Priest and Pariahs

by J. Alan Veerkamp

  He wanted more than waking up each morning to work the land, doing the same tasks each day, all day, until you went to sleep at night. Life on his family’s farm rarely meant a day off except during the winter months, and what could you do when you were snowed in? There had to be something else out there for little Eugene.

  Too bad he hadn’t quite found the exotic, perfect life yet. There was a way to make himself happy. He knew it. Priest was still working hard to find it, but at least he would earn every gram of his success. He’d never asked his family for money once he moved away. He never leeched off his mother and father and made their lives hell like other reckless people around whom he’d grown up.

  No, he would make his way under his own power. If only his father could ever understand that.

  Frustrated and uncomfortable in his own room, Priest grabbed his shower kit and headed out the door.

  COSTA SIPPED A mug of tea as he sifted through restricted personnel files. The room’s beverage dispenser was a grateful comfort. In his haste to send away the captain when he first arrived, the simple amenity had been missed. If he hadn’t overheard one of the crew in the hallway the other night, he might never have enjoyed his steaming drink.

  Pages of information sorted themselves on the monitor, but Costa wasn’t watching. He didn’t need to see to know what it said. As long as he stayed relaxed and gentle, the headache floated on the fringes, barely out of reach. Last night he’d been hit with another blinding attack. It took two doses to get it under control and make him normal again. Today, however, was a good day.

  But would it stay that way?

  The trip was proving to be longer than he anticipated. His supply was rationed for a seven-week trip. The stopover and extended voyage could be a problem. When they arrived on Gamma Centauri, he would have to seek out a chemist.

  Perhaps Priest would have some ideas. He had to have a number of unsavory contacts of which Costa could avail himself.

  Priest’s file came up on the screen. Costa snickered at his given name of Eugene. It was no small wonder why he insisted on his nickname. A former farmer turned pilot with lofty ambitions. Priest had a long list of minor incursions with law enforcement—all nonviolent. His help would be required to complete his plans.

  It wouldn’t be hard to persuade Priest. The interest he showed was impossible to miss. It was almost a shame to send him off with the dwarf at the poker game, but a little denial was good for the soul. Priest was an attractive man, although Costa was unlikely to admit it aloud, and his immaturity boasted a good time should it be necessary. A night with Priest would not be a hardship.

  No, not a hardship at all.

  He sighed at the perpetual quiet in his quarters. How he missed talking late into the night with his brother all those many years ago. It kept him sane and centered knowing his efforts had saved the two of them from a horrible future.

  But it didn’t last and now look where he was. Running away from the home he knew, hoping to find a new settlement with the most precious cargo he’d ever possessed.

  An ache built behind his eyes again. Without looking or touching, he deleted all his search evidence and shut down the monitor. It was happening faster than before, but there was so much in his head these days.

  While he was confident he could entice Priest to his side, would he stay there once he knew everything? Costa couldn’t be sure. When the moment came, he would have to tread carefully.

  It wasn’t as if Costa didn’t know how. Precise planning had taken him this far, and it would take him to Omoikane as well.

  A twitch in his hand gave Costa pause. How long had it been since his last dose? There was only so much. It had to last. The twitch gave way to a small itch—he couldn’t focus on its source.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he tried to still the impending shiver. It was not time. He needed to wait.

  Sitting on his bed, he found his sight trailing to the nightstand. He fought the urge for several minutes. Reaching for the drawer, he pulled out the black cylinder. The simple device held a fascination for Costa he was not happy with.

  Dropping it on the bed, he turned away in some vain attempt to ignore it.

  The pressure in his head gave a soft blur to his thoughts. If he was addled, he couldn’t keep his control. And a lack of control on this ship could be disastrous.

  Perhaps one dose to get through the night would be enough. Then he could leave it be for at least another day.

  Retrieving the cylinder, he dispensed a single drop onto his tongue then shoved it in the drawer to remove the temptation for more. The buzz in his head receded and he felt more like himself. Before long, his mood elevated and the idea of getting out of his room sounded like a wonderful idea. What chance was there another crew member would be up and about? He could use some company for the night, but he felt dirty.

