Arbor hadn’t spoken with him and ignored his messages. Having had the time to settle in on leave, Priest was regretting the whole mess. He would have given anything to take back the argument between them. It was a rotten thing to make Arbor face his faults so harshly, even if it was the truth. Arbor needed the mirror to see himself, but the delivery could have used more work. Sleeping with Costa afterward hadn’t made him feel any better. If anything, it only complicated every aspect of the incident.
They weren’t attached to each other, and Arbor knew Priest had played with Costa. There was nothing new there. He was allowed to fuck whomever he wanted. He was a free man. It was all about having fun, right?
Then why did he feel so shitty about it?
He enjoyed both of them. Costa was beautiful and unattainable, yet his passion was addictive. Banging him was a bedpost notch other men had in their dreams. The man was a prize. However, the beauty was a mask. There were untold secrets Mr. McQuillen was keeping, Priest was sure of it, and everything happening between them was of Costa’s making. At least Priest was enjoying the ride.
Arbor was something completely different. The man had issues—lots of them—but when he could set them aside, he was charming. He was handsome, unique, and his size kept Priest from feeling dominated even when he was being pile-driven by Arbor’s award-winning tool. He never would have imagined Arbor’s skills could draw out the types of noises he filled the room with when they were together. It was a kind of mutual satisfaction hard to find among casual friends. Something about Arbor made Priest want to put a smile on his face. Why, he wasn’t sure.
Both men suffered from harsh pasts, bringing out Priest’s protective side in different ways. When they got back on board, he would have to check on both men and make sure they were all right. He wanted Costa to be safe, to protect him from his secrets. Arbor was wounded, and he wanted to bandage him back to health.
Was that even possible for either man?
Thinking about his problems blunted the flavor of his meal. The majority of his steak was a vague memory and the last few bites were dull, but the food wasn’t the cause. The waitress replaced his drink as the cutlery clinked on the empty plate. With nothing better to do, he swiped his hand across the DNA ID reader to pay his bill, its sleek black panel mounted into the table. When this drink was finished, he was heading back to his hotel room to decide what to do next.
The front door opened and a flush of excitement warmed his chest as Arbor wandered in.
Arbor looked weathered. Shadows darkened his eyes and little unstoppable movements were visible in his hands and feet. He looked so alone standing in the tavern’s entryway. Priest was about to hop off his stool when Arbor caught his eyes, a tiny gasp filling his chest.
The excitement collapsed when Arbor turned away and headed for the bar.
A dark hole opened underneath him. Arbor didn’t want to see him? If that were true, what was he doing here? Questions began flitting through his head as he sat frozen in his seat, unable to approach, until Rushman’s graveled voice bulled through the room.
“You turn your little ass right around the way you came.”
Arbor's response was tight and confused. “What?”
“I don’t want you around my customers. They’ll start thinking I cater to carnies and gypsies.”
“I just wanted a drink.”
“I don’t serve your kind here. Push off.”
Arbor snarled in offense. “What did you say to me, you fat bastard?”
Rushman slammed down the rag in his hand and rounded the bar. Stomping forward, he bent over until his face was breathing in Arbor’s. If Rushman was trying to use his size for intimidation, he’d picked the wrong target. Arbor was rigid and unyielding. Fists tight and body thrumming with restraint, he was furious, not frightened.
“I don’t serve freaks. Get the fuck out.”
Arbor slammed his forehead into Rushman’s nose. The break was a ghastly noise as the insufferable ass screamed and fell to his knees. Rushman’s hand flew to his face and blood ran freely between his fingers. Arbor stood unmoving, fixed on the spectacle.
“Oh shit!” Priest kicked over his stool as he raced forward, grabbing Arbor by the arm. “We need to go. Now!”
Arbor stood in place, his eyes wide and unfocused. A large red spatter marred his forehead and ran down his face, even as Priest could feel the tremors quaking through his arm. When he turned Arbor to face him, his lack of response and the wetness filling his vacant eyes gave Priest a start. Rage and panic warred across Arbor’s face. So lost, Priest wasn’t even sure if Arbor was aware of him.
