Kei's Gift

by Ann Somerville

  “May I?” he whispered, wrapping his hand around Kei’s cock. “Or do you want to sleep?”

  Kei tilted his head so he could kiss Arman. “Please,” he breathed.

  They’d never done it in this position, or without the cream to help. But this was as familiar to Arman as walking, since his teenage years and married life had offered but this one means of release, the only guiltless pleasure he could take. Certainly it was odd to have his hand on another man’s cock, and to be at a different angle, but he found himself finding an easy rhythm soon enough, taking it gentle and slow, always waiting for a sign he was hurting Kei or that his lover was weary of the touch. Kei was only too happy to let him continue, one arm slung over Arman’s body, his face buried in Arman’s neck, his breath coming in short, hot, gasps against Arman’s skin as his arousal grew.

  It was all over rather quickly, Kei stiffening and then coming in complete silence, his semen hot against Arman’s hand. Arman threw the blankets back and collected the mess, wondering what to do with it—but Kei drew his hand up to his mouth and lapped at it.

  “I should do that,” Arman murmured, leaning over to help, licking his hand, and Kei’s mouth, and his chin and his slightly salty face. It didn’t taste so bad this time—maybe because he’d grown used to it, or maybe because kissing Kei made everything more pleasurable.

  Kei settled again, and reached down for him. Arman brushed his hand aside. “I’m fine. I just want to sleep.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m tired and I need to hold you.” He stroked a few stray hairs back from Kei’s face, regretting he hadn’t been able to play with Kei’s loosed braid as he loved to, and hoping he would get the chance to do so again. “Sleep. Give me all your worries for this night.”

  It was all he could do. To speak of the coming day would be to awaken all their fears and anxieties. To talk of the past...? No, nor of the future. To get through this night, they could only think of the now, being with each other, safe for the moment. The world could wait a few hours, Arman thought, drawing the blankets back over them both, and keeping it at bay.

  Chapter : Darshek 8

  It was still dark when there came a quiet knock on the cabin door. Arman was already awake, and from the way Kei immediately tensed up, he’d not been asleep either. Arman called to the sailor to come in. The man did, bringing a tray and a lamp, and telling them it was half an hour to dawn. Arman thanked him and he left.

  He kissed Kei, then urged him to sit, since there was no way of escaping the bunk without his cooperation. Kei got up, not looking at him and not speaking, and the hunched way he moved as he found his clothes told Arman how upset he was. He came over and took Kei into his arms. “I’m sorry. I wish there was another way.”

  Kei turned to him with reddened eyes, but a calm expression. “You have to do this. Just do your job, I’ll do mine. Then come home to me.”

  Arman stroked his hand down Kei’s braid. “Neka will moderate things for you. Let her and Reji help you.”

  “I will, because I want you concentrating on one thing—doing this successfully. That means getting out alive too. Don’t let them ask for you in exchange for anything.”

  “Not even Jena and the others?”

  Kei went very still, and closed his eyes. “Gods, Arman,” he whispered. “Please...don’t let it come to that. Please.”

  “I’ll do my best, but ultimately, if one is to be sacrificed to save sixty-nine, and one is me.... I can’t refuse.” Kei clutched at his shirt, but said nothing. Arman kissed him and held him, but then set him free. “I have to go.”

  “Yes, I know. Do you want me to rub your leg before you go? Loosen it up?”

  Arman stretched it. “If you can do it while I eat, yes, it would help. I don’t want it failing at a crucial moment.”

  “Jera told me he’d make sure you were all right.” Now Kei was firmly in his professional role, dressing quickly and fetching the pot of massage ointment, pretending Arman’s weak limb was his only concern. Arman ate the hard bread and drank the fresh jombeker milk had been sent down as his breakfast, while Kei briskly massaged and rubbed his right leg. Arman’s body was still stiff all over—the bunk didn’t offer much room—but there wasn’t a lot to be done about it. At least he’d slept all the way through the night. He wasn’t sure Kei had.