  Perhaps he’d go take a shower.

  ARBOR WISHED THE shower room didn’t make him so apprehensive. He wasn’t in prison anymore and there wasn’t any reason to be scared. If only he could make himself believe the words he told himself.

  Entering the locker room, he could hear showers in use. Someone was already inside. Since he boarded, Arbor had made a point to bathe when he was alone. He knew it was absurd to be nervous, but he kept telling himself he’d get past it all. He almost turned back, but he really wanted the hot water to wash off the memory of his fight with his mother.

  He could do this.

  He sat on the bench and started undressing, noticing the clothing next to him. The navy shirt hanging off the end was the one Priest was wearing the night of the poker game. The idea of Priest naked, and the option to clear the air after his anger over Mr. Wiggles, sounded like a good reason to get over his shyness.

  Removing the rest of his garments in quick order, he headed for the sound of running water with a towel in hand. His newfound confidence was only marginally complete. Arbor stopped short at the doorway and surveyed the room first.

  Streaks of soap ran down Priest’s back in sudsy lines, tracing the mounds of his backside as he lathered his head and neck. Heated memories of being inside that ass filled Arbor’s cock. Another venture inside would be such a good thing. The only thing stopping him from walking in and helping Priest scrub his nethers was that he wasn’t alone.

  Two showers away, Costa rolled his head as the water washed over him. Priest kept stealing glances in his direction and the smile on Costa’s face proved he knew it. Neither man had noticed Arbor.

  “Why are you standing so far away, Priest?” The playful tone Arbor remembered from the game was on Costa’s lips.

  “Getting too close to you has gotten me in trouble. Trying to decide if it’s worth it, I guess.” A fresh run of soap coated Priest’s chest and stomach as he turned, half facing Costa. The move was a veiled invitation, giving Costa a better look without being vulgar.

  “Surely I’m not that terrifying. Come closer so I don’t have to shout.”

  Priest flashed a defiant smile. “I can hear you fine.”

  Costa met his smirk and locked eyes with Priest. When Priest didn’t move, he nodded and the water over Priest’s shower turned off.

  “Shower on,” Priest said. When nothing happened, he gave Costa a look. “Turn that back on.”

  “It seems to be malfunctioning. I’m afraid you’ll have to use the one next to me now.” The shower between them came to life.

  Reluctantly, Priest reached out and tested the water before stepping into the spray and resuming his shower. He’d barely rinsed off when he yelped and jumped out.

  “Ah! Fuck! That’s cold!”

  Costa giggled. “Oh my, another malfunction. It appears only my shower will be safe for you.” Dipping his head into the spray, he slicked back his hair and ran his hand over his graceful body.

  Priest stood unmoving, fixated on the display. “You sure you want to share with me?”

  “I would even be happy to wash your back, if you need it. Or you can retu
rn the favor to mine.”

  Priest licked his lips as he stepped forward, stopping short with a cautious hesitation as if expecting something to go wrong.

  “Come to me.” Costa reached out, his gentle hand tracing a line down Priest’s chest, all the way down until he had a handful of Priest’s growing erection.

  As Priest shifted closer, both men took new handfuls of soap and began a new round of caresses. Slippery foam swirled around and between them as they slid their bodies against one another. As Priest dipped his head down to Costa’s eager mouth, every shower turned on simultaneously, filling the room with eager rolls of steam.

  With a quiet gasp, Arbor slid back from the doorway, hoping he hadn’t been seen. Heart pounding, he found himself gripping the towel so hard it bit white lines into his palm. He sat back down, gathered his clothes, and redressed quickly. The last thing he was going to do was walk into the middle of what was going to happen next—or sit back and listen to it either. Could this day go any further down the toilet?

  He shouldn’t be mad at Priest. The other night was supposed to be about having fun and he didn’t have any claim on the man. Arbor shouldn’t be surprised, really. Costa was beautiful. Who wouldn’t want him more? But would that still be the case if they knew how much more there was to Mr. McQuillen?