He stooped low and threw Arbor over his shoulder, surprised by his weight. “C’mon, Arbor. I’m not waiting for the Station Authorities to arrive. Neither one of us needs to spend our leave in jail.”
Struggling to balance, Priest lurched out the door and onto the sidewalk. Arbor was a dead weight. At this time of day, and Avers Inn being out of the way, there weren’t many pedestrians about, but it was hardly desolate outside. They needed someplace to hide for a short spell. Arbor wasn’t moving or protesting being hoisted around and it unnerved Priest. Taking a couple of turns, trying to stay out of sight, he pushed into a public men’s room to catch his breath.
Setting Arbor on the counter was easier than the floor and put him at a more equal eye level.
“Arbor, are you okay?”
No response. The sight of the Arbor sitting stunned and lifeless alarmed him. Making sure he would support himself, Priest hurried back to the door. Peeking out, there was no sign of Rushman or the authorities, but he kept watch for several minutes, constantly checking that Arbor wouldn’t fall over. Once he was felt more comfortable they wouldn’t be found, Priest returned to his charge.
“Damn, Arbor. I wasn’t expecting that.”
Arbor’s eyes were frozen and wet, a startling match to his shallow breathing. The sheen on his skin highlighted Rushman’s blood spatter, an unnamed sanguine continent on the map of his face. Peeling off his shirt, Priest wet a section in the sink, thankful this part of the station still had running water and hadn’t upgraded to hand sanitizers. He noticed Arbor didn’t pay the slightest attention to his half-dressed state.
He dabbed at the rusty mess with the soaked edge of fabric, trying to reveal the flesh beneath. “That was quite a number you pulled on Rushman.” He kept his voice quiet, like he was soothing a trapped animal, coaxing it into the open. “I probably won’t be able to eat there ever again. Still, he’s an ass. It would have happened someday, no matter what.”
Tender strokes washed away the violent evidence while Priest stood between Arbor’s legs hanging off the counter’s edge, until only Arbor remained. Only the slightest discoloration could be seen on Arbor’s forehead. It didn’t look like there would be much of a bruise. Once he was clean, no one would ever know there had been an altercation.
As he worked, Priest laid a hand along the side of Arbor’s head and neck. A subtle shift in weight pressed into his hand as a soft sigh escaped Arbor’s lips. Tilting his face up for a better view, Priest couldn’t help but admire the chocolate brown irises. Arbor’s expressive stare gave away his every feeling. It was almost reverent, the way he studied Priest.
“He was right,” Arbor spoke so soft, it was almost nothing.
Priest didn’t stop even though he was elated to hear Arbor’s voice. “Who was right about what?”
“That bartender. That I’m a freak.”
“No, he’s not. He’s just a loudmouthed asshole. Rushman doesn’t speak for anyone but himself.” Every movement was cautious and every word was gentle as he worked. Arbor was shaken enough. There was no need to spook him.
“Everyone on the ship thinks it too.”
Priest couldn’t help but frown. “You keep telling yourself that and making it happen. The guys just don’t like the crazy moments. I like you, and you beat my ass the first time we met. Give ’em a chance. They’ll come around.”
&n
bsp; “But I’m not normal. Even you know that. You said so yourself.”
Priest winced as he found a fresh portion of his shirt to work with. “Yeah, I did. But normal is boring. Normal is ordinary. I don’t give a shit about normal.” He wiped away a crimson blot from Arbor’s cheek and studied his face. Strong cheekbones accented those soulful eyes and full lips. “You’re a handsome man, Arbor.”
Arbor’s brow tried to knit itself together as his gaze flitted away. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. And you’d believe me if you stopped hating yourself long enough to see what I see.”
“How can you honestly say that? How can you like me with these little arms and legs? With this big forehead?” Arbor splayed his hands out in the air as his eyes raked over his own limbs. “There’s nothing attractive about these weird, tiny proportions. How can you like this?”