  Kei was done in a few minutes, and then Arman finished dressing. This morning he took particular care over his appearance, and Kei groomed his hair carefully for him, even combing his beard, which really needed trimming but there was no time for that now. “I suppose it’s a shame we didn’t bring your armour from the fort,” Kei said in an all too obvious attempt to appear good-humoured.

  “It might send the wrong signal—that we’re afraid of them.”

  “You should be afraid of them. I am,” Kei said, clenching the comb in his hand.

  “So am I. But damned if I’m going to let those bastards know that. I have to get moving.”

  “Yes. Let’s go.”

  But he didn’t move to follow Arman, and when Arman turned to find out why, he saw Kei standing still, trembling, his hands clenching and unclenching. As Arman approached him, he backed away. “It’s funny...last time I was scared like this was...when you came...took me...took me hostage....” He wrapped his arms around himself and looked at Arman, his eyes dark with desperation.

  “Gods,” Arman whispered, his heart breaking to see his lover in such agony. He pulled him close, and laid his cheek against Kei’s. “I wish there was an answer, some surety...I can’t give it to you. It’ll be over in a few hours.”

  Kei clutched at him, but only a few moments, he pushed Arman back. “I’m sorry. I’m being stupid.”

  “You’re being a perfectly decent human being. Now come.”

  “Wait—let me say goodbye here. If I do it on deck, I’ll fall apart.” He kissed Arman, trembling hands combing gently through his hair. “Whatever happens this day, know that I’m yours, in this life and the next.”

  He took Kei’s hand and kissed it. “I’ll be back before night.”

  Kei nodded. “Yes, you’d better be.”

  Arman held his hand as he limped out into the corridor and up the stairs to the deck. Lord Meki was there, looking impatient. “I was just coming to get you, general.” In fact, dawn had barely broken, the sky gorgeously coloured in pink and gold, so Arman wasn’t really late at all. Lord Meki was just anxious, his sharp face tight with worry. It wasn’t on his own behalf.

  The crew were all assembled, waiting for the departure of their leaders. Arman led Kei to Neka, who’d stay with this ship for her own protection. The mind-speaker was far too valuable for them to risk, not that any of the Gifted would be anything less than a terrible loss. The hostages would be returned to this vessel too and kept away from any battle on shore. She slid her arms around Kei’s waist. “Don’t be sad,” she said gently. “I’ll watch over him, Arman.”

  “Thank you.” He turned to Reji, standing with the waiting beasts. The trader nodded—there was no need to say more to him. Reji knew what was needed. Neka, if anything appears to be going wrong, make sure you don’t let Kei link to you, and keep him numb until you get help for him.

  Of course, she said calmly. I know what needs to be done.

  Kei looked at him, his heart in his eyes, but making every effort to be composed. Arman nodded to him also, and then resolutely turned towards the Rulers. The Gifted were there too—all but Neka were transferring over to one of the two troop vessels now taking the lead position as they sailed towards Utuk. She would keep everyone linked all day, and any of them would be able to mind-speak to anyone else as a result. Arman still couldn’t get over how easily this was done, and what an enormous advantage it gave the Darshianese in any battle.

  Once they gathered into a group, Reis and Jera transferred Arman, the Rulers and the Gifted. Even having experienced the phenomenon several times as he and the Gifted rehearsed their plans for this day, Arman cou
ld never get used to the sensation of flying—the effortlessness of it was astonishing, and Jera and Reis never seemed to have to even think about what they were doing.

  He and the others landed on the deck softly as a kiss. “There you go, Arman—I promised Kei I’d mind your leg,” Jera said with a wink.

  “So you did. Right, Kira, you’re our power, go to it.”

  They were still some forty miles from Utuk, and they couldn’t afford to be becalmed or lose any speed. Kira brought up the wind to keep them advancing at a steady pace which should see them there in three hours. But Reis and Jera would be needed before that. Between their current position and Utuk lay two small islands, both forming part of the network of signal beacons which would alert Kuplik of any attack. These had to be disabled without causing any suspicion on the main island itself.