  As he forced his legs into his trousers, Arbor wasn’t sure what upset him more: the sight of Costa in Priest’s arms, or the reality that Costa was a freak—a para-human.

  Chapter Six

  PRIEST WAS FORTUNATE Costa allowed him to get dressed before dragging him out of the shower and to his quarters. He was convinced his underwear was inside out, but the way the Costa urged him through the door, he wouldn’t be wearing them long enough for it to be an issue.

  Costa slammed his mouth on Priest’s as the door slid closed, frantically attacking the clasp of his pants. They barely pulled away long enough to pull the shirt over Priest’s head and resumed the needy, desperate kiss.

  This was heaven. The exotic man wanted him—something Priest had nearly convinced himself was a blind man’s fantasy. But Costa came for him, wanting him, and he couldn’t say no. There might not be a next time.

  “Off, off. Get them off.” Costa yanked at Priest’s pants and briefs together, scratching his hips with his urgency. It was a little more crazed than Priest was used to.

  Priest grabbed Costa’s wrists. “Easy, there. We got time.”

  “No. Need you. Need you now.” Costa’s pupils were black pools with little color surrounding them, and when he pulled back his hands, his fingers twitched on the fringe of self-control. His lust appeared barely lashed down and Priest couldn’t tell if he should be flattered or concerned.

  Stripping away the remainder of his own clothing, Costa positioned himself on his bed. Priest wanted him, but should he? When Costa lifted his legs in invitation, Priest’s erection won out. He kicked off his shoes and couldn’t get naked fast enough. He nearly pounced.

  Their cocks slid against one another as Priest ground their hips together. Costa’s lithe but strong legs wrapped around his waist and crushed them tighter as their kiss became sloppy and reckless.

  Costa chanted against Priest’s mouth. “Inside me. Inside me.”

  “We need some lube.” Priest raised himself on his arms as he looked around the room.

  Costa spit into his hand and reached between them and slicked Priest’s cock, causing a moaning hiss to spill out of him. There wasn’t time to think. Costa shifted his hips and forced himself on the newly greased organ. The cry he let out made Priest go still.

  “Wait, wait. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  With a surprising flex of those fit legs, Costa dragged Priest forward, burying him all the way in one thrust. “Hurt me.”

  “Oh shit.” The heat and friction were mind-bending. Spasms of pleasure streaking through every extremity, Priest found himself frozen in place. Clearly, Costa wasn’t feeling patient. He rocked his hips, forcing Priest’s cock almost out before driving it back in to the hilt. Both men shouted out at the motion.

  Costa focused his piercing eyes into Priest’s. “Fuck me, please. Make it hurt. Need you, Priest.”

  Losing himself in the fervor, he could only nod and give the man under him exactly what he asked. Digging his feet into the bedding for leverage, Priest pumped as hard as he could. Whenever he tried to be gentle, Costa demanded a more punishing rhythm.

  This was not going to be a drawn-out affair. Living out the fantasy he imagined from the moment he first caught sight of Costa, coupled with plunging in and out of that sucking wet heat, was bringing Priest close to the end.

  “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

  Costa arched, grinding his leaking hardness against Priest’s belly. “Please fuck, don’t stop!”

  Understanding what Costa was doing, Priest tightened his core, giving a firmer surface for his frottage. The wetness soaking his stomach was more than the sweat forming between them.

  Costa rolled forward, sealed his lips over Priest’s, and screamed into his mouth as a flood of semen sprayed between them. Each surge was paired with Costa’s channel clenching along Priest’s length, and he gave in. Buried as deep as he could go, he came long and hard, letting Costa’s spasms milk him dry.

  Still engaged, Priest wrapped his arms around Costa and rolled them over so he was on his back. Costa’s slight weight over him was damn nice.

  Eventually, Priest softened and slipped out, the rush of fluid coating his deflating member. Yes, he had come hard. Priest was pretty sure he’d emptied his balls, and this contentment made all the earlier cat fighting between them a fleeting bad dream.