Priest shrugged, his voice as calm as when he started. “Dunno. I just do. It’s true, you don’t come like the standard model, but I don’t care about that. You may be smaller than most of us, but believe me”—Priest arched his brow as he palmed Arbor’s groin—“there’s nothing tiny about this.”
The frightened tremors were calm, but a new shudder grazed Arbor’s skin, making the corner of Priest’s mouth curl. He loved the effect he had on the man. Arbor’s lips parted as he sat mesmerized, finally noticing the bare chest before him. Under Priest’s hand, Arbor’s package hardened and lengthened as his legs opened slightly to make room for the invader. Soft wanton exhales echoed off the hard restroom walls as Priest leaned forward, leaving small bites and licks along the side of Arbor’s neck.
“What are you doing?” Arbor sounded like he was going to resist, even as he ground himself into Priest’s hand.
Priest worked his way up to Arbor’s ear. “Making you believe me.”
He knew this was hardly the right place and time, but the desire to pleasure Arbor—to make him blind with lust—overrode all good sense. He kneaded at Arbor’s flesh, the growing heat radiating into his palms. The arousal was mutual. Closing in tight, Priest locked eyes with Arbor, never wavering from the connection as he unbuckled Arbor’s trousers.
It took two hands to pry open the fly and heft the scalding snake from its fabric prison. The beast was trying to hide down the leg of Arbor’s pants. Hot and turgid, it lurched in Priest’s hands, a slick drop already forming at the head.
Leaning back, he examined the hefty prize. The foreskin was already rolled back, exposing the fat, shiny mushroom. Arbor sat transfixed as Priest ran his fingers up and down the silky hardness, tracing the fearsome veins along the length.
All the fear and loathing from Arbor’s expression had dissipated into pure want. He wasn’t alone. Priest wanted to touch him. Priest wanted to taste him. And he could see Arbor wanted whatever he could give him.
So he leaned forward and tasted the beautiful cock.
Arbor gasped when Priest ran his tongue under the foreskin's edge and worked his way down. The length filled his mouth and made Priest close his eyes with its hedonistic flavor. The only thought in his head was how to get more.
Wrapping his arms around Arbor’s hips, he worked up and down, intent on swallowing it all. The edges of Arbor’s open pants brushed his face as he delved as deep as possible, lost in the act. The sensation of his full mouth and throat left Priest rigid, but he ignored his own straining erection. This was all about worshipping Arbor and making him understand.
Priest wanted him.
It wasn’t long before Arbor’s thick fingers threaded into Priest’s hair, his grunts becoming labored. Balls drawn up tight, tapping Priest’s chin, Arbor’s member swelled, signaling the oncoming orgasm. The moment Priest was waiting for was at hand. Priest pulled back, holding the bulbous tip in his mouth, as Arbor tried to stifle his own shout. Fiery gushes sprayed over Priest’s taste buds, the addictive salty flavor singing a surge of energy through him, forcing a muffled cry as the world went white and he unleashed a torrent inside his own pants.
With a great deal of reluctance, Priest released his hold on Arbor, making him whimper. If they weren’t in public, he would have waited until the hard member softened into slumber before giving it up. Arbor was flushed and panting with a glowing smile. The sight alone was worth a shirt turned into a bloody rag and semen-soaked pants.
“C’mon, Arbor. Let’s go to your hotel room. We should stay together on this leave.”
Arbor carefully stowed away his deflating cock. “Why not your hotel room?”
“I was signed in at Avers Inn and you just broke the owner’s nose.” Priest chuckled. “I think we should steer clear of the place. I’m gonna have to sneak in tomorrow and get my stuff.”
Arbor choked down a burst of laughter as a frantic man rushed in, ran into a stall, and slammed the door closed. Grimacing, Priest reached for Arbor. The way the guy barged in, there was no way he was staying in here. Much to his surprise, Arbor allowed Priest to wrap an arm around his waist and help him down to the floor.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Arbor said.
Chapter Nine
“ARE WE ALLOWED to take this?”