  The two Rulers joined Arman at the rail, watching as the beacon islands appeared on the horizon. Even the cheerful Lord Peika was subdued. To pass the time, Arman had them speak to him in Prijian, making them pretend he was Kita. It wouldn’t do for them to use the wrong title or word—better to let him translate than unintentionally designate her by a lowly honorific. Fortunately, that was one aspect of the language the two Rulers had readily picked up

  They sailed on uninterrupted for nearly an hour and then there was a shout from the crows nest. “Patrol, starboard!” the lookout called, then gave the signal whistle which would be heard on the other ships—but their look outs were already waving that they had seen the Prijian boat.

  The crew came to attention. “Your lordships, please go below,” Arman ordered. “Everyone, behave normally, you’ll look like a Prijian vessel until they get closer. Jera?”

  The mind-mover came closer. “How long before I do it?”

  “Let them get a mile or so closer, so you can see better what you’re doing.”

  Reis came up silently next to them, as if to ask if he could help, but Arman had asked Jera to do this for a reason. Reis was still hesitant about risking sailors, even though what they were planning should, if there were no unexpected problems, only cause the approaching boat a lot of inconvenience and not much else.

  The sailors on the Darshianese boats continued to work as usual, their borrowed uniforms and caps hiding the distinctive long dark hair of the men. Arman watched the smaller patrol vessel getting closer. “Right, now, if you please.”

  Nothing happened for a moment or two, but then the mainsail of the patrol ship tumble from the rigging, falling to the deck in a graceful heap of canvas. Across the water came the distant shouts of astonished sailors suddenly trying to deal with this and the descent of all their other sails as well. Arman saw them scrabbling about, preparing to get the sails back in position, but it would be futile—because Jera was about to, and now did, snap the top off the main mast and cast it into the ocean a mile from them. “Cannons,” Arman reminded him.

  “Oh yes.” From out the side of the ships shot six large guns, bursting through the gun ports and flying into the ocean, to the consternation of the crew. The sailors rushed to the other side of their boat as the action was repeated. “That’s the lot?”

  “Yes. Just disable the launches and then we’re safe.” The two launches were lifted off their booms, dropped to the surface of the ocean, and left to float away. The crew was now completely marooned. Neka, let me speak to them.

  Go ahead.

  “This is Sei General Arman of Her Serenity’s Army. Your ship has been disabled by the Darshianese. Do not panic. You will be rescued later today by another vessel.” He repeated the message twice more, then let it go. The sailors would be utterly bewildered, but as long as they did nothing stupid, they would come to no harm—the important thing was that they wouldn’t raise any warning. This would be the only patrol ship in this sector, Arman knew—for he was the one who’d drawn up the defence plans.