  Costa placed a small kiss on his lips and dismantled himself from Priest’s arms. He stood graceful and soiled, skin flushed and hair disheveled, the contrast making Priest want him more. A few steps to the wardrobe storage and Costa slipped a thin robe over his body. Without even looking back at Priest, Costa ran a hand through his hair, taming the still-damp locks.

  “That was very enjoyable, Priest, but I need some rest. I’m sure you have duties early in the morning as well.” Costa was quick and harsh, the rigid countenance Priest hated reappearing. “Make sure you don’t leave anything behind.”

  The bright sunshine warming Priest’s soul dulled. “Oh. Sure.” One moment he was basking in the aftermath of an unplanned liaison and now he was being dismissed like an anonymous bar trick. It wasn’t as if Priest never knew the pain of rejection, but this one was unexpected. Given the way Costa had pursued him, a small glimmer of hope had sparked, but it was quashed now.

  Rolling off the bed, Priest began gathering his clothes, not caring to clean up before dressing. He needed to move faster and get out, but he couldn’t find the urgency. Everything was leaden, mired in a sudden fog.

  Costa’s gentle hand directed Priest’s gaze from the floor to his own. “Come now, Priest. Let’s not make more of this than it really is. It was just a shag. A very good shag, mind you, but just a shag. We both needed to vent a little frustration and I have no doubt we will do so again. But for now, you need to go.”

  Silent, Priest nodded and finished dressing. The idea of more opportunities to play around with Costa eased the sting of being kicked out, but far from extinguished it. Something about Costa made him want more. When the door opened, he looked back at Costa, whose impassive veneer was showing a minor fracture.

  Costa sighed softly and his shoulder dropped a fraction of a centimeter. “I’m not the kind of man you want to fall for, Priest.”

  MAC COULDN'T HELP but talk with his mouth full. Lunch was mouthwatering and he’d missed breakfast working. Arbor had taken up his invitation to eat with the captain and himself for a change. Mac thought it would do them good to have a nice civilized meal, showing the captain Arbor’s ability to be part of the crew wasn’t a piece of fiction. Other crew members were keeping their distance from their newest acquisition, possibly not wanting to be pulled into a new piece of dram
a.

  Arbor had been a little preoccupied for most of the meal, and Danverse was being polite, but his usual gruff self. Not much conversation flowed between them.

  “We had another one of those glitches last night. This time in the shower room.”

  Arbor didn’t look at Mac as he swallowed another spoonful of soup. “You don’t say.”

  “Is this something we should be worried about?” Danverse cocked his head at Mac. If it involved the ship functions, he made it his business.

  Mac shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s probably just a bad piece of code that’s crept up. Mrs. Claus is a sophisticated piece of tech. Arbor will help me sort it.”

  A small smile appeared on Arbor's face “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Sounds good. You let me know if it becomes something more serious.” Danverse reached out and stroked the back of Mac’s neck. The loving gesture was a mix of dominance and approval, causing a warmth in Mac’s chest and sometimes other areas. When the captain began stroking his thumb along the base of his skull, Mac’s eyes fluttered and his breeches became tighter than a moment ago.

  Arbor shifted his sight, shying away from the display. Mac shrugged, dislodging the captain’s hand before he became too aroused. When the captain gave him an unhappy glance, he nodded in Arbor’s direction. Danverse dipped his head in understanding, but Mac knew he’d have to make up for it later in the evening. It would be worth it.

  Mac cleared his throat. “Sorry about that, Arbor.”

  “Nothing to apologize for. You guys are good together. If you have someone in your life that can bring out that kind out of reaction, you should take advantage whenever possible…”

  Arbor’s voice trailed away as Priest walked in with Costa McQuillen by his side. His face wasn’t giving away much, but his rapt attention said it all.

  “Priest or the passenger?” Danverse hadn’t missed it either.

  Arbor turned back, stirring his soup in lazy arcs. “Priest is a grown man. He can do who he wants.”