Please. I meant no harm. I just wanted warmth. I have nowhere else to go.”

  This last he said on a wail, and Alex stopped throwing what few things now belonged to Mani into a carrier bag, and paced the floor. He shivered as the hard, cold, stone tile of the kitchen floor bit into his feet. Mani was right; it was cold.

  “Look, you can’t just crawl into someone’s bed and snuggle up next to them. I could... Someone could get the wrong idea.” Or just live in false hope and longing. Alex almost cried out as his cock twitched against his wishes. He was glad that he’d worn pyjamas to bed due to the cold, and glad they were roomy. They helped to hide his semi-erect state and, with luck, the warm, moist dew leaking from his cock wouldn’t show through.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Alex snorted. “That’s it. I’ve had enough.” He flounced towards the living room, yanking the twin doors open to gain access, planning on throwing on a coat and some shoes, and then driving the stranger out of here. He was even prepared to call the police if Mani refused to go. “You can give me all this ‘I’m not from around here’ crap. That I can take. As to the rest...” Alex’s voice trailed away as what he saw stopped him in his tracks. His jaw dropped; his mouth fell open; he gaped. “What the fuck have you done to my computer?” he finally managed to ask.

  Mani, coming up beside him, smiled. He looked decidedly pleased with his creation. “It was inefficient, so I improved it.”

  “Inefficient,” Alex repeated. He moved slowly into the room, in something that he could only describe as a state of shock. “When did you manage to do this, and where did you get all this stuff?”

  “It only took two of your hours while you slept. I grew most of it. It’s simple when you know how.”

  Alex, who had already reached out and fingered one of the glowing green tendrils, flinched back, pulling his hand back, tight to his body. The string did look fibrous, and it did feel strangely fleshy. “Grew?”

  “These are organic connections. Much better than wires. These work like synapses. Fast thought processing.”

  “Are you saying I could think at my computer and get work done?”

  “You could, if I set up multi-aphasic connections.”

  “Don’t even go there!”

  Mani frowned, looked around. “Go where?”

  “I mean, don’t even mention it. I so don’t want to be connected to some machine.”

  “It is totally safe. I would not put you at risk.”

  “You expect me to believe you? Aphasia is to lose the ability to generate and understand speech, as in brain damage.”

  “Not as I mean it. Perhaps my translation is bad. I mean it is a way to by-pass speech. You would lose understanding while connected, because it would be an outmoded form of communication. Once you
finished your work, you could disconnect and return to this normal, though inadequate, skill.”

  Alex stood staring at the white-haired, violet-eyed man in his parents’ living room. The only sound in the room was of little pips and beeps, and an odd hissing that sounded similar to breathing. It came from the myriad overlapping and interflowing green pulsing tubes that led from his main desktop computer, snaked around the room into various doctored pieces of his laptop, and back again. The soft green light flickered, sending strange and beautiful patterns of illumination over his mother’s chintz sofa. His parents stared at him from their wedding photo, which hung on the far side of the room over the sideboard. Several generations of his family stared at him in equal perplexity from tiny framed photographs dotted about the room.

  Alex sank into the seat behind him, putting his hands up to his face, his fingers clawing into his hair, as though trying to keep his brain inside his skull. “You’re an alien,” he panted. “A goddamn, genuine alien in my mother’s living room.”

  Mani crouched in front of him and gently touched the back of his right hand. It made Alex look up at him from under the untidy, slept-on cloud of his hair.

  “I mean you no harm.”

  “Where do you come from?” Alex managed to gasp out.

  Mani smiled. “Far away.”

  “Why are you here? I mean, are you going to harvest the human race or something equally nasty?”

  A small frown now accompanied the smile. Alas, it just made Mani look adorable. “I was just looking around and your planet seemed... interesting.”

  “You’re a drifter?” Alex said, not sure if he were asking, or trying to process too much information at once.