  Their first engagement had gone easily and would be good for raising everyone’s confidence, as evidenced by the smiles and cheers of the crews on the three Darshianese boats. A relief to Arman too, certainly. But they had a long way to go yet.

  ~~~~~~~~

  As soon as Arman had gone to the other ship, Neka turned and placed her hands on either side of Kei’s head. “Now, let me block your gift as we discussed.”

  Kei nodded, knowing it was the only way to ensure he got through this without breaking down. She didn’t seem to do anything, and he felt nothing at all—until he realised he could no longer sense the other people on the ship. It felt strange, as if part of him was dead or missing, but it was better than experiencing the terrible loss of control which had afflicted him when Arman had been taken from him in Darshek just a few days earlier. Bikel had warned him not to let himself experience another such blow, and Arman leaving as he had and going into danger, was exactly what Kei did not need to feel in his present unhealed state.

  It didn’t take away his weariness, or the grinding anxiety, but these were normal, easily handled by comparison. It wasn’t like feeling his soul being sliced into slivers.

  “Thank you,” he said, bending and placing a kiss on her forehead. “Now we’d better go below.” Arman had left strict orders for all civilians left on their boat—all three of them—to stay off the deck. It wouldn’t protect them against a cannon shot, but it would lessen the risk of being hit by shrapnel or a stray arrow. Kei had no desire to die so stupidly either, so he ushered Neka down the stairs, Reji on their heels.

  She kissed him again as she headed towards her cabin. “I need to concentrate, but if you want me, just ‘call’.”

  “I will. Don’t give yourself a headache.”

  She gave him a shy smile. “It’s no effort, and I’m glad to help. Arman is trying so hard for us.”

  “Yes, he is,” Kei said, feeling proud even as his heart tightened at the mention of his lover’s name.

  He turned and Reji was there, looking at him. “Let’s go milk the jombekers,” Kei said. He needed to do something manual.

  Reji kept a hand on his shoulder as they moved to the lower deck. “Did you sleep?” he asked Kei.

  “Not much. I’m tired, but I won’t sleep a wink until he...until they come back.”

  Reji pulled him into a hug, and Kei couldn’t help but be comforted by his familiar warmth. “He’ll come back,” Reji said. “He’s made it this far, and so have you.”

  “Too many things can go wrong.”

  “Yes, but a lot of them will probably never happen. Don’t torture yourself.” He led them into the animal hold. “Come and look at this female and tell me if her teats look all right to you.”

  Kei crouched by the jombeker and look at her udder. “Hmmm, I think this one could do with being rested—you have that ointment, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, but I’d like some more, if you’re making it.”

  Kei nodded and took the pot from Reji. It was an antiseptic, with an unpalatable herb added to deter the kid from suckling on that teat until the inflammation went down. “Milk her by the other teat today. I can bottle feed her kid,” he said as he smeared the green ointment gently on the reddened teat.

  Reji fetched the milking pot, and while he milked the animal, Kei sat on a stool out of his way, the baby jombeker in his arms, crying a little for its mother, but not being too hysterical. Kei kept it where it could see and smell her, and lick her face if it wanted to. The kid was only days old, born on the journey. It was so small and fragile, and yet it would grow into a great, hairy smelly animal like its mother and all its kin. It reminded Kei of Fedor’s story about Kei’s mother. “You know Fedor thinks Arman is my pet jombeker?”

  “Eh?” Reji sat up in surprise. “He said that?” Kei smiled a little and explained. Reji threw his head back and laughed. “Gods, and what did the general say about that?”

  “Not much. He was trying not to annoy Fedor, and not upset me. I don’t suppose he was pleased. It’s not what I’m doing with him, you know.”

  “No, it’s not. If I can s
ay it, then Fedor needs to accept it too. Besides, I’d like to see someone try to take Arman’s balls off to make him behave.”

  Kei had to chuckle at that. Reji fetched the hand-feeding bottle and washed the supple leather teat, before filling the bottle with some of the fresh milk. He gave it to Kei and then poured the rest of the milk into a mug. “Here, breakfast.”

  “Thanks.” He’d been too upset to have anything earlier, but now he was hungry, and the warm milk was delicious—a treat for travellers, and good for those who’d been ill or needed strengthening after injury. Arman had drunk gallons of the stuff once they’d changed the travel plans after Ai-Darbin, and the hostages would probably appreciate it too. The Prij had jombekers, but the milk was little seen in its natural state, being made into either cheese or butter. Most of the animals were kept for their meat, apparently. The Prij user other domesticated animals for meat and wool, but they weren’t kept for their milk either.

  As Kei fed the kid, Reji milked the rest of the flock, reserved a little for his own breakfast, and then took the two buckets out to the galley where it would be distributed to the sailors, or used in food preparation. He returned with some hard bread, which he broke and shared with Kei. It was peaceful, this, almost like being back in the village. Kei’s family hadn’t kept jombekers, but there were several who did, supplying the village with milk and meat. He’d spent many hours helping friends look after them, and he’d done his share of physicking sick animals too.

  The kid in his lap suckled noisily but steadily, its mother watching the goings on with concern, but not being too upset. Female jombekers were placid, the domesticated ones bred over many generations to be more so, although the mature males, as Fedor had discovered, could be damn nuisances. The one Kei was holding was a male. Its future wouldn’t be a long one, sadly, but hopefully a happy one.