The hangar had been converted into a machine shop smelling of grease and ozone. Vehicles lined the bay in various states of disrepair, their chassis wide open, with lengths of cable and engine parts spilled out on the floor in places like a mechanical abattoir. Random pieces of tech smeared with mechanical fluid sat on the shelves lining the walls, waiting to be installed. A fair amount of junk could be found among the prizes here. Everything was dirty.
Priest loved this place.
“Sure, why not? The guy who owns the shop owes me money.”
He sauntered around a cycle, trailing his fingertips over the metal exterior, tracing the line of the handlebars jutting out from the center console. Several weld lines were visible, color shifts showing where obvious repairs had been completed. The windshield was relatively clean, and the long narrow seat would easily accommodate two people.
“I’m more likely to believe you owe him money, not the other way around.” Arbor stood with his arms crossed, giving Priest a skeptical eye.
Priest swung a leg over, straddling the cycle. “Ha. Ha. Hop on.”
With a quick touch to the center display and a few more adjustments, the cycle rumbled to life. The pad engines on the front and back awoke and the whole vehicle rose from the ground, floating less than half a meter off the shop floor.
“I don’t know how to drive one of these things.”
Priest shot Arbor a look, his brow arched dramatically. “I’m the pilot. You ain’t driving nothing.”
“It doesn’t look safe.”
Twisting around to the storage compartment at the rear of the vehicle, Priest pulled out a set of riding goggles and placed them on Arbor’s face. A little wild and messy, the look suited Arbor. Priest didn’t like him too well polished. He preferred the real man let loose.
“She just looks rough on the outside. Trust me. This baby is a fun ride.” Priest offered his hand and, with a moment’s dubious pause, Arbor allowed his help in pulling him onto the vehicle. Settled into position, he wrapped his arms around Priest’s waist.
Priest dropped the goggles sitting atop his head over his eyes, revved the engine a few times, and tapped a control, causing the main bay door to open.
Arbor half shouted over the engine hum. “You don’t see a problem with just riding off with this.”
Looking over his shoulder, Priest shook his head with a Cheshire smile. “Nope. I left a note. Now let’s have some fun. Hold on tight.”
The fact was, the cycle was Priest’s. It was a rare win in a poker game a year or two before he’d found his special deck of cards, and Lucky had agreed to store it for him. Space aboard the Santa Claus was limited for personal belongings. Every square centimeter of the cargo bays was calculated into a currency amount and Priest couldn’t afford to store the cycle on the ship.
They visited Gamma
Centauri often enough. If he gave Lucky access to the cycle, the mechanic would keep it maintained for his shore leaves. It only took a quick glance to see the fuel cells were fully charged. While en route, Priest had commed the mechanic ahead. He knew the cycle was ready and waiting for him.
But Arbor didn’t need to know.
It didn’t take long to find the outskirts of the city. Once they cleared the main dredge of civilization, Priest sped off along the crimson sands of the Hannoker Desert. It was a few hours from sunset, yet the harsh sun still blazed. Even so, the wind whipping across them kept them comfortable.
He gunned the engine, exhilarated by the burst of speed and excited by the tighter grip of stubby hands on his waist. The cycle vibrated underneath him, giving a pleasant reminder of how Arbor had screwed him all night and the next morning. The tender flesh shimmied and sent a constant stream of rushing tremors through his lower half. Priest made no effort to stop himself from hardening.
They cruised for hours. Arbor howled as they made sharp turns, the engine pads splitting the sands into red trails of dust. They rode for the thrill and the rush. Arbor held on tight, his excited cries urging Priest to keep going faster as he pressed himself closer.
The sun was dipping under the horizon line as they rode back to the hangar. Sweaty and covered in silt, Priest couldn’t be more pleased.
Time was fading, so they hurried back to the hotel and showered together, washing one another without somehow turning the event into another moment of debauchery. Even drying each other off was affectionate without lust.
An air of glowing contentment filled Priest as they began packing. It was too bad this vacation was about to end, but knowing Arbor was boarding as well made all the negative fade out.
Arbor sifted through his belongings as he packed. “What are you going to do when we get back to the ship?”
“I need to check on Costa. He asked for some help with an errand and I want to see how that panned out.”
Priest and Pariahs Page 14
